Feliz Navidad

My first Honduran chrsitmas has come and gone. The 24th was the slaughtering of the cerdos, which is a noise I will never forget. The five final cries of a dying hog are not the most soothing of wake-up calls, though waking up to death can’t be expected to sound nice. Alas, that was only 1 of 5 pigs that would die in the family’s backyard that morning. The chickens were up next. I had not realized that I was living with the town butchers. But apparently my family has held this important job every Christmas since Juanito can remember. The animal’s corpse was hanging, swaying, and the blood and such draining, dropping into the sunny dust of the back yard—I only saw it for a split second, but that was enough to turn me off of meat forever, not that I was turned onto it in the first place. Our family also seasoned and roasted all the heads and legs and sides of hog for the neighbors who came one by one to pick up the cena. Besides the plethora of meat, there was more corn than normal to make the tamales and mantukas. All of this is part of the traditional Christmas meal. Today I imagined making a tamale with only broccoli and cauliflower inside with some cheese, now that would be a tasty tamale…All of the day before Christmas is spent cooking and watching futbol, so that is pretty much similar to in the states. Then around 8:30 we began to play Amigos Secretos, which involves you buying a present for your secret person who you selected by chance out of a pile of paper slips with so and so’s name on it. I selected Juanito, and little Benjamin had me. The way they played was you had to sit in a chair and be blind folded and then your secret amigo would stand before you and you had to tocale (touch them) until you guessed who it might be. This part was particularly embarrassing for me because Juanito had to basically feel me up to get his soccer ball…which, he was very happy with. Little Benjamin gave me a set of earrings, a matching hair clip, and a teeny tiny mirror. Very cute. After amigos secretos the night was pretty tranquilo. We ate some food, watched some t.v., heard some firecrackers, ok, a exuberant amount of firecrackers, and then at midnight, went to bed.


Chrsitmas day was much different than the night before. First all the family went to visit the abuela de Alicia in Bario Lempira (the one I run through to get to the aldea of Llano) and she was so sweet and cute, and I just love old people here! Their youthful bright eyes contrasting with their much lived-in skin. I had also been thinking greatly in my own grandmother and our past Christmases spent in her house. Our visit consisted of enjoying grandma’s tamales and café, admiring her nacimiento she constructed with the dancing Santa, and relaxing on the patio. Her casa reminded me of la Cumbre San Lucas. Actually, a lot of the casas I visited Christmas day were unique and beautiful in their own little ways. After Gandma’s house I went to platicar (chat) con the Chinchilla’s and while I was there chatting away with the Misses, along came the pareja (couple) that drove me to the office holiday party, (how very different this yrs than last’s). So we went from Julio’s to her house to have pastel tres leche-yeah cake! Then we drove to bario el Marazán to find Elma and her sis, Evan. From there, we went to la Pati’s in barrio el Tigre, but she was in San Pedro, so we visited with the family and ate more tamales with tang! From there we went to Elma and Evan’s tia’s (aunt’s) house, up the hill and down we went before she could try and feed us more tamales! Though while I was there Evan pointed out a young boy who had un pierna equipo y lebano lepro, which are the two deformities that can be operated on in an upcoming medical brigade I’m trying to help with. I’m trying to contact all families in my Municipio who have infants with these deformities…so it was by chance I met this young boy and now we can sign him up for the free operation in Teguc.


After we left Tia’s house we went to the nativity scene in the parque because it is tradition to steal the baby jesus on the 25th. Thus four chicas sat and schemed to steal the baby jesus as the park guard (Don Chepe) sat near by. We finally succeeded in doing so with the help of the town police officer who distracted Don Chepe… Elma took him from his mossy bed, I ran him a couple feet further and stashed him behind the wall in the parque, then Elma grabbed him and together we walked him to her amiga’s house. I returned to the scene of the crime, so not to arouse suspicion that it was I, and then Elma returned, but not after Don Chepe already pinned all four of us as potential baby Jesus robbers.
Later we took the baby to Myki’s house (daughter-in-law of the mayor), where she hid him in the room I once occupied. After the baby was stashed, we went to la casa de la Elma for cena, and as always, I love cena at her house. There’s always café, beans, tomato, and tortilla. For me, it’s perfecto. The family watched Shrek 2 en español, and I told Elma and Evan stories of skipping school, hacer falta de escuela. Yep, the cut-party story that my dad always told to my aunts at Christmas time…each family has its own traditions after all.



