Of Marines and Mangoes
I was recently standing in the courtyard of what used to be a jail run by the dictator Somoza’s National Guard troops, where political prisoners were tortured. I was standing there with Benito, who had been, at age 17, a political prisoner. He pointed out a giant mango tree in the courtyard, and described how the National Guard would hang prisoners from the tree in order to beat them, or actually hang them to death, or lower them with ropes into a well. Nicaragua’s National Guard had been established by the US Marines at the end of their decades-long occupation of the country in the early part of the 20th century, a history so recent to Nicaraguans that when the last Somoza fled the country in ’79 (with millions of public funds in his pockets), people referred to the event as the departure of “the last Marine.”
I can’t help but think of the US’s current adventure in occupation, and the young soldiers who recently testified at Winter Soldier: Iraq and Afghanistan – chilling and moving testimonies (completely ignored by mainstream media) by young people deeply and horribly affected by what they have seen and done. (http://ivaw.org/wintersoldier)
Benito picked up a couple of mangoes that had fallen from the tree, and began to eat one. I love mangoes, and the one he offered to me was perfect and juicy – but I gagged on my third bite and left the rest of it for the birds. My friend didn’t seem to mind that the fruit had been nurtured with the blood of his companions; in fact, he made a couple of macabre jokes as he was eating. Who can be squeamish with food prices as they are, anyway?
