The Earthquakes y giant rats eating bed legs—or--Hitchhiking in icecream trucks—or—Paper soup surprise

05.28.09 Mio dios. Dios mio.
Well it’s been awhile since I posted, but the transition from having time to actually analyze my life here has transitioned to having no choice but to just live it…that said, my computer is actually working tonight, so I’ll do a quick recount of what has been my recent life stuff…


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Last night I awoke to a vibrating feeling. The bed was moving. Shaking. In my feverish state (sick) I thought it was the rats! I had seen one scurry along the rafter before going to bed and I was then imagining a monster-sized one gnawing viciously at my bed legs. (It’s possible, they will eat anything…rusty nails, candle wax, panty crotches…) Only this morning, when buying my mandarin-flavored gatoraid did I receive the news; Earthquake! Apparently the most damage happened in municipalities a good 4 to 5 hours travel from Copan, near la Ceiba, Roaton, Lima, El Progresso…but here we all felt the shake. Some stayed up all night fearing their already weakly standing houses would just give out upon them…I, after switching the lights on and off to scare the giant rats, went back to bed and slept in till 9am.

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Yesterday I fulfilled a lifelong fantasy of mine—I ran away with the ice cream man…kind of.
It was lunchtime, scorching hot, and I was waiting by the town gate for a ride into Sta. Rita with no luck and a face full of sweat. The little bus that does the trip routinely was parked in the parque with no chance of leaving for at least another 40 minutes. Then I heard it…Conos por 5 lempira…chocolate, vainilla, fresa… and the music was blaring…it was the ice cream man, making his rounds. I didn’t really know the protocol about getting rides from carros parlantes (literally “speaking cars”) but I put out my thumb and when he did finally stop, ran over and jumped in. The truth is, from the inside, the ice cream truck kind of looses its magic. It was like any other car interior, the only exception being the huge freezer in the back which held the classic flavors. And the woman who did all the scooping. But still…when we got to Sta. Rita and the ice cream man put on that peter piper music and all the work men drooled and handed over a 5 limp bill…I felt kind of privileged to be there in the truck, with the paper napkins on the dashboard and the extra packs of cones on the floor. After the second stop I decided to take my exist from the fantasy, since I couldn’t very well be his second assistant, and the point was to get to Copan. Being the chivalrous ice cream man that he was, he wouldn’t except any money, so I just thanked my hero for the day and took off looking for the next quickest ride.


05.11.09
Well today was an exciting one…after my morning errands making convocatorias y solicitudes y sending emails for the curso of nxt week I came back to town only to be called 5 minutes into lunch, by Yolany telling me that there were tourists in the pulperia looking to rent horses! Apparently they had followed their guide books and ended up here! Or was it the add in the San Pedro paper? Either way, the town is a buzz with potentialidad for tourism! Pues…I went a-running to the pulp. to see what the deal was, and as it turned out it was the 3 white dudes I had seen earlier that day in sta. rita! Apparently they were staying in Sta. Rita and from there they made their way to Cabañas in a car they had rented! So I called Moncho telling him the sitch, that we had tourists and we needed to act Quick! They had all the day to spend with us…so I first took them to visit the goat farm project since Moncho had to make a run to sta. rita and we needed to figure out where we could go! I think I or moncho came up with the idea to go to la Cumbre San Lucas where there’s the farm of Don Juanquin Solis and so we did! Once I got back with the guys from the finca Moncho was back and Daniel was ready to lend us the car w/chofers in tact. From my house we jumped in the truck, picked up moncho y juan and then drove up to la finca. At the finca we toured the cultivos, chilled, ate a big lunch, road horses, relaxed and tried different foods and then before the brewing storm hit, road back into town. They were also cool guys, down to earth, curious and interested in the culture and learning about Honduras, so in everyway the kind of tourist that would arrive in our little tranquilito town.

Over all it was just a great day, and moncho just proves to me what an amazing person he is, and without him, there would simply be NO project for tourism in cabañas.
And the tourism project, is just…To be in the mountains and relate to the people who live there… to be in the back of a pickup truck flying up the mountains early in the morning…waving and calling to those you know, ducking from a low-swung branch…there is something so unforgettable and rich and lush/full of life about those journeys. I am so very grateful. More than I could ever say.



