Moving along…

Things here in Honduras have been going well. I had a hard time thinking of what to write about for this entry, because I think we’ve finally fallen into some sort of routine, or at least as much of a routine as you can have in this country. Our week is filled with the regular things of school, meetings, church, visits to the Casa and various aldeas, etc. and occasionally something new or different is thrown into the mix. Things have changed somewhat though after being here 3 weeks already. The feelings of excitement and awe from being in a new country have changed a bit. When I first arrived here, everything was new to me, and everything that was different was “cool” in a way. Throughout the past few weeks though, I’ve begun noticing more of the negatives of life here, and I’m sure much of that has to do with my increased ability to understand the language and what is going on around me. I notice the kids who wear the same clothes every day, the ones in my class who are underweight or much smaller than the others and those who I rarely see smile. Everyday, 5 siblings all between the ages of 2-10, wander over to our house to hang out, color or play with us. I’ve finally taken note of where it is that they live. Their home is just down the street from ours, but it’s probably the poorest and worst looking one in our entire neighborhood. From what we can tell, their parents don’t seem concerned about their day to day activities as the kids spend most of their time playing in the streets outside their house. Their father is often sitting outside their home, visibly drunk, and their mother appears very submissive and rarely acknowledges us if we do see her. Despite the fact the kids all frequently test our patience while they are here tearing through our house, we know the main thing they desire is attention and affection, and that’s something we can actually give them.
The other day we were visited by a mother and her daughter who came to our house from one of Talanga’s poorest aldeas, Mojada Verde. I’ve never actually been to this aldea yet, but have heard it’s one of the most beautiful, but at the same time least beautiful because of the extreme poverty there. We’ve heard that this particular aldea is unique in the fact that they are able to produce food only for survival. Most people in other areas can farm and grow foods for their own use as well as to sell for an income, however in Mojada, they’re only able to produce enough to sustain their own lives. Its remote location also plays a part in its poverty, as the walk to Talanga is around 3 hours each way. These two had left around 5am that morning to come visit us. The mother came to ask us for Ensure because one of her children is severely malnourished, and she said that the previous volunteers had saved her daughter’s life by providing them with this monthly. Unfortunately, this puts us in an extremely tough situation. As a rule, we don’t give out gifts, food, money, etc. because that’s not what we’re here to do. The Passionists want us to live here in a spirit of accompaniment, and passing out material things isn’t a part of our mission. If people find out that we’re handing things out like that, others will expect something from us too because it’s a part of the culture here, and it also follows their stereotypical view of Americans as being privileged and thus should be dispensing gifts. Plus it turns into a cycle that is hard to break, like what is happening in this instance. It’s hard to debate this issue, because obviously we don’t want to cause harm to this child, but at the same time, this is a very expensive endeavor, at least by our standards here. One large can of Ensure is around 400 Lempiras or $20, and they would need around 3 for this child each month. Obviously it’s something we could manage by pooling our resources, but at the same time you question how practical it is to spend all this money on one child when it could be split up to help numerous other families who are also in need. It’s also assumed that there is an underlying problem causing the malnutrition, so providing the Ensure isn’t really a solution. Overall, it’s just a very difficult situation, and not something we’re prepared for or accustomed to even thinking about.
On Monday, Lauren and I had our usual Domestic Violence Support Group, and luckily our boss Amy was there to help us out with her Spanish speaking abilities! In some ways I love this group, but in others, it gives me a great deal of stress. I love the women that come each week- they’re so kind and patient with us, and our inability to effectively speak Spanish, but at the same time I feel like I’m wasting their time by being there. Lauren and I never feel prepared when we walk into the meeting each week. Even though we attempt to come up with questions and discussion topics, we’re only able to understand maybe 50% of their responses. We know we’re improving though, which may or may not be a good thing. This week we had basically a free discussion where the 3 women that showed up could talk about anything they wanted. One was there for her first time and opened up right away by describing in detail how her husband would beat her and her children. Another one of the women who regularly comes with her young, probably around 8 year old daughter, talked for about 20 minutes about the abuse she endured from her husband and how he caused one of her children to end up handicapped. I can confidently say I would never know how to respond to these stories in English, let alone in a language I know little of. This is really hard for Lauren and myself, as we feel like we’re making no difference in the lives as these women because all we can do is listen to them talk and comprehend bit and pieces of their horrific stories. Amy has explained to us how much these women just value a place where they can go and freely talk to others who share their experiences, but that doesn’t really change our feelings as we continue to wish we could offer them something more.
Tuesday, we visited the Casa Passionista to meet the director for the first time, and afterwards we toured Nuestros Pequenos Hermanos, a large orphanage which owns the land the Casa is on. Our boss Amy gave us the tour because she had volunteered there for 2 years after college, and it’s actually how she ended up living in Honduras. I guess I had mixed emotions about touring the orphanage, as it was my first time ever being at one. The place was beautiful though. It was hard to comprehend that the place I was touring wasn’t just a school or summer camp, because that’s definitely what it resembled, but instead a place where around 600 children live and spend a good portion of, if not their entire childhood. This isn’t an orphanage like you would imagine, or one typically on TV. The reality is that the children live a much improved lifestyle here and receive a good education and even job skills.
Overall, I think the realities of life here in Honduras become a little more evident to us each day. I still strongly believe this place is full of beautiful people and beautiful things, but we’re frequently faced not-so-beautiful things to keep us grounded and remind often us of why we are here. We can’t say we weren’t expecting to see things that would test us or challenge our beliefs, but it’s definitely a fact that you can never really be prepared for the things you encounter, and I’m sure we’ll never stop being shocked by certain aspects of life in Honduras no matter how long we’ve been here.