So far this year has consisted of two states of emotion: 1.) Laughing 2.) Laughing or else I’d cry.
I think being in a foreign country is just like that. Learning to see the humor is step one, and allowing yourself to be the constant butt of the joke is step two. I have a little story:
Here there is a traditional food that is the near-twin of the Tamale. It has black and green beans inside a sweet cornmeal, is steamed in husks, and called a “Tikuko.” The Mayan-Chortis used to make these and they are made currently on special days of the year.
A few weeks ago I was shopping with two of my amigas, Elma y Patí from Cabañas, and they asked me if I was hungry. I said: “No. No, I was stuffed from all the “Tikaka” I ate that day.” They started to laugh and then asked me what I thought of the “Tikaka?” I said: “Ellos fueron muyyyy rico”…this made them laugh hysterically. (I figured I had fumbled in my pronunciation.) Then Elma informed me: “Raquel it’s TiKUKO, not TIKAKA! Tikaka is slang for PUSSY!”
I had just told my friends that I was stuffed from eating delicious vaginas that day!
We like to tell this joke often in the municipalidad where I work…
Work is another laugh/ laugh or cry story. This month, like the past three, is flying by. The Plan Estrategico Desarrollo Municipal (PEDM) is finally starting to finalize itself… The Asambleas Comunitarias are all done, minus one (casco urbano). And all the information is now in my nice and neat spreadsheets and stored in the municipalidad’s computer. I even used formulas in Excel to get some fancy statistical data out of all that info! Esther Kay would be proud…I’m using the photography and the stats to put together a presentation with my coworker Elma for the big Cabildo Abierto (Town meeting). All the big wigs will be there so we can show off all our and our community leaders’ hard work!
Here’s a list to give you an idea of the kinds of projects the communities in my municipio need:
1. Electricity
2. Running water/ Clean water system
3. Housing/ Improved Housing: roofs, walls, flooring. (Currently houses are sun-dried-dirt only)
4. Latrines
5. Pilas (Sinks)
6. Bathrooms
7. Improved Roads/New Roads (Currently most communities are accessible by foot/horse only. Sometimes they are not accessible at all during the rainy season )
8. A Kinder Garden/School House
9. Seeds to plant basic crops
10. Improved Wood-Burning Stoves
11. Soccer Field/Playing Field
The above-mentioned are some of the most demanded projects, which the majority of the 40 communities of Cabañas listed in their top 5. (They were to prioritize a list of 30 most necessary projects) Obviously the ERP funds are not going to be sufficient enough to realize every project the communities are in need of, but if the representatives of the community will come to the Cabildo Abierto, they can make sure a few of their pleas are answered.
Besides working with the Unidad Tecnica in realizing this democratic process, and hopefully increasing transparency, I have initiated a few side projects/groups. One is an adult English/Spanish intercambio group. The other is a womens’ exercise group.
I think it’s too soon to tell how effective or sustainable these will be. The turnout has varied from one meeting to the next. Yet, just putting myself in charge of these micro-efforts has definitely increased my community interaction and confidence—thus whether they sink or fly, I will have succeeded in moving one step closer to being seen by the folks of cabañas as someone invested in their community, who wants to bring new/intended-to-be-positive opportunities into their lives.
I don’t know, I think I’ve reached a good place when I can show my Honduran co-workers pics of “drag queen brunch” in Adams Morgan, Washington, D.C. and field the homophobic questions that follow, no?
About the days/times when I want to cry…
When only 8 women out of 57 women invited show up at a meeting intended to be the start of planning for El Día de la Mujer, on January 25th. I think one of the problems is this passivity to such meetings/events. I’m not sure all the women understand what a day to celebrate them is really for? They are too busy with their chores and their normal lives to take time to plan a day where they are suppose to feel “special.” Its true, such days may seem superficial…but the point, I think, is them taking that time out of their other chores to recognize their own worth and value as more important. Perhaps I am naïve to think that matters just as much as getting dinner ready one night, but I hope that is not the case.
When the men in the office seem completely out-of-line with some of my younger, pretty coworkers…and worse, when my younger pretty coworkers really like such married mens’ attention.
When women I think I am friends with, gaining confianza with, lie to me about coming to a meeting I am holding. They will look me straight in the eye and swear they are coming, in the end…no one comes. It just isn’t that big of a deal. And I guess it’s not. Only to me.
When members of the community I have never spoken to and don’t know my name are asking me to write them a letter of invitation to get a visa to come to the US…
When they promise me a house by January, even when I tell them its ok to tell me when it will really be ready. I guess its nice they don’t want to disappoint me, it’s not lying, it’s pleasing. I walk past my unfinished house everyday, the water isn’t boiling yet… I’m still without a chez moi.
When I asked for a pound of pasas (raisins) and my friend brings me a pound of papas (potatoes)…
***
I have to remind myself, not everything is a potential project to my neighbors and friends. They are not necessarily looking to change their lives. I am the one who is trying to bring something new to them, maybe even make them change something (for me). When I think about it like that, I don’t know what I should expect from the community here. With Peace Corps, you kind of have to assign yourself a job to do, and most the time, your just guessing what that should or shouldn’t be. It’s a lot of trial and error.
***
Yesterday, I was starring at the concrete floor of the widow’s house and I thought: no one here will ever miss the comfort of carpet, or how substantial an insulated house can feel. I would never have accepted to go with Sonia, Elma and Patí had I known they were taking me to a wake.
I entered that room with the dead body and was shocked and afraid. I could feel the death. You can truly feel the presence of someone who is no longer the master of his own cavern of kinetic energy, but has let it go into the universe. It felt as if the energy continued to slowly leak out of him—perhaps this is what people call a soul, perhaps a soul is pure kinetic energy that will go on forever?
All I could do was sit and look down. Such places are too personal for me, they belong alone to family and friends of those who have passed. All I could do was relate it to my own life, to see the red eyes, washed out cheeks, and think: grandma
***
In so many respects I feel like a hunter-gatherer. I feel closer to the earth and the natural process of everything. (poop included) Here, when I’m up in the mountains, I hear every part of the world in motion, every micro bug step. The huge hover-craft style bugs are just suspended in midair by the force of their wings’ movement, and those movements surpass subconsciously--they are not thinking: up down, up down, up down…they just are, flying.
I am no longer afraid of where I am or who I might become. Who I have already become in these short 6 months that feel like years and years. Yet, instead of transporting me to the land of the older and wiser, I feel like I’ve become younger—is that possible?
I guess in Honduran years, I am only 6 months old…
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