Before my trip, a number of people had told me that Nicaraguan soldiers, unlike those elsewhere in Central America who inspired fear in them, made them feel comfortable and protected.

Maybe by wanting and expecting them to be that way I made them into the human beings who looked me straight in the eye in a relaxed, non-challenging way, who struck up thoughtful conversations about religion and politics and life.

Maybe my attitude changed as soon as I entered this country, as the less politically-aware friend I was travelling with observed, because others who had been here had spoken about the relief they felt as they crossed the border.

But in how many countries of the world do army vehicles pick up hitchhiking civilians as a matter of policy? And the converse: one day I was driving with another Canadian and we realized only afterwards that we had given a ride to an armed soldier, and hadn’t thought twice about it.

Jario is recently back in civilian life from his Patriotic Military Service. Men ages 17 to 22 are drafted for two-year terms, and others sign up voluntarily. He is finishing high school in the evenings and works as a technician at the soils testing lab in Matagalpa with a Canadian CUSO cooperant, which is how I met him. He talked to me about the relationship between officers and soldiers.

“There is no difference. We eat the same, we have the same living conditions. In battle, everyone is the same – you help each other. The officers are a bit apart because they have to lead. But if you’re on a long trek and perhaps you run short of food or people might be sick or injured and have to be carried, everyone does the best they can, whether officer or soldier.”

As I was hitching a ride in a military jeep a lieutenant explained to me, “The relationship is one of mutual respect. For example, he,” indicating the driver, “is just wearing a T-shirt. I could insist that he wear his uniform, but,” he shrugged, “out of respect I’m not going to. And when he does what I tell hem, it’s out of respect, not fear…. Before the revolution, in Somoza’s army, the National Guard, to be an officer you had to be from the bourgeoisie, you had to have money. This is a people’s army. We’re all workers and campesinos (peasants). So why should anyone lord it over someone else?”

“When we were helping campesinos get in their coffee harvest,” illustrated Jario, “we worked with them, we ate with them, we didn’t hold ourselves apart. The campesino is our base.”

I’ve been impressed by the thoughtfulness, seriousness and articulateness of soldiers and former soldiers I have met. By the time a young man finishes his two-year tour of duty, he has seen the suffering of the campesinos and the atrocities of the Contras, and knows which side he’s on. He emerges understanding and committed to the revolution and ready to defend it, according to several conversations I’ve had.

I was amazed to learn the extent to which army abuses are punished. There are 600 Sandinista soldiers serving time for various offences. Although rape is traditionally as much a part of war as weapons are, a Sandinista soldier got 12 years for raping a campesina woman. Not only the soldier, but his supervisor may be held accountable.

It’s a very different army from the ousted dictator Somoza’s notorious National Guard, “La Guardia,” which terrorized its own people and continues to do so as the Contras. The Contras were organized out of members of the National Guard who escaped the country after the triumph of the revolution in 1979. In the countryside, people actually refer to the Contras as “La Guardia”. (The key role the CIA played in the reorganizing process has been documented.) The National Guard itself was originally formed to take over from the U.S. Marines who had repeatedly invaded Nicaragua to protect U.S. interests here.

It struck me again in re-reading Nicaragua’s history how the Sandinistas’ struggle against the Contras is very much a continuation of the fight led by A.C. Sandino against the U.S. Marines in the 1920’s and 1930’s. It always was a struggle for national self-determination against U.S. domination and continues to be so today. It goes way back, long before the fear of international communism was even an issue. The “red threat” used by the American government to demonize the Sandinistas is only an excuse for the U.S. to try to reassert its power while selling the war to its own people.