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Last night two young men from the local UPC church here in Granada showed up at my house at about 9pm. They wanted to talk about how to set up a website for their church, they said they want to reach people not only in Granada, but also they want to build connections with Pentecostals in the United States. I told them I would be glad to help. It felt great to have them just drop by, I really can’t explain how isolated one can feel in a foreign country, living alone with few meaningful interaction. It gives you a new respect for missionaries that choose to live their entire lives in third world countries.

Most of the Nicaraguan kids on the street, that speak good English, can’t be trusted. If a Nica kid speaks English he most likely grew up in the states in the 1980’s and 90’s and was deported because of criminal convictions. A few years back I ran into an INS agent at the Inter-Continental Hotel in Managua (the capital) and they told me that a lot of Nicaraguans fled the country for the US in the 80’s to avoid the civil war. As these young boys got older they got hooked up in drugs and fast cars and before to long they were being deported back to Nicaragua. This is a popular policy in the United States, if a person is a foreign national and commits a crime instead of filling up the county jails and prisons they simply put them on a commercial flight (with an INS agent) and send them back to wherever they were born. Many have few family members left in the country so they take advantage of the one skill they have. They speak English, so “gringos” with money become a natural target for a hustle or a sob story. I hope I don’t sound too cynical, but it’s a way of life.

I got robbed a few weeks ago. I lost my passport, bankcard and about fifty bucks. They used the card all night while I was waiting for the bank to open in order to cancel the card. That incident didn’t help my trust issues much. I tried ignoring them and walking on, but they grabbed me by the throat and produced a rusty butcher knife and at that point I was more worried about a staff infection than a stab wound.

A lot of the volunteer workers here have little patience for people who come around seeking handouts. Obviously they and I both are here because we want to help, but after a while you realize your just being used to keep up the same old habit of drugs and scamming that has become a way of life for far to many people.

I read in the Gospels the other night where Jesus says to give to whoever asks of you, but in this context I find it a hard command to put into practice. If I gave even one Cordoba to everyone who asked I would be broke long before my time here is up.