This is the price for the jeans you wear

This is the price for the sugar you eat
From Candide Illustrations.

As you drive near Managua's international airport or in the nearby region of Tipitapa, you can't help but encounter the fortresses of Nicaragua's "zonas francas." These free trade zone factories (a.k.a. maquiladoras) started appearing in the early 1990s and have expanded rapidly since then. Built with an architectural eye for surveillance and control, they look like nothing less than spiffy labor prisons. Still, looks may be deceiving, for these factories are claimed instead to be engines of economic liberation.

The terms of engagement for foreign investors are astonishingly attractive and have generated a veritable maquiladora boom. One zona franca's website explains this "unique opportunity":

Of primary concern to Nicaraguan lawmakers is the 60% rate of unemployment. Because of this, free zone operators enjoy laws that provide them with maximum freedom and benefits. For ease of operation and profitability, Nicaragua is your best alternative.

• All Nicaraguan products are NOT subject to quotas
• Unrestricted currency conversion
• Duty free importation of all production machinery, other equipment, fixtures, spare parts, raw material and supplies.
• Import and export shipments cleared in less then one day with minimum documentation.
• No government income, sales or corporate taxes or fees.
• Unrestricted repatriation of profits and capital at any time.
• Low cost skilled and unskilled labor.
• Ample supply of trainable and productive labor.

Nicaragua's zonas francas (ZFs) are dominated by clothing manufacturers (~60%) from Korea, Taiwan and the United States. The next largest category (tobacco factories) occupies just 11% of the zonas.

Zona Franca
From Confidencial.

So what are Nicaraguans getting for these investment-friendly rules? According to the National Commission of Zonas Francas (Comisión Nacional de Zonas Francas; CNZF), the goals are clear: "promoting the generation of employment, foreign investment, the export of non-traditional products, the acquisition of technology and the reactivation of our foreign commerce."

Truth be told, most of these things have happened, but what is less clear is how these have helped the Nicaraguan economy or the country's endemic un(der)employment. Between 2000 and 2004, the CNZF reported that Nicaraguan exports have averaged a modest 2.3% growth per year. But this masks the far more rapid rise in exports from ZFs (average growth of 9% per year) and the decline in Nicaragua non-ZF exports during that same period (average decline of 1.6% per year). Given that ZF production generates almost no real income for the state, it is unclear who benefits from this growth.

There is, of course, new employment. ZFs now employ about 65,000 people and they are supposed to earn the minimum wage of $.40 per hour. A number of studies, however, suggest that this wage is not always paid and that overtime laws are frequently ignored even though most ZF employees work between 9 and 14 hours per day. Moreover, the working conditions are insufferably hot and noisy, with people on their feet all day and often lasting only a few years because of repetitive stress injuries. Labor organizing is extremely difficult and activist workers are frequently fired and blacklisted. [For excellent Nicaraguan analyses of ZFs, working conditions, and economic opportunities, take a look at Jon Ander Bilbao, Olga Rocha and Magdalena Mayorga, "Sébaco's Sweatshop: Dreams, Realities and Frustrations," Enví­o (Apr. 2004) and the MEC's numerous publications on women and labor conditions, especially Diagnóstico Seguridad Ocupacional (Word file).] Still, let's take the most generous terms for these employees' contribution to Nicaragua's economy. Assuming that 65,000 workers actually make the minimum wage and work 14 hours per day, 6 days a week, 48 weeks per year, their wages would total about US$104 million. That's about .84% of Nicaragua's GDP. Of course, wages get spent and have what economists call a "multiplier effect" as they move through the economy. Even if we provide a generous multiplier of 3, that still only brings us to 2.52% of GDP.

Even if ZFs could double in the next decade (a questionable assumption), the value added benefits to Nicaragua remains fairly limited. It's not that work isn't good or important, but whether the race to the bottom of absolute corporate freedom will produce the desired benefits. Sixty percent of ZFs produce clothing, but Nicaragua provides none of the cotton. It's cotton industry, which boomed in the 1950s, has all but died in since 1990. So what "value added" do the ZFs provide? Labor and...what?

