6/12/11
The market is a terribly beautiful place. When my soul was restless yesterday, I found peace nowhere else but the dirty, crowded, fly-infested chaos of the Jinotepe market. As the flow of Nicaraguans rushed past me in either direction, when I couldn’t decide how much to bargain for shampoo—nor how to bargain in any fashion whatsoever, when the creepy drunk guy professed his love to me, I realized I will always be against the current. I will never know the answers. And I don’t have to. I know the King who does. So you walk down dark aisles of the labyrinth with vendors presenting item after item, cars honking in order to part the sea of people apparently in the “road,” and assorted shirts hanging from every rack. I looked up expecting to find embroidered dresses (maybe I’m naïve) but to my surprise, the most prevalent logo of shirts on the backs of Nicaraguans is none other than Nike, Hollister and Ralph Lauren. Check out the tag of the shirt you’re wearing right now. What country was it made in? Thailand? Guatemala? I’m not doing it to make anyone feel guilty, but think about the life that the person who made your shirt leads. Say a prayer for them, for their families and for their encounter with Jesus to come soon rather than later just like you’d do for anyone. Do they feel a little bit less distant now?
I walked briskly through Jinotepe and thought to myself, “ What gives me a higher status in America?” Money? Clothes? Nike? Hollister? Ralph Lauren? Walk past any random Jinotepe man and to him, he’s just wearing a shirt to keep the sun off of his back, a shirt that cost the same as any other shirt. It’s not a fashion statement. It’s just another day living in Nicaragua, the second poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. He’s most likely not wearing that shirt so people will like him more. Holes and dirty stains cover it. He’s just living his life while he happens to have a shirt with a seagull embroidered on it. What we strive for in the states in appearance, popularity, a Nicaraguan man or woman just lives, if how we strive for it is in the form of clothing, that is. I’ve been offered chairs, babies and sweet smiles and hugs wherever I go. They don’t have much but they are rich. I want to—I will be—rich like Nicaraguans. Nicaraguan rich.