12.26.07

Today we cut café on Don Quijote’s (that may not be his name…) farm in La Cumbre San Lucas. I had planned to go today even before Eva Lidia and baby Katie showed up at the house. I had printed out the photo collage that I had made them for la Navidad and had wanted to deliver it, besides just wanting to go up there since it had been two weekends without a visit, two weekends is half a month, and I’ve now been here in Cabañas for just about 3 in total! Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, next New Yrs.


I, Carmen, Netio, y Adalíd all hiked up together since Eva was going to go up anda en caballo with baby Katie. The day was beautiful, perfect really without a cloud in the sky—it sure doesn’t feel like winter here. Even at night, or in the early mornings, it feels more like camp-chilly until the sun takes hold. Adalíd was supposed to be cutting café in the la Cumbre San Juan today, but did not go, which I’m glad he stayed behind. I told him, as my father always told me, “you have your entire life to work.” I’m actually quoting my father, which is a scary thing.

Once we arrived at the house we were served almuerzo of beans, tortilla, queso, chilis y café. Then we were led to the finca where everyone in the family was already busy in the day’s work.
Cutting café was fun, and hard and above all dirty! We strapped the buckets to our waists so to have hands free to pick the mature beans off the plants and drop them in the buckets. By the end, everything part of our bodies were covered in dirt and spider web and pollen, and bugs and just outdoor stuff. The hills where the plants were were extremely steep and slick with dried dirt and so we were falling and grasping onto the tree trunks to sturdy ourselves so not to fall, even though we did. All of Eva Lidia’s sisters were in the field, they all look identical: tall, lean, and classic beauties. Perfect for the look of the 1920 flapper girls or the 1960 hippie with their big brown flower-child eyes, and pin straight long dark hair. They all wore their baseball caps and long-sleeved shirts in the fields and were crouched down skillfully picking the crop, along with their dad and nephews. We brought refresco and white plastic cups to offer the group a bit of refreshment, though lukewarm it was by the time we got there. The kids and I only picked for about an hour or so before heading back home. It was enough for me to know and understand how much work it is. How hard it would be to do that all day long, in the rain, and esp. in the cold. Today we were lucky, it was beautiful, and I’m so glad I went up and got to do that. The intimate process of everything that one consumes in a day, it is important to know, I am starting to realize that. The animals, the coffee, the bread, the tortilla, the bean—everything here that we use as fuel has a natural process, we see it from grain-to- life –to- death –to- processing –to- food –to- la merde, literally. We see everything here. People are much less reserved about many things, esp. the natural and perhaps ugly or not “clean” part of life. I’m learning about that and it is hard for me to accept much of the dirt, but I am slowly learning how to see it and not want to run from it, but know I can coexist with it and it with me.

A town bolo is born_ el nacimiento designed by a jew_ cock fights _ pigs for navidad:

Happy Hanukkah to me! Better late then never, as the special jew-package from my loving sister did not arrive until the day after the last night of Hanukkah…so my celebration was a bit delayed, but celebrate I did. (I even crafted dreidels out of paper, which is actually the second time I had to do such, the first time was that one Hanukkah I spent in the Mid-Pyrenees of France…la sigh…) I shared the little candle-lit menorah show and chocolate coins with two different families I have grown close to here in Cabañas—paper dreidel was a big hit!
Ever since I reluctantly designed the town’s central parque nativity scene I’ve been spending a lot of time explaining Judaism to coworkers and families. (The fact that those of the Jewish faith do believe in God has been punto #1 I’ve tried to put straight.) I feel like I need to go back to Hebrew school to answer all of their specific questions about the Jews and Jesus. I guess that’s what google is for….
The nativity scene is a really big deal here, and I can now say with pride that I’ve painted, glittered, and put to bed a baby Jesus. The constructing of the nativity scene was actually fun, since everyone from the muni helped and it was like a big arts and crafts project, which I have a soft-spot for in my little jewish heart.

During the real Festival of Lights I was mostly in transit due to a date w/the HPV vaccine. The trip to Teguc and back went pretty smooth—aunque largo, it’s do-able, as long as you have the mind set to be spending the entire day en ruta, which isn’t hard to do with a good book or an ipod fully charged. I arrived in Teguc with a splitting headache and just in time to get my lovely HPV shot. Peace Corps put me up in hotel Guadelope II where a couple other PCVs were staying for their Last Night in country…their 2 yrs was up! We dined at Quiznos b/c the main blvd. of Teguc looks like a section of the US Highway with every fast food joint with-in a 2-mile stretch. These big US chains don’t pay taxes to the Hondu government as part of an incentive for them to bring their golden arches and double-stuffed crusts to the developing world—as if there weren’t already enough malnutrition problems without the bigmac.