Since 2000, growth in real GDP per capita has been paltry and erratic, registering an average of .22% growth per year between then and 2004. Perhaps out of desperation, production of staple foodstuffs has skyrocketed. During this same period of grinding poverty, the bean harvest has risen each year by an average of 13.5%, while corn production has average 16% yearly growth (calculated from Economist Intelligence Unit, Nicaragua Country Profile, Main Report 2005). Compared to its Central American neighbors, Nicaragua's internal agricultural production has always been fairly robust, and that, along with the outlet of migration to Costa Rica and the U.S. may be the only things keeping Nicaragua's economic woes from spilling into the streets.

ZFs are not a development strategy. Neither is free trade. They are tools and they can be used to produce desirable affects, but only if there is a viable state that is able to manage and control the potentially destructive qualities of these policies. Corporations are machines of profit, despite being inhabited by humans with souls. Let loose without control, they crush the weak, like elephants walking on ants. Yet the lie of these things is put forth every day. Take, for example, the self-congratulatory cant of Deputy Secretary of State Robert Zoellick (who was just in Nicaragua to bully local politicians into remembering who's the boss): "CAFTA is the right thing to do for democracy." Not to put too fine a point on it, but that's bullshit. (If you really want to wallow in it, read the entirety of Zoellick's words in his Washington Post op-ed piece. After re-reading it, I still can't tell if he's willfully dissembling or just plain ignorant.) Nicaragua is unbelievably poor and neither free trade nor the American big stick is going to fix that.

So, what to do? There are lots of options and none of them is going to change the world overnight. You can buy from non-sweatshop producers. When you purchase clothes from Nicaragua (or any other country), you can write to the manufacturer and ask them to report to you on the conditions of workers in the factories they buy from. They might lie to you, but they also will know you're watching. You can avoid shopping at and support groups like Co-op America that work for a more just and equitable world. You can donate to organizations like the National Labor Committee, to fight for changes in legislation and to promote fact-finding investigations that put the spotlight on poor wages and harsh working conditions. You can march to the barricades. Welcome to the globe.

Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?

I was lucky enough to be out of the country when Katrina devastated New Orleans, but unlucky enough to have fallen in love with the city, its history, its culture, and its people. While I can't forget the ugliness and inpetitude that followed Katrina's rains, I try to look forward to new New Orleans, one that remains connected to its history and its people while breaking free of its legacy of poverty and racism. There's little hope for optimism in an age of no-bid Soviet-style reconstruction contracts. (Dear Leaders Bush & Cheney will doubltess show New Orleans what real corruption is!) Still, there are individuals and organizations out there who have been and will continue to fight for better ideas and a better future. Among these is New Orleans ACORN (Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now), which organized and helped win local passage of a living wage for all workers (sadly overturned by Louisiana's Supreme Court) and was key to the defeat of privatization of New Orleans's sewerage and water system. ACORN is committed to grassroots organizing to ensure that the voices of low income neighborhoods and families are heard in the rebuilding process.

To help ACORN in this work, I have designed some t-shirts that I hope you will consider buying for yourself and others. All profits will be donated to ACORN.

I have five designs (all similar to the above "rebirth" design, but featuring different words):

rebirth - desire - poboy - big chief - second line

click on the links above to see and order the different designs and styles!

You can also donate directly to ACORN via their website. Either way, thanks for your help.

Secularists Against Targeted Take-Outs

Hermanos en la Fe
From El Nuevo Diario.

Pat Robertson's call for Hugo Chávez's assassination has produced some chatter in Nicaragua in the last few days. Although La Prensa merely ran a wire story, El Nuevo Diario ran a story with interviews of local priests and theologians on Robertson's fundamentalism and what one called his "theology of death." But the question of Chávez provokes a different discussion here than in the U.S. Especially on the left in Nicaragua, Chávez's movement and his challenge to U.S. hegemony stands as a beacon of possibility, and thus of hope. Take, for example, this interpretation of the Robertson/Chávez affair by William Ulises Rodrí­guez, Director of the School of Humanities of the Universidad Evangélica de Nicaragua:

[His statement] is the lashing out of a beast in agony. It's nothing new that neoliberalism is in decadence, and the the dollar is falling in the face of the euro. Chávez's desire to give petroleum to a country like Nicaragua, without going through transnational companies has to provoke a reaction, and there it is. Robertson inquisitorquistor and Chávez the heretic.

