Sketches of Nicaragua

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is a sketch of my time in Nicaragua in April when the protest broke out against current Nicaraguan president Daniel Ortega

Submitted: August 30, 2018

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Submitted: August 30, 2018



Despite the rising body toll and destruction of streets, we drink Flor de Caña as if there is something to celebrate.

Businesses try and forget the violence, employees must still find a way to get to work and pretend all is peace and tranquillo.

Existence is day to day, no telling when a protest will break out or a stray bullet might cross your path.

The town of Granada falls into silence at night, the fiesta has commenced, music is turned down, restaurants close early.

Only the bars remain open, for the patrons attempting to forget about the state of the country.

SOS Nicaragua. If the Rum or Toña isn’t strong enough they look for one of the street vendors selling mota or cocaína. The police patrol the streets with assault rifles, looking for any excuse to pull the trigger. Bullet holes have penetrated the cathedral.

Snipers snooze under the bell towers.

The streets have subsided for the time being. Children walk, single file, in search for scraps or lost parents.

Smoke swirls above the town.

Not from the volcanoes but burnt buildings and bodies.

The stores are closed and the food rationed. Will it take ruins for the country to receive a helping hand?

Regan’s cocaine, William Walker’s enslavement of the Native people & 45 years of dictatorial rule are the byproducts of American intervention.

The Americas should see each other as one, but we continue to stay divided.

Consumption controls our morals, Everything has a price tag attached to it. In liberty or death, it all comes down to dollars and cents, not human life.

© Copyright 2018 H. Jacob Sandigo. All rights reserved.

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