A Day of Contrasts

Just got back from buying eggs. Usually I walk over with Fany. We both like the exercise but she didn't feel like going this this time.

It's not far. It's the next colonia, only a block away from the front gates of my colonia. But it's not gated, so life there is much different even though it's so close.

I was walking slowly because I'm in a lot of pain today from the Chikungunya. More than I've pain than I've felt in over a week. I hoped it was easing up all together but clearly it hasn't.

Even after four years, every once in awhile I feel like a stranger here. Sometimes it's when someone talks really fast and I can't keep up with the conversation. Today the smells felt extra pungent as I headed to the grocery store. They were sour and rotten and they stung my nose. I felt out of place.

A man saw me and broke out in song, something from the seventies, to show me he knows English. He wouldn't make eye contact, but he sang to me. I find people do that frequently - yell out sayings or something random, whatever English they know. Sometimes it's more intelligible than others. The guy today was pretty good. He had me whistling the song most of the way home, although I've forgotten what it was now.

At the store you can buy individual eggs for two Lempiras. That's like five cents. Sometimes they have chicken poop still on them. The other choices are trays of ten or fifteen eggs. They don't sell a dozen eggs here, which still seems odd to me. I picked up fifteen, thinking I'll give the rest to Fany when I leave.

On the way home the backs of my knees hurt so I spent some extra time resting with the avocado/papaya lady. Her son, Emmanuel, is a handful. He starts kindergarten next year. As we were talking he walked up to her fruit stand, which is a slab of plywood on top of some crates, reached into his pants, pulled out his penis and stood their urinating into a box. His mom began to tell him to stop, only because I was present I'm sure, but it was clear there was no stopping him. It was also clear this wasn't the first time he's done that.

The lady who sells tamales next to the fruit stand was talking on the phone. First I heard her say, "They killed seven." Then I heard her say, "They killed one right here on Friday at two o'clock in the afternoon." Then she spit like a man spits chewing tobacco, although I am pretty sure she didn't have any chewing tobacco. Usually I figure 2 pm is a fairly safe hour to be over there. But I have noticed for the last week or so the gunfire has increased. In fact I could hear gunshots when I was writing my earlier blog entry.

It's good I'll be gone for a couple of weeks. Hopefully thing will cool down while I'm away. Fany and I had to stop shopping there for about a month around Easter because it got too dangerous. I am going to tell her what the lady said so at least she can be aware.

While I was eavesdropping on the phone conversation, Emmanuel asked me to hold a green plastic doll so he could show me how fast he can run. I supply him with vitamins. At first he wasn't thrilled about taking them. I told him if he remembers to take them every day, he'll grow big and strong. Now he loves to show me how fast and strong he is.

Emmanuel took off running and he really is crazy fast. Then he came back and I gave him the doll back. He told me the doll kills cockroaches and rats. Even the biggest rats, he said. I acted astounded. Then he told me the doll also kills gringas. At that point every person on the street looked at me to see how I (the gringa) would respond. What could I do? I had to laugh.

He ran up and down the street yelling that he was killing gringas with the doll. It was quite embarrassing, but I pretended it wasn't. I couldn't leave at that point or everyone would think my feelings were hurt. So I stuck around a few more minutes.

Emmanuel's mother talked about how "tremendous" (that means naughty) Emmanuel is. I agreed that his teacher will have her hands full when he goes to kindergarten. After some more small talk I said goodbye to the small crowd that had gathered and left.

Emmanuel is coughing and hacking with a bad chest cold. Everyone here has it. Probably because literally NOBODY covers their mouth. They blame their sickness on the weather. I blame it on lack of education as to how germs are spread.

While I was at the grocery store a man sneezed so hard I'm surprised nothing fell off the shelves. He didn't even attempt to cover his mouth. It was seriously one of the most powerful sneezing I have ever seen. I felt disgusted.

Laura has the same cold as Emmanuel. Fany tells her to cover her mouth (with her hand) when I am around. Otherwise I hear her coughing all over, unsuppressed.

I'm thinking about those signs they have in restaurants in the US which show how to do the Heimlich Maneuver. I wish someone would print up a bunch of signs showing the importance of covering your mouth when you sneeze or cough. I would hang them on every street corner and paste them to my forehead.

Between the smells, Emmanuel peeing and killing gringas, the man sneezing all over the grocery store, people singing to me in broken English, the lady spitting like a baseball pitcher, and people being killed in the middle of the afternoon, I felt like an outsider in Honduras today. It was a grand contrast to the connection I felt with coworkers this morning.

Special hello today to Kelly Cataldo! She and I grew up together. I was in her wedding. I remember when she had her first baby. And then I moved away. Back then there wasn't the internet, or cell phones. It was harder to stay in contact. Now she has three kids, two of whom are in college! I'm really looking forward to seeing her when I go back to my old stomping grounds. We have so much to catch up about! My dad used to tease us about the way we'd giggle when we were little girls. We'd talk and talk and giggle and giggle. I'm guessing not much has changed in that aspect. Looking forward to talking and laughing with Kelly again.

No Matter the Cost

This morning everyone was shocked to see me at work. I don't leave until Wednesday for my trip to New York, but coworkers have been asking since last week if my suitcases are packed. To go to the United States is such a big deal for them. They can't imagine that I wouldn't pack all of my best clothes at least a week in advance.

When I said I hadn't packed yet, one coworker said, "Oh, I see. You haven't packed because you're going to buy everything new once you get there." In her mind the US is a land of abundance. Everything is better and cheaper than whatever Honduras has to offer. She knows me well and knows I am "thrifty" with money. I was surprised she thought I'd go to the US with nothing and buy a whole new wardrobe for the two weeks I'm there. I assured her I am not doing that.

In our devotional we sang a beautiful song. It was a prayer pleading with God to change the problems of Honduras. The words were really touching. My coworker said, "This is a really sad song. Look, people are crying." I looked around and realized I was sitting there with the very people who are fighting hardest for Honduras. Many of them were crying for the state of their country.

One line of the song was "No matter the cost, save Honduras." That is exactly how they think of what they are doing. Their lives continue to be threatened. As recently as yesterday one of them received a death threat. They have moved their families to undisclosed locations in other countries. (Most say they are in the US. I don't know.)

Through programs that function within my organization, Honduras is changing. The school system is changed. Teachers are being held to a higher standard. Kids are receiving over 200 days of school instead of less than 100 days. That is remarkable.

The health care system is changing. They are making sure medicine is not stolen or horded, but that gets to where it's needed and that people who are on the payrolls actually show up to work for their check.

They are also changing the way that rapists are prosecuted, as well as the way children who are victims of sexual abuse are treated during the trial process. They've cleaned up so much already.

But the hardest fight of all is the fight against the corruption within the police. That's what brought death threats as well as armored cars and swarms of military police to protect my coworker.

I can't believe God chose me to work for this organization. I can't believe I have the honor to sit next to these people, to hear personally their prayer requests, to pray with them and cry with them as they fight for their country. No matter the cost.