Last Wednesday, I (Chase) went to my first Nicaraguan funeral. For obvious reasons, this wasn’t something I had really been hoping to experience as soon as possible. Culturally speaking, the biggest difference between it and an American funeral is its immediacy. The boy had died around 1am and the funeral was at about 4pm the same day. This is pretty common.
The boy was the brother of one of the youth kids at Camino de Vida, and was about 17 years old. There are a few stories circulating about how he died: some say he was walking drunk in the street and was hit by a car; others say that he was beaten and stabbed. From my experience with hearing about bad events secondhand, I recognize that at least one of these stories was fabricated to either add meaning to or subtract it from his death.