High highs_Low lows

08.26.07__Señor Tigre v. Dengue Fever
It’s nice to hear señor tigre once again, growling from his favorite hiding place beneath my bed. Little Angel is finally back to his old self after contracting Dengue fever last week. Glenda said he got it from swimming in the river. Miriam said there is bastante Dengue in el Paraiso. There is high alert in the country. We had a scare on Wednesday, when he could not use his legs. I don’t think they hurt him, it was more like paralysis, and when he tried to walk, they just buckled from underneath him and he fell. Every time he got up, he fell. Just the night previously he seemed to be recovering fast, but then this…Miriam and Wiliam took him to the clinic across the street, and then to Donlí were they were able to run some tests. It seems it was just a result of the Dengue running through his little veins and not a more serious cancer that the doctors has suspected. Thanks to all, señor tigre is back on the prowl.

The past week and a half has been very busy and emotionally charged:


08.16.07__Alauca, Jacaleapa, El Paraiso.
Thursay was the first day of SDP, self defined project. We are broken into three groups, two of which travel 20 minutes out of El Paraiso a few days of the week to work in the municipalities of Alauca and Jacaleapa. This means, no more sitting and listening to lecture after lecture…even though I know it was all necessary. But still, I am so ready to be in my site and get to work! Not that I want to say goodbye to any of these people, fellow aspirantes and families alike. Everyone here I have grown to really appreciate for all they are. I had a nice heart to heart with my host mom today, with little Susan passing between our laps—She is quickly becoming a real ally that I hope to keep for a longtime. She was joking around w/her friend about having a mountain of meat in the fridge and a gringa who only wants vegetables! Yep, that’s me, bien compliqué. Or, “tough” as my father puts it. I guess dads are sometimes right.
Wiliam, my host dad and I also spoke about life in the US. He thinks it is too centered around money and the business of increasing it, possessions and such. Perhaps it is, at some point…but not everywhere. It can’t be.

08.17.07__Legal Resident Jam Session
Friday was good day, good night.
There’s a big old blister on my thumb begging to be popped. A group of us went to the small Café d’apolo by the parque. There’s live music on weekend nights, which is really just the talented owner, se llama Carlos, and his friends playing guitar + flute. Carlos, I just happened to have met at La Casa de la Cultura the day prior b/c I found his guitar in the music room and took it upon myself to try it out. Well, he heard me singing Ben’s waiting on an angel, and liked my voice...So he lent me his guitar again to play at the café. It was nice and therapeutic, just playing and singing, not that I am any good, but I like to do it anyway! The owner even joined in w/his flute while I was playing Leaving on a Jet Plane, my first jam session in Honduras—very special.

Earlier that day we made the trip to Teguc to get our official residency cards for the country and so I am officially here! Two years, here I come…
It was really nice to get to see other people from the other two groups! It’s odd, but we wont get to see each other all in one place again until we swear in for the 2 yr service. Crazy.

After the paper work was done we got to walk around the mall for an hour and a half. I got mint chocolate chip ice cream and double minutes for my cell phone. The mall was eerie, a bit over stimulating and unnecessary. The idea of shopping was tempting, but without any money to dispense and nowhere to wear potentially cute purchases, the fun of it is not so …eh fun. I also ran into my first host dad, Don Wil and he scolded me for not calling! The time just goes so fast!
I also got a letter from Trish and a very special package from Jo! Packages are way more fun than shopping malls!


08.20.07__Honduran Time + Strikes
This Monday, my SDP group stationed in El Paraiso, made good progress—setting all our dates for the charlas we need to give at the schools and the Alcaldia. There were problems with scheduling b/c of the teacher strikes going on next week. It would seem that the teachers are upset over not receiving the money promised to them by the government during the previous campaign. There is mixed opinion over the teacher strike amongst my group as well as amongst the Hondurans. The teachers may not be paid a great deal, but their employment is seen as stable and with some benefits; thus, the people are not as sympathetic to their cause. Plus, it creates a setback in the education of the children. Then again, there is no excuse for the lying and corruption that is blatantly at work in this situation, and so I tend to side with the teachers position. Hoping that at least some of them are not as upset over the lack of monetary compensation, as the corruption at work in the governmental system. Empty promise-technique gets them every time.


