A seafood restaurant in Pilsen: two glasses of white wine have loosened up Orlando Perez–born-again Christian, quadriplegic, proud Sandinista from Los Madrigales, Nicaragua–enough for him to tell his camel joke.
The interpreter survives and even laughs along. With his bloodhound eyes and husky build, Perez looks like Diego Rivera sitting in a wheelchair. He eats pulpo (octopus), and says his nickname used to be el pulpo because he was all hands. He reaches over and nudges Berta, his attractive young wife–he still has the ability to move his arms, though he has trouble moving his fingers. After two weeks in the States and a week in Chicago, she’s had to borrow clothes. They didn’t pack enough clothing, but they packed plenty of Flor de Cana, the official rum of Nicaragua. It’s a popular use of leisure time where they come from to down Flor de Cana and tell jokes.
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Oddly enough, he was never very politically active until after he became disabled. He got involved with a roving band of artists and musicians who tried to drum up popular support for the revolution with song, poetry, and political satire. But when things got hot in 1979, even telling jokes could be fatal. “Many of the members of the group put down their guitars and picked up guns,” Perez says. He left Managua for the valley about 20 kilometers from where he lives today.
He tells us about CEPRI. “In the years of Somoza there was no organization of disabled people. Every now and then somebody would organize some old ladies to fix a luncheon. That was the highest expression of support.”
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/James M. Cahillane.