I was back into my sweet little cabañas after 3.5 days of travel, it felt like I’d been gone so long, and I was all smiles to be back—I set straight to scrubbing clothes in the pila, oh the pila—what was I like when I didn’t even know you existed?

* * *
These past two weeks since Worlds AIDS Day I’ve continued my work with the Unidad Tecnica in executing the Asambleas Comunitarias. I’ve been transferring all the information from the meetings into excel documents to try and keep things organized and accessible for our future work. I’ve been typing every name of every inhabitant living in the aldeas, along with their number of identity and their role in the community—thus learning all the peculiar family names. Hondurans typically have two first names and two last names from both parents, that’s four names per-person. (For example: José Gilberto Valle Cruz. Or para una chica: Maria del Carmen Aguilar Pacheco.) Another list I’ve been creating consists of all the projects that the communities are requesting ERP funding for from the Municipalidad. The majority of pueblos want electricity, better water systems, usable roads, improved housing, bonos for single mothers and senior citizens, a kindergarden, a soccer field, pilas, better fogones (wood-burning stoves), and a machine to grind corn. If the proposals are drafted and the funds come through, these projects are all real possibilities. I will be eager to see if this ERP process will work or not. If the money will truly find its way to our tranquilo municipio…

Going up into the mountains and meeting the people who live without la luz everyday is one of those parts of my life here that change the way I see and think. Today we went up to two of the higher altitude comunidades: la Cumbre San Juan and Nueva Esperanza. I got to test out my ears’ progress in recognizing Honduran family names while I assisted in the lista de participantes…I recognized Aguilar, which is one I wouldn’t have known before, so that is progress, right?
The careterra was so feo up there from the rain and lodo that we had to ditch the truck and continue on horseback. (We tend to ditch the truck a lot when it’s raining) It was freezing—a wet misting cloud-surrounded day and for that, yo tengo el gripe en la garganta. The people who gathered in the meetings wore their frayed neon beach blankets and knit caps, and the large unlit cement building where the meeting took place felt like one dark, giant freezer.
I was thinking as I walked home from la Elma’s after showing her family my menorah and how to play dreidel, how easy it is to forget yourself here, and forget that riding horses in the frescita mountain ranges of Central America amidst the lush green coffee fields, is not a normal day, or would never have been a normal day back in the states. This kind of work doesn’t exist there…I don’t think. I like being constantly out of the office, not having a desk, no cubes. Yet I enjoy the times when I can sit and type away on my clean white Mac and create order out of the chaos, or rather invent a system, find the patterns, catch-on to the cycle, break it?

* * *
Today my host dad showed up to the casa with a big ol’porker in-tow…that means blood will be a-flowing in the pila the day before Christmas…Last week it was a cow. An entire cow was skinned and cut and sawed and stuffed into the fridge. You couldn’t open it without a chunk falling out….I had to evacuate the tomatoes! Good thing it’s a family of men who grilled it, boiled it, and roasted it up; thus, ate it up in a mere couple of days, else the lack of electricity would’ve been a slight problem…

Speaking of the bloody—I saw my first cock fight (first and last). The cock owners actually lick the bloody heads of their roosters in between rounds. They stick the entire bloody feathered-cabeza in their mouths to clean it off. It’s not pretty, and the blood and violence and such is just not worth whatever slight entertainment value might come from the animal abuse. Though I have to admit it reminded me of boxing, and then of gladiators and the human enthusiasm for fights till the death. Why is blood so bad? Yet, why is fighting applauded? There is something very self-destructive in it all. In each peck, cluck cluck.

* * *
Tonight on Canal Doce: Ernesto Grande’s evil twin Ernesto Bolo terrorizes the town of Cabañas!

