Today marks my fifth day in country, and very first Sunday Honduranan-style: church + BBQ.
After two days of orientation in Washington, D.C., a long queue in Reagan Airport, and two quick flights, a group of 48 Volunteers landed in the Tegucigalpa airport with our lives literally on our backs.
The Peace Corps staff greeted us with a cooler full of apples, bananas, sandwiches y refrescos, which we eagerly consumed before boarding our cartoon-like yellow school bus. The bumpy ride to the training center in Santa Lucia was not long, but the space between our gringo-packed bus and the unknown countryside surrounding us, was the space between two worlds.
Our host families were there a few hours later to take us in. My family, the Herreras, are amazing! I already feel lucky.
The mother, Letvia, is charismatic and full of compassion; Wilfredo, my host father, has more energy than a five-year old on a sugar-high, constantly rushing to show me something, explain a word to me, share a custom—truly a dynamic couple. Their one son still living at home is Geovanny, he is 21 and attending university in Tegucigalpa. He’s a great resource for me because he speaks English and French, and also loves computers (though he is on the PC side of the fence). A young woman, Yajaira, lives next to me and is the family’s cook. Danton, is the family’s very proud watch dog and is a caramel colored lab. They have another daughter who lives in Teguc, one in Panama, a son in Miami, and another daughter in Indianapolis. They are far from the stereotypical family one might find in Santa Lucia, or in the smaller pueblos where I might find myself in three short months, but their knowledge of the world and its cultures has enabled me to feel extremely welcomed and understood.
Santa Lucia is very beautiful. (See Photos)
I love the uneven stone streets, the steep steep hills, and the tranquilo mornings when I walk/run to “school.” PCT (Peace Corps Training) so far is very reminiscent of school--we bring packed lunches in thermos, split into groups and do icebreakers, get tested in Spanish, and have to go to the nurse’s office for shots! (So far I just had one for Polio…7 more to go…)
I understand why Peace Corps chose this town for our initial environment in country—it’s impossible not to like.
Right now we are in rainy season. It rains everyday, sometimes it stops, sometimes it doesn’t. The climate reminds me of Florida, only it’s very chilly at night and I sleep in layers. Yesterday a group of volunteers played a match of soccer in an empty field surrounded by mountains in the pouring rain. When the sun comes out, it is strong and perfect.
Training has consisted of many “charlas,” which are basically lectures about how to behave oneself in a new country and culture. My favorite of the charlas involved a skit about our humor verses humor in Honduras. What I learned: “Sarcasm is NOT funny to us.” said Javier, the training center director. Sarcasm will be a hard one to give up, but not as hard as my carefree American woman freedoms.
Another charla that was just as effective, though on a much darker note dealt with the crime and homicides in Honduras. The numbers were numbing. More homicides in the seemingly tranquilo Honduras than in the famoso Colombia. The general rule though, is that they do if for the money, not the pain. Worse than D.C., maybe slightly worse than Jamaica, which is the worst in the world according to Juan Carlos, the safety officer working for el Cuerpo de Paz (Peace Corps) The situation is heartbreaking and linked straight to drug trafficking. Smoking a joint or doing a line of coke in the States apparently not only affects your body, but has consequences, such as these, that are far-reaching.
The training director, Trudy, also spoke about ‘themes’ to consider when in training and service. What stood out to me, what I was left thinking about, was the word ‘catalyst.’ For better or for worse, volunteers come here trying, struggling, to be this word. I too, want this word.
