As the elegant gray-haired woman sets down a bouquet of flowers in Managua's Central Municipal Cemetery, a man dressed in rags approaches to wash the gravestone she has come to visit. Breath foul, hands filthy, he bends to kiss her fingertips and rasps, "Dona Violeta, you're looking more beautiful than ever."
"Well -- older, anyway," she says with a smile, pressing cordobas on him as he swishes greasy water over the simple concrete marker.
Whether hoping for a bigger tip or simply moved by her attention, the man suddenly proclaims, "If your husband were here today, Nicaragua would be a happy...
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