La Isla

After holding a Men’s Health “training of trainers” in Santa Barbara I have been working with some of the men trained to organize and facilitate further workshops, in hopes of having a multiplier effect. Of the 13 men trained in the original workshop, I have worked with 5 of them to hold 2-6 hour workshops throughout Santa Barbara. Just recently, I worked with an NGO called Plan Honduras to organize a Men’s Health workshop in La Isla, one of the communities where they work. I was a little apprehensive for a number of reasons. First, although the facilitator that I was going to work with was very enthusiastic, I was uncertain about his ability to lead an activity. Second, I had never worked with a group of older men in a rural setting; most of the workshops we have done have been for men in their early 20s in more urban settings. I was a little nervous that this group would find the methodology inappropriate or vulgar.

We were supposed to leave from the Plan office in the Plan truck at 12:30 pm to arrive in the community at 1 and set up so we could start at 2 and finish at 6. I of course arrived right on time and was informed that they needed to use the truck for something else so we would leave at 1:30. So, I just sat in the office and waited for an hour. When we arrived in the community a little after 2 nobody was there, so I just sat under a tree for about an hour and learned tongue twisters in Spanish from a group of little kids. Since Plan was in charge of organizing the event I just chilled and waited to see if anybody would show up. At first, it didn’t look good, but eventually a small group came to the school so we decided to start. By the end we had a group of 15 men, ages 40 and beyond.
Charles, on the left, had to read the pre-test out loud to the group because most of them could not read.

None of my fears were realized; the facilitator did very well and the men loved the methodology, they even recommended we do it for the younger men in the community. Another thing that was also different about the workshop was that there were women and children watching from the windows and doors the whole time and nobody seemed to care. I would smile at the women once in a while and they would laugh at the whole thing and smile back. Even though the workshop is designed for men I think it was good that the women were watching in the background because it gave them a chance to just listen, but not be pushed to participate (which they probably would have been too embarrassed to do). Maybe they even went home and talked to their husbands about sex, wouldn’t that be amazing!!!
Although La Isla is pretty close to Santa Barbara, it is on the other side of the river, so it took over 30 minutes to get there in the car, so the group I was with said we would come back by canoe. At first I just thought they were joking, but sure enough when we finished the meeting we walked about 10 minutes down to the river and paid a guy to take us across in his canoe. Then we got off on the other side and walked about 20 more minutes to the road where the Plan car picked us up. It was definitely an adventure.

Frustrations & Realizations

Peace Corps is very frustrating. Everyday I am frustrated by at least one thing, if not many, many things. Being slightly impatient and judgmental doesn’t make things any easier for me, but I’m learning to take things more in stride. Now, instead of getting frustrated, mad and offended I try not to take things personally and just laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Here are some examples of frustrations I have had along with some of the realizations that came with them.

When I first started working with one of my counterparts they were not doing monthly financial reports, which they should have been because they manage a large amount of money from grants from the states. So, we set up a format for the monthly reports and Nineth, my counterpart said she would fill it out (which consists of writing down all our expenses for the month according to which category of spending it falls under). Well, she didn’t do it and didn’t do it and still didn’t do it. Meanwhile the people who donate the money from the states were continually asking me when we would have it done and I in turn was continually asking Nineth. After about two months when she still hadn’t done it and I was so irritated. I kept asking her to do it and she kept saying okay and still never did it. Finally, I yelled at her and we sat down and did it together, it took about 20 minutes because we had only had a few expenses for the month. At that point I still didn’t understand what her problem was and why she couldn’t do such a simple thing. Months later I realized that it was something new for her and it was just a little daunting and she didn’t know how to ask for help. Once we sat down and did it together once it was never a problem again.