Rodrí­guez refers to negotiations currently underway for Venezuela to provide petroleum directly to Nicaragua (and other countries facing petroleum crises), to avoid the costs of transnational middlemen.

Molina's political cartoon (above), equating Robertson and Osama bin Laden takes the analysis in a different direction, suggesting the role of religious fundamentalism in terrorism. While somewhat apt in this case, it does seem to miss the point of the political power that both men aspire to (pace denials to the contrary).

Except that Robertson wields tremendous power among the religious right and has a significant base of financial and political support, his call and his words would be the off-color humorous rantings of crazed street preacher. Harry Shearer posted Robertson's take on people "that Jesus wouldn't mind if they were removed with extreme, but merciful, prejudice," but you really need to hear it from the horse's ass. Take a listen and you can't help but chuckle at Robertson's lunacy. Of course, if god's sending hurricanes to Mexico to punish a gay Vicente Fox, I suppose Florida's being punished for Jeb Bush's consorting with the devil.

As much as I want to laugh, however, I can't help but cry. Pat Robertson can't send American soldiers to kill the infidels, but President Bush has done it for him. Pat Robertson hasn't murdered Americans he disagrees with, but Eric Rudolph has done it for him.

Mule Bites Man?

Buscando al caballo ganador
From El Nuevo Diario.

I've been trying to make sense of Nicaraguan politics as it currently exists and intend to write on the topic soon, but I just had to pass along this deliciously wicked political cartoon from El Alacran (The Scorpion), the weekly satire section of El Nuevo Diario, one of Nicaragua's two main daily newspapers. The cover, entitled "Buscando al caballo ganador..." (Looking for a winning horse...) transforms a Norman Rockwell painting to place the face of former U.S. Ambassador to Nicaragua Oliver Garza (currently serving as an interim ambassador, special charge d'affaire, and knee capper) on the image an East Coast traveling salesman riding a mule out in the southwest desert.

The "PLC" mule with its "Arnoldismo" blinders (stand-in for the corrupt Partido Liberal Constitucionalista of Arnoldo Alemán) sags under the weight of Garza. As Garza reads "Política Pinolera for Dummies" (Nicaraguan Politics for Dummies), he exclaims (roughly) "I'm late, I can't move at this pace" while the PLC mule thinks "Pinche güey!" (more or less, "Fucking idiot!"). (That Garza is a Mexican-American from San Antonio makes the mule's epithet that much sharper.) It's a hilarious composition suggesting, on the one hand, the inept and bullish ugliness of American intervention in Nicaraguan politics and the obstinant refusal of the PLC to abandon Alemán, on the other.

Garza's special assignment in Nicaragua is primarily to prevent Daniel Ortega and the Sandinistas from winning the next presidential elections (2006), but secondarily to try to push Alemán out of Nicaraguan politics and get the right-wing Liberals to put forward the kind of modern global businessman's face that the U.S. wants to see in Latin American presidencies. The State Department has already tried to strong-arm the PLC by revoking the U.S. visas of members most strongly associated with Aleman and a recent visit by the U.S. Department of Justice appears to be investigating corruption that might allow the U.S. to financially pressure Alemán and/or his PLC supporters. (The Nicaraguan constitution does not allow extradition.) The PLC, however, has stood behind Alemán and it isn't clear what more Garza can do.

Particularly fascinating in all these machinations, was the recent response of the current president of the PLC, Jorge Castillo Quant to Garza's plea to purge Alemán from the party. In an article in La Prensa (20 Aug. 2005), Castillo Quant noted, "We explained to [Garza] that we believe in caudillismo, that we can't forget that Alemán has been the leader (of the PLC), just as Daniel Ortega has been the leader of the Frente Sandinista." Castillo Quant's frank claim of caudillismo (the politics of strongmen or caudillos) is stunning, for while perhaps true, it is so outside the mainstream of the U.S. discourse of democracy as to be a slap in Garza's face. Maybe Garza does need "Nicaraguan Politics for Dummies."

