Nothing too exciting has happened lately, but I figured I’d just fill you in on some of the day-to-day happenings in Honduras. As I write this, I’m wearing fleece. I never thought this would happen, because I was convinced it would never feel cold to me in Honduras. I almost didn’t pack my favorite fleece, thinking it would be a waste of precious suitcase space, but I’m happy today that I brought it. It’s been chilly lately, and I was downright cold last night. I wish I knew what the temperature is, because I’m sure it’s not even that low, but after a few months of temps in the 90s this is a bit of a shock. The kids in my class this morning were equally bundled up… one wearing a nice puffy vest that he insisted I try on to see how warm it was, haha. Others with their gloves, hats and scarves… I definitely didn’t bring any of those. I’m not complaining about the cold though, I love it. It’s strange though, because it makes us think more of home where we know it is colder right now. It makes me want to go to a football game at Kinnick, or sleep in my bed with my flannel sheets and warm blanket. We’re also REALLY missing hot water now, because bucket showers these days are much more… how should I say it… shocking! But we get to take real, hot showers 6 days from today, not that anyone is counting. We’re spending the night in Tegucigalpa next Tuesday in order to watch the election coverage on television and in English. Joe has been following this election really closely for a long time, so we’re going mostly for his well-being, while Lauren and I are mostly looking forward to the running water, cozy beds and relaxation aspects of the trip. Either way, we’re all really excited, and we’re just praying for the right outcome and a change for the US.
School is winding down at the moment, as they’re getting ready to start their 3-month “winter” break in early November. We didn’t do much today in class, and instead it was a pretty sad day. There was a prayer service in the morning because yesterday a 7-year-old boy in Talanga was killed after he was hit by a car in town. Sadly, he’s the second child to die here in less than a week. On Saturday, I experienced my first Honduran funeral as I attended the services of a 11 year-old boy who had died of brain cancer. I didn’t really know the boy, but I had visited his home just a few weeks ago after one of his surgeries on our weekly “sick visits.” Each Sunday, we each go with a different woman from the church who delivers communion to the sick and elderly, so I had visited him because of that. On Saturdays, I go to my host mom’s catechism class, but this week all the classes attended the funeral because the boy had been a part of the parish’s kid’s group, Infantil Misionera. It was a little strange for me, because I didn’t know what to expect and we showed up at least a half hour late, which really isn’t that unusual since time is very fluid here. The family was sitting in the first row, but other than that, at least the front third of the church was filled with children. After the mass, there was a procession from the church to the cemetery as the casket was carried there and everyone walked along with it.
The other reason that school was sad today was because we had a going away party in my class for Nazareth. Naza is Fatima’s daughter, and they have been one of our adopted families here in Honduras. Fatima has helped the volunteers here since the start of our program, and she’s been a huge help to us as well, but she’s moving on Friday with her two children Naza and Isaac… to the United States. This is huge for them, because pretty much everyone here dreams of doing what they’re doing. It’s been a long process for them as they’ve gotten their passports and visas in order to go to California to live with Fatima’s fiancée. We know it’s a wonderful opportunity for them, but we can’t help but be worried for them and their well-being there. First of all, living in the U.S. is significantly more expensive than living in Honduras. They won’t have the ability to just pack up and come home to if something goes wrong. None of them know much English, and they know no one in the U.S. besides her fiancée. Maybe we’re worrying too much, or maybe we’re just taking into consideration what we’ve learned about throwing ourselves into a new culture where we don’t really know the language and how challenging it can be. It’s strange to think about it in reverse, because I know for a fact they won’t be as warmly welcomed in the U.S. as we have been welcomed here, so that’s one of our biggest concerns. Hopefully they’ll find people in California who will be as good to them as they have been to us.
Well, that’s enough of the bad parts of my day… there was actually a high point too when I found 100 lempira in the pocket of my pants. It’s the equivalent of $5 here, which makes it even funnier to me because we used to finish bad stories with the phrase, “and then I found $5” to make them sound better. I was super excited though, especially since 100 lempira here goes a long way. If I wanted to… I could buy 10 twenty oz. pops, 5 hours of Internet, about 10 tasty baleadas (tortillas with eggs, cheese, beans, sour cream), 5 chocolate licuados (kind of like a milkshake), 13 newspapers, 50 bananas, 10 pounds of beans, 15 gallons of drinking water, 50 tomatoes, a week’s worth of antibiotics (which you just buy over the counter), almost 2 tickets to the movie theater, 2 meals at a normal restaurant, a fancy metal tortilla press, or around 55 flour tortillas. The possibilities are endless ☺
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