It seems our local t.v. guy is an alcoholic. He was always a bit eccentric, verbose, loco—but now, he is a drunken menace, and the town is abuzz with Ernesto bashing. He showed up at our house nearly every night last week asking for my host sister’s hand in marriage, that is after he asked for some café and a tortilla toasted with queso. My host dad could barely get the guy to leave; the kids and I hid in our rooms. The next night, he asked for my hand in marriage, that was after he pleaded for comida y cafécito again. This time, we just didn’t open the door. A few people now have him on video being bolo-of-the-month on their cell phones. Everyone in town seems to have their own Ernesto-encounter to share. This is my first real taste of how powerful chisme (gossip) is in a small town. I predict much Enersto Bolo chisme this Christmas eve as the families gather to eat their chickens and hams and the niños set off firecrackers till dawn…Pop pop pop*

WORLDS AIDS DAY- DIA DE VIH/SIDA

Here are some shots of a very successful DIA DE VIH/SIDA en COPAN!
Thanks to EVERYONE´S Support and Help!

T-Day Thanks

11.21.07
Happy Thanksgiving to me.
This is the first thanksgiving I’ve ever spent alone. Technically, I’m not alone. There is a room full of people on the other side of the curtain, per usual. There is a fútbol game going on outside my window, even if it’s not of the American kind. But it certainly doesn’t make it feel any more like thanksgiving! I elected to not celebrate with new Cuerpo de Paz friends and a pseudo Turkey dinner—it was my choice to dine on oatmeal and raisins.

That said, today was full of things to be thankful for. For one, hot coffee in the morning and sunshine. Then, a trip up into the mountains of Cabañas to the community of Haciendo San Juan, complete with a horseback ride through the mountains, the farmlands, along side and across the rivers, and ending at a little school house built on top of a hill. This was the first asamblea comunitaria where I got to introduce myself and Obeniel (jefe de la munidad tecnica) mentioned my presencia and apoyo. The community had really prepared for our arrival. They even had the pine needles spread across the floor, which is the sign of a true officially important meeting in Honduras. They had also prepared almuerzo for us, a zopa de guillina, alas, my third this week. I didn’t think I can do another zopa de guillina if my life depended on it! But this one was doable. My bowl had a carrot and a potato in it, and the breast of the chicken, though I’ve learned that all meat here is tough. The community also gave us a huge sac of naranjas to bring back, because it is orange picking season. Living in Copán, Honduras is more naranja country than banana!


The meeting went smoothly, though the process of democracy is not yet caught on to the majority of the participantes. Everyone just raises his or her hand for every project idea, instead of electing what project they most want for their community. Be it la luz, a kinder, a road, land, or una cancha de fútbol. I think dispute is not common in Honduras. In the last meeting in Mirimar San Antonio, a very vocal man spoke his mind about what projects his community needed, but in this community, even the leader was a very soft-spoken man. I imagine without electricity and crowdedness, there isn’t much need to yell. The only loud voices came during prayer. At the opening and closing of the meeting we must evoke god’s name as it is in the agenda.

After going to pee in the cornfields (because building latrines is a project on the list for Haciendo San Juan), we said our goodbyes to the community. On the way back, the guys whipped the horses into a running trot, which definitely left me with a sore nalgas y rodias, but it was so worth it! Remarkably beautiful sourroundings, and to fly by on horseback, for me, was truly unforgettable. Something regular tourists would have paid for, and I, again, am just along for the free ride. Many thanks I have.

Once we were back to the truck, we had one last stop to make back in Pueblo Viejo, a cow that Ronní had bought needed to be brought back with us…and so he was…Kicking and screaming and sliding back and forth in the bed of the truck, along with Noé and Obeniel and las naranjas, which we joked would be juice before the ride was over.


Once back in Cabañas cascoo urbano, I ran to the casa to wash my soaking undies in the pila while it was still sunny and then Benjamin went on a run with me up towards la Cumber San Lucas. I truly do love my host brothers and sister, they are always cheering me up. As we were running away from the killer ants, little Benjamin told me I was the most beautiful creature on earth, the definition of all things beautiful, the essence of beauty…and how can you not love that when you’re sweaty and flicking ants off your ankles? Of course I told him the only thing I was the definition of was a retarded foreign girl in Honduras! But he is a persistent little guy and we laughingly debated my retarded beautifulness all the way down the mountain.


My real dad had called while I was gone, and Carmen had answered and spoke in English to him…well, she said hello and bye! She also brought me some pan to dunk in my post-shower café and this I enjoyed while the dubbed-over version of Home Alone was on t.v.