05 21 09
Clapsura.
What could be a better way to end to our 3-day Curso de Papel Natural Reciclado (Natural Recycled Paper Workshop), then to have the municipalidad order the invitations for our town’s feria to be made from the paper the women have made! Alicia and a few others plan to work tomorrow and Sunday to complete the order. I did a quick “molde” (design) for them for a simple invitacion: envelope, card, name insert.

It has been an intense, very busy, but happy three days in el curso—and the final products that were displayed today were incredible for just two days of work…since they just learned how to make the paper the day before!

It was a little hard for the girls to change where we worked everyday, but in the end we needed to be where we were, when we were there. For the first day one big table was the best place for group learning and demonstration. For the second, pure fabrication of paper and manualidades (crafts) Alicia’s house was the only solution…and for the last day, for finishing up manualidades and creating the presentations, the salon de iglesia (church hall) worked out best.

The women did a great job making displays of their work and canal 20 (local tv station) even sent a guy to film the work of our women. Also, the folks from the muni. came by to check out what we have been up to…and the truth is the women in town have been up to a lot of great stuff recently. I am proud of them, and so fortunate to be here to work with them.

Que Linda!

...just wanted to introduce my new niece (sobrinita) Maya to my friends, amigas, amies...
and let you know how in love with her I am.

Finger Flower Power - OR - No Rain All Shine

I awoke to the crashing sound of pura tormenta at 5am and thought: “Oh…mierda…here we go again… this mala suerte after having nightmares about not making it to paint the mural for the kindergarden yet again!” However, to my relief, by 7am the morning revealed itself to be overcast but Not rainy. Merril, the young woman living in Copan doing a Fulbright study, had agreed to help me with the kids and paint job and thus showed up with Ellen’s supplies in Cabañas around 8:15. The mural for the Kindergarden playground up at Rio Negro was the last step to a project that Ellen (Jewish American lady doing small educational projects) had started during her first months in Honduras and has been itching to get done for months!

Unfortunately, time, rain, commitments and Honduran life in general had kept us from getting our butts up there. So to have the week of planning and coordidaation actually pay off was a miracle in itself. Napo (the mayor) got my neighbor to drive us and one of his muchacho-jack-of-all trades to pick up some paint thinner, thus astonishingly by 9:45 we were standing infront of a yellow wall being washed by the school children of Profe Lila in the aldea of Rio Negro. There were about 6 little girls and an equal amount of little boys all awaiting our arrival swinging on swings, sweeping dirt, and machete-ing grass.



After mixing the paint in the plastic buckets with the thinner we brainstormed ideas, and the best one seemed to be flowers made with the little kids’ hands and grass using their fingers. The girls picked to do the flowers in teams assigned by colors and the chicos got to work on the grass. We succeded in decorating all four-sides of the playground wall pretty quickly and with much enthusiasm, but when it came to get the paint off of our skin there was mucho anxiety b/c it was oil paint and we only had so many rags and paint thinner to clean ourselves with. We finally got the paint-covered children somewhat clean and relaxed again before taking some pics of our masterpiece and the kids playing in the playground. The teacher then treated us all to icecream cones with pasas. The final mural really did look nice +kid-crafted and all the people who passed by commented on how “bonito” and “lindo” the kids’ work was.

If only all days could involve kids, paint, and icecream…it makes me want to be a kindergarden teacher for real! The Children are so much fun to be around, they just give you an energy unlike any other. Profe Lila was also nice enough to offer me and Merril an almuerzo of frijol, tortilla y verdera before we rode back into town speckled with paint and very content. Lesson learned: sometimes, it doesn’t rain and life lets you win.

Making GOOds from Un-Goods –OR- Making Dones from Undones –OR- Chip Bag Brigade with Town Gringa

I have ground corn, made tortillas, tamales, tikukos, montucas, and everything that is possible to concoct with corn…I have eaten nances, patastes, frijolitos, queso seco, cuajada, ricason, loroco and drunken enough sugar-coffee to fuel-power a small jet…I have listened to ranchera, danced to reaggaton, sung along to chapo…I have washed clothes in a pila, washed-up in a dirty river, fallen down countless derrumbes, bucket-showered, lit a fogon, jalon-ed near and far… I have worn color-coordinated jewelry/outfit ensembles, called everything under the sun “bonito” or “bonita,” sat squished between campesinos holding their chickens, culantro y packets of consume, I have even licked a consume packet myself after use like the niños… I have said “si dios quiere, gracias a dios, and que dios le bendiga” at least once a day for a year…and I think that only tonight have I truly reached true Honduran woman-status.