Agua Pura para el Mundo makes biosand filtres to purify water for familias who do not have access to clean water. Once the families have been using the filters for 6 months we give them anti-parasite medicine in order to get ride of any parasites they had before they started using the filters. So I e-mailed some people in the states and they sent me info about deparasiting programs from the WHO and I also went on pub-med to research different types of drugs. From the information I found on-line and experience from other volunteers working with Agua Pura in Honduras it all seemed very simple and straightforward. We would not do feces testing for everybody because through experience we just know that most people have at least one type of parasite. Also, we would be giving the same type of medicine to everybody because we don’t have the money to buy and provide tailored regimes for every individual. If we had all the time, money and expertise in the world we could do feces testing for everybody and then give them the most appropriate treatment available. Unfortunately this is not the case for the Agua Pura project, or virtually any other deparasiting campaign. So, after doing the research and learning from other volunteers Nineth goes to the hospital to try to coordinate with them (why reinvent the wheel, right?). Well, they tell us that we have to do feces testing and buy a really expensive drug to kill everything and that deparasiting medicine can be really dangerous and can kill a child if you don’t weigh him and give him the exact right dosage and that we would have to get the name, age and weight of every person we were going to give drugs to before the hospital could work with us. In the beginning, I though, wow, I was really wrong, I wonder why I didn’t find any of that information in my on-line search I guess I should just leave it up to Nineth to figure out with the doctors…Well, after months of trying to coordinate with the hospital, meet with different doctors who all gave us different information and trying to find the cheapest drug source possible we are finally ready to start the deparasiting process. What have we concluded? That we will do exactly what I thought we would do in the beginning; not do feces testing and give everybody the same easy to administer drug, no weighing necessary and no threats of killing babies. From this whole frustrating process I realized a few things. First, my college education taught me how to find out necessary information. Nobody that I work with at Agua Pura would have even had the slightest idea how to do on-line and find out medical information. They wholly rely on the (supposed) authorities because the do not personally have the knowledge or the means to get the knowledge. It made me feel pretty good that even if I don’t know something or how to do something I can pretty much figure it out. Second, in general I think it is good to work within already existing institutions and norms in order to not reinvent the wheel. However, after months of trying to work with the local hospital I realized that if the wheel does not spin you may need to reinvent it. Third, the process is sometimes just as important as the outcome; even if I could get the right answer from the beginning it was still necessary to go through the process to arrive where we did.

Real Juventud is the local division II futbol (soccer) team in Santa Barbara. For a while I had been trying to organize a time to do a Men’s Health workshop with the team to teach them about HIV prevention. I think it is an especially important group to work with for a number of reasons. First, they are all living away from their homes and families and thus may have other partners. Second, as futbol players they are like local celebrities and have amble opportunities to be with local girls. After months of trying to set up a date with the coach we finally decided on a date. I booked the location and Charles, another facilitator of the Men’s Health workshop agreed to help me lead it. The day before the event I confirmed everything with the coach and confirmed the locale. That night I mentioned it to some of the players and they had no idea what I was talking about. It turns out that the coach (in the span of just a few hours) had forgotten to tell the players. Well, I tried to call the coach that night to see if we were still on but couldn’t contact him. The next morning I got everything ready anyway, just in case he remembered to tell them later in the evening. As I approached the room where we were going to hold the workshop I see a big truck full of mattresses that are being unloaded and carried into the room where we are supposed to do the workshop. I talk to the girl I made the “reservation” with and she says that they are using the room to store the mattresses and we can’t use it. She also tells me that Charles won’t be able to facilitate with me because algo se presento (something presented itself). I hate passive language! Completely infuriated I went to go find the coach and asked him what happened. Sure enough he just forgot and his cell phone wasn’t working and he couldn’t call me. So in the end, everything went wrong, I had no place to do the workshop, nobody to facilitate it with and nobody to give it to…so it all worked out and none of it was my fault. The moral of the story is that if everything goes wrong it’s all good.

One of the organizations I work with does HIV/AIDS prevention education with youth. One day I was facilitating a workshop with them and asked one of the employees where the other employee was. She said he had to leave to wash his clothes because he didn’t have any clean clothes. I asked why he had to leave work to wash his clothes. She said because his family doesn’t live here so he has to take them to another town and so he had to leave work. I asked why he was washing his clothes during work. She said he asked permission so it was okay and that he didn’t have any clean clothes, so what would he wear to work the next day if he didn’t take off today to wash his clothes. And so it went; me trying to figure out why in the world you would take off work to go to another town to wash your clothes and the other employee telling me it was all okay. What was my brilliant realization after this situation…That I still don’t understand how things work here and I probably never will.

