Such Bravery

Wednesday was a super fun day. In the morning I did home visits with one of my coworkers. We had to visit the family of each kid in his club. We sat down with each parent and filled out a form about how the child is doing physically, emotionally and educationally. I had to be there because part of it needed to be completed by someone with a degree in psychology.

It was interesting to spend the day in the neighborhood where my club is, getting to know the people and my coworkers better. The person I did visits with that morning is someone who is very active in the community. I have always admired him, but never really talked with him personally. Even in his free time he is out on the streets making sure things are going as they should.

Last week, after five years of volunteering, he was officially given a part time paid position with the organization where I volunteer. I watched him fill out his schedule in the past. I thought he was paid full time, when in fact he was a volunteer. I remember the week that I was being nosey his schedule said that he worked seven days per week and was only free on Tuesday morning.

Last week I observed the same with another coworker. She is paid for part time work, but according to her schedule and what I observe, she works more than full time hours.

My coworkers are dedicated to our organization and to bettering their communities. I have a lot of respect for them. There is no such thing as 9-5 for them. They serve 7 days/week and are available to the people they serve almost every waking minute. Literally. Most of their houses are open as gathering places for the kids and graduates of their clubs. Sometimes they complain about it. But mostly they don't.

We only made 4 home visits on Wednesday morning because they were spread all over. We spent hours climbing up and down steep mountain paths. It's been hotter than ever lately. Even at night it doesn't cool down. I put on sunblock, put on a baseball cap (that's what people do here when it's sunny) and enjoyed my day but I was extra grateful for a shower that night. I drank two liters of water before noon and never urinated once all day. Sorry if that was TMI, but that's how hot it is!

I was a little nervous because since Sunday I had been suffering from diarrhea. I couldn't eat, but somehow the diarrhea still came. Thankfully, it didn't strike while I was out doing home visits.

It was interesting to see the different kinds of parents. Some parents have a lot of kids and remember every detail about every one. Other parents seem to have no clue how their kids feel or what they are up to.

The home that struck me most was a single mother. She lives in a tiny shack made of tin roofing with barbed wire strung around most of it. When we approached she came out of her house cleaning her hands. She had been making tortillas.

A little girl with a pretty braid in her hair was clinging to her mother's leg. Her face was covered in something red, maybe tomato sauce. She was sucking on an ear of corn. She was just learning how to talk. It's interesting to see when people take the time, in the midst of such deep poverty, to put braids in their little girls' hair.

My coworker told me he had been trying to get the son of this lady to come to the club for years. Finally he is coming. He is in extremely high risk of falling into dangerous activities. According to the interview, the mother said that as of yet, he is still just playing soccer. She believes he is not yet involved with gang members or people who use/sell drugs.

The mother explained that he never finished first grade although she put him in classes, his father's family enrolled him in classes and his grandparents have enrolled him. She said her son is very rebellious and has never been successful in school. It is not clear if it is a learning or behavioral problem.

The mother is 43 years old, almost my age, and pregnant with her 7th child. Very pregnant. She has never had medical care because she can't leave her home unattended or it will be robbed. Also she can't afford to go to the doctor.

There is no income in the home. We never did figure out how they live. That was the only time she didn't answer us directly. I figured the father of the baby who is not yet born was providing for them. But my coworker asked the right questions and we learned that my assumption was wrong. I admire the way my coworker asked tough questions in a direct, but kind way. He asked if the father of the baby is providing for the family. No, she said. He is in jail. He was abusive to me and I pressed charges.

I almost fainted. Here is a woman, 8 months pregnant with no way to provide for her family, and she has the guts to press charges against the father of the unborn child. What a strong lady. Most Honduran women don't even know that they have a right to press charges. Even if they know their rights, most will never assert them. They know too often the police don't do their job, and may even protect the offender.

My coworker and I both told her how brave she is and how much we respect what she did. But in the end our admiration doesn't put food in their bellies.

I will never forget that lady. Still, today, I find myself thinking of her often.

After we left my coworker told me that he has been wanting to talk with her for a long time because all of the neighbors have talked to him about her. They said she was being physically abused and threatened.

Seeing how tiny their home is made it more real. Her son who is now in the club told my coworker a man came every night and raped his mother. Now we know that the boy must have had to see and hear everything. How horrible. The boy said he couldn't take it any more, and one night he got up and punched the man. The man always threatened to kill the family. We are hoping it is not to late to find a better path for this young man and his family.

That afternoon another coworker and I led our club of kids for the second time. She found out just before the club started that her husband was one of the 2000 people who lost their jobs that day. He worked for the state doing traffic stuff. My other coworker's uncle as also let go after 30 years of service there. None of them will be paid and there was no advanced warning. It was very sad.

Despite the heavy weight on my coworker's shoulders, we had a great time in the club. This week we talked about dreams. Kids who live in extreme poverty never learn to dream. They believe they have no control over their future and that they will struggle to get by, just as their parents do. On Wednesday we helped them learn to dream. Many want to be teachers, doctors, or police. We talked about Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks as examples of people who dreamed of a better world and took action to make a difference.

We had to explain a lot about racial discrimination because these kids are all the same - brown. At their age I don't think they have much experience with different races. Except me. I am an oddity to them. But in a good way, because they all think it is amazing and good to speak English.

At the end of the day I was supposed to go to intercession at my church. But I got out of work late and there were protests, so I called Pastora Ruth and told her I couldn't make it. The most famous Honduran environmental activist was murdered a few weeks ago and a man related to her was killed right afterward. People were protesting that, as well as the closing of the Transit Authority. I was also driving around with a big hole in the side of my tire. All in all, it was best for me to stay home that night.