Tonight on Canal Doce

11.12.07
Gringa spits our Armadillo--Tonight on Canal Doce

It’s la estación de winter in Copan--rain and more rain and grey skies. Halloween has come and gone. Here the celebration is a bit different. The families go to the cemeteries to visit friends and family members who have died. In my host family, they have lost a child, and so they go to visit him. The children still go door-to-door the night before to ask for treats; however, it is not dulces, but rather traditional food made from maíz that they will receive. The spirit of the holiday is sober, subdued.





I’ve just read a book about trying to live forever, about death, and the passage of time (quick) and the passage of love (precious). Here, life is even shorter, and death, less taboo. Though for some, it is still untouchable—the empty house up at the farm in la Cumbre San Lucas where I often go on the weekends. Eva Lidia’s older brother died of cancer a few years back and they haven’t touched his house since. It’s overgrown and eerie; the view from the front stoop is breathtaking.



I’ve visited the family farm in la Cumbre San Lucas four times in total…always after scrubbing the clothes. It is just so calming in the mountains. It’s my escape. I know my grandmother Alberta would’ve loved it for their garden. The food there is also very good! Well, the beans are just beans…but the homegrown coffee, freshly ground and sweetened with sugarcane honey is amazing, accompanied with the homemade pan! Plus the fresh orange juice! Delicioso! More times than not I’ve traveled with my littlest host bother Adalíd, he is precious and strikingly serious for a thirteen yr old. I think these kids would go absolutely crazy in the city. They adore their trees, and fruits and water sources so much…they would not survive it concrete city, packaged food, paved playground-style.

Other news: the local TV guy, Ernesto Grande, from Canal Doce has put me down as his top priority. I’ve already given him an apprehensive interview, which was a lame 2-minute thing where he asked me about the weather! But now, every meeting for the PEDM he is there! He just lurks around the Municipalidad where I work, bugging people for interviews, saying “WOW, Super, WOW!” I can’t look down for a second because when I look up, he will be standing in front of me with a camera in my face! Many folks from town have now seen me on t.v….including my host family…oh the pena!



I wonder why he doesn’t take his camera to the derrumba that is currently making travel to and fro a mess! (See pics) Last week I was coming back from a market trip in Sta. Rita when the truck (which had replaced the normal busitos due to their lack of four-wheel drive) could not travel past the mudslide. All the passengers had to get out and walk. I was carrying a big book bag full of my fruits and produce, my hands were full, and the flip-flops I was wearing got so stuck in the guck that I lost them in the mud with each step; thus I took them off and trudged forward barefoot, mud oozing in between my toes. The folks working on the road all stopped and starred. Once I passed the worst of the mud, I was directed by some spectators to wash my feet and shoes in a little (probably contaminated) stream of water on the side of the road. I used the fuente de agua and slipped back into my shoes. I and the other bus-less passengers then commenced the walk to Cabañas—a good 1hr trek. Luckily, after only 10 minutes on the road a local Señora Patricia gave us all a jálon into town!



This past week we had the 2nd meeting for the Cabildo Infantil program that I’m part of. I presented the ant logo and chick mascota and everyone gave their appraisals and suggestions (Including Ernesto Grande from Canal Doce!). The best part of the meeting though was that I met a woman from a Christian NGO in Copán, who is working with micro-empresas of the area. I told her my interest in her work, along with my background and potential to help. She seemed equally enthusiastic about my help, and so we exchanged info and I hope to hear from her soon!



This weekend their was yet another moment for Canal Doce: My host dad shot an armadillo! That’s right, Manchito brought home an armadillo and skinned it for lunch! (see pics) I tried just a bit of it and had to spit it out…yep, I did it in front of everyone too! I couldn’t help it. The reflexes were too strong. But I think it’s a good sign, I means that I was comfortable enough to let them know that actually Really didn’t like something! It also had great comical value….Gringa spits out armadillo! That’s funny. Almost as funny as fake wrestling, which is my families favorite program on TV…

Where I run too..

