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Sunday, November 20, 2011

POST by LIZ: Driving Blindly

Yesterday our guard told me that his brother had just passed away - It was tipping down with rain so I gave him a ride home. I met his family and close friends, I hugged and kissed everyone in sight, and said how deeply sorry i was for their loss. I then returned to the car still feeling for their pain... then suddenly the WHOLE family jumped into (and onto) the car, even 90 year old granny was t...rying to open the door with her crooked stick - the rain did not hold back, and invited its friends; lightening and thunder.. Well, at least the weather made sense, coz I had NO idea what was going on... uncles and aunts were either crammed into my car like sardines, or hanging off the sides of the car like icicles on a winters day. Not wanting to offend the grieving family (that were now in the shape of my car) I asked in a nonchalant tone, "¿A donde van?" which I received the response "Derecho"
Drenched to the bone, ducking the thunder bolts from the heavens, and deaf from the noise of the storm, I do what any normal human being would do.. I tell Francesca Brien to dig her fingernails into the side of the car and hold on tight (Grandma made it perfectly clear with her stick that there was no room in the movable inn), and then I drive, windscreen wipes to the max, through the muddy, potholed calle, which is now more like a river, to the destination unknown!
The car sputtered into action, and I´m so sure I could hear the car saying “I think I can, I think I can” as we chugged through the muddy, narrow, no-named back streets of the slummy neighborhood.  By this time it was pitch black, no street lights, and rain attacked the windscreen. It was impossible to avoid the pot-holed roads, and the car´s suspension was non-existent due to the taco-lovers weighing it down.  Nestor, our faithful, trustworthy guard, was in the passenger seat directing the way.  All I knew was “a la derecho” but when that “derecho” was no more, I asked, “¿A que lado?” Nestor had pulled the chair so far forward – I wasn´t sure if it was out of courtesy   for his many family members crammed in the back, or whether it was out of fear of being whacked by the crooked stick his grandmother held firmly in her hand like it was some nunchuck.  
Here I have to interject and explain a cultural tradition. In Nicaragua, the people think it´s rude to point with their fingers, so they point with their lips – like they are puckering up to give you a big, juicy kiss! Actually, this took me a while to figure out that this was a cultural sign of indicating the way, and when I used to ask for directions, I´d think the person responding in this manner was “coming on” to me, so I would retort in an offended, indigent tone, “I´m married”, stick up my ring finger at them, and put my foot to the accelerator.  Anyhoos, back to the story… So I asked Nestor which way to turn and he tried pointing with his lips, but the windscreen put a stop to my understanding, so I asked him to use his words, he turned to me and said to the left, at that moment I decided to make a mental note to buy him toothpaste for his Christmas hamper.
After 5 mins of bouncing along the slippery roads, carrying a truck load of arms and legs, I hear Francesca Brien yell out.. “Slow down Mom, you almost made Nestor´s mother´s brother´s cousin´s sister fall off!”  heeding my wise daughter´s advice, we finally made it out onto the freeway.. surely not I thought.. but the lips and grandma´s stick directed me otherwise. My prayer life certainly soared higher than it had ever been before, and I blindly joined the other traffic on the road.
After 30 mins driving at 10 kms per hour, we exited the freeway, while I added to my mental note about ensuring I included a toothbrush to accompany the toothpaste.  More winding, pot-holed, narrow, swamp-like off roads, when suddenly I hear a THUD from the outside of the car… Nestor stuck his head (and lips) out of the window and then some dialogue in native nigaraguan occurred – I say this, because I had no clue what they were saying, then Nestor points his lips forward, so I advance... BANG BANG BANG… I stop again. Fran yells out, “Mom, you almost drove over Nestor´s Uncle´s Mother´s Cousin´s Nephew.  Didn´t you see he´s trying to get down!”  I started to yell out a piece of my mind, but the body that was gripping on to my side door muffled my words   “It´s all clear now” so we continued.
We arrived at the steepest hill I have ever seen.  Nestor´s lips protruded as far as they could pointing high. I started to question his decision with my limited Spanish, but the lips remained stiffly pointed in the direction of the hill.. I made the sign of the cross across my body (heard an array of AMENS), then urged the car up up and beyond.. sliding all over the place but remaining fixed on the mission, As the car struggled upwards, I started to feel quite proud of its efforts, thinking maybe I should buy the car something special for Christmas, when all of a sudden, mid way up the mudslide-waiting-to-happen hill, there was a broken down pick up truck with chairs piled up in the back.  It was stuck in the mud! I stopped.. of course! There was no way to get around.  Suddenly, my car rolls backward, “stop stop STOOOOOOOP” Franny commands, as many pound on the outside of the car!
I push my brakes as far to the floor as they will go and with a sweaty hand, pull up the hand brake– as the sweat pours down my face - which I´m handless to wipe off -without word, EVERYONE disperses off the car, and hoards of faces battle through the wound -down window, to kiss my cheeks, left and right, which are now turning purple from the strain of keeping the car from rolling.  Just when I think I can´t hold the car from sliding for one more second, I see Grandma waving her stick at me and pointing her lips down the hill, and I know my job is complete. I call for Fran, who is still clinging to the side of the car, she jumps into the front seat.  I release the brakes, and we slide down to the bottom of the hill.  Nestor´s and his family look like little ants climbing their ant hill. To where they were going? Well, that remains a complete mystery to me!       

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