It’s time to reflect and not think about solar lamps for a bit. Mario, Victorino the director of our partner organization and I went out for a short trip into the country yesterday. I feel like every time we head out there I see something new.

We jumped into the back of a Toyota pickup truck and sped down pothole filled hiways which turn into pothole filled rock roads…which turn into two little dirt lanes with grass growing in between. We’re out in a dry tropical mountain countryside. The sun bakes small wooden shack homes scattered throughout the landscape. We met with a farmer named Jose Zeleya – who is working with Victorino to find a possible location to put in a potable water well. We hiked up and down hills, crawled under barbed wire fence and jumped over streams. Jose’s six children followed behind Mario like little baby chickens – or “pollitos” as Mario called it. He gave them nicknames and teased them, telling them they should bathe more often and make faces for the camera. At one point we discovered a huge group of giant catapillars resting on a tree.

Today was a happy day. There was sunshine, there was peace, there was development. But a certain sadness still lies hidden under the banana leaves, under the thick grass and sunbaked earth. You can’t tell unless you really look. Arms are no longer carried, but they still lay scattered rusting throughout the countryside. The echo of the last shot fired stopped 20 years ago, but the steel echo of war can still be heard in Jinotegan’s memories.