Diplomas are a big deal and resumes are thick in Honduras. I once counter over 40 “diplomas” in a doctor’s office in Tegucigalpa. Every workshop you attend, every speech you give, every training you finish and any good job you do comes with a diploma. If it is a proper diploma it will be a full sheet of paper, your name will be printer (not written), it will usually have at least two signatures and it MUST have a seal of the organization delivering the diploma. When I did my Men’s Health training in Santa Barbara I of course handed out diplomas at the end. One participant raised his hand and told me that I needed to have a stamp on the diploma. I told him I didn’t have a stamp. At another workshop I facilitated we printed two diplomas on one page to save paper. One of the participants insisted on having a full size diploma so she got the format from us, went and printed herself a full size diploma and then had us sign it again. Whereas in the states resumes are one to two pages here they are 10-20 pages. People list every workshop (even if it is only 2 hours long) that they have ever been to and attach copies of all their diplomas. When we were hiring new staff to work at Agua Pura we said that we wanted resumes of two pages max. Well, most people just didn’t understand this concept and still gave us thick packets with plastic covers. Unfortunately, although it is a lot of paper it contains very little content. They usually will only list where they worked and not include their job title or job description. Also, the “recommendations” from previous employers are just standard forms with a space to fill in a name. At first this absolutely drove me crazy then I realized that they place such a high importance on workshops and diplomas because most don’t have past a high school education or meaningful work experience so they have to make up for it somehow. They also list personal information such as home town, marital status, age, etc. Whereas you can’t even ask certain questions about personal information in an interview in the states these are all relevant issues here. For example, both the Health Promoters we hired for Agua Pura had lived their whole life in Santa Barbara which means that they know the people and they know the surrounding communities, which is important for the work we do.

I have four diplomas on my wall in my apartment.

Through all these frustrations I am definitely learning about the culture here and how to relax (at least a little more than usual). Yet I haven’t fallen in love with Honduras and I don’t know if I ever will. I just finished reading Fiction by Peace Corps Writers, a collection of short stories by RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) and even though they express frustration and anger at their situation there is often an underlying love for the country they are in and the people that inhabit it. I wonder if I will ever develop a true love for Honduras while I am here or is it only something that can happen after I leave here and the daily frustrations blur into the past.

Christmas in Honduras

After 8 months without seeing my parents they arrived on December 23rd to spend Christmas and New Years with me in Honduras. Rene, a Rotary Club member that I work with, had offered to pick them up at the airport so we wouldn’t have to take the bus, and he actually followed through on the offer! It was a lot easier that way since my parents (my mom) came with a pretty heavy suitcase (although I have to take some of the blame since they did bring me some Christmas presents). From the San Pedro Sula airport we came straight to Santa Barbara, my site, and stayed until the day after Christmas. It was good we were able to spend time at my house just relaxing because my dad was really sick when he got here and spent a fair amount of time lying on the couch, drinking tea and babbling incoherently. Once he was feeling a little better we walked around town so my parents could meet people, including Jose (the owner of the sports bar where the volunteers always have parties),

Jose, my mom and I

Telma (a retired teacher who volunteers with the HIV/AIDS Network), Yerry (Folkloric Dance partner), the owners of the new vegetarian restaurant in town, my landlords and the neighborhood kids. They all commented on how young my parents looked! We also visited peoples’ crèches (my mom loves crèches), which are much more elaborate here than in the states, sometimes taking up an entire room.

My mom, me, Telma & her creche (which is small compared to others)

We all stayed in my apartment; my parents slept in my bed and I slept on a colchon (guest mattress) on the floor in my second bedroom. It was fun to be all together, but also kinda funny…I had to continually remind my mom that throwing toilet paper down the toilet will ruin it (you can’t put it in the toilet, you have to throw it in the trash can). My dad kept shocking himself with the electraducha (thing attached to the shower head that sometimes heats the water) and did not approve of there being an outlet in the shower.

