I thought about trust a lot the other day. I was heading off to take some photographs of a house in the Isletas for a friend. There are 300+ islands in Lake Nicaragua close to Granada and it is my favorite place to immerse myself in nature and retreat from the heat and noise of the city. I thought I would rustle up a group to join me but soon realized with schedules and distances and timelines we were not going to connect. I am always a bit wary when I am out and about alone with my gear especially in isolated places. The gear I have with me now is my second round after losing my first traveling office to a home invasion. I hope to eventually get back to the confidence I had before that happening. I was on another adventure, sola, on my own, and there were no English speakers nearby.
I was aware of being the only gringa, of being the only woman in an isolated area surrounded by men. I chatted casually in Spanish to the Plancha (boat) operators and called the caretaker of the house to check in every so often. The boat arrived, Pedro and I had a lovely tour and a pleasant chat. I focused my camera on the abundance of perfectly proportioned white apparitions. They stood silently watching, posing, protecting? I’ll never know for certain…
I returned to the boat launch in time to stay within the boundaries of the light, because it isn’t s safe in isolated spots at night. The tourist season is a bit slow and the taxis just weren’t coming. I decided to walk back to town around the same time a man with a spring in his step and a smile headed in the same direction. We chatted and walked and talked and he offered to carry my tripod and of course I let him. We came to a crossroads. He was bigger than I. He now carried my only weapon and wanted to walk away from the road closer to the lake and inside the park where we would be hidden. I hesitated and he saw it.
I went with trust. It was 50-50. There were spots along the way that were out of view. There were other spots with families and children playing. How do you know? How do you ever know? We chatted about his children, he walked with a bounce and a smile, and a kind twinkle in his eye. When we strolled by groups of drunk men joking with him, he told me that if I was alone they would be bothering. We reached the end of the road, he handed me my tripod and said good-bye. He had walked a mile past his house to make sure I was safe. I went with trust. I made a friend. And the walk sped by.
I look at the serpentine necks of these beautiful white birds and think about the snake in the jungle book, ‘trust in me’, Kaa croons, ‘trust in me……’.
How do you know? How do you ever know? The answer is simple. You don’t. But you know yourself. Sometimes the people you love and believe in and know inside out surprisingly lose sight of your best interests. Sometimes, someone you meet in an instant reveals their innocence and good intentions. Trust yourself. Trust yourself. Be aware and listen.
The stork stands still and solitary. Waiting and watching. A white vision against the dark unknown. A treasure in its confidence and contrast, and comforting presence.