Book Excerpt
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On April 30, 1987, under a fierce afternoon sun, a funeral procession wound
its
way through the cobbled streets of Matagalpa, a small city in Nicaragua.
Daniel
Ortega, the country's president, and his wife, Rosario Murillo, followed
the
casket, slowly walking arm in arm with two Americans, David and Elisabeth
Linder from Portland, Oregon. The Linders' son and daughter, John and
Miriam,
walked beside them. Oscar Blandón, a hydroplant operator and electrician
from
the remote village of El Cuá, walked alone, head hidden underneath a
baseball
cap, a sentinel that never strayed from the casket. Clowns from the
Nicaraguan
National Circus followed behind, their painted mouths turned downwards.
Behind
them walked thousands of Nicaraguans and foreigners. The funeral procession
stretched for more than seven blocks.
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In the coffin lay Benjamin Ernest Linder, a twenty-seven-year-old American
engineer. While working on a small hydroelectric dam that eventually
brought
electricity and running water to a village in the middle of Nicaragua's war
zone, he
was ambushed by a group of Contras, anti-Sandinista rebels financed by the
U.S.
government. Ben Linder's death made front-page headlines around the world.
His
life and death were bitterly debated in the United States, on radio and
television,
in newspapers, and in Congress. Opponents of Washington's policy in
Nicaragua
called him a "national hero" and a martyr of the left, while supporters of
Washington's policy justified him as a "legitimate target" and asked, "was
he a
Communist?" President Ronald Reagan, who had earlier proclaimed "I'm a
Contra
too," made no comment, but Vice President George Bush stated that Linder
was
on "the other side."
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CBS News correspondent Dan Rather had a very different take on the first
murder of an American by the Contras:
"Benjamin Linder was no revolutionary firebrand, spewing rhetoric and
itching to
carry a rifle through the jungles of Central America. He was a slight,
soft-spoken,
thoughtful young man. When, at 23, he left the comfort and security of the
United
States for Nicaragua, he wasn't exactly sure what he would find. . . . But
he
wanted to see Nicaragua first-hand, and so he headed off, armed with a new
degree in engineering, and the energy and ideals of youth.
" . . . This wasn't just another death in a war that has claimed thousands
of
Nicaraguans. This was an American who was killed with weapons paid for with
American tax dollars. The bitter irony of Benjamin Linder's death is that
he went
to Nicaragua to build-up what his own country's dollars paid to destroy -- and
ended up a victim of the destruction. . .The loss of Benjamin Linder is
more than
fodder in an angry political debate. It is the loss of something that seems
rare these
days: a man with the courage to put his back behind his beliefs. It would
have
been very easy for this bright, young man to follow the path to a good job
and a
comfortable salary. Instead, he chose to follow the lead of his
conscience."
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Ben followed his conscience when he moved to El Cuá, a small village in the
Nicaraguan war zone, where he, as part of a team of Americans and
Nicaraguans,
brought electricity to the town. Ben also delighted farmers' children by
clowning
and unicycling down the village's one dirt road. Ben knew that the area was
dangerous, but, for him, the risks were worthwhile. He wrote, "I see the
kids and
I feel like taking them all away to a safe place to hide until the war
stops and the
hunger stops and El Cuá becomes strong enough to give them the care they
deserve. The pied piper of El Cuá. But I can't do that, and even if I could
it
wouldn't help the neighboring towns. So instead, I try to put in light, and
hope for
the best."
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This is the story of what drove Ben to take the risks he did...
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