I was sitting watching a spectacular sunset at the dock in San Miguelito the other day when i began to think about the obvious parallels between seeing a landscape and knowing a community.
San Miguel's sunsets really are out of this world. But there's always a little bit hidden, by clouds, smoke or rain. The light is always a little bit different, depending on the season, sometimes leaving everything blue and sometimes lending an orange, pink or purple to the occasion. Sometimes the Solentiname archipelago is visible, sometimes the volcanoes in Costa Rica, and on a really clear day, you can see across to Ometepe Islands and the department of Rivas. Sometimes white egrets fly across the sky and hundreds congregate in a tree at the water's edge. Some days there's a beautiful storm, with lightning invigorating the scene. But invariably, at least one of these beautiful features remains obscured or absent. If you only witnessed one San Miguel sunset, you would think you saw the most beautiful thing ever, not knowing there's so much more there.
This is exactly how I feel about the process of getting to know a community, especially a small one. After a few days, you think you know where stuff is. After a few months, you start seeing interconnections and webs that completely change your initial observations. After two years, you realize you've only been able to capture a fraction of the big picture. It's a little saddening to reflect on missed connections, feeble friendships that could have been solidified, projects that could have been beneficial. But in the end, you will always be an outsider and it is what it is.
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