Solentiname

I started dreaming of Solentiname before I left the U.S. This little archipelago isolated in Lake Colciboca near the Rio San Juan and the Costa Rican border has a compelling recent history, or at least it resonates to me. What I read before I left was that the group of some twenty little islands was sparsely  inhabited and ignored by everyone until Ernesto Cardinal, a priest, poet and artist, went there in the early 1960s to found a kind of communal society, organizing the campesinos.  Cardinal was influenced by, and helped to influence, the liberation theology movement which emerged in Latin American countries as a response to Vatican II and to the social and economic inequality pervasive then.  Christ was radically conceived as champion of the poor. But to this mix of Christianity and campesino culture, Cardenal introduced a third element—art.  He gave the people paint and canvas and brought an artist friend from Managua to teach them rudiments of painting.  And they painted the world they saw in a primitive style, the paintings full of what Solentiname has in gorgeous abundance—water, birds, animals, flowers. The style and skills have been passed along to the next generation but there are still painters on Solentiname who were part of the original experiment.

When my sister and niece were visiting we explored the Rio San Juan, but I wanted to see Solentiname and so we made an overnight trip, arriving at 4:30 one afternoon and leaving at 5 in the morning the next day.  Not much of visit, but enough to tell me I had to come back.  There is magic in Solentiname and great peace and beauty.  No cars, no cell phone service, no electricity (on most islands) except what people generate with solar panels. But there is the art and it is something.   I took the opportunity of a school vacation to set out by myself on the long journey from my site to San Carlos (10 bus hours) and by lancha 2 hours across the lake to the archipelago. And I brought money.  I had seen enough on the previous trip to know that I wanted a Solentiname painting to bring home, a gift to myself after two years of service and a reminder of the natural beauty of Nicaragua.

There are tourist facilities on only two islands.  I had previously stayed on Mancarrón where I saw Cardenal’s beautiful white church.  But most of the art is on two islands,  La Venada and San Fernando, so I stayed on San Fernando, the only other choice.  In the whole archipelago there are only about 2000 people, spreadout over maybe 15-20 islands. I lucked out in the hotel I stayed in, not because it was so wonderful, but because I made friends with two nice Nicas there. Olivia, the daughter of the owners, surprised me by speaking to me in English the first morning when I came to the kitchen early looking for coffee.  We sat down there and chatted while she was preparing breakfast. Olivia explained when I asked that she learned her English on her own with the help of three lucky factors.  She studied for five years in a University in Managua on full scholarship, although she took only two English classes and those specialized for her major, environmental science.  She also was able to study abroad on scholarship twice, one full year in Germany and a month in Turkey. It was in Germany she picked up the English.  Why was she back in Solentiname cooking at a hotel? (I hope I put the question to her more delicately) Well, she explained, that’s her home and she had been unable to find work (This is the sad song of too many educated Nicaraguans.  They study but find no jobs.) I expressed surprise, suggesting that it would seem that with her major and her excellent English she could work for an NGO.  She said that when she put “self-taught” on her resume as the source of her English ability, potential employers discounted it, preferring credentialed English speakers. What a shame.  She is better than most.

The conversations continued later that morning when she agreed to lead me on a hike to a lookout and site of petroglyphs. (Hiking in Nicaragua can be dangerous solo.  Trails just aren’t marked and they criss-cross in a way familiar to the inhabitants but not to visitors.  In fact, Olivia told me, a foreigner had died on a trail on the island when he fell and shattered a leg.  His body was not found until much later because no one knew he was missing or where he had gone.) The hike was muddy.  Torrential rain fell as we huddled under an overhang at the island elementary school (two classrooms areas in one building).  The view was worth the hike and the soaking. On the way back, Olivia pointed out the houses of some artists and I looked at some paintings. She also helped me locate a man with a boat to take me in the afternoon to La Venada where a large family of artists lives.  I spent the rest of the morning at a gallery where the paintings of many artists were exhibited, a great opportunity to examine the paintings closely and consider the prices, which seem to depend only on the size of the canvas.

The boatman turned out to be a guide as well.  He took me to five different houses, all located near each other and all with a few paintings set out to view. Obviously everyone was glad to see me and there was no awkwardness in looking and moving on.     I had made a list from the gallery of artists whose work I wanted to see and I also wanted to go back to see the work of Rudolfo Arelleno, the progenitor of the other artists in this little compound.  I saw his work on the last trip and really liked it, but I couldn’t afford his most spectacular paintings, big complex pieces, museum quality, in my untutored opinion. On this trip I ended up buying one of Rudolfo’s painting, a much smaller piece, but my eye was instantly caught by a painting in the house of a relative, a largish and beautiful example of the Solentiname style.  The artist quite rightly wanted a good bit for it.  She could tell I admired it.  When I said I couldn’t pay so much she shyly invited me to bargain.  I gave it a shot, both of us laughing and saying how we were no good at “negociando”.  We made a deal.  The boatman, I think genuinely, said it was a good painting and I waited while she took it off the stretcher and rolled it so I could carry it. I went back to my hotel with a singing heart. I had got what I came for and so much more besides.

The next day I spent at the little museum on San Fernando and at the library where I found a book describing another project—a poetry writing workshop on the island during Cardenal’s time.  I shared an avocado with a maid at the hotel, Jessica, and we talked for some time. That night Jessica introduced me to her daughter.  The next morning at 5 o’clock I was standing on the dock of the hotel, waiting for the boat to take me back to San Carlos.  Made it in time to take an 8 o’clock bus to Managua, a taxi from one bus station to another, another bus to Jinotepe and a third out to LaPaz, my training town.  After a 12 hour travel day I was so glad to see my old host mom and to bask in all that love and approval.  She really is something. This has gone on too long so I won’t detail the day I spent visiting old friends there except to say that I am most fortunately included in the list of people for whom by name Doña Petrona, my host mom’s sister, prays nightly. To this I attribute my health and happiness in Nicaragua, if not for its supernatural effectiveness , then for being held so kindly in the hearts of people here.