Recent reports of government-sponsored violence in Nicargua have me thinking all over again about the trip I took there a year and a half ago. The occasion was an international poetry festival in Granada, about an hour away from the capital, Managua. The trip was not without its political resonances; one of the highlights was the opportunity to meet Ernesto Cardenal, the great Nicarguan priest, poet, and social justice worker, who spent some time in this country as a Trappist studying under Thomas Merton, but then returned to work for social change in the country of his birth. Perhaps his most famous book is The Gospel in Solentiname, which records his conversations about the Gospels with communities of Nicaraguan peasants, many of whom were well ahead of liberation theology in how they read the teachings of Christ.
Back when he was a monk in the States, Cardenal wrote in his journal, “Most of the world’s pleasures are illusory: happiness through things that come to nothing, or that don’t turn out as one desired.” There is great wisdom in this statement, much of which he must have experienced in the simple life of a monk. In Nicaragua he was working for the kind of social change that would allow everyone to have enough so that they could in fact make choices about what to enjoy and what to forego; for one of the problems with severe poverty and social inequality is that it takes away choice as it enforces a desperation just to survive.
At the poetry festival in Granada, we were getting lunch at the Casa de Tres Mundos when a friend called me into the next room, where Father Cardenal sat in a wheelchair and wearing his trademark beret. We spoke for only a minute or two. I told him that I am a fan of both his and Merton’s. He said he’s a fan of Merton’s too. We shook hands, and I walked away in tears. Later I said to Mary (Szybist, my wife, who was on the trip too) that it was like meeting this immense part of history; and it was, but I also want to regard Father Cardenal as a highly individuated person who has lived out his personal trajectory beautifully and powerfully for the Gospel. He worked as a member of the Sandinista National Liberation Front to unseat the corrupt military dictatorship of the Somoza dynasty. Eventually, the Sandinistas succeeded, at least up to a point. Persons of a certain age will remember that the U.S. government acted on behalf of the “Contras” who were opposing the Sandinista government, even as the Contras terrorized much of the country.
One problem with the current situation is that the Sandinista government—with Daniel Ortega as the president and his wife, Rosario Murillo, as vice president—has become increasingly corrupt and repressive. Many of the people I spoke with in Nicaragua struggled for the Sandinista cause back in the day, and they are understandably dismayed that the current government is pretty much as bad as the Somoza dynasty that they opposed. From the people I spoke with, I gather that some believe Ortega has been, in accordance with the old adage, corrupted by power. Others believe, however, that he was corrupt all along and that his access to greater power has simply allowed his true colors to show. Whatever the case, the situation in the country has been dire for many, many years. Tensions recently came to a head in April 2018, when Ortega slashed pension benefits and a critical mass, having had enough of this regime, finally rose up. As is often the case, much of the energy is coming from young people, students who are taking to the streets to demonstrate. As is also often the case, the government forces are responding with violence. The last time I checked, the death toll among demonstrators was upward of 170 people and likely to continue climbing.
Much of the violence has taken place in a town called Masaya, which is about 20 miles southeast of Managua. During our trip we visited an active volcano there. One thing that I was surprised by was the sound, the constant rumble that we could hear as peered over the edge into the smoke and caught glimpses of the red lava roiling down there. Mary said it really sounded like someone working down there, so it’s no wonder that people in eras past thought that volcanoes were the residences of gods. The fumes were pretty powerful; I was starting to get light-headed already when a particularly pungent blast sent us back to our taxi and down the mountain. Recalling that afternoon, I can’t help but make the rather obvious connection between this volcano and the current situation in Nicaragua. Something powerful is at work there, and while toxic things—such as government violence—are coming out of it, I believe that there are creative forces at work too, something powerful and in some sense divine, for a spirit is moving among the people there that will not be stopped. I just wanted to write out these few reflections in support of the friends I made there, and of all the good people of Nicaragua—with love!