I’m about to help a new friend blow up some stuff in Nicaragua. This really isn’t what I originally set out to do when I came to this country. But it seems like a good idea now. Mostly because Luis Alberto is so pleased about it. Luis Alberto and I are standing on a deserted rural road flanked by barbed wire, marking the edges of dry empty fields. Just a 20-minute ride from the bustling streets of León, the only sounds here are the rustling of leaves, the occasional bark of a distant dog, and metallic hammering from a nearby tin-roofed work site.

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