Becca Renk *, Nicanotes
https://afgj.org/nicanotes-07-07-2022?eType=EmailBlastContent&eId=5deb0683-223c-4712-ae4e-22b2d52f4374
Jaquelin Rivera Mayorga, a protagonist in the Zero Usury low-interest microloan program
for women, making a piñata for her small business. Jaquelin is also a teacher of decoration,
beauty and piñatas at the free Ciudad Sandino Trade School.
When I was in college, I took a class called Methods of Peacemaking. We students from the liberal arts college were assigned to go out into our blue-collar Midwestern town and visit all the major churches, malls, bowling alley – even the Moose Lodge — to engage the locals in conversation. After returning to campus, we were to make vocabulary lists including words that came up repeatedly in conversations, and then analyze our lists to identify themes and to discern what issues were important to the people of the town. After more than two decades of community development work in Nicaragua, I still consider it to be the most useful class I took in college: it taught me how to listen and showed me that language is a reflection of who we are and how we view ourselves.
Based on language alone, it is obvious to me that there has been a sea change in Nicaragua in recent years.
In 1980s Nicaragua, the word compañero was ubiquitous. Roughly translated as “comrade,” the Popular Sandinista Revolution loved the word compañero. It was often shortened to the gender-neutral “compa” which was also a synonym for Sandinista soldiers (as in, the Compas vs the Contras). Compañero was also the term used for life partner – it was uncommon in those days for the popular classes to legally marry their partners. The expense associated with both a legal marriage and a church wedding (the two are separate in Nicaragua) made it impractical, and society did not frown upon unmarried partnerships – “accompañado” or “partnered” is, in fact, still a recognized marital status in Nicaragua.
With the advent of neoliberalism in 1990, however, compañero quickly disappeared and was replaced by a classist hierarchy of titles – Doctor (for medical doctors, PhDs and lawyers), Engineer (anyone with a degree in science or engineering), and Licenciado (anyone with a college degree in other areas) – and anyone with no college education was just referred to by their first name – perhaps with a respectful don or doña thrown in front of it (Sir and Madam). In a country where, at the time, less than 9% of the population had a college degree, the inequality inherent in this language of titles was stark and damaging.
It became more uncommon to use compañero to mean “life partner” as well. The Church began coercing couples to marry by refusing to baptize babies unless the parents had been married in the Church, and over time the term compañero/a was gradually replaced by “esposo/a” (husband/wife), even for those not married in the Church or by law.
With the return of the Sandinistas to power in 2007, however, the language of revolution is returning as well. Compañero is now once again in common use – even those possessing official titles often eschew them for compañero or stick compañero in front of their title, as in compañera Mayor. [Also Vice President Rosarillo Murillo prefers Compañera to Vice President.] There’s an egalitarian feel to it – it’s nice to avoid the social fumbling of getting someone’s title wrong or not knowing their name – everyone is “Compa.”
The reemergence of compañero is not the only language development in Nicaragua in recent years.
Not too long ago I listened to a municipal agronomist explaining how to make organic fertilizers to a group of local farmers. His language was relaxed and he used common terminology. But he repeatedly talked about farming practices that protect “la Madre Tierra” or “Mother Earth.” I tried to envision an equivalent scenario in the U.S. – an Iowa corn farmer talking about Mother Earth – and I admit that it was pretty hard to imagine. But the absolutely unselfconscious way in which this portly middle-aged agronomist was talking about Mother Earth and the matter-of-fact response of the farmers made me realize that the Earth as our Mother is a concept with which they are all familiar and comfortable. I began to ponder, how does it change our relationship to the earth when we call her Mother? Does our language only reflect our attitudes, or can the language we use also influence our attitudes?
Since 2007, the government has created a whole host of programs aimed at improving the lives of the poor, particularly poor women. For example: the Zero Hunger program has given 275,000 women in rural areas pigs, a pregnant cow, chickens, seeds, fertilizers, and building materials. This project has benefitted one sixth of the country and has increased both the participating families’ food security and the nation’s food sovereignty – Nicaragua now produces 90% of the food it consumes.