La Cumbre San Lucas:





































10.17.07_PEDM_plan estrategia del Municipio

Yesterday was the meeting to discuss the PEDM with local representatives from the aldeas of Cabañas. The reunion was held in the church. Elma and I were there early, to arrange the chairs, set up, place some flowers. The other young lady, Dalila, from la comision de la transparencia was also there early to help setup. She’s very sweet as well. Has a nice face. She works all alone in la comision, and so I told her I would stop by and see if there was anything at all I might be able to help her with. The meeting was very long, and I’m not sure just how productive it was either…it seems the representatives from the patronatos are not much for words, or group work, or digesting new information and processing it in a critical way, which was basically what the facilitators were asking them to do. But the open discussion part fell unexpected upon the part of the patronatos. The meeting itself was part of a process to create a PEDM that was democratic, that included the voice and or opinion of the people, but this meeting seemed empty of all things passionate and opinionated. For some…perhaps I am wrong, er I hope I am, but I can’t be sure. It just seemed to be so superficial, or non-result-producing.
More than half of the men left after lunch. The few women that were there came with their children, and they all stayed till the end. It was hard to know if they came only for the food. (Which seems to be a common crime here among campesinos who go to reunions.) They are not motivated, and in all honesty we have to ask, why should they be? Its not as if there has been great results in their life times, there is a simple life and hard work, slow paced work, because why work faster when it will always be there, and the results are no different whether you do things slowly or with vigor.

During the reunion, I was a quote-un-quote faciladora, but I really felt in no position to instruct the campesinos about anything, esp. about their aldeas and their casarias in their communities. I know much less then they do about their own surrounding. The problem was, I knew much better how to follow instructions and fill out questioners, in other words, how to be a student. Therefore, between the two of our skill sets, there was a chasm that prevented total comprehension or progress.

10. 19.07_CUTS to remember
Today was a good Honduran day. It started off with hot water and sunshine. (It had been a long 3 days without either) Then a bus ride to Sta Rita where we got a jálon to Jaral, where there was a reunion de capacitation in the centro commercial, which is muy muy bonita. The coffee and cakes, almuerzo, and helado where all good, but most of all, the lecture was great! This was due to the passion and intelligence of the speaker, a man from la comisión de la transparencia in Sta. Rosa. He spoke to us about auditing of the ERP funds, in other words, the battle against corruption! It’s true that this is just beginning, the idea of transparencia, the idea of truly effective and honest democracy, and it’s great to be a part of it, despite seeing the long long dry, er rather washed away road ahead!
After the reunion, Elma and I joined Patí for our joint haircuts! I’ve never gotten such a quick cut! The poqueña muchacha just sprayed, combed, and snipped, snipped, without a second thought. I thought about a US haircut for a woman that can cost as much as $200, which would come to about 3,600 Limperas—an amount that would leave me homeless and starved. The lady didn’t do a totally terrible job…I wouldn’t say it was a good job either…but it certainly was corte! Patí got her hair chopped after me, and I have to say, the same quick scissor action took place, and patí didn’t seemed too phased about it…though I can’t say I liked the results of her haircut either… but then again, I did say 3,600 limperas for a gringa cut...