Tonight and tomorrow I have three teenage campesina girls staying at my house. (The experience thus far has shown me just how far from integration we are as PCVs, or I am as the town gringa… a title much like that of the town bolo—el unico.)
Despite that sidenote, I have taken some major steps these past couple of days: Firstly, I had 2 little girls do things I had to do (clean bolsas de churro (chip bags) and paid them in comida (food) –which I successfully/medio-exitosomente pulled-off—a very plato típico (sans tortillas) consisting of rice w/consume, frijoles cocidos, tomate w/sal y queso. Instead of coffee or coca cola I substituted purified water (save the teeth). I’m not sure if they were thinking—damn this gringa can’t cook—or if they actually liked it, or that it tasted like normal food to them? I guess I’ll never know…but it was actually nice to prepare food for kids in my own kitchen. I felt so… motherly.


Now here I am, in my room, with the chavas(girls) flirting via saldo(cellphone minutes) I sold them…oh the giggles…and how alta their voices! I honestly didn’t expect them to actually sleep here, but here they are. When Eugenio Rosa from the community of Naranjito called me and asked if they could stay here, I just thought they would somehow know someone in the community besides me…not that I mind hosting them, but I feel like they would be more comfortable with family or primos(cousins)… or primos of primos…


The three pairs of giggles on the otherside of my drywood-wall belong to the females selected from their communites to participate in a curso of manualedades (craft class—for lack of better translation) that via Mancomunidad Chorti/Proy Norte and el Comite of Turismo de Cabañas we are giving to 4 distinct groups of women: 3 small groups from the communities of San Manuel, Peñas II and Naranjales, along with a larger group from Casco Urbano of those who form part of Conmich (an indigenous group of los Maya Chortis). And it is actually going pretty smoothly.


I had a bit of the normal pre-workshop stress since no laptop works with the projector but that of Juan Carlos, even though Yamileth didn’t see the need to tell me that hers had never been used with the projector when she lent it to me with the projector…alas after 15 minutes of failed attempts, I called her to tell her that in fact it did not work, and then she tells me we only ever used juan carlos’s laptop, but that he just left…(leaving out the fact that she had the key to his office, where he always leaves the laptop) I called elma to get his number, but he did not pick up, I then called my neighbor who has an ipod (with the assumption that if you have an ipod, you most likely have a laptop, since no other laptop in the Muni works with this freak’n projector) and I had guessed right. He said in 15 minutes he would bring it. So then, I ran into my friend Mauricio, who I told about my sitch, he then calls juan carlos, he picks up, passes him to me, I explain the problem, he tells me that he did in fact leave the laptop in the office and that Yamileth has the keys…Entonces…I went to Yami’s house got the keys, went to the office, got the laptop and with that, technical problem resolved!…My neighbor did show up with his dad’s laptop telling me if anything happened to the machine he was a dead man…good thing we didn’t need to use it after all I told him…In the mean time, I had Delme, a friend of mine, man the listado de paraticipantes, and I called the merienda people to make sure they were on the ball.


We started the workshop with the “What is Tourism?” presentation to orient the ladies as to why we are here and what are the goals of such a workshop and their own ambitions. Lic. Carmen Martinez and the course instructor Sandraa came just as I was finishing up the presentation, and so we had merienda (crackers and hot coco) and then Sandra took over with her curso of Haciendo Hechos de Deshechos…translated: Making Goods of ungoods? Basically we learned how to make jewelry and hand bags out of discarded chip bags. (The bags were all collected by the neighborhood kids after I promised to show them all how to make jewelry after the workshop) The process is very simple and just takes some practice. The women in the workshop all picked it up fairly quickly and we were able to produce one handbag per group, several pairs of earrings, and bracelets.