Christmas morning we sat around my little tree and I opened a few presents that my parents had brought for me.
After presents we went for a hike to the castillo (ruins of an old castle about 45 minutes up the mountain outside of Santa Barbara).
My mom & I

My dad took a picture of every truck that went by trying to capture the stereotypical packed pickup truck. The people in the trucks also got great enjoyment out of this and would all wave and shout to us, some of them even slowed down for the picture.
My dad also took some quality photos of Santa Barbara.
Here you can see two dogs stuck together and a bolo (drunk guy) sleeping on the side of the road. These are common sights in Honduras but to capture them together is pretty unique.
Then we came back and attempted to cook Christmas dinner in my tiny little kitchen. The mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce and pumpkin bread all came out pretty darn good. The next day we left for Copan so we couldn’t enjoy one of the best parts about Christmas dinner, leftovers. I was so sad to have to leave it all, but thankfully Katie ate it when she got home and few days later so it didn’t go to waste.

Copan Ruinas

On December 26th, the day after Christmas we headed out for Copan Ruinas. We arrived at the Santa Barbara bus station at 8:40 am to find a line wrapped around the entire building. We got in line and it took us about 30 minutes to get our tickets, could have been worse. Then we waited for the bus to come and I prepped my parents for what they would have to do when it did. My dad was to take the luggage to the back door and get on and my mom and I would go to the front. There was absolutely no semblance of a line or any type of order at all. Whoever could push their way onto the bus would get a seat. Well, we all managed to get on the bus and actually got a seat. About 15 minutes after we left Santa Barbara the bus pulled over to the side of the road and just stopped for about 15 minutes, then without a word being spoken everybody got off the bus and stood on the side of the road for another 15 minutes. Then again, without a word being spoken, everybody got back on the bus and we turned around and drove back to Santa Barbara. The bus apparently had a problem and wasn’t going to make it all the way to San Pedro Sula. It was amazing how nobody ever explained what was going on and how nobody got mad. In the states we would all demand an explanation and a refund. When we got back to the Santa Barbara bus station there was a line of about a 100 people waiting to get on the next bus. My family decided we weren’t about to wait in line again and just walked to the front of the line and pushed our way onto the bus (only a few people yelled out ‘line!’ to us), which was already completely full so we had to stand the whole way. We stayed on that bus about an hour and then got off at Ceibita, a turn off, and had to wait on the side of the road for another bus. At first they told us that the bus to Copan Ruinas wouldn’t be there for hours, but then we realized we could take a bus to La Entrada, another turn off, and then get a bus from there to Copan Ruinas. Luckily the bus to La Entrada arrived quickly and we only had to stand half the time. My dad made fast friends with 4 little kids all packed into one seat (think yellow school bus seats). About an hour later we got off at La Entrada and caught our nicest bus yet to Copan Ruinas. It wasn’t a chicken bus and we didn’t have to stand at all. Unfortunately the road to Copan is a little windy and a few people threw up. By the time we got to Copan Ruinas it was about 4 pm. A trip that takes 2.5 hours in a car took us 7 hours. Once we got to Copan the trip still wasn’t over though, we still had to get to our hotel with was outside of town on a hill. My mom and I took a little 3 wheeled taxi and my dad decided to walk because he was still nauseous from the bus ride. I was impressed with my parents’ patience and flexibility and ability to enjoy the ride. It was kinda ironic, because it was the worst transportation experience I have ever had…I have never had to wait to get on a bus and have never been on a bus when it broke down. In the end it was worth all the trouble because Hacienda San Lucas, our hotel, was absolutely incredible.Hotel Hacienda San Lucas

Hacienda San Lucas is about a 10 minute drive outside of town up on a hill so it is overlooking Copan. Favia, the owner, is a Honduran woman who lived in the US for a while. The hacienda has been in her family for over 100 years and just a few years ago she decided she would turn it into a functioning hotel. She did a wonderful job of it, the landscaping is amazing, the service is excellent, the sheets and towels are clean, and all the details truly make it a unique place (especially for Honduras). Every night they light hundreds of candles to illuminate the rooms, walkways and restaurant. The food is really what impressed me most, I think I can say it is the best Honduran food I have ever had. We had a five course meal the first night and a four course meal the second. The surprising thing was that it is all traditional Honduran food (beans, veggies, tamales, adobe sauce, corn soup, scrambled eggs, etc.) but they do something to make it amazing, I couldn’t get over it!