10.24.07__uncomfortable places without luz
I had my first religious experience in Honduras. It was inevitable and honestly, necessary. In a country where the religious influence is deafening (literally if you are speaking of the Evangelical branch) it was foolish of me to try to avoid it no matter what my own religious belief’s are or aren’t. That said, I’m not looking to embrace it at every oportunidad, but I am trying my hardest to not be judgmental. This is hard to do. Mostly, I just bite my tongue (if I could articulate my thoughts in spanish that is…and my thoughts in english I must bite as well.)
I was invited over to mi compañera de trabajo Elma’s house for la cena de tamales. That day we held the 2nd taller (workshop) of the PEDM with the patronatos and various representatives of the community. I have to say that I felt this taller was much more successful than the previous, in that the people seemed to understand a bit better what was going on, even if the majority did not pay much attention to the overall proceso, or rather the entire front end of the presentation that Suyapa from Visión Mundial gave for the second time to almost the same crowd. Even though the number of campesinos this time around had doubled and we all suspected for reasons of food and not for reasons of community investment. After almuerzo, we broke into 4 groups and did a practice worksheet of what the community representatives will have to do in las asembleas comunitarias in the weeks that come. I’m excited because I get to go out into each of the communities and assist in this process! Each group needed to fill out a form including dates and names, and then the groups had to prioritize the needs of the community, and come up with types of projects that their communities might execute to fix the problems. A few observations: besides lack of a decent level of literacy among the group, there was the confusion over certain aspects of critical thinking. Such as: the difference between a problem, a necessity, and a type of project that might offer a solution to the prior-mentioned problems of the communities. There was high comprehension of what problems existed or rather, what the community was missing, what was broken, what was beyond repair…(such as the road outta town)but not such a high level of comprehension for how to resolve such problems. This idea of critical thinking brings me back to my religious experience…sin luz…
At la casa de Elma, after our light cena of tamales y café eaten in oscuridad broken only by the flame of a candle solita and the low glow of the fogon’s fire, people began to filter in for the night’s festivities. Elma informed me that a church group was coming, but I did not really know what that meant, only that there would be cake de tres leche, the only kind of postre I’ve eaten in Honduras, humido y very sweet. When I entered the salon adjacent to la cocina, the band had arrived—two guitars, one base, a violin, and a tambourine. The instruments were larger then some of the players who played them. The song began, upbeat and high pitched and all the gatherers in the room began to clap and sing along to a song of jesus that I surely had never heard before. After a few songs, people began to pray, but I must describe this prayer because I have never experienced anything like it. Near the end of the song, a few strums vibrating every couple of seconds, the candlelight’s flickering, the rain still falling, the people bending to their knees, the night’s cold slowly creeping in, the voices began to rise. They rose in prayers, prayers like cries, cries out to a Señor who was being thanked, being begged for relief, for help, for understanding, for an end to the pain that was dictating the desperate pitch to their cries. After 5 minutes they did not subside, nor after ten, for more than twenty minutes every voice in the room was relentlessly rising and falling, following invisible lines that supposedly rose to open ears in the heavens. The night continued in a rhythmic and repetition fashion of song, prayer, and reflection. The reflection, or rather biblical interpretation is what struck me. After reading a section from the bible the leader of the session would ask someone to interpret that passage he’d read, or perhaps a single palabre from within the passage. What was the significance?—he’d ask. I was shocked to hear peoples’ voices, which I’ve never heard speak before, volunteer boldly their thoughts. These interpretations were insightful, heartfelt, and intelligent. They could read this one book, they could think about it critically, they could speak their minds about it. This one obra was the class they had studied for during their entire lives. I was especially pleased to hear the voices of the women, rich in opinion. Their voices came out clear and loud and without an ounce of pena. I was relieved in one moment, then shaken and frightened the next. When their prayers would start to come out more violent and intense and chaotic all I could do was clench my eyes, my face facing the ground, and tunnel myself into a safe place and hope it would be over soon. When the very final session of prayer came I could not help but feel pain and sorrow and the awe of a subdued freight. I itched to leave once we were all upon our feet again. Part of me felt like a traitor, or intruder upon their personal releases; however, I was glad to have had the opportunity to understand a slight shred better what they needed to live. All the social restrictions of their sexes and their economic classes were shed in this evening, and their own self-expression came from both a dark place in their hearts, and a bright place in their hopes. I’m not sure when I will opt to partake in another such evening, but I will never forget the ceremony I was part of. What is a normal, everyday kind of ritual for my fellow community members of Cabañas, was for me, a somewhat cultish ceremony from an ancient time passed. I left Elma’s house half frozen, the luz still had not returned, and thus I made my way home by the power of the moon.

Becoming Honduran_Week 1

10.07.07_Sunday de lluvias

I was just thinking, if I were in the states, a rainy Sunday as such would probably be spent in bed, fishing around on the internet, reading some Economist, and drinking a mug of coffee before taking a long walk to downtown.
In France, I would’ve gone to Claire’s flat, talked and listened to music as she rolled cigarettes and put the electric kettle on to boil so we could drink cup after cup of instant coffee, or perhaps vanilla tea and dissect our romantic dramas.
Here in Honduras, I cannot sleep in past 6:10—it’s the roosters. So I get up. I wash some clothes in the pila; pour some leftover coffee from the family thermo; eat my cornflakes with water; head out with Carmen to get the corn kernels ground into mortar; help make the tortillas for almuerzo; and follow the nimble cowboy boots of my 15yr old host brother Nestor to the aldea de Llano, where Juan senor has family that will serve us café con leche with a side of galletes.




I’ve officially completed my first week in site.

After only a handful of emotional burnouts, and some classic awkward moments “outside of my comfort zone” as Peace Corps likes to call it, I seem to be doing ok…I even survived my very first bee sting! …25 yrs and counting and the bastards finally got me in Honduras…on the sole.





