In the compactness of the Maya-Quiché myth of genesis, the world was engendered by Tepeu,
the Lord, with the assistance of Gucumatz, a mythical half-celestial and half-earthly
creature represented by the plumed serpent. They met, and from their meditations, words
and counsels the earth was born; from the immobility and silence of darkness, the world
came into existence. In the experience of the Maya-Quiché, the power and wisdom of the
Creator were mediated and complemented by the serene fellowship of the mystical serpent.
This study has attempted to draw attention to the religious dimension of Augusto
Sandino's life and experiences, and to map the development of Sandino's millenarianism.
The usage of this framework allows us to see that Sandino acted in accordance with the
pattern that so many other millenarian prophets and messiahs in Third World countries have
followed, and is similar to the modern gnostic element that fuelled totalitarian régimes
in the 20th century.
Sandino's life is an example of what human beings are capable when, engulfed by their
pride, lost in despair and crushed by the anxiety of their existence, they search for
relief and final salvation in absolute worldly certainty. But to think that religious hope
is to blame for these results would be to draw the wrong conclusions. "It is in hope
that we are saved," Saint Augustine noted, "[b]ut hope that is seen is not
hope." True hope is "the faith of things not seen," and it requires courage
"[f]or how can a man hope for what he sees?," he asked, "but if we hope for
what we do not see, we wait with patience." Patience is a rare quality in
revolutionists.
If Salman Rushdie's insight that in order "to understand the living in Nicaragua
it [is] necessary to begin with the dead" is correct, then the study of an
influential Nicaraguan figure like Augusto Sandino can only contribute to our
comprehension of present-day Nicaragua. It may be easier to understand why a man like
Marco Antonio Bonilla, claiming to be the son of God at the Oriental Market during Easter
1992 in Managua, was able to draw large crowds of people in search of a favour, a
miraculous cure or a simple blessing. It may be easier to understand that witches are
unionized in Nicaragua. It may be easier to understand how the 1993 Sandinista wave of
violence sought justification in the defense of they call the gains of their revolution.
Rushdie's remark is insightful not only because it identifies that many Nicaraguans
easily connect Sandino and Christ, but also because it shows that millenarian expectations
in that country may still be floating on the surface. It should not come as a surprise,
therefore, that a great number of Nicaraguans still identify with, and revere the figure
of Sandino. For these reasons, an investigation of the millenarian
tendencies of Sandino's followers in Nicaragua remains a rich topic for future
research.
Sandino's attempt to bring the world out of darkness, and to recreate it in the light
of the revelations of the new age, parallels the Maya-Quiché myth of genesis in one
important way. Gucumatz has come to the assistance of Tepeu once again. But instead of
words and meditations, he brought blood and revolution.
