This morning we woke up again in Managua. We started the day with a friendly debate about the proper way to eat a mamon chino, (lychee nut) a native fruit that resembles a pocket-sized porcupine. Some skin it with their teeth, some use a knife. The spikes aren’t sharp, so teeth won.

We met up with Rosa Aguilar, the Director of ANIBIPA, at the Palacio National in downtown Managua, which among other things contains an exhibit of Ruben Dario, Nicaragua’s most famous poet. Groups of small boys assailed us we approached the gate, selling intricate handmade flowers woven from palm fronds. They stated their price and we were happy to do business with them. The cost was “20 cordobas compartir”–about a dollar to share among the three of them. They stood together and followed together as we headed to our cars.

We made good time getting to Chinandega–just over 2 hours north, passing Lake Managua and a complement of volcanos along the way. Today was the inauguration of Chinandega’s first lending library, funded by the Wisconsin/Nicaragua project, which for over 40 years has been a link between the state of Wisconsin and the country of Nicaragua. (The Partners of the Americas project pairs most states in the US with other nations in Central and South America. )The Chinandega library is housed in an old sewing machine factory near the “Spanish Hospital.” I was awestruck by the ability of of our Nicaraguan colleague to locate the library, as there are no actual street addresses. “Near to xyz but not all the way to abc” is about all you get. In addition to being a library, the building will also be a training center to teach sewing machine repair, helping to provide employment to local people. The distinguished Singer machines lined the edge of the room as we ducked under the orange ribbon, yet to be cut.

Librarians, teachers and visitors from the region, along with lots of eager kids, were gathered inside at long tables lined with books. A small group of girls in blue and white uniforms had arrived early, chosen a book apiece, and were seated quietly on stools reading. “Library in a box” materials–granted by Jane Mirandette’s Hester J Hodgdon Libraries For All Foundation–were placed near the front end of the room, marking the circulation area.

One boy of about 11 with striking hair that stood on end had stayed beside me as I videotaped Jane Mirandette giving an interview to the local TV station. I turned and asked him what he thought of it all. He smiled and said it seemed good. His name is Humberto and he lives directly across the street in a cement house. I spent the rest of the day with him and his four brothers, to whom he immediately introduced me. Each graciously shook my hand, even the smallest one. When I suggested a picture, Humberto nodded and they all gathered together, throwing their arms around one another, taking care that Raphael, age four, was prominently placed in the front.

Cristhian, Humberto, Rafael, Albero y Francisco

We remained outside all afternoon, talking and laughing, and I met at least a half dozen of their friends who walked over or passed by on bikes. None of them wanted to go inside, so we brought cookies and coke outside. I asked them all if they liked to read. They nodded and I said I hoped they would have fun using their library. Again, they nodded graciously. We horsed around and played and they tried to help me with my Spanish. By the end they were correcting my verb conjugation. I asked each boy to write down his name and the older boys showed me how a Nicaraguan name, which has four names in all, should be written. I still don’t really get it.

At the end of the day, Raphael chose a book that Humberto and I could read with him. “Sembrar una sopa de verduras,” or “How to Make Vegetable Soup.” Humberto helped me with the vegetable words, and gently reminded Raphael to turn the pages carefully. When we finished, Humberto chose another book for his little brother. We were getting ready to leave and I knew I wouldn’t have time to read with them. I told Humberto that I was sad to miss reading it with them, but that he could read the book any time he wanted. He nodded. Paused. “Are they giving this to me as a gift?” he asked, a bit confused. I remembered that this was Humberto’s first exposure to a lending library. I imagined it from his perspective. A bunch of people show up in a building across the street from his house with brand new books he would never have seen, even in school, and tell him he can use them anytime he wants. I would probably think something was fishy, or else, having nothing to compare it to, assume someone was giving me a present. We explained the process of getting a card and showing it when he wants to borrow something to read. He understood. I imagine it will take time. Humberto is smart, and he’ll have to experience it for himself and draw his own conclusions. I’m only sad I won’t be there to see it.

In a cement building with mesh iron windows and a tin roof, everything needed for a library was in place. When Jane Mirandette speaks to groups–as I have now heard her do several times–about the crucial project of bringing lending libraries to this country, she sums it up like this: “libros en los manos de los ninos.” Books in the hands of kids. Today was a good first step.