Minsa Survey

I spent most of the last week in Nandayuri, a comarca (rural barrio) of Masaya just above Monimbo. We went door to door doing a MINSA (Ministerio de Salud) survey to catalogue people’s health and living conditions. Nandayuri is only a short walk out of the downtown Masaya area but it feels like a different world. In contrast to brightly painted homes in downtown Masaya, the shacks of Nandayuri are plain and simple, hidden amidst seemingly unmaintained groves of mango and banana trees.

We surveyed things like the number of people per household, their occupations, type of sheltering they occupied, their method of garbage disposal, presence/absence of latrines, pets, light, running water. Most people were living 6-12 per household. This usually consisted of small distinct but connected shacks sheltering the family’s different generations, their spouses, and their kin. The people of Nandayuri were shoemakers, woodworkers, small scale farmers, bicycle repairs men, bakers and seamstresses. Many of the older generation couldn't read or write. Others, including a lawyer we met, had higher education but were simply out of a job. Many households did not have latrines, running water, or electricity but all of them had a chickens, a dog or two, or ten.

Most people received us in their warm and friendly Nicaraguan spirits. They pulled out chairs for us, made us drinks of pinolillo and gave us gifts of mangoes and jocotes (My favorite part of working in the rural areas is all the delicious fruit!). They were eager to talk and jest about their family, their lifestyle, and their problems. Sometimes people had TVs and we would get sucked into the dramatic undertakings of telenovella characters, an entertaining respite from the mid day heat.

There were also those that were not as inviting to our white coats and clipboards, greeting us with cold shoulders and skeptic eyes. One particularly obstinate 78 year old woman made sure we knew about all her qualms with the government and the public health system in Nicaragua. She angrily chastised us for conducting such surveys in vain, recalling the many doctors and brigadistas who have passed through only to make minimal or no improvements to her family’s health. Despite my efforts to distance myself from the messy politics of a developing country like Nicaragua, the association of public health and the political sphere is inevitable. Monimbo, the area of Masaya that our clinic serves, is especially known for its hotheaded Indian Sandinista community. During the revolution, with machettes, women throwing boiling water, and a few rare rifles as their only weapons, they led a memorable and successful insurrection against the well armed National Guard.

The heat has become more sweltering, but the epic tropic rain has started. I am looking forward to more greenery and less dust. I am enjoying Masaya more and more, discovering the many charms the city has to offer. Quiet backyard coffee shops with hammocks and rocking chairs, the best and panaderias and fruit stands, an uphill running trail that leads up to a Somoza era prison fortress with a view of the entire city. I am writing a lot and reading a lot of Latin American revolutionary poetry and literature-Ruben Dario, Roberto Bolanos, and my current favorite Gioconda Belli. I can't find an English translation of this online, but I love it because it reminds me why I'm here:

Uno no escoge el país donde nace;
pero ama el país donde ha nacido.

Uno no escoge el tiempo para venir al mundo;
pero debe dejar huella de su tiempo.

Nadie puede evadir su responsabilidad.

Nadie puede taparse los ojos, los oidos,
enmudecer y cortarse las manos.

Todos tenemos un deber de amor que cumplir,.
una historia que nacer
una meta que alcanzar.

No escogimos el momento para venir al mundo:
Ahora podemos hacer el mundo
en que nacerá y crecerá
la semilla que trajimos con nosotros.

-Gioconda Belli


Adios