So last night around 7:45pm, I finished tucking the kids into bed and got in our car to drive to a friend's house to watch the election results. As I left our gate and headed down the steep hill that leads from our neighborhood, I noticed an elderly man standing at the bottom of the hill, waving me down frantically with an umbrella or a cane. I am not in the habit of picking unfamiliar people up, especially when I'm alone, especially after dark.
But something felt different about the situation. I mean, he was an old man! SO. . .I slammed on my brakes about 15 feet after I passed him and waited for him to hobble up to the car and hop in. "La Puente," he said, indicating that he wanted a ride to the nearby intersection with a La Colonia grocery store. . .the same place I would be passing anyway. "Esta bien," I responded, and then began driving again.
The man introduced himself as Carlos, and began speaking in perfect English. The three-minute drive to the store was a quick life history of Carlos (aka Charles, the name he used when studying in Spain and France). He was 80 years old, was one of the first persons to build a large house in our area 40 years prior, and had been educated around the world. He felt most "like a New Yorker," though he was Nicaraguan.
We arrived at "La Puente," into a line of cars waiting to turn onto the Carretera Sur next to the brightly lit, busy La Colonia supermarket. I stopped the car and bid Carlos goodnight, thankful I had given a ride to such a wonderful man! And then Carlos reached into his pants, pulled out a gun, and said, "I'm sorry I have to do this."
To be continued. . .
Just kidding. I'll tell you the rest right now. . .too good to wait. I froze (except my eyes, which got huge). My new acquaintance was holding a real, live, metal gun. I'm terrified of guns. "9mm" he said. WHAT DID HE MEAN when he said "I'm sorry I have to do this!?" Do WHAT? Kill me? Rob me? Make me drive him to a different store? Or country? Many scenarios flashed across my mind at this point, including scenarios involving me wrestling the gun away from this frail, well-educated man only slightly younger than my grandpa! I took a deep breath and said something like, "Okay. . .goodnight. You can get out now," hoping to kill with kindness. I'm sure my voice sounded a little panicky!
Carlos smiled and began tucking the revolver deep into his pants. "I've never used this thing. I'm an old man walking alone at night. . .I have to be careful just in case." It began to make sense that his "I'm sorry I have to do this," already so embedded in my brain as the last words I thought I'd hear, was just an apology for having to readjust his gun visibly before going into the supermarket. He wasn't intending to harm me, or really anyone, for that matter. Just getting comfortable.
Carlos thanked me for the ride, grabbed his cane or umbrella, and slipped out of my car. "Thank you for the ride!" he smiled at me. And he was off. And that was that.
I'm not sure if there is a lesson here. I'm certainly glad I'm alive. I think I'm glad I gave Carlos a ride, but I'll probably not pick up strangers alone at night again for a while. . .especially kind-looking elderly men:) Side note to those prone to worry and worst-case scenarios: we continue to feel SO safe in Nicaragua, without ever taking our safety and well-being for granted. We are thankful for our safe neighborhood and the fact that we've really had no incidences involving theft or security since living in Nicaragua (and Carlos readjusting his gun doesn't change that, okay?). We praise God for His protection.
