Sorry, there will be no cake in this story. The above is a reference to one of my favourite comedians. And while you may be disappointed with the lack of dessert, you will not be disappointed. This entry will discuss, candy.
Being foreigners on a small, rather isolated island, means that you stand out. Because of this people want to see you. People want you to come to their events. People want you to come to their parties.
After our invitation to go to the daughter of Adelyda’s preschool graduation, I felt blessed on a second occasion to enjoy some local festivities. Faber is a guide for Totoco who happens to pop by and hang out in the volunteer area. I think this is because he likes to think of himself as a man with many friends all over the world. Perhaps having foreign friends is a way to gain status here. In either case, the man likes to hang out with us.
Faber was telling us about the upcoming festivities surrounding December 8. This is the day for the patron saint of Nicaragua, Santa Maria, the virgin mother. To celebrate Nicaraguans spend a crap load of money on candy and other small trinkets to hand out to small children of their respective cities. Each neighborhood has a day to share the candy with the wee little ones. Faber invited us to his neighborhoods, which coincidently happens to be at his mothers house as well. In fairness we seemed destined to go as the representatives from Totoco lodge.
Sara and I headed off to collect the bag of lollipops from the taxi driver who bought them in Mayogalpa for Martijn and our 30 bananas in a bag. We arrived slightly late for English time, but early for Island time. At 3:15pm there was only three people there, Nelson (Faber’s brother), Faber’s Mother, and one of Nelson’s nephews. Already there was sugar cane in these big white buckets as well as tang in bags. In true Island hospitality they gave us some of their treasured goods (a bag of tang and a sugar cane) to each of us.
While waiting for more adults to arrive with sweets I made my first attempt to eat a sugar cane. While it is not an entirely difficult thing to do, it is a bit strange for the uninitiated. Let me inform you. First you have to peel off the outer tough bark. Then you start chewing, except you cannot swallow the tough fibres of the sugar cane. Instead you have to spit them out. Luckily for us, this is totally custom here and we were also outside. I was able to spit out all of the tough fibrous parts of the sugar cane with little impunity. And in a strange, perhaps rebellious way to Canadian manners, it felt awesome. It also kept me entertained enough to avoid drinking tang con leche.
More and more people showed up carrying more and more goodies, ranging from sweets to corn to more tang. Once again as seemingly prized guests we were allowed to try corn and more tang. I can attest that the sweet corn here is delicious, and while it may not beat the sort of corn I’m used to in Alberta, the Nicaraguans (and Central Americans in general) know their corn.
While I chewed on sugar cane and listened to Sara and Nelson talk in Spanish, I started noticing the growing number of children and adults accumulating outside. At first there were only a handful. The next time I looked there were five times that. The next time, five times the previous amount. Closer and closer to 4 o’clock and the more sugar crazed the children seemed to get. They were clambering over the rocks peering into the court yard of Faber’s Mother’s home. Slowly but surely as the time crept closer to four, the children could practically smell the candy.
Finally Nelson told me to take some photos and then proceeded to get things started, the Latin American way...with fireworks. Except there isn’t the showy fun part at the end with grand explosions. It is just a loud crack and the hilarious giggles of young kids and squeals by tourists like me, who are not used to such noises.
Before the kids get their candy, they must wait for the prayer to Santa Maria. The kids, shockingly, joined in while about five women started the prayer for the Virgin Mary. While the lyrics were lost on me amidst the continued bangs of the firecrackers, Sara and I were handed a bucket full of tang in small plastic bags to hand on “solamente por mujeres” (only for women) and off into the throng we went.
It is intensely uncommon for such a scene to be witnessed where I am from. I can only relate such festivities to the likes of teenage girls being unleashed on the popular boy group of the age. For my generation and whiteness, N’SYNC or The Back Street Boys. People were coming at you from all angles, touching your elbow in order to gain the elixir of Tang. Men would come up expectantly asking why they didn’t get to receive the pink goodness, and sadly I had to look at them and say “solo por mujeres”. Within a matter of minutes all of our bags of tang had vanished into the hands of women and girls in the crowd and we returned for round two.
I was given the task to hand out bananas and before I even made it to the children about a third of my bananas were taken by relatives of Faber. Then I really experienced the chaos. Kids were grabbing at you and pulling you towards them. Little hands were reaching into my bag of bananas. Within one minute, my bananas were gone and I had only made it three steps into the crowd. I looked up to see Adelyda implore without words if there were more bananas. I had to tell her that she had lost out on the banana quest. Walking back empty handed, a woman asked me for the plastic bag. I returned empty handed.
Next was perhaps the most illustrious candy of all, the caramel lollipops Martijn bought from Mayogalpa. These holiest of treats was definitely a prize to hand out, and I didn’t take the task lightly. I walked boldly into the crowd and started handing out lollipops. I did manage to sneak three for the three children of Adelyda. I know it was wrong to deny three other children the right to these lollipops, but seeing as we brought them I figure that perhaps I will be forgiven this favouritism. This time, they were two thirds gone by the time I reached the kids and within 20 seconds they were all gone. I had made it one step into the crowd. Afterwards I fought to Adelyda’s side and handed her three lollipops and said that they were for her children. I loved seeing her face light up and give me one of those crinkly eyed smiles. Totally worth it.
Once my job as candy distributor were over, I watched the remaining goods be handed out. Perhaps the best moment was watching Faber literally be molested by 15 children. They were grabbing at his hat, his face, this shirt, his pants, pretty much anything that would get them some attention. No matter what he had in his hands, corn or small plastic balls, he had children climbing all over him. It was perhaps one of the most hilarious sights to be seen the entire day.
Almost as soon as it started, the goods had all been handed out and people were quick to return to their normal, less frenzied life. Once people knew no more candies would be coming out of the gates, people started dispersing as if nothing had happened. Except that you could catch the characteristic Tang bag or plastic bag full of candies as they walked away.
We said our final goodbyes to Adelyda, Pablo’s two children, and made our own way back through town. When walking past Cafe Compestre I had the ingenious idea to enquire about the hummus there. And I was not disappointed this time. I finally was able to try and relish the hummus with made to order tortillas with gusto, while Sara enjoyed her portion of chocolate ice cream.
And thus, in the end, we all ended up with sweets.
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