The next day mom woke up with a cold so dad and I went to the Mayan Ruins by ourselves. Although it was a shame that she wasn’t feeling well, I think she still enjoyed just relaxing at the hotel. Dad and I got a guide for the Ruins, which was expensive, but worth it because there are no plaques anywhere in the ruins that tell you what things are.
I was really impressed with the grass; it is by far the nicest and most abundant grass that I have ever seen in Honduras. I wanted to take off my shoes and walk barefoot.
My dad at the ruinsMe in the tunnels at the ruins

Then we went to Macaw Mountain, a bird conservatory and ate lunch there and took a tour. The birds were amazing.

Roatan

On December 28th we embarked on another day of horrible traveling. Although my mom successfully plans many trips sometimes she forgets small details or mixes up dates or time zones. Well, she thought it would be a good idea to wait to make our plane reservations to Roatan until we were in Honduras. Before Christmas we tried calling and getting on-line to make reservations with no luck. So when we got to Hacienda San Lucas Favia saved the day and was able to find a last minute reservation for us. We also bought bus tickets the day before we left to make sure the bus wouldn’t fill up. So we wake up early Friday morning and go to the bus stop but the bus is not there, it left 10 minutes early (buses do that in Honduras, if they are full they will leave early, even if you already bought a ticket). Luckily we got on another bus that left 10 minutes later and arrived without problem in the San Pedro Sula airport. Our flight was supposedly booked on Atlantic Airlines for 2 pm. We went to their office and they not only didn’t have our names they informed us there was no 2 pm flight, only a 4 pm flight. So we went to all the other airlines to see if they had anything available with no luck. The airline didn’t seem very reliable, but we didn’t have much other choice so we resigned ourselves to booking the 4 pm flight (with a stop in La Ceiba and arrival in Roatan at 5:30 pm) and waited in the airport for 4 hours (very boring since there are only a few fast food places and 2 incredibly overpriced tourist shops). At about 2:30 we looked at the flight monitors and it said our flight was going to leave at 4:30 pm, so we asked somebody and he assured us the flight would board at 3:30 and leave at 4. So we went through security and waited upstairs where they have a Duty Free Store with free samples of Pear Absolute Vodka. (By the way, did any of you know that Duty Free International is actually the name of a store? I always thought it was a privilege and never realized it was actually a brand until my father informed me.) In most airports each flight has a flight number and a gate and employees of that airline working at the gate. Our flight had none of these; no flight number, no gate number and not a single Atlantic employee in sight. At 4 pm there was still no sign of any of these key parts to a successful flight. By this point I was furious. I went back out through security and down to the Atlantic office so see what was going on. They informed me the flight schedule changed and they had just found out about it and we wouldn’t leave until 5 pm. Then I lost it and started yelling at them (I was quite proud of myself that I could do this in Spanish). Then the guy that assured me the flight would leave on time at 4 came out and I really let it rip on him. Then he proceeded to tell me that the flight still would leave at 4. I showed him my watch and told him this was impossible because it was already past 4 so there was really no way the flight would leave at 4. So he says, okay, we are going to leave right now, lets go. So I go back through security and we board at 4:12 (only 12 minutes late he tells me as he takes my ticket). Then we walk out to the plane and board a 15 seater with the luggage crammed in the back of the plane secured with netting (I was pretty nervous).

Luckily we made it to La Ceiba with no crashes. Then we got delayed again in La Ceiba and had to wait until 5:45 pm to board (we were supposed to arrive at 5:30). Finally we got to Roatan around 6:30! What should have taken 3 hours by bus and 30 minutes by plane took us over 12 hours.

Mary had arrived earlier and was waiting to great us at the Coconut Tree Hotel in the Rock House Honeymoon Suite. It is called the Rock House because it is covered in rocks and it is called the Honeymoon Suite because there is a huge round bed and lots of mirrors (on the headboard, the ceiling and an entire wall).
Needless to say it wasn’t the classiest hotel we have ever stayed in, but it served our needs. There was a full kitchen so we ate gourmet oatmeal breakfasts and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch at home most days. Also, it was right on the beach, so we could just walk out and go swimming. We spent our days walking up and down the beach, lying on the beach, swimming and snorkeling. Within swimming distance of the beach is an amazing reef.

