Episcopal Press and News
A Journey to Nicaragua
Episcopal News Service. June 28, 1984 [84139]
Nancy Sullivan
MANAGUA, Nicaragua (DPS, June 28) -- From a cool Cincinnati spring, I stepped off the plane into a hot, wet blanket: the tropical heat was stifling. Soon I discovered far greater differences in daily life, where hope and determination were mixed with fear.
Nicaragua's past shadows the present. Driving from the airport, I saw stenciled silhouettes of the national hero, Sandino, everywhere, along with the slogan, "Sandino lives in the struggle for peace." I even encountered several old men who had fought alongside him. History seems alive.
Beginning in 1912 and continuing for 21 years, United States Marines occupied Nicaragua to protect U.S. financial interests. The peasant Sandino organized a guerilla force to fight for national sovereignty, but when the Marines left, the Nicaraguan fighters laid down their arms as agreed. Sandino was assassinated by the National Guard under Somoza, who became president for life and was followed in that post by his two sons. Sandino's struggle for Nicaraguan freedom was reborn with the creation of the Sandinista party in 1959.
Downtown Managua, still devastated from the 1972 earthquake despite massive foreign aid, shocked me. I could see the sky through the walls and roofs of remaining multi-story buildings, while chickens and goats picked through the rubble. From the capital I went to the Pacific port of Corinto, where the twisted remains of oil storage tanks destroyed by the rebels with alleged aid from U.S. intelligence last fall made me realize the nearness of war. Journeying on to Ocatal near the Honduran border, I joined thousands on the Stations of the Cross on Good Friday. All along the way were signs of new life.
The illiteracy rate has dropped from 57 percent to less than 11 percent since the revolution, and I glimpsed some of the 1,200 schools and 300 libraries which have been built in that time. I made an effort to talk to people wherever I went. In a relocation camp, I met people whose homes had been destroyed in a tidal wave; now, for the first time, they have electricity and sanitation. A young health worker told me with pride about free national medical care and new programs bringing vaccinations and other basic care to areas accessible only by horse or boat.
On a prison farm, the prisoners seemed enthusiastic about rehabilitation efforts and the abolition of the death penalty. In Mozonte close the Honduran border, I visited a government-sponsored school where teenagers are trained in all phases of pottery making. Their goal is to return to their villages and set up shop, a reminder of the Sandinistas' commitment to a mixed economy.
Yet these gains are paced by danger and destruction. The school's director narrowly missed being killed by a bazooka shell, which blew up a tree by the school instead. In Nicaragua, 50 percent of the population is 15 or younger; the infant mortality rate, cut 40 percent since 1979, soars above ours. In a pediatric hospital, only the burn unit had airconditioning, while the pharmacy was nearly bare.
Fear haunts everyone as terrorist attacks and the mining of the ports continue. In towns along the border, people have dug makeshift bombshelters in their backyards; empty lots in Managua are criss-crossed with trenches in anticipation of aerial attacks. With no minesweepers, fishermen have died trawling for mines. 22 new health clinics have been destroyed and 19 medical workers killed by the rebels.
The U.S. government's stated policy of destroying the Nicaraguan economy sounds antiseptic, but it translates into human suffering. Because of the mines, the banana crop rotted in port, and I saw thousands of cotton bales and tons of coffee unable to get out. Without the money from these export crops, Nicaragua is crippled. Medicine and hospital equipment, parts for tractors and factories cannot get in past the mines. Without them, people are dying, crops cannot be planted or harvested, industrial production ceases.
Before the trip, I contacted The Rev. Robert Renouf and his wife Jeanette, directors of the Anglican Institute of Nicaragua. Both have Ph.D.'s in psychology in addition to their theological training. They are working to develop leadership in the Episcopal Church to prepare for independence from the North American church (a UTO grant for "Indigenous Ministry Training Program" helps fund this). They have also set up programs for people to cope with the mental and emotional stress of the past years.
I discovered that the Episcopal Church in Nicaragua is unique for several reasons. It is the only church which includes all three ethnic groups: the Mestizos, (Spanish-Indian mix); the indigenous people, (primarily Miskito and Sumo Indians); and the Creoles, (descendents of slaves brought to the East Coast by the English). At national church meetings, Spanish, Miskito, and English are all spoken, all three cultures equally represented.
The Episcopal Church is also unique because historically it has been the church of the poorest since the British brought Anglicanism to the east coast in the 1850's. While the country is largely Roman Catholic, this church exists largely in Spanish-speaking, Western urban areas among the middle and upper classes. The east coast, subject to "internal colonialism," was never evangelized, nor were the rural poor in the west. There are over 70 Protestant groups in Nicaragua, each working only with a particular ethnic group. Only the Episcopal church spans all three, while working largely in the rural areas with the unchurched.
The Episcopal Church, emerging from the dependency of a colonial church, serves as a model for Nicaragua. To prepare for the election of their first bishop in early 1985, the church is developing new systems, structures which recognize and value three disparate cultures while creating a living whole, the Body of Christ. In a country where families and communities are divided, the church's role must be reconciliation. National elections are scheduled for this fall, so that Nicaragua must also develop unity while acknowledging the voices of 10 political parties and different ethnic groups.
Our church is clearly committed to the Nicaraguan revolutionary process because it serves the poorest, but the Renoufs stressed that the Church must remain independent from the government, able to critique it. If the revolution serves the Gospel commands, then it is good; the Gospel can never be used to serve the revolution.
Our Anglican tradition has been to balance, to provide options, and to recognize that only God knows the heart of each person. I experienced this most strongly joining the Renoufs for Easter Sunday Eucharist, when Ambassador Anthony Quainton and his wife slid into the pew behind me. Only days before, I had spent an hour and a half debating U.S. policy with him; he actively upheld the administration line at every point.
After remembering the war and praying for peace and justice with mercy, Bob Renouf recalled the Church as the focus of our lives. From visiting many other churches throughout Nicaragua, I sensed that nowhere else could the Ambassador rub elbows with cooks and revolutionaries, people who oppose U.S. policy and those who applaud it. The Nicaraguan Episcopal Church has issued a statement condemning all U.S. military activity against Nicaragua -- yet the man who symbolized it was present and welcomed.
I heard people who have just learned to read comment, haltingly, on their understanding of Scripture. Jesus' life and teachings seems especially a focus for their discussions, applying them to events in their own lives. At the season of Pentecost, I know for the first time what that remarkable babble of voices of the Nicaraguans is crying out in Spanish, in English, in Miskito: to be free to make their own destiny. As Christians, we can be part of this community's mission to transform their country, to bring it more in conformity with Jesus' commandments. Or we can crucify Him again and again in their flesh by our support of attacks against the people of Nicaragua.