01 Octobre de 2010
Me Familia En Honduras
Everyone’s Story is a Tragedy
Heather and I were talking one day about the families we live with in Honduras and she said, “It’s like everyone here has lived a tragedy.” Her observation might not be too far from the truth. Not only is Honduras a country that is always in a state of chaos and crisis, whether it be political, economic, natural disasters, droughts, flooding, strikes etc. Its and understatement to say: Honduras, and its people lack stability and security.
I moved in with a family. There is Sylvia, (~40) Kayla (21), Tatiana (13), Michael (11), Darien (5), and Pedro (9 months). Sylvia and her husband used to be quite wealthy. They lived in the states and worked for eleven years in Long Island. Michael was born there and is an America Citizen. After Michael was born they returned to Honduras. They owned several properties and built a very beautiful and large house (*Note 1) on the edge of town (near the hospital). When Michael was about two years old he got very sick with a high fever and the doctor said he needed an injection (to the back of his neck) in order to keep blood flowing property. The doctor who did this hit an optic nerve in doing so and now Michael suffers from some form(s) of brain damage associated with the incident. They took him back to the states for several operations and the doctor in the U.S. said it all could have been avoided if they had have initially seen a doctor there. The husband gambled away lots of their money, including the deeds to numerous properties that they owned, developed a drinking problem and, in true Hondureno fashion (*Note 2) last year he left Sylvia for his mistress, whom he had fallen in love with.
Darien is Sylvia’s youngest son. He is always messy, filthy in fact, always full of energy, and quite possibly infatuated with me. Needless to say I already love him to pieces. Kayla and Tatiana are Sylvia’s Prima’s (nieces). Kayla works at a beauty Salon in town during the week and she also helps takes care of Pedro, so she stays at Sylvia’s rather than in Jutiquilla where her family lives, which is about a half hour drive away and I had the pleasure of visiting today. Tatiana lives at Sylvia’s [during the weekends] and helps take care of Pedro and cleans the house (*Note 3). I am still trying to figure that one out because today we left her in Jutiquilla because she goes to school during the week. Pedro is not Sylvia’s son…well he wasn’t, but now he is. When Pedro was three months old (six months ago) his mother (Sylvia’s sister) passed away. I am not sure how, however I met his father today. He lives in Juticalpa, however I am unsure if he helps (financially) in any way to help take care of Pedro at all or what he does for a living; I do know that Darien and Michael’s father doesn’t help Sylvia (financially or other), and is not in their life at all.
I am so happy to be living with a family (I have to practice Spanish CONSTANTLY, I get to help them cook, and I love being around people) especially a family that is so welcoming, warm and understanding—and lets get serious it probably doesn’t help that there’s kids :)
Notes:
1) Fortunately (for Sylvia) mortgages don’t really exist down here, so she owns the house, and does not owe anything to anyone in that regard. As soon as people have a lump of cash they throw down the first $1000 worth of bricks, and so on and so on, until the house is completed and they owners move in. This also explains why in the Campo there are so many half constructed houses littering the side of the road…people are waiting for more money until they commence Phase II. This is also why, although Sylvia has no money now (or very little) she lives in a gorgeous and quite large house…and doesn’t have constant running water …absurd to think about when contrasted with Canadian standards.
2) I am told that every Honduran man (even the good ones) has more than one girlfriend, every married Honduran man (even the good ones) has a mistress, and every married Honduran man (even the good ones) cheats on his wife. I cant substantiate that with any facts or statistics, but I do know that I have been the target of ‘propos’ or ‘cat-calls’ on several occasions by men (pushing strollers) walking down the streets with their wives/girlfriends. My friend Megan said that she has been asked out by men wearing wedding rings that say “I’m not married tonight”, or a plethora of other excuses. Cheating exists in Canada, I’m not that naive, but I can’t imagine living (OR wanting to date/marry someone) in a culture where cheating is not only normal, but…expected?
3) It is common here, if one sibling in a family is wealthy and the other is not, and the less wealthy family has a lot of kids, to send a child (or two) to live with the wealthy family to help with the cooking, cleaning, and raising of their children. Although Sylvia is not wealthy anymore, I believe this was the prior arrangement and even though circumstances have changed the plan is still kind of in effect.
Con Esperanza y Amor
Delaney C.
