I am surrounded by five young Nicaraguans assembling nine new bicycles for rent. Between the constant slew of Nica slang (“¡si hombre!”) and the clanging of wrenches, there is being born in this village a new micro-enterprise: Bici-Futuro.
Let's just say I learned to never promise or even say something that could be interpreted as a promise to a little girl with a cute smile on her face, a jewelry box in hand and anxious to make a sale.