Castillo Quant left the door open, however, with the statement that "As a Liberal, [I believe] there has to be a solution [to the political crisis], but unfortunately no other Alemán has emerged." Said another way, if Garza wants to get rid of Alemán, he'll have to find a new strongman. When I first read these words, I couldn't help but think of the (probably apocryphal) statement by FDR (or Truman) that Nicaraguan dictator Anastasio Somoza, "may be a bastard, but he's our bastard." It is as if Castillo Quant is saying what so many on the left have long known (and what cold warriors like George Kennan would have freely admitted): that the U.S. in not particularly interested in democracy, but rather in the perpetuation of U.S. political and economic power. And what better way to do that than have your own personal bastard running the show. In the last year or so, however, Nicaraguan politics has gotten increasingly complicated and contestatory. Garza, with his old-fashioned backroom dealmaking must have seemed like the perfect choice for this mission, but he might just be out of his league.

Informal Economics 200

Gerardo
Originally uploaded by justinwolfe.

In further conversations with Gerardo, I'm compelled to revise my estimate of how much he money he earns, and happily, revise it upward. He told me that on average he sells an entire 100-piece box of chiclet each day. To do so, he tries not to go home before he has sold the entire box, and that frequently means staying out in the main plaza and making a last pass by local hotels and restaurants until 8pm. He's on the streets by 8am, so that makes for 12 hour days, seven days a week. My own observations suggest Gerardo’s exaggerating a bit and sells closer to 3 boxes every 2 days. With this information and the assumption that he works about 350 days per year, it appears that he earns closer to 14,000 cordobas, or about US$830, per year. The majority of this goes to his mother and provides food for her, him and his younger sister. If these estimations are correct, Gerardo makes about 20 cents per hour, about half of Nicaragua's minimum wage. According to a recent government-published guide to investment in Nicaragua, the market wage in Nicaragua is just 67 cents per hour, the lowest in all of Central America, and nearly half of the going rate in Guatemala.

Talking with Gerardo has opened up a new vista and some interesting questions about informal economics, especially related to children. The other day, I brought a few packets of gum from Gerardo and afterward he smiled at me and said, "Regálame uno" (roughly, "Give me one"). I did so and was surprised to see him pop the box open and chomp away on the chiclets within. Yet a few days later when I offered him the same, he said no because he already had some. Indeed, he was chewing away as we talked. In both cases, I had figured that Gerardo would simply have pocketed the gum and resold it. These little packets of gum are, in essence, fungible. Drop one back into the big box of 100 and you'd be hard pressed to pull that exact one back out again. But Gerardo doesn't drop it back in. At the same time, I have never seen Gerardo eats his profits--no packets are chewed before they're sold. It’s hard to know what Gerardo really thinks when someone offers him one of his own just-sold packets of gum. Does he not resell them because they are gifts and thus to be enjoyed and savored for the kindness they imply? Or can they not be resold because this double exchange (seller to buyer to seller) because the gum is now “used” and no longer fit for sale? Either or both of these might be correct, but I’d like to hazard another theory.

Gerardo is just a kid. A savvy businessman at 10, no doubt, but still a kid. And in his 10-year-old mind, his job is to go out every day and sell a 100-box of gum. The sooner he does it, the sooner he goes home, eats, spends time with his family, plays and goes to sleep. Understood in this way, reselling the gum is extra work, not extra money. Now, an economist might argue that Gerardo doesn’t want to resell the gum because the marginal utility of earning, say, 5 cordobas for turning around 5 packets of gum is not worth his lost leisure time. That’s certainly true, and when I do see Gerardo late in the evening with just a few packets left he face often bares a tired desperation that says, “Just let me go home.” Still, Gerardo is a different sort of homo economicus, for he has a number of options that he ignores. He could save these extra pieces and try selling them the next day, slowly but surely increasing his profits. There’s no real cost to Gerardo of holding 5 pieces of gum in inventory, and he might even be able to justify keeping this money for himself. Or he could give himself a treat at the end of the day and eat the 5 pieces, or even save them and chew them the next day. But Gerardo does neither of these. He’s a child and has yet to develop the kind of future-focused thinking that will come with the onset of adulthood. How does this affect the economies of countries dependent on child labor?