My dad, my mom and I all rented snorkels and fins and headed out with my dad in the lead. I unfortunately am a big wimp and was scared of cutting myself on the coral because it was so shallow, so I only went out one time. Luckily none of us got too sunburned thanks to the wise wisdom of Mary who refused to go out in the sun from 11-2.
Mary & I un a water taxi that goes back and forth between West End and West Bay and costs $2 per person opposed to the $10 it costs to take a regular taxi.

Of course we saw lots of people we knew; other Peace Corps Volunteers, as well as people we had met traveling along the way. My dad met a guy named Carlos in the airport in San Pedro Sula who was originally from Guatemala but had moved to Elkhart, Indiana, the town my mother grew up in. Turns out Bill Nye, my grandfather, had been his lawyer, and of course he spoke very highly of him. Later on we saw Carlos again on the beach right in front of our wonderful Rock House. We also met a Canadian couple in Copan who were visiting their daughter, a CIDA (Canadian International Development Agency) volunteer, living in Tegucigalpa. Then we ran into them again on the beach in Roatan…small world. The beach was incredible, white sand and crystal clear water. The weather was absolutely perfect, hot during the day (but not too hot) and cool at night. We didn’t even have to use the air conditioning. And although we are still in the rainy season we didn’t have any rain (oh, expect for about 5 minutes on New Year’s Eve).

Yet every pristine paradise has to have its drawbacks. On Roatan (and most Honduran beaches) the drawback is called sand flies. Except for my mom, who I don’t think complained once, we were all covered in bites by the first night. My dad used this as an opportunity to teach us about a new field of economic study. Apparently if you make a concrete decision before you are put in the situation you will stick to your decision, but if you wait until you are in the situation you will not stick with your decision. In this case, if we chose not to scratch our bites before they started to itch, then when they were at their itchiest we would be able to withstand agony and abstain from scratching. Although my dad was convinced Mary and I didn’t buy it. Not surprisingly, he was the only one who didn’t scratch his bites (mine just stopped itching a few days ago). He also used some preventive measures to avoid getting more bites: insect repellant cream as a base followed by Off and knee high socks and tennis shoes (he says it worked). Unfortunately Mary and I lack sufficient self control to not itch our bites and are too vain to wear knee socks on the beach so we just had to suffer.

The small world that it is, we kept running into the Canadian couple visiting their daughter so we ended up spending time with them on New Years Eve and ate some amazing pasta and tons of fresh fruit (this was after we had finished our own dinner and dessert).
Then Mary and I went out with their daughter Sophia and her boyfriend Erin in West End to a bar with a live band singing covers. Of course we also ran into Megan, another Peace Corps volunteer there with her family. We danced until the kicked us out and then went to another club in Flowers Bay playing reggaeton music and danced until about 4 in the morning. New Years day we slept in until 11 am, which is really late, considering there were no curtains on the windows so the entire room was flooded with sunlight by 6:30 am every day. We managed to get to lunch with Sophia and her mom and sister around 2 and then had diner with my parents at 5, then packed and went to bed.

We woke up early Wednesday morning to catch our flight off the island (although we didn’t really have to get up that early because the flight left late as usual). Like all the other travel experiences we had during my parents’ trip this one was also incredibly frustrating, but luckily we made it back to the San Pedro Sula airport. In the airport I bought a steamer from Espresso Americano and as my dad and I were putting on the lid the cup collapsed and the drink exploded all over us, and in my face and chest. I screamed at first probably because of the shock of it. Luckily it didn’t burn me. Then I threw my cake on the counter and wanted to say I hate this country (but I refrained), and then I just started sobbing. Then I asked if they could make me a new one and they said I would have to pay again. I told them the cup was garbage and it wasn’t my fault. Then I asked again for a new one and they made it for me. I think I was just feeling frustrated and overwhelmed from the hassles of traveling but most of all I was sad about my parents’ imminent departure. After I calmed down and changed my clothes I left the airport and took the bus back to Santa Barbara and my parents flew home to Cleveland.
Mary had an ever worse time than we did getting off the island. In fact, she couldn’t get off for two days. We left early on Wednesday and Mary stayed for the morning to take the 2 pm ferry off the island to La Ceiba. Apparently the weather turned bad and the waves were too big, so they had to turn around and go back to Roatan. Weather was so bad that they didn’t have another ferry off the island for two more days, so Mary had to stay two more nights and leave on Friday. Honduras is always an adventure…

Now I am back in Santa Barbara and back to work. Although it is good to be back in Santa Barbara again, to be in my own house, see Katie again, and sleep in my own bed, I miss my parents incredibly. It was so nice to have spent 18 days with them and share my life with them. I am also glad they were able to relax a little.

