My Car in Managua (Book Review)

c1991, 0292751249, "My Car in Managua". Though perhaps better known for his academic studies of agrarian policy, managed economies, modern political revolutions, or state enterprises, Forrest Colburn left the high-brow politics & economics out of his slender mostly autobiographical volume, "My Car in Managua" (1991). In doing so, he created a wonderful little book, well worth the time to seek out and read. The work is the result of irregular literary contributions on the Nicaraguan Revolution, and it has now gone through four printings, and has also been published in Nicaragua (Sergio Ramirez, trans., and also the author of the introduction).

Colburn is now the Chair of Latin American Studies Department at Lehman College, but in 1985 he was headed back to Nicaragua. His book, an account of lives lived by ordinary people, is told mostly though his own relationship with his car, while tied to INCAE (Instituto Centro Americano de administration de Empresas ; Colburn comments on the acronym and the institution).

While the title reflects the topic, it may seem an odd choice by publishing standards, not to mention academic book projects. As Colburn points out, he felt a certain latitude should be coming, given the fact that a then-Princeton University colleague has just gotten away with publishing, "The Great Cat Massacre & Other Essays in French Cultural History". Though this probably didn’t contribute much to his quest for tenure at a major University, the book is a welcomed contribution to Central American studies.

Colburn’s car was not an inherited item, but a purchase, and this marks the introduction of his adventure, and the first of many comical forays into everyday life in revolutionary Nicaragua. Classified car ads lack prices (somewhat common), and telephone numbers (far less common), and even street addresses. Instead, they includes rough directions, and landmarks, since streets are unnamed. As he quickly learns, it all matters very little since finding the owner and car, together at one location, is virtually impossible.

By luck or an act of God, somehow Colburn ends up the surprisingly-proud owner of a somewhat road-ready 1973 Fiat Berlina. He gives a detailed account of the process, and also bemoans the fact that car registration required a lawyer-only letter which included such relevant pieces of information as the marital status of the seller and buyer and, eventually, also the original bill of sale from 12 years previously. The whole arduous process wouldn’t be complete without the motorcycle couriers, layers of bureaucracy and a paperwork extravaganza more fitting a peace treaty than a motor vehicle purchase.

Finding the car was, of course, only the start of the adventure. There would be parts to buy and repairs to negotiate, and even a discussion of why manhole covers are being stolen around the city (the explanation is, well, very “Latin”). Everyday life is the focus, and throughout the little book there are similar accounts, explanations, “analyses” of everything from the unavailability of toothpaste (usually a top-notch Bulgarian import) to toilet paper.

A broad compass of topics come into play: the plight of the renegade McDonald’s fast-food place, Barricada’s unquestioned coverage of baseball played in the evil-U.S. (as opposed to evil U.S. baseball), “hand grenade fishing”, property confiscation, the presence of a nice new Iranian Embassy in Nicaragua, Ortega’s poem about cheeseburgers, worker migration to Costa Rica, “monkey money”, the “Bufalo” concept, “Piricuaco”, “Pasaran”, and even that there then appeared to officially be at least 101 words for “machete“. Of particular note, for those who were not there, are the Nicaraguan jokes regarding what you can safely leave in an unlocked car, the difference between the capitalist and communist Hell, and a classic regarding Tomas Borge‘ skills as a swimmer.

It is through the passing of daily life that most everything is analyzed. An account of inflation and devaluations is handled simply by looking at what became of the Pineapple (a homegrown product) prices during Sandinista rule, not 1000-word footnotes or World Bank-generated pie graphs. Reading only this, you would probably not presume to know Colburn’s politics, and that is essential to the success of the book. What also comes through in the volume is the Nicaraguan propensity for satirizing life problems, political or otherwise.

The book is well-illustrated by sketches from Nicaraguan political cartoonist Roger Sánchez Flores. In Central America, on the used market if not the new as well, it is not that hard to locate copies, in English or Spanish. My used copy came from a street-seller near Central Park, Leon. There is a nice mixture of fact and humor throughout the book. It is definitely worth reading, even if you were back then living right next door to Colburn - or even if you were the guy who sold him the poor Berlina! Colburn is a frequent contributor to Dissent Magazine, and has authored several volumes on Nicaragua, though doubtless his best serious book is “Latin America at the End of Politics”.