Best of Granada: Food

Breakfast: I am a bit chagrined to say that my favorite place is called Kathy’s Waffle House (directly across the street from the Convento San Francisco). Owned by an American ex-pat (Sandy) who has lived here for more than a decade and his Nicaraguan wife, Kathy’s serves an array of American breakfasts (eggs and bacon, omelettes, waffles, pancakes, bagels and cream cheese), but also traditional fare like gallo pinto, fried plantains and Nicaraguan cheese. The food is excellent, the portions generous, and the prices surprisingly moderate. It serves the best fruit and yogurt plate I’ve seen in Nicaragua--a mountain of pineapple, watermelon, papaya, banana and mango (or cantaloupe, depending on the season). All that for just C$45 (about US$2.70). Plus coffee’s free! Most plates range from C$35 (US$2) to C$50 (US$3). The clientele is mostly older ex-pats (a group who, a decade earlier, would have been found in Costa Rica), some backpack travelers and the occasional missionary group members, and Miami Nicas (or recent returnees) who seem to enjoy the American-style atmosphere (such as the English-only menu) and the hearty plates.

Sandy and Kathy apparently toured parts of the U.S. during their recent honeymoon (including Sandy’s old stomping grounds in New Orleans), looking the best breakfasts places they could find. Seems like they did a pretty good job of it. Sandy said they’ve modeled themselves a bit after the Bluebird Cafe in New Orleans and it shows. The fresh, nutty multigrain bread they get from a bakery and the free coffee are just a couple of the great decisions they made. Waiters Connie and Silvio are funny, friendly and charming and always make it a pleasant visit.

Pizza: Granada now boasts at least three pizzerias and they’re all good. Still, for the combination of flavor and atmosphere, I have to rank Monna Lisa at the top (from La Gran Francia, one block toward the lake, take a right and go1/2 block). I used to lean heavily toward Don Luca’s on Calle Calzada (from the Cathedral, head toward the lake, one block past Hospedaje Central). Owned by a Swiss ex-pat it features a wood-burning oven and a clean but modestly appointed dining room (there’s also a few tables on the street). But Monna Lisa’s won my heart with their fantastic ingredients (including home-grown Italian basil), wood-burning oven, winking love of Leonardo da Vinci, tranquil setting, and charming Italian owners. When the hubbub and noise of the day gets to you, this is the place to go. (If you’re dying of heat, El Arcángel in the Gran Francia offers air-conditioning, a 1980s soundtrack that just won’t stop, and an accommodating staff who seem not to care if all you want is a cup of soup, a coke and to enjoy the cool air for a couple of hours! Note: When you visit, the waiter will ask where you’re from and then, perhaps in pursuit of friendlier international relations, will bring a miniature flag stand to the table with the Nicaragua banner and your corresponding flag. I’m curious what a claim of Cubanness would get me.)

Nicaraguans (or at least Granadinos) apparently are crazy for pizza. All three local pizzerias see notable (if not majority) Nicaraguan patronage. The largest and most popular place in town is Tele Pizza (Calle Arsenal, between Convent San Francisco and Plazuela de los Leones). They have an enormous space and it is frequently packed. The pizza is very good, the prices very reasonable and more decidedly American in style. They offer thick and thin crust, but I’ve only taste the thick. The place reminds me of a local version of Pizza Hut, but without the soulless corporate sameness you’d expect in the U.S. It’s pretty hard to go wrong with Pizza in Granada and the prices are right. Two people can usually get out for between C$75 (US$4.50) and C$130 (US$7.75), which includes a couple of beers and sometimes a salad.

Atmosphere: Hands down, best atmosphere belongs to El Tercer Ojo (Calle Arancel, just to the right of Convento San Francisco). Owned by a French ex-pat and his Costa Rican wife, the place is cool and moody, with shadows and rich greenery, a Nicaragua-meets-South/Southeast Asia decorative style, and eclectic world music played low on the stereo. They also have several bookshelves filled with items in Spanish, English, French, German and Italian. You can browse and read while you’re there, but none of it’s for sale. The French owner appears to pull double duty as both an artist (his Basquiat-esque works adorn the walls) and as head chef. The food is mostly French and Mediterranean in style and a bit on the expensive side, but most plates are large enough to be shared. Our favorites include the gazpacho (C$45; US$2.70), the brocheta caprese (small pieces of bread with herbed tomatoes and melted mozzarella on top; same price as the gazpacho), and the salad with grilled chicken (large and tasty, especially when topped with their tasty olive oil and home-herbed balsamic vinegar; C$70; US$4.20). They also serve heartier fare like stakes and pastas. The churrasco (a local cut of steak) in a black pepper sauce is particularly yummy, but the churrasco in gorgonzola sauce is also worth a try (both C$110; US$6.50); both come with mashed potatoes and a small salad. El Tercer Ojo also stocks a variety of wines and deli goods, including Spanish cheese, hams, and salamis. The front room features a cozy bar and a number of overstuffed chairs, perfect for a relaxing drink and good conversation.