In total the workshop lasted 3 days, and the women did a great job with accomplishing the production goals of the course, and many did perfect their skills as well by the end of the 3rd day when we did presentations of what each group produced. The Lic. Carmen from Proy Norte put some pressure on me to make sure the women who will be working in these courses are committed and not just here for fun, but ready to work. Her goal being that we reach a decent level of quality and quantity to commercialize the products and export. It’s a bit much to think about today considering the women are just learning the craft…and are in need of organization and training if they are to form a micro-empresa de veras, but perhaps with the help of a business volunteer we could get them to that point…my only concern is that it be something the women actually want for themselves. That’s the point right? To help them find work that is satisfying to them and will help them to improve their and their children’s quality of life.

The Sandy Cay Rock

Well, back from isla paradise adventure. Sooo good to be home!

Below’s what I wrote in the Tela Bus Terminal + SPS Terminal on my way home hoy:
…I’m in Tela terminal once again-this time alone. This marks the end of extended Vaca. Foggy-headed after what seems like weeks doing nothing but tanning, swimming, snorkeling, drinking, dancing and playing with fellow PCVs and new friends. The private Isla Sandy Cay, off the coast of Utila, was honestly a pequeño paraíso. I arrived in la Cieba on the 5th and met up with friends @ the pier to take the ferry over to Utila—a funky little diving-spot with hippie-like vibes and transient beachgoer/backpacker-town feel.
The group of us only stayed there one night and the next morning we went to wait for Barry (Son of owners of the isla) to come pick us up and drive us over to the island. We were waiting for over an hour and we didn’t know what Barry even looked like, so I started asking people if they knew barry, and then I asked this random dude if his name was Barry, and he was like “yeah…but how do you know me?” and I was like, “Well, I am Elaine’s friend,” (thinking this would spark recognition b/c Elaine rented the isla) but he said “Who’s Elaine?” (This is when things were obv. amiss. And I asked: “Don’t you own a private island, Sandy Cay?” and he replied: “Uh, no…” and so…I said: “Oh, ok, then I guess you’re not the Barry I’m looking for!” Random…I mean, how many Barrys are there, really?
So finally the real Barry shows up, and we take a quick and wet boat ride to the isla.

And can I just say: Amazing!

I was just blown away with how pristine and beautiful this little mass of land was--a simply perfect untouched place! It was certainly small (less than 10 minutes to walk around the entire exterior) but for the size-group we had, it was a good fit. The islander group was a mix of mostly H12ers, H11ers, 2 siblings, and 2 friends. We spent the days enjoying the small topless beach the girls initiated, going snorkeling in the surrounding coral reefs (which housed an insane amount of underwater world wonders), playing tons of games (drinking and non-drinking), some went deep diving on near-by islands, but mostly the time was passed just hanging out, chatting and drinking.
The snorkeling was one of the most exceptional things—the variety of fishes and their movements, the coral formations, the color of the water, this entire silent world that has existed and evolved long before we came to be…I just loved the sensation of trying to be a part of that world—or more like becoming a spy or intruder trying to swim along with the schools of fishes, or float above their coral-housing complex with all the marine-life inhabitants going about their normal business…and you feeling like this huge obese mammal-creature just trying to blend in and observe.

Its back to work tomorrow. But so far, 2009 has been a very good year...

2009--Are we ready?

I realize I haven't updated the blog since october.
I guess I fell off the blog wagon so to speak...

Here are some pics por lo menos and a brief update on how I have been during a unexpectedly muy pumpkiny November (I still have a 103 ounce can of pumpkin in the fridge, which I can't seem to make a dent in no matter how many pumpkin muffins I cook up and give away...

Below is my girl Patí, making banana tacos for the honduran cookbook I and some of the expert cooks in my town have been working on:









Next is a pic of the Holiday Bizarre at the US Embassy in Teguc. where various groups producing local craft-like work and supported by PCVs went to sell their products to the employees of the Embassy and anyone else who might have someone gotten into the Embassy past all the security. Overall it was a really successful event and the young, small business owners that came with me from our Asociacion de Microempresas AMICCOH in Cabañas all enjoyed themselves and we all definitely learned alot about our products and what else is being produced in the country. It was def a good way to motivate the group.

