Micahel Jackson DIED! Oh, and a coup

Over the last two years, I have learned a lot about priorities. Well, that isn’t necessarily true. I am not sure I have learned so much as that the reality of priorities and the role they play in life is a constant presence. The way people prioritize has been a fountain of frustration throughout my service. Of course everyone prioritizes differently, especially once you cross the culture boundary. Some things just seem obvious, like health, hygiene and education. (Granted, my hygiene suffers on occasion and I eat foods and at places which I know will probably make me sick.) Thursday, I was reminded of how funny life is and priorities. It often takes days, weeks, sometimes months, for me to hear about events and news, especially from the US. I called a fellow volunteer to invite her to help judge the “First English Music Festival.” She answered with something to the effect of, “Hey what’s up, did you know MICHAEL JACKSON DIED! I just saw it on CNN.” It was strange to hear about such news within hours (I believe) of the actual event. An hour or two later, I stopped by the Passionist volunteers’ house and there too I heard the news. From the Passionists’ I visited one of my teachers and her family where she relayed the news and I later saw it on the local TV station, “Talanga Vision”. Apparently Michael Jackson (And Farah Fawcett as a side note on two of the four occasions) was just big news that I not only heard about it the same week, but FOUR times the day of! Life is funny.

The above paragraph was written June 27. Before the coup.

Speaking of news, it is amazing how little I have about the current situation here. You may have more information than I do. Especially since I do not own a TV or radio.
The question everyone wants to know: “What the hell is going on in Honduras?”
Yes, I am fine. Although the government is in major transition and somewhat unstable at the moment; violence (as far as I know, to this point) has been minimal. There have been many protests in the capital and bigger cities but they seem to be mostly peaceful. As for most small towns, life has continued more or less as normal. Here is what I can tell you and my understanding of the situation:
Last Sunday, June 28, “ex-President” Mel Zelaya had scheduled a special election to put a fourth box on the ballot. This new issue known as the “Cuarta Urna” would change the process to amend the constitution. The president would be able to make changes without going through Congress (which is currently the process). “While Honduran law allows for a constitutional rewrite, the power to open that door does not lie with the president. A constituent assembly can only be called through a national referendum approved by its Congress.” The National Congress, Supreme Court and Military stated that the election was unconstitutional and Sunday morning Mel made a statement from Costa Rica. Honduras had no power and news and radio stations were down from about 7:15am until midday. In the afternoon, Congress appointed the next in line (Micheletti, the president of Congress) as the new acting president until the next president is elected in November and sworn-in in January (as previously scheduled). This is an election year and Honduras has a single term limit for the office of President of the Republic.
Monday, school was cancelled. In many places schools have not yet reopened. Kids and teachers in Talanga returned to school on Tuesday and Wednesday but classes have been cancelled again today and tomorrow. Mel is scheduled to return to Honduras on Saturday.
Throughout the week, protesters for both Zelaya and Micheletti have gathered in the Capital and other cities. Some roadblocks have occurred. Peace Corps volunteers have very limited travel permission. I hate to speak for others, but I think I am safe in saying most PCVs just want the situation to end so we can go back to working and the previous level of travel freedom.

I never thought I would live through a coup. I must say, the view from my post in Talanga would not make a very good movie script. Considering power outages and cancelled school happen all too regularly, the only thing truly out of the ordinary is the news. Other towns may be different and I know some places lost power for 2 days straight during the week. As for now, we await an end to the restrictions and the reasons they are necessary. Happy 4th of July.

I tried to add photos but they won't upload. Sorry, internt sucks coup or no coup.

The best day...

I just finished reading What is the What, the story of a Sudanese refugee who eventually moves to the US. The book is great but one small detail struck me and has stayed with me over the last week or so since I read the passage. At some point during his years running from war, walking from one refugee camp to another, and learning about readjusting to life in the States, the young Sudanese kids were told to think of their favorite day, the best day ever. They were to summon the thought of this day whenever necessary whether hiding from soldiers, bombs or stressed in some other form. I imagine if you were to ask American kids to describe the best day, it would be dramatic, surreal, probably several highly unlikely events would occur or they would visit a place they imagine as heaven like Disneyland or a house made of chocolate. Maybe I am wrong but that is my hunch, I think before reading this book, I probably would have tried to come up with some impossible day that would be logistically, physically and/or fundamentally impossible. Maybe this is all the practice and emphasis on being creative that I received throughout my childhood and what I have experienced of adulthood.

