on nicas and nationality...

New week, new country. I guess that happens a lot in this job. Although I'm not sure why it was such a bizarre sensation to me this time around - the idea that life, almost entirely, could be so different just a few days later. The rhythm changes, staff changes, climate changes (goodness it's hot here) and the political landscape changes.

Nicaragua is distinct from the other two countries for lots of reasons, but especially due to its unique history: a Revolution that triumphed and a counter-revolution that ravaged the country. Earthquakes and hurricanes and leaders that seem to take advantage of the people rather than build them up, have left Nicaragua in tough shape economically. It's the largest country in Central America, rich in resources, but the second poorest in the hemisphere, after Haiti.

This economic situation means that lots of people immigrate. However, while hundreds of Salvadorans are going to the States every day, people in Nicaragua are filling the jobs left behind in Honduras, Guatemala and Salvador...and most commonly, attempting to cross the border into Costa Rica, where there are better jobs with better wages. It's created quite the contempt filled relationship between these neighboring nations; one similar to that between Mexico and the United States. On Tuesday, Joao brought me to the national theater to see 'El Nica'; a monologue in which a Nicaraguan immigrant talks about his faith, life, journey, challenges, rage, hope and pride.

It was incredibly moving to see an immigrant's resilience depicted with such humor and honesty, and painful to see how humans treat each other based on border and class. However, for me, the most powerful moment was the end, when the whole theater stood up and applauded their flag, so many with tears in their eyes for their people and enormous pride in their country. I stood there and applauded as well - feeling somewhat out of place - having one of those moments where I wonder 'How did I end up here? A gringa in Nicaragua, caring so much about immigration to Costa Rica? How is it that life/my decisions brought me here? Why haven't I ever clapped for my flag with tears in my eyes?' And all of the sudden I felt so saddened by the fact that I'm not proud of where I'm from. I was so envious of all of those people who tell you where they're from with that sure smile on their face like nothing anyone could say about their homeland would make them any less proud of it. And me, I'm not proud of it, just ridiculously privileged because of it - life is so strange.

And in the midst of this little question-session going on in my head, the actor began to wind together the Costa Rican and Nicaraguan flag, and the applause swelled. And with that symbolic action I started to feel part of what was going on again, because then I felt part of a movement. So I don't sing to stars and stripes - and that doesn't mean I'm ashamed of where I'm from - I'm just also not boasting about what my nationality so often stands for in places like Latin America. I'd rather identify with this group of people, with people in general that also want borders to mean less and people to mean more. I want so much of who I am to be about learning and educating in order to move closer to treating people like humans regardless of nationality.

Back in real life, turns out I don't get to turn my passport in for one to some 'nationless utopia' where everyone is equal. Hm. Which means I'm reminded, again and again, that being born in Iowa rather than Managua means that I was also born with a responsibility to use my privilege to love better, to be generous, and to work for changes that validate the idea that people are more than their nationality.