04 Octobre de 2010
Slow by necessity
The pace here is much slower than in Canada, not that that is surprising, however with each day I am more and more convinced that it is slow (er) out of necessity. First, the roads (which I will explain in detail later) prohibit you from going anywhere with speed. Second, it’s hot; Very hot. If you went places fast, or worked at a pace that in Canada might seem acceptable, you would last all of five minutes before you keeled over. Third, no one shows up anywhere on time so a good portion of your day turns into waiting…sometimes fifteen minutes, sometimes and hour and a half…and never consistently (*note 1) Also, people are always sitting/standing around as if there is nothing in the world they could possibly be bothered to do…and I think there might be at least half a truth to that. I’m not entirely sure that are activities that exist that would help these people generate an income that is fairly reflected in the task…and there are many other things that are valued over having a job—such as spending time with family, helping out a family member, sharing each other’s company etc. The pace is slow here because it has to be. Because the climate, the infrastructure, and the social/cultural norm can only support a slow paced slow moving society—an attempt for anything different would result in an [more] un-functioning society.
Note:
1) Debate is still out on this one as to whether or not it’s a ‘cultural’ thing. Chad and I are under the impression that it is, where as Oscar (a Honduran) says that it is not cultural. We have also had this identical debate as to whether or not the lack of direct communication—and the inability to do so—is cultural or not…I’ll say it is. For example, I was practicing Spanish with Heather, and Barbara (a Honduran) when a joven walked in wanting to sell flashlights. Immediately Heather, and myself said, No thank you, we don’t need any flashlights,” while Barbara on the other hand went into a long story about how she had to buy medicine the other day because she was sick, and she had to buy text books because she started university…implying that she had no money to spend on a flashlight, but refusing to say it out loud—in a direct manner.
Con Esperanza y Amor
Delaney C.
05 Octobre de 2010
“Failure’s hard, but success is far more dangerous. If you’re successful at the wrong thing, the mix of praise and money and opportunity can lock you in forever.”
Chad and I were talking about the widespread corruption that occurs in Honduras [and other areas of the world], and I am not so convinced it is black and white. One of his projects was with a bean cooperative in Salama. Once the cooperative got up and running, his counterpart bought 20,000 Lempira’s worth of non-cooperative farmed beans and sold them to the cooperative because he knew that when they were sold he would get a better price. This raises a couple issues. The counterpart was supposed to be helping this cooperative and the people belonging to the cooperative get better pricing for their produce—he was not supposed to be financially gaining from this development. Also there is a cap on how many kilograms (or whatever measurement) of produce will be bought at this special (higher) rate, so by putting an additional 20, 000 Lempira’s worth of produce (that he did not work to produce) into the mix, as a result a farmer might not receive just payment for his produce. On the other hand, this man is not wealthy by any means and he saw an opportunity to make some money for himself—although potentially ripping off members of the group that he was supposed to be helping out.
So…who’s right and who’s wrong? This brings me to my quote for this entry, “failure’s hard, but success is far more dangerous. If you’re successful at the wrong thing, the mix of praise and money and opportunity can lock you in forever” – ironically taken off of a Starbucks cup, but has always caught my attention.
Sandra told me that anyone who is wealthy, is probably wealthy because they have done bad things to get wealthy—drugs, illegally working in the States, killings, exploitation, and the list goes on. This was confirmed by Chad the other day when we were talking, and he asked me if I knew what it took to become the mayor of Juticalpa. The answer? A whole lot more of those not so very nice things. Me still be a wee bit on an idealist begs to ask the question—Isn’t there another way? A better way? But at the same time, the realist in me understands that if an individual feels abandoned by their government(s) and cannot rely on the social system to have their (or their families) needs met, and another ‘opportunity arises’ sometimes that alternate opportunity becomes a viable option, and once that path brings you success—maybe in the form of a nicer house, and nicer car, nicer clothes, allowing your children to go to a good school, stability, and security—it’s nearly impossible to convince that person (or yourself) that what you are doing is ‘wrong’ and what you are doing is taking food out of the months of your neigbours.
So who’s right, who’s wrong, where’s the failure, and what needs to change? How much if this problem is human nature, and how much of it is learned behaviour? Is there a solution for every problem? Questions to think about—one’s that I’m not sure even have answers.
Con Esperanza y Amor
Delaney C.
06 Octobre de 2010
Driving in Honduras es loco
Driving in the city is an entirely different, if not all the more terrifying of an experience than driving in the campo…which is also an adventure. Every day I am grateful that 1) I don’t scare easy and 2) I don’t get motion sick (unlike the poor Hondurerna with us the other day who vomited all over the back seat…yikes). Driving in the city consists of one hand on the horn and one of the shifter (that is when you are not shouting into your cell phone Digame! Digame! *Note 1). Speaking of driving and cell phones—the law hasn’t kicked in here yet (ha-ha) and the other day Jose Luis was talking on BOTH of his cell phones…at the same time…and driving…it was an interesting experience. The horn is used much more frequently than in Canada…and by more frequently, I mean constantly. You honk when passing someone else, when someone ahead of you is not moving [fast enough], you honk when someone cuts you off or when you want to cut someone off, you honk when making any sort of turn, and you honk…just because everyone else is honking.
