For years, my wonderful friend Adeline Niemeier, now deceased, collected
goods from this area to be shipped to Nicaragua. Here, through Adeline’s
Christmas letters, is what abject poverty looks like in Nicaragua, Central
America.
1998
The first surprise after we landed in Managua, the capital city, was to see
the narrow streets crowded with cars along with the wooden pushcarts,
horse-drawn carts, bicycles and motorcycles. Our old yellow school buses
are seen everywhere pouring out clouds of black exhaust. The front doors
have been removed, and a back door opening has been cut. There is no limit
as to how many people can crowd inside or how many can hang from every
appendage outside the bus.
As we traveled to the East Coast, we had trouble hanging on to our luggage
as the young boys of the community fought to carry it in order to earn a few
cents. … When we speak of poverty here (in Puerto Cabezas), we speak of
94% unemployment. The 6% who work are mainly teachers, health care
workers, and government workers who earn a meager wage. Health care
workers do not have adequate supplies. The hospital cannot supply sheets,
pillows, towels or food. While we were there, they did not have pure water
or milk for the children. We spent the afternoon gathering 37 gallons of
pure water and several cans of powdered milk. One lady, with a broken leg,
had a bit of gauze wrapped around it, which was then tied to a bedpost.
They did not have cast materials for her. Another lady was to die if she was
not flown to the hospital in Managua within a few days. Checking with the
airport for a ticket, we were told she could not be taken on a stretcher. If
she could sit, she needed to bring a companion to take care of her. We
arranged for one ticket while another group arranged for her companion
ticket.
On our 50-mile trip to Waspam, our bus broke down and a cattle-type truck
arrived to transport the passengers. The trip took three and one-half hours
on dirt road through mud and water. Here in Waspam, living in poverty has
turned to living in devastation. Sr. Delores had people at her door
constantly needing something. One young man needed food for his wife who
had just given birth. She also needed a ride over the same miserable road
we had just taken to get medical help.
2002
One of the three most memorable experiences for me was visiting a
classroom especially for the working children. These children work during
the day to support their families. It was at this school that we got stuck in
the mud. There were plenty of men to help us. They have up to 95%
unemployment.
Tears came to our eyes as we visited the children’s room at the hospital. We
held hands and prayed because we could see that it was only a matter of
time before these children would die. There was the girl who broke her leg.
Without benefit of x-ray machine or casting materials, she simply laid there.
There was the father and little girl looking after a premature baby who lost
her mother in childbirth. A boy, hit by a tree limb, lay in a coma. His
mother carried him two miles to this hospital. The doctors have no
equipment and very little medication. There are holes in the floors, walls,
and roof.