So yesterday I was walking to class with my host brother. We were walking and talking at the same time. Normally I pay attention to where I'm walking, but this time he gave a joking warning about falling into the manholes that have no covers. I laughed and didn't take him seriously, but he told me I should really watch out though because it can happen.
He told me it had happened to some people he knew, that they were talking and walking. One of them looked to their right and the other had disappeared! He had fallen into the manhole.
Fast forward to evening time. My roommate Greydy comes into the living room with a story to tell.
She was walking on her way back from the gym when she heard a blood-curdling scream coming from around the corner on the street to our house. She paused in fear, not knowing if she wanted to see what she was around the corner. She slowly rounded the corner, and saw no one. But then she heard the screams again. She then realized it was coming from below. She walked closer to the sewer. A child had fallen inside!
He was one of the children with the painted faces that juggles at the semaforos (stoplights) for money. He couldn't have been more than five years old and had tears running down his face. She asked him how he had fallen and he said he had been chasing after his ball when he fell in. So she told him to raise his arms and she lifted him out.
So I turned to the host brother in disbelief, and he nodded at me as if to say, "I told you so."
From now on, I'm watching my step in Managua.