Sandino the Cricket!

I have never been much of a collector of things. Oh, I have a few stray pieces of depression glass, mostly because I originally had 4 gold pudding cups that my mother acquired as a gift for going to the movies during the depression, and I wanted a few more. For similar reasons I have some hammered aluminum--somehow my mother acquire a lovely --for hammered aluminum--hammered aluminum tray. When I was about 4 I had a shoe box filled with all sorts of treasures, and the only reason why I know this is because there is a photo of me next to my father, with this box of treasures beside me.
So, I'm not much of a collector of objects. One object I treasure though, is Sandino the Cricket. I had lost track of him, but while looking for something else, I came upon Sandino the Cricket. He is dry now; the green of the palm fronds has turned a dusty brown, but his cricketness is still apparant. His antennae are perky, and his cricket legs are still ready to spring. Sandino is 7 years old and is somewhat of a world traveller.

On one of my early visits to Nicaragua, the leader of the project I was visiting had taken us to a park built on the remains of Somoza's palace in Managua; the palace wherein he kept wild animals to feed prisoners to. Anyway. Atop this gruesome foundation stands an immense metal silhouette of Agusto Sandino, a revered leader in Nicaraguan history. As we stood around and Michael, the leader, spoke to us, a bouyand little boy dressed in worn, ill-fitting clothes shredded flipflops came dancing over to us. With an engaging smile he spoke to Michael in energetic Spanish. In his hands he held several crickets and rosettes intricately made from palm fronds, a bundle of which he had with him. The little boy wanted us to purchase the crickets. He and Michael chatted amiably and soon Sue Wright, Patti Smith, and I were the proud owners of palm frond crickets. In honor of the location, I named mine Sandino.

It is a treasure, and I would be saddened if I lost it. I can still see that little boy's upturned face; I can still see Michael smiling down at him; talking kindly to him. I am quite aware of the circumstances of his life: a home of two rooms, perhaps, with a metal roof and a dirt floor; a mother who struggles everyday to put rice and beans on the table; little opportunity to be educated ( it costs money to go to public school, and one must wear a uniform); a future with little hope.

This little boy with the winning ways, who couldn't have been more than 11, was selling crickets he had made in order to earn a few pesos for himself, or perhaps his family. Did he dance off and buy an ice cream from a street vendor? Did he bring the money home to his mother, who would have probably sent him out to buy a few corn tortillas from someone who made them in her home? I will never know, just like I will never know how this child's life will turn out. I hope his spirit isn't beaten down by the circumstances of his life. I hope someone, somewhere, is taken by his spirit and helps him to a better life.

Sandino the Cricket is a reminder. It reminds me that around the corner and the world there are children filled with the glee and delight that all children have, but not all those children have the opportunity to grow up with enough food, enough education, enough peace to live meaningful and purposeful lives. It reminds me that all children, everywhere, are the future of our world.

The prayer of the Breton fishermen, (which M. W. Edelman uses for the Children's Defense Fund) says."O, God Thy Sea Is So Great And My Boat Is So Small. " All of us, in some way, large or small, need to help all our children, everywhere, navigate that great sea of life, so their small boats bring them to maturity in healthy and meaningful ways.