A number of years ago I began to notice that when speaking about its poverty reduction programs, the government never used the term “beneficiary,” – a passive recipient – but had instead replaced it with the active “protagonist.” At first I heard this term mostly from government workers, but now it is in common use.
Currently the Casa Ben Linder is sponsoring a virtual class with an in-person delegation component called Women in Nicaragua: Power and Protagonism. In a recent session, we discussed the term and its meaning. Since “protagonist” is more commonly used in Spanish than English, the co-host of our series, Camille Landry, gave this helpful explanation, “When we talk about women as protagonists,” she said, “we mean that they are taking the lead in their own lives, making their own decisions to benefit themselves, their families, their communities – instead of being passive, powerless gears in the wheels of capitalism whose only value is to serve and enrich others.”
Our class then heard directly from women participants in these programs – the protagonists themselves. I listened carefully to their words to hear what they consider the important aspects of their protagonism.
“The truth is that I was a very submissive person, I even used to ask my husband permission to go to the market,” confessed Ángela Galeano of the Zero Hunger program, whose testimony was shared via video from Justa Pérez, the Minister of Family, Associative and Cooperative Economy. “I couldn’t milk a cow, but once I got my own cow in 2008, I learned, and since then I have been breaking that taboo of fear…The message I give to all women is, let’s not be scared; let’s empower ourselves! Because even though our projects might be small, when you are empowered, you feel satisfied and very happy.”
Flor Avellán also spoke. Flor comes from a very humble background. She is a member of the self-employed workers union, a leader of the union’s Women’s Secretariat, and now also a member of the legislature – in Nicaragua, the law requires that 50% of all elected officials be women. “We are not fighting for space anymore,” declared Flor. “Now we have that space and we are empowered every day.”
All the women who spoke showed their pride of ownership over their own projects, continually using the words “we” and “our.” Flor expressed a strong sense of agency not only in her own life, but also in the overall trajectory of the country. “We women exercise our power, we are empowered, and that is why we say el Pueblo Presidente, the people of Nicaragua are President. In previous years I never would have imagined that I would come to have a seat in the National Assembly, Nicaragua’s legislature… but everything is possible thanks to our inclusive model, a model of participation and direct democracy,” she said.
When President Daniel Ortega was inaugurated last January, he was given the Presidential sash and took the oath of office. He then took off his sash, held it out to the crowd, and had the people of Nicaragua swear an oath to help Nicaraguan families and to eradicate poverty – symbolically inviting all Nicaraguans to be take an active lead in their own lives, families, and communities as “the People, President.”
If “the People, President” were simply a slogan, then it would ring hollow, because language is organic – you can’t shoehorn a concept or a term into everyday use by force. When the meaning behind a term is heartfelt, however, then it is truly a reflection of how we see ourselves, and a reflection of who we really are. Today, all around Nicaragua, protagonists are becoming the heroes of their own stories.
Please join us for our next class in the series “Women in Nicaragua: Power and Protagonism!”
On Saturday July 9th we will explore “Women Facing Hybrid Warfare."
Nicaraguan women will share their experiences with the violence of 2018 and efforts to counteract disinformation since then.
Featuring: journalist Camila Escalante of Kawsachun News;
Ima Alfaro, President of Las Diosas coffee processing plant;
Yorlis Gabriela Luna, grassroots educator and researcher;
and Andrea Michelle Pérez Espinoza, journalist and academic.
Register here: bit.ly/powerandprotagonism
Saturday, July 9, – 9 am PDT / 10 am Central America / 11 am CDT / 12 pm EDT / 5 pm UK
* Becca Renk is part of the Jubilee House Community, which works in sustainable development in Ciudad Sandino. The JHC also works to educate visitors to Nicaragua, including through their hospitality and solidarity cultural center at Casa Benjamin Linder