Francisca y su cumpleaños

At 4:30 this afternoon, I sat happily, sipping a cup of locally grown (ie, right up the mountainside), organic coffee, with milk and sugar, a rare and spectacular treat in a country full of coffee, but where it is always black with lots of sugar. I had spent seven hours that day climbing, or sliding, or mountaineering, my way up the 4000 feet of the side of the Maderas Volcano. I was awaiting someone to come to fetch me for the birthday dinner date to which I was committed, but secretly part of me was hoping that that person wouldn’t come, so I could simply sit and sip my coffee rather than step out in the rain, to head to a house, where I would have to be social even though exhausted.
But a few minutes later, arriving more punctually than any other Nicaraguan I have met, appeared Denis, the 11 year old son of Francisca, whose birthday it was. Nicely dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, he arrived ready to walk us to his house, and was so cute and courteous that I was reminded of how wonderful it is to meet new people, bucked up my energy, put on my rain slicker and rubber boots, and was off for the evening’s festivities.
We arrived at the house, two wood-framed rooms, with no electricity. Those present were myself, Matt (who had accompanied me to harvest coffee and received the same invitation), Francisca, her four children, two grandchildren and a family of neighbors. Matt worked with the neighbor, Alberto, to string up a light bulb with a wire (which was fruitless since we later discovered there was no electricity) while I served refrescos and chatted about the government, the history or tourism on Ometepe, and was read short stories and jokes from a school book. I also had all of my hair braided by Yillian, Francisca’s youngest daughter.
After arriving at 4:45, Matt and I, exhausted had thought to stay until only 6:30. We realized that this was not a possibility when at 6:30, we had yet to sit down to eat! However, shortly thereafter we all gathered our plastic chairs around the table to enjoy our plate of rice, cooked chicken, and vegetables. It was wonderful. Francisca had clearly cooked all day to make for us this feast, and we all enjoyed it to the utmost, even without electricity. All the more charming by candlelight. We laughed, I translated for Matt, I felt right at home. We talked about tourists and tourism, age, children, the finca, slang, sayings, among other things. As the night was drawing to an end, Matt asked what the giant squash looking thing was in one corner of the room. “A papaya,” we were told, “que se la lleven”. And so, we were sent off with hugs, a flashlight, and a six-pound papaya, the largest I had ever seen! There was no refusing, our simple question turned into a gift, one of the many we had been given that evening, from a lovely dinner and great conversation, to entrance into the home and life of this humble family.
As Denis, Yillian and Francisca said goodbye to us at the roadside, having walked us there from the house, we were profusely invited back, whenever it was in the future that we were to return. As I said goodbye and walked up the hill, I reflected on the genuine nature of the invitation, and one day, hope to be able to take them up on it.