The Sounds

The Sounds 

The sounds, the sounds 

The soundtrack of life 

Close your eyes 

Hear the sounds? 

Things you never noticed and missed  

While you're too busy, living and you might... 

Be missing the sounds... 

Of your own soundtrack 

I hear, 

Door slams at 5 am 

The waking, the rising of people 

I hear the sounds of the sun calling me 

The children rushing off to class  

And bands practicing for upcoming parades 

I hear barachos sleeping, too early for them to make a fuss 

I hear little women sweeping, 

On streets owned by us 

I hear a community sharing, 

Selling the fruits of their work 

Avocate!  Tomate, tomate!  And fresco! 

Frijoles bubbling, in prep for almuerzo 

Fire crackling in the fuegon 

I hear trucks rumbling, motos careening dangerously fast down the street 

Cabellos tap dancing past my window, motorcycles puff smoke and niños screaming, "tauni!" 

I hear conversations, so many, taking place at once 

Teens giggling, TVs blaring, and commercial jingles I can't forget 

There is the sound of rain 

Rain on my tin roof 

Or is it the sun? 

Causing a chemical reaction to the zinc 

Popping noising just like the rain,  

Background music to my day 

Church Bells ringing 

Sloshing of hand washing clothes, 

Waterfall sprays of bucket showers 

Tools clanging on metal, 

By the mechanic next door 

Trash burning in a gorge in the road 

Birds singing 

Mosquitoes buzzing 

The wind in my palm trees 

Hollow thuds of construction that's always happening 

Taxi horns whirling 

Peopling calling "Adios" in the streets 

I hear the soulful plea, "buenas" in doorways  

And me, getting ready to teach 

I hear piropos, 

I hear their humor in my shame 

I hear the sun denying shade 

I hear roosters crowing, though it's neither dawn nor dusk 

I hear horses neighing, pigs snorting  

Dogs barking at anything passing by, 

Students writing every single word I say,  

Scared to miss just one 

I hear greetings and wave when a student says, "adios profe!" 

I hear squeaking park swings, youth having PDA 

I hear affection, away from adults that accept no other way 

Eskimo bells and juice sloshing in plastic bags  

Balls pinging off the concrete basketball court 

The hard clicks when I text on my chiclero  

Bikes tires soft thuds against the strange tiled street 

Buses exasperated piston sighs when they come to a stop 

And it's "I think I can" momentum creaking up mountains with heaving loads 

Heel clicks and flip flops on the payment 

The joyful cacophony as school ends 

Procession of energy, uniform colors blending in 

Slaps of backpacks and "See you!" lift their sound to my ears 

Thuds of my bags on the floor, 

The sigh of ecstasy when I lay in my hammock 

The swaying as my nap takes me, or is that noise just in my head? 

The sizzle of food in too much grease 

the call sounding throughout my house, "Nae! Va a cenar?" 

And my ever resounding response each day, "SI!" 

Chairs dragging on the floor, the small sound of give in the hand-sewn bottom of my chair 

The TV news, the group of men discussing fútbol at my door 

The questions of Ingles, as I check my host brother's homework 

The crinkle of papelografos as I try to make them neat 

The cow like sound of my fan, as I can't take the heat 

The ping of my hornita for a late night treat 

The music blares in English as my host sister sits right in front of the TV  

The dusk of the moon whispering, "buenas noches" to me 

I hear small shifting of bugs and maybe mice in the night 

And the soft protection of my mosquitera's plight 

I hear bar laughter, carried on the wind 

I hear karaoke and songs in broken English  

I hear announcement trucks 

I hear mothers calling for children and cooing infants 

Keys jingling to lock doors 

Metal doors whining, no WD50 

I hear my clothes on the line, waving in the breeze 

Book pages rustling  

Yoga mats soft collapse on the floor 

I hear my final saludos as I close and bar my door 

I hear my sheets rubbing, making way for me 

I hear early sleep calling, 

I hear Nicaraguan routine 

I hear the sounds of life 

Do you hear them? 

Can you only hear mine? 

Close your eyes. 

Accept your truth.  

Disconnect from your phone 

There's a soundtrack of life, you're missing.... 

A soundtrack of your own  

Word Glossary: 

Barachos – drunk men 

Avocate – avocado  

Tomate – Tomato  

Fresco – soda, or refreshing drink, usually made of fruits 

Almuerzo – lunch 

Fuegon – a big stove top outside, made of cement and heated with wood started fire 

Motos – moto-taxis, smaller and less expensive taxis, made similar to a dirtbike instead of a car taxi  

Cabellos – horses  

Niños – children  

Tauni – cool 

“Buenas” – the audio version of a doorbell 

Piropos – cat calls  

Profe – Professor/ teacher  

Chiclero – small, basic, Nicaraguan phone  

Adios – goodbye  

Va a cenar – Are you going to eat dinner? 

Fútbol – soccer 

Papelografos – white posters used in teacher classes 

Hornita – small oven/ toaster oven 

Buenas noches – goodnight 

Mosquitera – mosquito net 

Saludos – expressions of goodbye