We plan to go to a feria in El Salvador early next year...In the mean time Jorgito is making me some CowGirl boots similar to the ones in the pic below:


With the same group of small business owners from AMICCOH, Laura (a near-by Business Volunteer), and I put together a two-day workshop on business basics and how to create a business plan. The workshop was alot of work, but Laura was great and the group we had from Cabañas and two other municipios were equally great to work with. Here's a group shot and one of us doing a dínamica called: prestame un martillo, where the participants have to pretend to hammer, iron, and then become a human blender...it's a bit hard to explain actually...





So that's it for now.
Currently in Tegucigalpa for a meeting to present the Project Citizen dillustrasions. I'll let you know how it goes...and hopefully post some of the designs.

Which Witch is Which? --or-- el dia de las bujas --or-- one sore looser loosing faith + September Thought-Box

October
10.02.08
There are witches here in Copan. So I am told. The Mayas had witches and practiced witchcraft, friends of cabañas inform me...even though all I know of the Mayas is their sun gods and honey gods, their water and earth and have-a-good-harvest gods…that they lived with the earth instead of against it, invented the calender, were masters of astrology, built intensly complex civilizations, and that...en fin the Spanish came, kicked their butts, killed their innocents with bullets or disease and built a church. Converted them to their faith, and left them believing.
Let’s jump forward to the present. Many people here have a severed view on their true ancestors, attributing only negative characteristics to los indios (Indians), when that is who they come from…why is dark “ugly” and light “beautiful”? Where does that come from? All this I am currently contemplating and confronting because I want to throw a Halloween event in my town.

The halloween event plan: A noche cultural (a night of traditional dances, jokes, food, with trick-or-treating in my town followed by a scavenger hunt and a dance party). The plan for the morning: a hike from Cabañas to Copan Ruinas (where the annual Halloween party is taking place). The slogan is: I do it the hard way. I have the t-shirts designed and ready to print. The food paid for by a local NGO. The decorations donated from friends and family from home. The kids in the dance troop and in the school band ready to go. The local mariachi band composing a song about funny things gringos do. The local women ready to cook up some plato tipico with empenadas and ticukos as extras. A place for us to sleep, 30 some sleeping mats and fans for the lending…the hike mapped out and a handful of tour guides to lead the way…

Alas, now there is to be Major drama over whether the Halloween event will even take place in my town, how it will take place, who will support it and who will not.
The drama all started yesterday with a late night phone call from Javier Mata (member of tourism committee) who told me that he could not participate in the event because the pastor and those of the congregation are going to protest. Going to try and convince the mayor that we will be patronizing with witches. It is so ridiculous. Or, rephrase that, I think it is ridiculous. Apparently the pastor is afraid that witches will come or posses the American volunteers. He wants “his people” (2 thousand and total he tells me)to protest and block the road so that we may not enter into the town… I’m worried, I really can’t afford to loose the support and confidence of the people in my town, that is very important to me. I’ve worked a year for just that.


10.05.08
Cool breath, tight squeeze, now you’ve got the shivers.
Today I escaped to La Cumbre San Lucas Farm to see my friends Delila y Eva Lidia. I really feel at ease up there. The temperature is cooler. Its far away from Cabañas. There you don’t have to see anyone if you don’t want to. Solitary. Small town chisme (gossip) can be unbearable! But even up in the mountains, in my escape, I heard on the radio that same pastor telling people to pray one hour each day so that the witches dont come.
When I got back down into town, Griedy, Rudy, and two other little girls came over to draw in my house per usual. They asked me more stuff about what the pastor had been saying about me, asked me if I was a witch, if I was going to bake them a cake that gave them nightmares. I sadly explained to them that their pastor was confused, and it was just lies, mentiras… The kids drew their pictures and I worked on the two logos I needed to finish for the next day. We cooked a little dinner of fried plantans and fresh squeezed orange juice and I spread out a blanket for our meager picnic. I didn´t have salsa so the girls dipped their tajadas in soy sauce and actually loved it!
Also, I got my first tick today, in the ankle! It was really big and I had to use tweezers and slowly pull to try and get the bugger out. It took a few minutes but eventually it had to let go or loose its 3-pronged head. Perhaps we are all as stubborn as a tick?

10.06.08
Monday. Today I heavy heartedly went to the municipalidad to get the official word about the Halloween event from Napo the mayor. As I had suspected—Cancelled.
He said he didn’t want to cause unrest in the town or problems for me... Some sixty to seventy people went to his house to demand he cancel the event. The pastor had convinced everyone that witches were coming...