Coffee: Once again Monna Lisa takes the cake. Cafemail (next to Casa de los Tres Mundos) and Cafe Don Simon (western side of the Parque Central, northern end) aren’t bad and offer a complete line of espresso and drip style drinks, and, as mentioned before, Kathy’s Waffle House is the place for your morning cup of coffee (big cups, free coffee). But for an espresso or a macchiato (cafe cortado), I love Monna Lisa. Their secret is a homemade blend of Nicaraguan coffees and Italian coffee spirit.

Nicaraguan lunch: There are a thousand places to get a basic plate lunch (comida casera), and they’re all cheap and pretty flavorful. The basic version includes meat (often stewed chicken or beef), rice and beans, Nica salad (shredded cabbage and carrots in a little vinegar), and plantains (sometimes ripe, sometimes green, sometimes fried, sometimes boiled). A big plate can easily be found for C$25 (US$1.50), but it may take some experimenting to a place that’s safe (health-wise) and appetizing. Restaurante los Portales (Plazuela de los Leones, across from the Casa de los Tres Mundos) offers a fine version for C$35 (US$2.10), but they also have a number of local and Mexican-style dishes in the same price range. It’s also worth trying local favorites like vigorón (fried chicarrones [pig skin], yuca and Nica salad) and vaho (prounounced like the Spanish bajo; cured meat that is spiced, and steam cooked, with yuca and plantain and served with Nica salad).

Personally, I prefer the typical Nicaraguan comedor, a kind of buffet-style place that offers prix-fixe meals. Most range from C$40 (US$2.40) to C$50 (US$3.00), but you can add extras to your plate that will inch up the coast a bit. Most places offer several main dish options, such a beefsteak with onions, grilled chicken breast, a stew, a spaghetti or rice dish (very popular is a local variant of chow mein), etc. The plate will come with rice and beans, if you want, but these can sometimes be substituted for mashed potatoes. Some places also offer stewed or boiled vegetables, plantains, and avocado (you usually get a choice of one) and a variety of salads (either Nica or chopped pickled vegetables). My two favorite locations are Don Daffa (just to the left of the Alcaldia) and Restaurante Mamaterre (heading out of the Parque Central on Calle Real Xalteva, on your left before you get to the Calle El Comercio). Mamatere is in a beautifully restored colonial-style house, a great place to enjoy excellently prepared food in a spacious open-air eating area that enjoys cool breezes. The head chef is a nearly toothless, crazy old Spaniard who once told me that Nicaragua was better during Somoza’s era because Somoza knew how to keep order (notably sending urban “delinquents” into the countryside to teach them the harsh lessons of rural field labor). His eyes misted over with nostalgia as he whispered, “Just like Franco…” A la gran puta! Why does the best tortilla española in town have to be made by a fascist old coot?

Nicaraguan dinner: While Nicaraguan cuisine boasts amazing variety and flavors, most foreigners never get to taste from this bounty. Restaurant menus tend to be regionally specific and fairly limited. One of my favorite dishes, for example, is Indio Viejo (Old Indian; a beef, corn masa and mint dish), but you’d be hard pressed to find it on a menu in Granada. Similarly, although sopa de mondogo (tripe soup) is very popular here, most people go to Masatepe (famed for it), so no it’s rarely offered in Granada. Instead you’ll typically find either steak (excellent)--typically topped with either chimichurri (a parsley, olive oil and garlic sauce), salsa criolla (a red, tomato and onion based sauce) or a jalapeño and onion cream sauce--or fish, especially guapote, a yummy lake bass that’s usually served whole and fried. The best locations for these kinds of dishes are El Zaguán (directly behind the Cathedral) and Las Colinas (outside of downtown a bit, past the market and toward the lake--ask a cabbie). These meals are a little pricier and might set you back closer to US$10-15, but they’re certainly worth it. (Although I haven’t done it myself, I hear that export-quality Nicaraguan steaks can be bought at the airport in ready-to-go 10 lb. packages for about US$2 a pound.)