The main character’s best day is simple. He is about seven years old on this day, before he ever left his home or was separated from his family, before he knew the meaning of war, first hand. Of course, school is cancelled for the day. I am sure this would follow suit in most cultures, even from kids who generally enjoy school. From there on, the day consists of helping his mother, leaning on his older sister as she labors through chores, fetching water for an older girl on whom he has a crush. He even imagines falling as he runs at top speed with his water can, trying to impress the girl of his affection. His best day seems so realistic. It is a day that could easily have been real. The mundane details of his dream day immediately struck me. What would the best day ever actually be like? The more I considered this, the more I think our young Sudanese friend is on the right track. I think the best day ever would be more or less like any other but where all the minor details fall into place and in your favor, or mine. I may have experienced this day.

I woke before my alarm Thursday morning which is not unusual. That I actually got out of bed before the third snooze is a minor miracle. I caught the free bus to the high school, another great feat for me. I miss this bus almost everyday and therefore pay for the public bus which passes through town about 10 minutes later and drops me off on the side of the highway, about a 10 minute walk from the school. I spent the entire school day giving an HIV/AIDS prevention workshop to eleventh graders, including a condom demonstration. Before coming here, I could not have imagined talking to high schoolers about sex ed, abstinence, condoms, etc but I have found that it is one of my favorite projects here. I feel I am giving kids the capacity to make more informed decisions, hopefully empowering the girls to make their own decisions and postpone a few from having their first child before graduating from high school. Of course I will never know the exact impact of these talks, but at least the information is now available to them.

Following the HIV talk, I headed to Tegus for physical therapy. While waiting for a bus to pass, the challenging mayoral candidate offered me a ride. It definitely beat sitting on an old school bus for an hour and a half. Physical therapy is always great. I cannot complain about electric stim with heat, ultrasound and a massage, followed by what I have dubbed “el crecedor” or the growing machine. I am strapped on a table which separates to stretch my lower back. Supposedly it will add a centimeter or two to my height. No complaints here! From PT, I headed to the office to check email and say good bye to a few volunteers finishing their service. I ended up receiving my second back rub of the day! Ten minutes sitting on the tile stairs of the Guadalupe II , 10 minutes I greatly appreciated. A few volunteers hung out on the patio of the Maya, enjoying the evening view of the hills around Tegus before sharing an excellent meal of carne asada and BBQed ribs with all the Honduran tipico. After dinner I somehow ended up the recipient of a double foot massage amidst the company and conversation of various PCVs whom I do not see regularly. I think it may have been the best day of my life…

…or have I been here too long? Or am I finally acclimated enough to appreciate these things? Either way, I realize more each day that it really is the little things that make the difference. The small things people do to help things fall into place, to show you they care, evidence of effort and priority.

photos: Dental Brigade in Cantarranas (those would be tooth extraction tools... this is why we brush our teeth, so the dentist doesn't need these!), Dia de la cruz, kinder kids. Yep, Bello is getting big.

Yes, I am ok

I slept through a 7.1 earthquake. Although the epicenter was about 130 km off the coast of La Ceiba (on the north coast) and very near the island of Roatan, it was felt strongly throughout the country and in my area. People in my community and volunteers staying in Tegus were shocked that the quake did not wake me. What can I say, I am a hard sleeper.

Other than a giant earthquake hitting my country and knocking out a bridge on a major thoroughfare, I have been staying busy. I spent all last week in Cantarranas helping with a dental brigade. We yanked a bunch of abessed teeth, filled cavities and sealed tons of young molars on kids from 6 to about 13 years old. It was interesting spending an entire week with non-Peace Corps Americans. It is the first time in almost 2 years. Each time I talk to non PCVs, I am reminded how bad my English now is. I can't speak my own language anymore! I am sure it will come back once I am forced not to speak Spanglish but for now I will struggle each time.

In glancing at my last blog, I realized I need to learn to proof-read. Oops. : ) I guess that is just low on the priority list. Gotta run but I will try to post pictures again soon.

Muere cucaracha muere!

Sunday, I met this, the biggest cockroach I have personally killed. I was not excited when it suddenly appeared in my shower as I was trying to bathe (I mean, dumping a cold bucket over my head). Of course, it looked even bigger alive and "flying" around my shower. Not the biggest I have seen, that award goes to Edwin for killing it as he ran around the park barefoot.

I believe this is the first cockroach I have actually seen in this house. Therefore, I am telling myself it lived outside and was just trying to find it's way back out. It did actually appear to be searching for a path through the teja. Then it fell and met a new friend named Raid.

On a happier note... It rained last night! After weeks of drought it poured rain for a few hours last night, effectivly cooling the air (I got to sleep under the sheet) and greatly reducing the dust. I even got to run on my dirt road route again this morning! They are doing construction and it has just been too dusty. Therefore, I was running on the paved road past all the car workshops. It's a boring route full of unoriginal piropos. Such is life.

