Horses on Highways

Standing in the main square of Leon, you might think you were in a European village, except here there are bars on the cathedral windows and paint peels off of storefront walls. I spent two hours wandering Leon’s Museo de Arte Fundacion Ortiz-Gurdian and was awed as much by the meticulously-maintained gardens crawling with turtles as by the showcases of Latin American artwork (my favourite was a sculpture of the equestrian dictator, smashed).  Squeezing my way up a narrow staircase in the old cathedral led me to a white-glazed rooftop crested with domes, and a view of seven volcanoes along the skyline.  That evening I devoured a plate of filet mignon, before joining local families at an open-air stage where young Nica boys and girls in ornate dress showed-off their mastery of traditional Nicaraguan dance.

In contrast to this cultural wealth, I also saw a woman dressed in dirty cloth and grocery bags, begging for a cordoba; a man scavenging for his dinner in a street filled with food waste; and a baby eating what looked like worms.  I caught glimpses of domestic life between panes of corrugated metal: a woman cooking dinner for her family over a fire pit, keeping a close eye on her toddler playing on the dirt floor, while a chicken squawked past her husband watching television.

I was hired by Cuso International to study these disparities. Trips out of Managua are part sightseeing, part research into the economic plight I’ve been hired to investigate. Cuso International is a Canadian NGO that aims to reduce poverty and inequality worldwide by sending skilled volunteers to local communities to share knowledge and build capacity.  I was recruited to help partner organizations measure the impact of their entrepreneurship and employment programs.  Easier said than done.

The challenge was made clear during week one when I participated in an interview with the director of a partner organization.  Asked to provide data on beneficiaries by sex, age and indigenous status, the well-intentioned director threw her hands in the air, at a loss.  Before I try to offer support, my first step is to understand why data collection is not a regular practice in Nicaragua:  Is it due to a lack of resources?  An absence of technical know-how?  Or a cultural mindset more inclined to “doing” rather than measuring?  How can we know we’re helping to reduce poverty and inequality if we can’t monitor our progress?

On the bus back from Leon I saw a man skillfully navigate his horse across an eight-lane highway, bracing just long enough to allow transport trucks to pass.  I admired his tenacity (though I feared for both his life and that of his horse).  In a similar way, I admire Cuso and other NGOs that press on in their quest to end poverty, despite the complexity of the development challenge, layers of bureaucracy, cultural barriers, and resource constraints.  It’s a tricky business.

Thank you for supporting my work in Nicaragua with a donation to Cuso International! Here's my fundraising site.