I hear and follow the rhythms.
This gathering, at a Calzada street intersection, is a neighborhood parade of girls in traditional dress, a brigade of drummers, a crowd following the action. This little group is practicing for a much larger extravaganza celebrating the Independence Day of Nicaragua on September 15.
Drummers work themselves into a groove and the dancing is choreographed on the spot.
Turning a corner, the assemblage marches away and I finally stop following.
An old man with a cane also watches them turn, then goes inside his hotel. When he walks he sticks the end of his cane in front of him, and then moves his body forward to stand by his cane.
His marching days are over but, as he watches the band, his cane taps its own rhythm on the sidewalk.
The game isn’t over until you have no heartbeat, and, then, you have no rhythm either.