Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
that they are terrible litterers. Papers, bottles: all kinds of garbage is
blithely heaved out of the squad car window onto the road. Even our
own escort does it: when we gave them drinks they downed them and
then tossed the bottles on the ground. They are looking after me, but
they are grubs. They haven't asked me for a bribe yet, but I think it may
be only a matter of time before they do.
Today, I saw an appalling sight. Stock animals roam freely here
and often get hit by cars and trucks, and there was a dead white horse
lying on the road. Passers-by were just ignoring the carcass, not even
trying to remove it from the road, which would have at least given
the poor beast a tiny bit of dignity. I wanted to shift the horse myself,
but Bernie talked me out of it, afraid that I might be attacked for
sticking my nose into local affairs. For me, the Nicaraguans' callous-
ness over the horse typified their lack of respect for life. I suppose I
can understand it, though. They live in terrible poverty. Most live in
mosquito-infested swamps in hovels comprising four bamboo poles
stuck in the ground with black plastic wrapped around them as walls
and palm fronds over the top as a roof. The townships reek of raw sew-
age. There is no sewerage system in rural Nicaragua, at least, not where
I ran, and I saw people drinking from and washing in polluted creeks.
I am embarrassed that our van has a shower, fridge and gas stove as
well as four comfortable beds. No wonder people look amazed when
we drive past.
Search WWH ::




Custom Search