LOVE-HATE

Despite living here for over a year and a half, some things still amaze me, or at least leave me in some state of awe.  I have realized that my opinion of Talanga, and Honduras in general is very love hate.  Although every time a Honduran askes me, "Do you like it here?" I say yes.  It is a lie.  I can't say that I "like" it.  Love-hate is more appropriate.  Most things I neither love nor hate, it is very much LOVEHATE.  When I reflect on my life here, my experiences, everything, I cannot decide whether I love it or hate it.  The list of things I will miss the most is incredibly similar to the list of things I will miss the most.  I know it sounds odd but it is just the way it is.  Somethings, no matter how long I spend here, I am not sure I would adjust to.  That is both positive and negative.  For example, I still feel a bit odd when the school day begins and ends with a prayer.  Each Monday, to commence the week's "Civic Act" the entire school prays together.  It is great that the school has the freedom to do this and there is never a threat of potential law suit but my conscious still screams,  "separation of church and state!"  I gave my English class of teachers an assignment in lesson planning.  They were to make a lesson plan and self-evaluate it (self-evaluation? what do you mean?--very foreign concept.)  One of these lesson plans, in the "methodology" section read: step 1-prayer to the devine creator.  Really?  In the methods section?  I guess I did say to include everything.
Another favorite practice here is to fill the potholes in my dirt street town with loose dirt.  This happens time and time again.  Doesn't anyone realize that filling a giant pothole with loose dirt doesn't work?  Sure, it fills the hole for today, but the first time it rains and a car drives over it, the loose dirt gets pushed out of the hole.  This effectively makes the hole even bigger since the original hole reappears and the sides grow with the newly depositted dirt.  Really?  At least there was immediate satisfaction in fixing the hole for a day.
I love that people can do things like this over and over again and no one seems to see th idiocracy in it.  I hate that the puddles come back time and time again (when it rains at least.)
I love the attention.  I hate the attention.
I love free food.  I hate having to eat everytime I visit someone, even if I am not hungry.  (I have learned to visit people away from meal times, unless of course, I need large meal that will last me the rest of the day.)
I love the sun.  I love the rain.  Until it starts raining, then I will like the rain because it cools the air and limits the dust.  I hate the rain because it means mud and I have to wash my jean more often.I hate the slow internet.  I love the legitimate excuse not to check email regularly.I love the freetime.  I hate being bored.  (On that note, suggested book: Confessions of an Economic Hit Man by John Perkins.  Very thoughtprovoking)I hate hearing "fijese que..."  I love using "fijese que..."  It is a free excuse for everything.I hate hearing "si Dios quiere," if God wills it.  Take some freaking responsibility and show up to the meeting we arranged!  Ok, that one I don't love in any way, shape or form.  It is a free ticket to not take responsibility and not to commit and I refuse to use it.  If i used it, I would probably love it.

Enough ranting for today.  Here are more Colgate pictures with my kids brushing their teeth.  They LOVE having their photo taken.  Yet, getting them to look at themselves in a mirror is amazingly difficult.  We looked at our own teeth one day.  You do not want to see inside their mouths, many look painful.  Also, the market before Easter, yes, those are whole dried fish.  Very traditional.  A little girl and her chicken on my bus to Tegus.  They are called "chicken buses" for a reason.  Sunset over the Caribbean from beautiful Roatan.