Working in the Municipalidad of Cabañas has gone pretty smoothly. They don’t need much help with the ERP propuestas (proposals) that I was told I would be working on. The Unidad Tecnica pair went to the training sesh last year for it, and they are doing it at the normal Honduran pace. I am interested in learning, so I have helped some on the current proposals and suggested a potential reformatting of the ERP form to make them more user-friendly. (I’m so American)
Besides helping type and teaching short-cut keys, I have been assigned to design the Municipio’s logo, which everyone has taken a great interest in, and so I’ve been more than happy to come up with some concepts in correlation with their ideas. (Will post finished logo on blog.)



Besides work in the Muni, I have spoken with the teachers at the Colegio to line up an English class for the seniors, one day of the week after school.
Friday I volunteered to assist the committee that is currently organizing a cabildo infantil, which is a cabildo abierto para los niños, or rather, a youth empowerment/civic education workshop. They are in need of a logo and mascot.
Other projects I’m currently researching for the site are:
1. The rural tourism project that a previous volunteer worked on, and still has great potential if I can collaborate with Vía Vía hotel in Copán Ruinas.
2. Local products potential for sale, which will involve contacting the women’s groups in the Aldeas that make their own crafts.
3. The implementation of signage for all the local businesses and streets, and a littering awareness campaign/ or rather a beautification of all the neighborhoods—this I will need to speak to a fellow volunteer about who has done a similar project in the area.

I’ve also received the materials for Proyecto Ciudadano (Project Citizen) from Alejandrina (the Muni-D Project Manager) and so I will be starting on new illustrations for the booklet to speak more towards Honduran culture.

There are other projects that Sarah (my site mate) is working on that I will also be contributing to, such as the start-up of a Women’s Health NGO called Vída a la Vída, which needs a brochure, logo, and website created asap.

As far as work is concerned, I am more than busy. For that, I am really thankful.



There was an evento politica on Friday, which was really fun. The girls of the office and I worked our butts off. Elma, Roxan, Patty, and a few other ladies whose names escape me, helped with the set up. The parque really looked great. (see pics) The little stage is a nice touch, and they are fully equipped. I already felt pride for this community. Most of the ladies are still in school, working on their bachalereta, which is a two-year kind of diploma that takes place between colegio and Universidad. It’s nice to have a group of girls here to look out for me and keep me in the loop. They are all really sweet and were constantly taking care of me during the evento.





After the madness of the evento and committee meeting for el cabildo infantil I met up with Sarah and little Nestor to go running. Nestor and I ran all the way to a neighboring Aldea la Cumbre de San Lucas, that’s about an hour away. It was ALL up hill and we barely made it, but Nestor kept on telling me how cerca we were, and I believed him! When we finally did llegamos, it was already starting to turn dark, so on the way back ALL down hill I fell into two huge mud holes and got my new kicks pretty feo-ed up. Nestor was soo proud of us, he was bragging to his brother and dad when we got back! I took my cold shower without a single grimace that night.





10.06.07_Sabado to go
Woke up early as usual and I and little Nestor were the only ones to stir. I had cereal/oatmeal mix with milk and coffee, washed a few clothes, and headed to the parque to catch the busito to Copán. Sarah was running late and so we missed the busito, but luckily the ex-mayor who she is friends with was going that way and so we got a jálon to Sta Rita, where we then took the busito to Copán.



The pueblo of Copán itself is just so preciosa euro/hondu mix—more euro stilo than Honduran. We walked around, went to the banco, made a few food purchases, and then went to a few cafes to check out the views, before finally settling on one where the espresso machine was actually functioning and so I treated myself to a cappuccino and sweet cheese bread. It was just perfect. Not as authentic as the café in El Paraíso, but still my senses were very much satisfied. We then visited a few gift shops and variety stores before heading to the cheap internet café, 10limps an hour! We ran into Ben, the San/Wat volunteer there, and also another Jika volunteer so we went to a little place for lunch where Kelly, the wife of Ben, joined us for almuerzo-Baleadas the size of your head! I got an iced coffee that reminded me so much of Café Flower in Toulouse and a big plato de frutas, that reminded me of Sta Lucia…like I said, euro/hondu mix! We talked mostly about work, project ideas, development, Peace Corps, what we did before, what we will do after. The time passed quickly.

When we finally returned to Cabañas later that afternoon I was glad to be back in Honduras Honduras in my pueblito de Cabañas where the dirt street in front of my house was continual fútbol alley, and the men still trotted by on their tired mares, their machetes and white brimmed hats an unofficial uniform for the campo. That night I took my place next to Carmen, molding corn mortar into flat round disks.