Thus my life here will just continue, all the plans and potential for tourism flushed down the drainn for now, but I will not make a fuss of it. It has been a few days of really bad feelings, and last night was surely the bottom, but what can I expect, for everything to go my little gringa way? Hardly…

But as my older sister knows, I’m a really sore looser.



What September entailed –or-
What’s in your thought box?

el Día del Nino
Here in Honduras they celebrate el Día del Niño the 10th of September. It is kind of like a birthday party for every child in town since many do not get to feel very special on their actual birthdays (due to families’ financial situation). Instead of birthdays for each child, every child’s life is celebrated on the 10th, usually during school, or somewhere in the town.
The 9th and 10th of September was (for me) el dia del nino. The 9th I, Elma, Obeniel, and Ellen went to Haciendo San Juan to visit the small group of students of the one-room school house they have there. My favorite part of the whole trip (besides the kids dancing with oranges squeezed between their foreheads and seeing them full-body swing at the piñata) was talking with Oscar’s (the community leader) 17yr old son on the way back as he diligently led my horse along the trail. We talked about all aspects of life, and about what it is to really be poor. In the country vs in the city kind of poverty. Food and health. Electricity vs happiness. I don’t see poverty when I look at the people of his small rural community. I just don’t. I don’t feel bad for them. I think they honestly have a beautiful little town and all their teeth looked really healthy compared to most the kids in the casco urbano. (Probably because there are no pulperias where they can buy dulces every hour) I’ve only been there a handful of times and for only a few hours each time and thus I couldn’t possibly know their health problems, or any of the struggles they may have…but even so…. My question is, are people who do development work always seeking to see poverty? Or label things as poor or not poor? I just don’t trust people who, I don’t know, think they can shoot out a sappy email, get money sent from the states, and poop out some proyectito in a community…without ever speaking to the people…and is there no scale to measure the positive vs. negative of such breeds of development work?

Perhaps such self-imposed uneasiness is a result that my entire thought-box has changed, it’s like all the kinds of thoughts I used to think fit in one box, and now, all the things I think, are from another box completely.


09.17.08
Dear God, please send 50,000 lempira so we can build improved stoves in a poor town…
How can they, anyone, expect us to start from scratch, from nothing, and create a stove, or a schoolhouse, or a new economic opportunity? Is that what is really expected of a volunteer? In my case, I have been asking for financial support from local NGOs, who are getting their funds from Church groups in the United States. Basically, we are all depending on the generosity and business-like functions of the Ole´American Church. Its so very strange to think about, when you really actually think about where the money, and thus the “scratch” is coming from…

Last night in our grupo intercambio, I and my friends in town got on the subject of people who go to the US to work, illegally. And ya know, it finally hit me for the first time just how judgmental I’ve been on that matter, I, who has always had whatever opportunity I could ask for, who has Never wanted for anything in my entire life, not even now…and I couldn’t help but see things (at least slightly) from the perspective of someone who has NO apparent opportunities to find in their area, in their town or perhaps in their entire country! Who didn’t have an education because their parents did not have one, and you don’t need to know how to read to work on the farm with your dad. But ya know, they will never make any real money in their lives. They will never be able to build their own houses from materials they themselves picked out, on land, they bought…they wont ever have money to buy a car, or a nice outfit, or different food for a change. They wont ever, ever go on a vacation. Wont ever travel.
…..And here I am, waiting for NGOs funded by churches to give me money to give a few women and kids some cookies and soda and try to inspire them to develop tourism in their town, even though I’m not 100 % sure how to do it either…or if it will even work. It’s just an idea after all.
I´ve come to the conclusion that pretty much you can’t do development work without raising money…like the guy at CASM, Juan, told me today, there is tons of work, tons of projects, or potential for both…its just a question of getting money to do it…

...and so I´ve recently been bombarded with thoughts about how to raise money...like instead of buying a pair of Seven jeans, donate the money to a school so they can have a mini reading area...Or uniforms...OR instead of buying a drink at the bar for seven bucks, or a double skinny latte at Starbucks, put that money in a jar at the bar and then use the entire crowd´s money from that one night/day to fund a letrine project...