"A lot of this we have done to ourselves," Otero said.
Shopping at the Wholesale Market on a recent morning, sewing machine operator Maria Concepcion Ramos, 39, said she hoped relief came soon. She and her husband, a house painter, earn a combined $220 a month. Rising food prices are pinching them and their three children hard.
A tiny woman who moved effortlessly with 10 pounds of rice in a pink plastic bag perched on top of her head, she ticked off the products that have vanished from her table: beef, chicken, butter, coffee and the delicious, thick crema that Nicaraguans love to dollop on their plantains.
"It's nothing but gallo pinto for breakfast, lunch and dinner," she said with a laugh, referring to the traditional rice-and-bean dish that keeps Central Americans moving.
Her stoic mask slipped when she described what was happening in her neighborhood. Families are serving up half-empty plates or skipping meals altogether. Hard lives have gotten even harder without a few treats to look forward to. Ramos' son Jeffrey just turned 10. He wanted a birthday cake.
"I had to tell him 'no,' " she said softly, her voice catching.
The Ramoses are more fortunate than many Nicaraguans. They have two incomes and are still eating three times a day.
Over at La Chureca garbage dump, hunger is the constant companion of families that scavenge a living among Managua's refuse.
Milton Baquedano, 5, has lived his entire life next to this smoldering mountain of waste. He was hospitalized last year for complications stemming from severe malnutrition. He's better now, thanks to a feeding program at a community clinic. But his 37-pound body still bears telltale signs of his ordeal: Many of his teeth are missing or rotted. His hair is light-colored because it won't hold pigment.
His little sister Rosario is starting to exhibit some of the same symptoms, but she hasn't yet been admitted to the program operated by Manna Project International, a U.S.- based charity. The need is simply too great. Sicker children must come first.
"It's not unusual for people here to go two or three days without large amounts of food," said Lori Scharffenberg, director of the charity's Nicaragua operation. "Hunger . . . is not new."
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marla.dickerson@latimes.com
Times researcher Alex Renderos in El Salvador contributed to this report.