Thumbs Up

Most weekends I spend at least one day playing soccer with a group of women/girls (ranging from about 13 to 31) from in and around Talanga. Supposedly, the “team” is in a league in Tegucigalpa and we were to travel there each Sunday to play (along with several other women who live in Tegus). In reality, I think I played in Tegus twice, arrived in the capital for the game to be cancelled because there wasn’t a field available and missed one game. We end up playing most games against other small communities and aldeas near us. Aside from a few decently talented (but generally unfit and/or lazy) players, the level of play is usually pretty low, like a “rec” team in the States. I continue to play for various reasons; they invite me, it is a chance to socialize with people other than teachers and students at school, it gets me out of the house on days I have no other reason to leave, it’s good exercise and one of the only opportunities to exercise with other people (I am sure I could find a young man willing to accompany me running but I generally turn down that offer.) Last time I played was one of the worst days I have recently had. Nothing especially bad happened that day but it was a day I had not planned on playing. I planned to be on the beach hanging out with my brother and sister-in-law and getting to know my nephew again. Unfortunately two of the three were sick and they had to postpone their trip. While it was the best decision for them to stay home, it was still a bummer. As I was surrounded by giggling 19 year old girls, I felt completely depressed. There is nothing like being around other people enjoying themselves to make you realize the extent of loneliness.  
Yesterday as we arrived at the field in Rio Dulce, I felt none of this. Since most of our games are in small communities, not many people go to watch and I generally don’t know anyone in the crowd. Somehow, they all seem to know at least my name by the end of the first half. I guess that is the result of being the only gringa playing and one of about 3 in the area. Rio Dulce is also an aldea of Talanga but more importantly, it is one of the communities I work in regularly. My original baseball team is there and I am currently doing dental hygiene in the school and kindergarten. We changed into our uniforms and walking onto the field, I saw several familiar faces. Baseball boys. More accurately, most of them soccer players who occasionally play baseball. It was really nice to feel I had true supporters outside the soccer team. We played against the championship team of the Tegucigalpa league. Rumor has it that they are the U18(ish) national selection. Whether this is true, I have no idea but they were hands down the best team we have played. They maintained positions, didn’t play bunchball and passed between themselves. Somehow we won 2-1, goals off a free kick and counter-attack breakaway. It was probably the best I have seen our team play and the best I have personally played since being here.
Toward the end of the first half, I heard my name called. While I generally ignore male voices yelling my name from the sidelines, I knew this one came from the baseball boys. I turned to look and I saw Juan smile and give me a thumbs up. It may have been the proudest moment of my service. I internally beamed at being praised by 11 and 12 year olds. After the game, one of the coach’s friends (aka our supporters) hollered, “How many goals did Laura miss?!” “Three.” said Richard Noe grinning, one of my baseball veterans. Great, someone was counting. And yes, they were solid opportunities I blew (Oops! That’s why I don’t play forward!)
Does pride and joy in praise from a couple of kids indicate my lack of social interaction, lack of feedback or was it feeling accepted and integrated into the community? Probably, all of the above. I will find out in the next few weeks if it has any impact on my relationship with the kids at school or success getting kids to show up to baseball practice. For now, I will revel in the thumbs up from a kid I desperately want to play baseball regularly (he is really fast and seems to have a good attitude.)

¿Qué significa "rain"?

It is summer. Definitely, officially summer, or dry season. While you folks back home suffer through the unpredictable weather of early spring, rain and snow seemingly out of nowhere, here that is not the case. I envy you (at least in the middle of the day as I sweat and hide from the sun in my house, trying to avoid the heat. I like warm weather. At least when I can escape it briefly or I am on the beach and can enjoy it. Here, summer means dust and more dust and more dust. My version of air conditioning is riding my bike down hill or into the wind and hoping the breeze is slightly cooling. It doesn’t work very well since I have to turn around and come back after. I am learning the important lessons of hiding in the house with the door CLOSED in the middle of the day (to keep the heat out) and opening the door in the evening to let the breeze (if one exists) in. It is probably time to get my fan repaired again. The problem is, I don’t want to carry it to the repair guy because it is too hot outside and I don’t want to leave the house unless necessary. I have also returned to bathing at least once a day. Dumping a cold bucket over my head finally feels good. No longer like jumping in the cold lake on a moderately warm day where you take a deep breath and go for it as quickly as possible (the last few months), nor avoiding it whenever possible because it is just miserable and the power went out again so you can’t even make a cup of hot coffee or tea after. I know, I probably shouldn’t admit it, but bathing in the winter is an “only when absolutely necessary” chore. Summer is the opposite, bathe every chance you have. The problem, water can be scarce in these dry summer months. Therefore, I try to limit it to once a day, usually afternoons to cool off or evening to wash the dust off my feet, returning their natural color. It is also the season for watering the dirt, reduces the dust a bit. Just watch where you step, most people fling the run-off water (potentially raw sewage, depending on the neighborhood) out of the “gutter” onto the street. Last Thursday, I did my good dead for the day but gifting water to the neighbors. I saved the kids several trips hauling water from the river, left the contaminated water in its bed and relieved my conscience by not wasting the water to clean the pila. Do I really live here?

PHOTOS:  Field trip to the river with my 3rd graders.  We loaded half the kids in the back of the teacher's pick up while the others started walking until the teacher picked them up.  Things are a bit different here.  This is one of the "cleanest" rivers in the area.  Too bad it is the same stream that first passes through Rio Dulce where the quantity of garbage and number of vehicles I have seen washed in it is disturbing.  And people bathe in it!  It was a great excuse to talk about littering and caring for the water.  Then they wrote down everything they saw.
Kinder kids in Rio Dulce brushing their teeth after snack.
Chichara on my kitchen light, also known as cicadas.  Quite possibly the most obnoxious insect ever due to their everpresent whine.  Unfortunately, they are here until the rains return.