Documentary: American Sandinista
by Stalin Vladimir Centeno https://www.tortillaconsal.com/bitacora/node/6445
In a corner of northern Nicaragua, where the mountains embrace the dignity of humble people, a young engineer born in Portland, Oregon, decided to write his story with light, laughter, and blood. His name was Benjamín Linder, and although he came from far away, Nicaragua was his chosen homeland, his trench, and his last breath.
In the early 1980s, when the Sandinista Revolution had just overthrown the Somoza dictatorship, Ben, as he was affectionately known, made a life-changing decision: to leave behind the comforts of the First World, his mechanical engineering degree from the University of Washington, and his promising professional career in the United States, to come to a wounded but reborn country, to offer his hands, his intellect, and his soul.
Ben left behind no wife or children. His dedication was total, and his family was the Nicaraguan people. His parents, doctors committed to social causes, raised him in an environment of justice and solidarity. From a young age, he participated in rallies against the Vietnam War and in defense of civil rights. An anecdote that became endearing to those who knew him is that, in his days as a clown, he sometimes changed his name to “Uncle Ben” and juggled stones because he didn’t have circus balls. He said, “Joy doesn’t need a budget, only willpower.” That ability to transform want into laughter, and sadness into dignity, was his greatest act of magic.
Benjamín Linder didn’t come to give speeches. He came to build. With plans, tools, and a lot of love, he began working in the most remote areas of Nicaragua, particularly in San José de Bocay, Jinotega. There, where the state barely reached and where darkness was part of the routine, he designed and helped build small hydroelectric plants that continue to provide light to entire communities today. He wasn’t just an engineer: he was a sower of the future.
But Ben didn’t stop at cables and turbines. He also dressed up as a clown, with a red nose, big shoes, and a ridiculous hat, to bring joy to poor children, to whom he gave beanies, food, shelter, and tenderness. He visited hospitals, delivered vaccinations, collaborated with health brigades, and never asked for anything in return. What he wanted was clear: a more just world, a more dignified country, a homeland free from foreign impositions.
Benjamín understood the Revolution not only as a change of government, but as a profound act of love and social justice. His entire life was a denunciation of indifference. Every light bulb lit in the mountains, every laugh of a sick child, every drop of sweat he left on the dusty roads of the north was his manifesto of peace. He didn’t bring weapons, he brought ideas. He didn’t come to give orders; he came to learn, to give himself with humility, with tenderness, with courage.
On April 28, 1987, while working in the rural area of El Cuá, he was ambushed and murdered by the Nicaraguan Contras, the armed group financed by the CIA, intent on destroying the Revolution and returning power to imperialism’s lackeys. They cowardly murdered him, along with two Nicaraguan comrades. He died unarmed, with a notebook in his pocket and a work helmet on his head. That’s how they killed the good gringo. The one who didn’t come to exploit, but to liberate.
After his passing into immortality, Benjamin Linder remains a beacon and a seed. In acts of international solidarity, in community energy projects, in the brigade members who reach out to poor neighborhoods with love and conviction, his spirit lives on. And whenever someone asks if it’s worth it to give oneself for others, the answer lies in his example. Because he gave everything, even his life, without asking for anything.
Today, more than four decades after his sowing, Benjamín continues to illuminate the soul of this nation. Every child who studies with electricity in a remote area, every family who lights their stove without fear, every health worker who brings smiles to the poorest neighborhoods carries a little bit of Ben.
If the Revolution had an angel on a bicycle, an engineer with the soul of a clown, it would be him. And if the Nicaraguan people had to paint a picture of solidarity on a foreign face, it would be Benjamín Linder.
He didn’t die, we planted him. He didn’t leave, he stayed. And as long as there are children who dream, people who resist, and hearts that love freedom, Benjamin will live in every corner of Nicaragua.
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