The roads (even the highways) are also really not roads or highways per say, but rather a path from point A to point B. Sometimes it is paved, and sometimes it is not. Sometimes it has craters that children get lost in, and other times it is filled with hundreds of ‘dimple’ like bumps that turn the next stretch into an obstacle course for the driver. I say it is a ‘path’ because there are no lanes. A driver weaves left to right, back and forth avoiding bumps, potholes, and other cars and a rate that contradicts everything I have previously mentioned about the pace in Honduras. We pass cars while going up hills around corners…and sometimes there are four cars side by side going a variety of different directions (and this is when I cringe). At night, not all cars have headlights, and people walk and bike sharing the same pathways without reflective gear. The dark makes it even harder to check the condition of the road…but that doesn’t mean that anyone slows down.
There are also speed bumps in the middle of the highway…interesting. You will be hurtling down the highway at 130 km/hr and then WHAM! down to 25 km/hr to avoid becoming airborne as you hit a speed bump. Due to the inconsistency in the quality of the roads it is also very jerky, and stop and go. Distance (162 km to Catacamus) means nothing because for 62 of those kilometers you are traveling at 130 km/hr, 50 at 35 km/hr and the rest somewhere in between. I have learnt that the best mentality to have when driving here in Honduras is… “Well get there when we get there—hopefully in one piece,” which isn’t hard to adopt when the views leave me absolutely awestruck and Jose Luis is pumping the Mas Romantica station—love it.
Notes:
1) I think it’s interesting to note what is considered rude in Honduras juxtaposed with what is considered rude in Canada. In Honduras being clear and speaking directly is very rude, where as in Canada it is necessity. In Honduras picking up the phone when it rings and shouting Digame! (which translates to Talk to Me!) is not rude, however in Canada I would think that person was a douche bag, and probably not want to talk to them. It also is common to stare (not just at us gringos—but everyone), shout, and point at things/give directions with your lips…while shouting. Also I’m beginning to get the feeling that the propos I talked about earlier are not seen as rude to Hondurans as I personally feel they are…and might even *gasp* be welcomed…should I feel flattered?
Con Esperanza y Amor
Delaney C.
Where this time C stands for ‘Complete’…as in remaining in one piece :)
07 Octobre de 2010
Donde es le basura?
Garbage. Garbage everywhere. In Canada my Nalgene water bottle is an extension of my right arm. I take it EVERYWHERE with me, and it has seen better days. The point I am trying to make is, I don’t like buying bottled water, and it’s relatively easy to bring a reusable bottle everywhere. Here however, I no longer have the luxury of filling up my trusted Nalgene whenever I want some water (only when I am at my home, or the office), which means I have to buy a bottle of water, or something else to drink.
The other day, I had to buy a bottle of water when I was in town. After I was done, I looked for a recycling bin (non-existent in Honduras), and then for a garbage can. I had some time to kill, and enjoy wandering the streets before it gets dark so I walked…and walked..and walked..and eventually walked home, all while making note of how many public garbage cans I passed. Two. In the entire time I spent walking (roughly two hours) all over town I passed two public garbage cans, both were in the Central Park and about 50 meters apart. This brings me to the issue of garbage in Honduras—which believe me is a HUGE issue in itself.
I asked Sandra what you do with the garbage, like if the municipality is supposed to come pick it up or if you have to take it to the dump yourself, and she told me that the municipality is supposed to take care of it, but often they are unreliable and so people take it into their own hands—which also means dumping it on the streets. Problem: You have garbage (in your hand, while on the bus, in your house etc.) and you need to get rid of it. Solution: toss it, put it on the curb, throw it in the ditch…No more garbage for you. Absurd? Likely. Common? Very.
Megan was riding the bus one day and a child in front of her had finished his soda (Hondurans drink A LOT of soda) and he reached up to the window to toss it out, but before he could his mother grabbed it out of his hand. At this point Meghan felt happy because FINALLY someone cared about the environment and realized that it was not okay to toss garbage every-which-way…but then the mother opened the window wider and tossed that bottle far and clear. One word: Depressing.
One of Chad’s projects was to start a recycling program with the public schools in Honduras, getting the kids to recycle their bottles and in turn helping generate profit for the schools. I think about 45% of the schools he introduced to the program are still recycling, but that still doesn’t help the general garbage situation because without informing the general public about the importance of recycling (and potential income it can offer) it is unlikely to catch on.
Drink some tap water for me—because you can :)
Con Esperanza y Amor
Delaney C.
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