Buena Vista, Atima

Buena Vista, Atima is a community more than three hours away from Santa Barbara. It is the poorest community I have seen in Honduras since I have been here. They have no electricity, no running water, no pilas and no latrines.


They don’t have fences either…

They get their water from about 15 different wells (more like holes in the ground) and have to carry it back to their house. The women usually make about three trips per day, each trip taking 5-30 minutes depending on how far away the well is. During the dry season they wake up at 4 am to go to the well to get water before it dries up. This can take hours because all the women are there at the same time trying to get water.
I remember how annoying it was to have to bring water in from outside to take my showers while living with my second host family…I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to have to spend some much time and effort just to perform the most basic tasks that we take for granted in so many countries of the world.

At the urging of a Rotary Club from Minnesota that visited Buena Vista for a medical brigade last year, Agua Pura installed water filters in the community. Yet, even though it is great that the community now has the ability to purify their water, they often don’t have any water to purify. Therefore the same Minnesota Rotary Club is hoping to fund the installation of a water system in the community to provide everyone with running water. Katie (my site mate who works as a Water & Sanitation Peace Corps Volunteer), the Agua Pura team and I all went to Buena Vista for the week to do our various parts. Katie worked with the men in the community to collect data for the water system, I went door-to-door conducting a needs assessment for the application to Rotary International for the funding for the water system and Agua Pura did monitoring of the filters already installed. Living in Santa Barbara, the “big city”, I sometimes get very frustrated with the snobbery and laziness of the people. Therefore, it was refreshing to be in the campo because the people are so humble and kind. Everyone thanked me for coming to visit them and I had people to help find each house and talk to the people the entire time I was there. Besy and her 3 year old son helped me out the first day and they were amazing. While I wore my big hiking boots and still slipped around in the mud, she wore flip flops and her son wore dress shoes. He was amazing! He didn’t complain once and walked the whole way with us. By the end of the day I was absolutely exhausted because the community is spread out all up and down mountains, so I was very impressed by him. She was incredible, she worked so hard and was so willing to help me out.

Besy is a very strong woman who works hard and understands the importance of serving her community. She even withstands the challenges and criticism that sometimes comes along pushing the boundaries. For example, she had to ask her husband for permission to attend the Community Agents training. He was reluctant at first but then conceded. Also, she has to brush off the comments that some community members make about her for leaving the community to work on projects. They suspect her to be a “bad woman” if she is leaving and sleeping somewhere else for a night or two. Through all of this is was wonderful to hear that she has confidence that she knows she is doing what is right and doesn’t care what others say about her. She is thankful to have a filter and is excited to see a water system come to Buena Vista. Here she recounts her daily routine during the dry season: “I wake up at 4 am to bring water because early in the morning there is water, in the day there is no water. We have to wake up early to bring water for the entire day. The women and children go in groups of 5 or 6. I can’t carry water in buckets because I wasn’t born here, the women that we born here can, I carry water in smaller containers. I go 3 or 4 times in the morning so I don’t have to go when there is sun. From 4-6 am I bring water. I only bring water for the kitchen. To bath and wash clothes I have to leave again.”
We didn’t see much of her husband or older son because they were out working. Humberto, her husband was with Katie, doing the study for the system and her 8 year old son was working in the field all day.
Although Buena Vista is far away and difficult to get to, I now realize how much help they need and what wonderful people they are.

Feria

Feria in Santa Barbara started on December 1st, and hasn’t stopped since. Throughout the week there have been vendors set up in the park selling food and crafts (and junk).

Every day there are parades in the morning and music at night.

The queen of the feria has a busy schedule during the feria, she basically attends every event and rides or walks in every parade.

This is a princess of the feria, Claudia, she dances with me in the folkloric dance group.
The president of Honduras even showed up to ride in the parade on his horse. He is the one of the left with the big mustache.


Now this is a rare yet refreshing sight for Honduras