08.22.07__Mountain of Tamales
Un día muy divertido! Las clases de espanol were in mi casa y we cooked tamalas de pelotes y guacamol ricisimo! (See Pics!)
Brian was our fearless culinary líder and I taught the group a traditional Honduran folk song that Miriam sang for me the night prior.
We all gathered in my kitchen to shuck the corn, peel away the first layer of husk and then cut off the remainder to guard for the eventual formulation of the tamales. We cleaned the naked ears of corn before sawing away all of the corn kernels into one large plastic basin. We then all piled into a PC vehicle to bring the corn grains to a place that grinds corn—there is only One in the entire city of el paraiso, and it ain’t pretty.



Well it’s just a very dark and noisy room where the grains are poured into one end of a machine and the mush comes out the other end. The two workers then scoop the mush back into the container for transport. Thus, we returned back to my house to continue the process. Next we added some salt and a bunch of butter to the corn goop, stirred, and poured into the folded-up shells made from the saved inner husks. Once a tamale was folded, we placed them one by one into a large pot of near-boiling water to steam. Eventually our pot was overflowing with the tamales and we placed the lid on top of the pile to leave it sit for an hour. My group then prepared guacamole, which was excellent. The group managed to demolish the entire pot of green spicy delicious chunkiness in less then 5 minutes. Then everyone enjoyed the mountain of tamales we had created. A bunch of people took them home to the families, but here at the house we still have a mini mountain of solidified corn mush chilling out in the fridge.



08.24.07__Tree Love
It’s pouring in Honduras—lightening—thunder—la tormenta verdad. Hope we don’t loose la luz.
The rain always sounds more intense upon my metal roof, braced for some collapse. Here there is no stability in these situations, as in other places in the world, everything can just be washed away with the blink of an eye. One day your roof is noisy, and the next, it is silent and gone. The idea of death and going with the flow of life is just the way people roll with the punches. It is laid back, yet smiling at the happenstance. I think of the wise eyes of our fearless leader Jorge and know that he knows. Whatever it is, he just knows...

Earlier today we all piled into the big white PC vehicles and headed to Alauca, where we had a date to plant trees w/some students from the colegio. Once we reached the town, which was about 30 minutes from el Paraiso, we gathered in a large schoolroom with wooden desks covered in simple pencil graffiti etchings. Students from the colegio joined us for a discussion about the importance of planting trees and what resources and functions trees provide for the ambiente. It was interesting, the differences in the two cultures, in how we all perceived these brown and green things that grow and get cut down, again and again. There are so many varieties of trees, it made me think of my mom and her endless knowledge of plants and tree types. She would make a great volunteer, if she could get a hot water shower ever day.
After the charla we got to the real dirty work of actually planting some trees. We had to clear off two sections of ground for the planting, breaking the soil up and leveling the area. The two plots were then roped off using branches shortened and sharpened with machetes. We then cleaned and broke up the fresh topsoil that Jorge had provided. Once that was dumped, we used a wheel barrel to make two large piles, while others filled bags with dirt and dropped the large, flat seeds within. In the midst of all the exchanging of dirt it began to pour, and we all enjoyed the strong downpour turning our dirty selves into muddy messes. There was a good four inches of dirt and twigs caked into all of our shoes, and dirt deeply embedded under our nails We finished the planting pretty quickly and so cleaned up a bit and took some group shots to commemorate our tree love. It was fun working with the Hondurans and most people really enjoyed the activity. We piled back into the vans and sped off again—a bit smellier, wetter and wiser than when we had arrived.


08.25.07__Corn Festival_Donlí
So today we embarked on a mission to be merry and eat corn—the infamous corn festival at Donlí. The town is a 20 minute bus ride from El Paraiso and is larger with real super markets and a decent amount of shopping. There is even a bank where you can use an America ATM card!
I headed towards the bus stop around 10:40am and I met up with the rest of the group across from the bumping gas station, which sells mixed drinks right outside the entrance. It seems the party starts and ends at the gas station in Honduras.
The bus to Donlí was packed! Good (sweaty) times. Once at the festival we met up with other PAM volunteers and chilled out in the “gardens” for the majority of the afternoon--plenty of smiles and quality group bonding...