As I say, lamentably no Granadino restaurant offers much else in the great variety of Nicaraguan cuisine. My gut feeling is that a high-end restaurant that offered such dishes would do well. While the recently arrived foreign influences in Granada’s restaurant scene are certainly doing well, I think a lot of visitors (and locals, for that matter) would love something more traditional and special if it were available.

You’ll never find it on a menu in Granada, but to give you a sense of Nicaragua’s culinary possibilities, take a look at the recipe below. It’s taken (my translation) from La comida nicaragüense, a fantastic book by Jaime Wheelock Román (former minister of agrarian reform during the Sandinista period).

Arroz al Negro
(As told by Guillermina and José María Garcia, San Jorge, Rivas)

Boil pork and chicken in separate pots, remove meats and shred. Reserve cooking waters, mix together and add rice that has previously been sauteed in butter and onions. Bring to a boil, then add a cup of peeled and crushed tomatoes, pieces of baby corn and chayote, Worcester sauce and capers. Once the water has been absorbed by the rice, add the shredded chicken and pork, black olives and green peas. Serve with bread.

Informal Economics

Gerardo
Originally uploaded by justinwolfe.

Gerardo sells gum. He walks around the old center of Granada looking for people to buy little packs of Chiclets for one cordoba each. At 10 he's a savvy salesman, although he has no formal education and doesn't go to school because he can't afford any of the necessary supplies, including leather shoes, a school uniform, a notebook and pencils. I saw Gerardo the other day and we sat together for a while and talked. I learned a lot about the informal economy--at least from Gerardo's perspective.

The day we talked, Gerardo was toting a 100-pack box of gum, about two thirds of which he'd already sold. The box costs 40 cordobas (approximately $2.50). Selling the box of 100 at a cordoba a piece, he makes a 60 cordoba profit. But for a poor street seller like Gerardo--who that day had on flip-flops so old and worn out that he'd scuffed a hole in the heel--that's a lot of money. When we met that day (Friday), he had about 35 packets of gum left in the box. This morning (Monday) he sold me the remaining six packets. That suggests that he sells roughly 10 packets each day. So every ten days he finishes up a box, pockets 60 cordobas and reinvests the other 40 in a new box. At the end of the year, after a hard work every day, he's probably made 2,190 cordobas, or about $135.

A mile in his shoes
Originally uploaded by justinwolfe.

Given this level of poverty, I wondered how Gerardo gathered enough money to buy that first 100-box of gum. He bought it, he said, at the market after having saved up the necessary money. He explained that he used to sell sticks of gum, little candies, cigarettes and the like from a small basket. He bought and sold on a small scale. The returns were far less, but his up-front costs were more feasible. Still, this also meant wasting time going back and forth to the market every day or so.

Gerardo started on the streets when he was just 7. He had no money and thus had nothing to sell; so he begged. From these first few cordobas, he has moved steadily toward larger and more profitable selling. He's a micro-entrepreneur who has been increasingly successful. Yet he still lives in desperately poor conditions and malnutrition has left him small for his age. Moreover, he is largely at the end of his mobility. He could conceivably move onto larger and more profitable goods like jewelry or ceramics, but these are very different businesses with enormous initial costs and an uncertain future. These things are subject to taste and the purchase of tourists. Gum and cigarettes are fungible items and always desired. More importantly, they are bought by Nicaraguans as well as foreigners.

It is unlikely that he will beat the odds that poverty has dealt him. The life of kids like Gerardo is often marked by drug addiction (especially glue sniffing), disease, and physical and sexual abuse. I offer Gerardo's story not as a romantic tale of a Nicaraguan Horatio Alger, but rather as both the inspiring qualities of human creativity and doggedness in the most dire of circumstances and the real structural impediments to even so amazing a kid as Gerardo.