The Only Taoists in Nicaragua

Today, after sitting for a few hours and eveloping an excel spreadsheet to collect data on the chickens project, I go with Oneyda to meet her Taiwanese neighbors (the ones who gave her exercises to do in the morning). Earlier in the day, she had stopped by to buy some fried tofu, which she brought home and and used instead of the traditional fried cheese served with crispy, toasted plantains. The taste, succulent and familiar from my years of hippie cooking, seemed very out of place on top of the traditional tostones here in Nicaragua. We wait by the metal door after knocking. I notice that someone has scrawled in white-out (a favorite medium of vandals in Masaya), "Stupid Chinese."

Oneyda tells me, "I told my friend that I was friends with Lin, and she said she doesn´t like los chinos because they´re bad people-- they exploit their workers in the sweatshops here." It´s true that Korean and Taiwanese sweatshop owners are notorious for the bad conditions in their factories, but it´s quite a jump to condemn an entire race of people for that. The door opens, and a tall-ish woman in a sleeveless, embroidered blouse smiles widely and beckons us inside. The cement floor of the enclosed patio is cleaner than most I´ve seen here. A plastic hose snakes across the floor into a large room with metal barrels and gigantic bags of soybeans stacked to the ceiling.

"This is where they make the tofu," Oneyda offers. But we don´t linger, making our way to the front door. I notice a few pairs of shoes outside the door. Oneyda catches herself, about to enter the house, and laughs. "I forgot," she says, bending to remove her sandals, "I haven´t been here in a while." I step out of mine, and into the house, where Lin offers me a pair of plastic sandals and introduces me to her husband. Both of them offer a handshake and bow slightly rather than leaning forward for the customary Nicaraguan kiss on the cheek.

"Lizzy is familiar with the Tao," Oneyda explained, "and when I told her about you, she wanted to meet you." Lin smiles and nods as her husband busies himself preparing a tray of tea behind her. We´re sitting on a leather couch in their living room. A huge canvas on the wall displays a painting of mountains, trees, and a bridge. The composition looks Chinese but the style reminds me of the colorful folkloric paintings that hang like flags in the city´s market.

"I´m very interested in Taoism," I explain, "so I wanted to meet you. I was curious, how long have you been here? And why did you come?"

Lin nods, and her husband gingerly sets the tea tray on the table. "We´ve been here four years now," she says, still smiling, and then says something else I don´t understand. It´s the first time I´ve heard spanish with a Chinese accent, and the combination (like tostones with tofu) feels strange. I look to Oneyda.

"They came to be missionaries for the Tao," she says, "you know, to evangelize?" Hmm. This is wierd. I didn´t know that Taoims had evangelists. Lin´s husband pours green tea from a pot into

four cups that would fit inside a shot glass, and their cat curls up to fall asleep on my foot. This is also wierd-- I hate cats and they hate me, usually.

We go on to discuss all manner of philosophy, including Jesus and the inadequacy of words to describe reality. I leave thinking they must be the only Taoists in Nicaragua.