EL PARAISO : FBT

08.08.07
el Paraiso: FBT
There is a chicken and a 6 yr old boy named Angel outside my door. I have two freshly formed mosquito bites on either arm. The roosters kept me up all night. This is New Life, Parte II.

At 7:30am Dona Letvia dropped me and my gorda suitcase in front of the Laguna. Don Wil had called me earlier in the AM to say his goodbye. It was sad to say goodbye to those who had been so kind and generous to me. They were truly the perfect family for a solo gringa dropped in the middle of Honduras--so open minded, such huge hearts…It’s hard to say goodbye to that.

The group of 44 aspirantes gathered one by one in front of the Laguna. I fed the ducks some whole wheat bread, my last piece of the heavenly loaf from Samantha’s host mom. We took some group pictures. It didn’t feel like a good-bye. The Muni-D and Pam kids got into the same bus while the Youth Development group waited for their own. We drove off and waved to the waiting. The road trip was tranquilo, time for refection driving through the central mountain ranges. The sides of the highway are beautiful here—green mountains, the skinny dark pines and the soft pastel grasses crosshatched in the dull, low morning light.
Our school bus pulled up to bustling and colorful market plaza en El Paraiso around noon. From there I got my mammoth suitcase, broke from the group, and took off down the dusty road towards a sign reading el farmacia Guadalupe. I was to find a green house across from a clinic where la familia Sanchez lived. I wheeled my suite case up to the closest muchachos hanging out on the corner and they pointed me in the right direction. You think they would’ve just given me the number to the house, but here # addresses are a rarity.

Miriam Lorena Sanchez greeted me, seven month-old baby Susan in tow, and little 6 yr old Angel not far behind. The Empleada, Glenda, took the baby and bounced her softly in her lap as Miriam and Angel gave me the tour. The house is large and clean and stereotypical Honduran-style. My room is separate from the rest, as is the kitchen and el baño. In Honduras, the houses are usually situated around an open courtyard where the pila lives (the big concrete sink/tub-like water source). In the living room, there are the standard diplomas on the walls and the television constantly set to Latin soap operas.

After the tour, we all had lunch, which consisted of the plato tipico (rice, beans, tortillas) and jugo naturel (fruit juice). Angel and Susan are both adorable children and I love them already. Angel, I can tell, will be my best friend here. I’m very happy to have kids to play with and learn from. Plus, Angel really wants to learn English, and has already played his English music while showing me his notebooks de ingles. He is for sure a smarty.

The husband, Wiliam, came home for lunch as well. He is a maestro (teacher) at a tech colegio (tech school) for metalwork, woodwork, and electrician certification. Miriam is also in school to become a maestra. She attends school on Saturdays and Sundays. They are very religious people, as is the majority of the town/country. The two main faiths seem to be Catholic and Evangelical, there are no none believers. After Wiliam dashed off to a 4-day church retreat, Miriam and the kids showed me around the town. El Paraiso is much larger than Santa Lucia, much hotter, dustier, and the town itself is very flat. I sense the group will be pretty content with this set up. I know I am. Six weeks of Field Base Training (FBT)! I Can’t believe how long that seems right now—largo y lejo.

08.09.07
My fellow aspirante Cynthia left. Jorge told us after the fact. I couldn’t believe it. Of all the women, why Cynthia? Selfishly I needed her here. I think we all did. She was so inspiring, so smart and beautiful. Such a great resource, and I earnestly wanted to work with her on future projects. I felt lonely—truly solo—and it was the family that saved me. Angel is my angel. He sat with me in my room and we looked at pictures, played in Photoshop, listened to music, and watched videos of my friends, oh my friends… Children are so open, so free, so vulnerable. It is true, everything starts with them—the solutions to the right kind of development. Thus, the loneliness passed.


That night, Miriam also gave me a fan, so hopefully the mosquitoes wont be so much of a problem in the future. Now, if only the dogs and roosters will shut the #$%@@ up so I can get some much needed rest. I’ve realized that in Honduras, there is either complete silence, or complete ruido (NOISE). When you need to sleep, it’s non-ceasing ruido: a combination of television, radio, roosters’ calls, dogfights, speeding carros, and chattering chismastic neighbors.
True sleep is also the start to everything.
I dreamt that I got to say goodbye.


08.10.07
The first real day of Field Based Training (FBT) was spent making a map. This was a pretty cool activity. We broke into groups by barrios (neighborhoods) and marked down what was what and where—important landmarks, places to eat, to shop, to get food, and places to be wary of. Nicole and I were in charge of mapping out the barrio el Centro, which was a pretty easy one to do since it only consisted of the main Parque where la Casa de Cultura resided. We ventured to and fro exploring our new home. There is a lot of stuff here: Supermercados, a discoteque, a million pulparies, dentistas, bike shops, billiard rooms, bars, comedores, colegios, escualas and farmacias. The point of making a map, besides familiarizing oneself with new surroundings, is to locate potential resources for future projects. This activity is one we are supposed to replicate once in our permanent sites.

08.11.07
Saturday night was a dinner for all the host families and volunteers. It was held at a local restaurant at the Plaza. The restaurant was muy bonita and once everyone was seated with their proper families, we all filed onto the stage, family by family, to present our new “moms/dads/sisters/brothers/cousins/ect…” Some of the more verbose of the host parents took the opportunity to lecture a bit about various topics—mostly Gods influences, Honduran’s future, coffee exports, and such. There was also the somewhat persistent mentioning of past volunteers marrying with nationals. Once we were all seated a troupe of dancers performed several traditional Honduran dances, which originated during the time of the conquistadors—thus the brilliant colored dresses and red handkerchiefs, reminiscent of travels in Spain. The group was young, vibrant, and dynamic. During the final moments of the last song, they pulled a few of us out of our seats to dance (with much less grace) on stage with the group. After dancing, the dinner was served—un plato tipico: beans, rice, meat, tortillas, chismol, queso, and fried platanos.

Sunday the president of the government council came to el Paraiso, and in his honor the local high school band performed a grande bienvenido in the streets of the Plaza. It seems that this man donated all of the instruments to the town in order for them to have the very band that was beating away in the afternoon sun. A few of us from Peace Corps attended the event, and were embarrassed and honored by the three different political figures who recognized our presence and work in the country. The councilman made his shout-out in English, thanking the “beautiful American girls for coming to his country.” It just so happens, that our group is nearly 100% female; thus, only “girls” were in attendance at the event. We took it for what it was. We took pictures with the politicos and enjoyed the bands rapid drumming as the dark clouds formed over all our heads, threatening to pour on the liberal parade.
Pour it did not, not until later that evening, and so the crowd dispersed steadily and slowly and we all returned to our casas for la cena. It’s a change to be part of a family, firstly that is not your own, and secondly that eats every meal together!For me the family has been a great source of comfort and refuge. Again, the children are just amazing for lifting ones spirits. Miriam even made me a bowl of fruit salade, my first real dosage of fruit, just like My mom used to make...it was nice, really nice.