The sun was brutal the entire day, and while we took shelter under our colorful umbrellas, I for one did not escape the burn! There was a Rodeo, Soccer matches, a Parade, tons and tons of food stands on every corner and crammed into the various plazas and parques where hot corn treats were steaming away atop the grills. And while there was not a lack of opportunity, I managed to leave the corn festival without eating a single ounce of corn! (But believe me, i get my share of the stuff on any given day!) Perhaps I missed out because of the downpour that came out of nowhere and forced us to haul ass to the gas station to catch our ride back as soggy burnt gringos...



08.27.07_Month DEEP
We are a month deep into FBT and I know the time will continue to fly. The group dynamic is pretty good, though tends to waver depending on peoples´ health issues. I for one am now trying to stay focused on why I am here, and try to keep positive and open to everyone. I miss people though. I really do.

08.31.07_una noche mas de augosto…
Today was an emotional day. High highs, low lows. Time and reality checks. Yesterday we started preparation for the VIH/SIDA charla. We divided up into teams of three/four and went over to the colegio this morning to present. The volunteers who came to instruct us on how to deliver the information about SIDA called it a: “charla in a box,” which is basically how it sounds—all the necessary pieces provided, instructions included, it’s just a matter of putting it together. My group consisted of Jennifer, Drew, Nicole and myself. I thought we did a pretty bang up job. The first part that I was in charge of was called: “lenguage poplular—palabres de la calle,” which is a dinamica that deals with the slang people use to refer to parts of the body, or other sexual terminology. The scientific terms for the body were written on several pieces of paper that were then taped to the wall where the students were to add their “palabres de la calle” for each one. I learned a few useful terms from that dinamica. The point, was to break the ice about the language that we would be required to use throughout the course. The next dinamica I had to lead is known as¨kati flauty, and it’s as dumb as it sounds. It’s basically a song and dance that requires people to get extremely too close while doing a few slightly provocative dance moves. The kids absolutely love this one! Finally, the last dinamica I led had to do with RESPECT. The guys formed a line on one side of the room, while the girls lined up facing the boys. We then had the guys say un frase de presion en voz alta en una manera agresiva, while the girls had to give the correct repuesta mastiza. This the guys were a little better at then the girls, but with little encouragement, the girls got into it as well.
Drew led the kiddies in the condón demonstration and he did a really great job w/a sweet potato that was the perfect vegetable replica of a phallic member complete with potato juevos. The girls learned a lot during this demonstration, and when it was all said and done, and every last saggy latex was chucked into the garbage, I think everyone had gotten something out of it. At the end of the two-hour course each student received a diploma stating they had successfully completed the course.

Afterwards we had a guest speaker come share her life story as a Honduran woman living with VIH/SIDA. Her words came fast and a veces overwhelming with emotion and painful memories. She did not look sick, she looked pretty with long think hair and a soft smile and face. She was the mother of four. Three boys with her first husband who was abusive and left them, and one little girl with the husband who had given her the disease. The later husband left her and took off to the United States where he has infected other women. The speaker spoke to us of her life before the disease and after she had been diagnosed. The worst part I think was her initial fears about the malady. She did not want to infect her children, nor family and so she was afraid to touch them, share food or drinks with them, exist in the same space as them. Her children found out at school that their mother was sick, and it killed her to have to finally tell them the truth when they came home from school with the worst question possible. Her mother also could not believe her daughter could of possibly contracted such a disease, thinking that only prostitutes, or drug users could contract VIH. It was the woman’s brother who helped start her real education about the disease, and how it is and is not transmitted. There is still much uncertainty and ignorance about these facts. This woman is a true hero for this country, speaking about her story even though there is great discrimination against people who are VIH positive. There is not much you can say besides thank you as she was heading back to Tegucigalpa. There is no pity, just a profound respect and a chilling reality check of how injustice and ignorance are always to blame and are such abstract culprits, that the only thing we can do is give these charlas in hopes that some of the children will be lucky enough to defend themselves with the imparted knowledge. low lows.