I wish we could in good faith say it was strange to have received advice from our 9-year-old neighbor about how to deal with our 8-month-old cat that’s going into heat, but, alas, that’s not the world we live in. Here, acquiring knowledge about the procreation habits of animals accompanies, if not precedes learning the ABCs, not by design but rather by circumstance. We know of no one in our immediate neighborhood that has their pets spade or neutered. Why? It's expensive, for one. The nearest vet who can do the job is a 2 and a half hour bus trip away, plus taxi fare, all stacked atop costs of the operation itself. Additionally, most domestic animals here have two shifts to fulfill: during the waking hours they’re expected to be friendly to their owners, playmates to children and otherwise stoic fixtures of the streetscape, grudgingly moving for and subsequently staring down all passersby (which I would argue is perhaps the most important of their roles), while at night, cats pursue and eat all varieties of critter (ours eats cockroaches, others eat mice, you get the point) and dogs are employed as guardians. I feel these animals' supreme functionality contributes to their being viewed not so much as pets to be cared for but as animals to, well, be animals.
Enough sidestepping the issue, though; we, as the caretakers, or parents if you will, of Luz, an 8-month-old tabby, are facing the tough news that she is capable of having kittens, heralded to us not only by the confidently delivered lectures of a young girl but also by the nearly incessant screeching of a fluffy white male cat. As could be inferred by what I stated earlier, this situation wouldn’t present much of a problem to most anyone who lives near us. If Luz were under the stead of our neighbors she would likely become pregnant, give birth, and become another in the slew of unruly animals in our neighborhood who periodically disturb the peace with their wild, lascivious behavior. On one side of our home we are bordered by a humble yellow church, whose lot is occupied a few days a month by several dogs from the neighborhood that are, you guessed it, engaging in illicit acts. Incidentally, this very morning I was privy to such a scene when I stepped outside to collect water from our pila, barely awake and still cleaning from my eyes the remnants of my sleep. We have a different vision for our cat, though. Right, wrong, or somewhere in the gray, she will be getting spade as soon as possible. That, however, will be another day’s tale.
Aside from looking after our cat, there are a few other ways in which we occupy our time these days. To proceed in chronological order, on September 21st the exiled president made a surprise return to Honduras, from which time he has successfully sought refuge within the Brazilian embassy in the Honduran capital, Tegucigalpa. Since his return, he and the interim/de facto government have taken part in an intense series of negotiations aimed at returning some semblance of normalcy and direction to the country’s political future. To date, there have been advances in the negotiations, but nothing that presents a definitive solution to the problem. Owing to the continued political uncertainty, coupled with the fact that Honduras is supposed to be hosting it's national elections at the end of November, the interim/de facto government declared that the school year (already terribly truncated by the political instability and concerns about the spread of the H1N1 flu virus) would end in mid October rather than late November to ensure that the voting stations – most, if not all of which, are schools – would be secure to host the vote. We were lucky to have previously planned to end our two existing projects by mid October. Several of our friends, however, were in the midst of school related projects at the time of the declaration and have needed to postpone or cancel their projects. It's fair to say that no one in the country has been unscathed by the coup, and volunteers are no exception. So, on to what we’re hoping to do in the near future. Since the school year has been prematurely terminated, and many of the kids who live near us are in want of productive ways to use their time, we’re hoping to start a reading club along with a library project so as to create an interest in leisure reading amongst children who have had very limited exposure to books, particularly outside of school.
All of that said, for the next month our attention will be increasingly focused on how the country prepares itself for its upcoming national elections. I think we, like most everyone, are hoping that somehow in the course of the next month Honduras will successfully prepare for and host its elections, ultimately resulting in a clearer path by which it can begin to heal itself as the new president assumes power in January.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Synopsis
To those devoted enthusiasts of our humble prose, please accept our sincerest regrets for the tardiness of our entry. To assuage your umbrage, we offer, in recompense, a duo of inscriptions. Um, I mean, sorry it took us so long, dudes. Here are two blogs to make up for it.
Since we last wrote, we have traveled to the States and back, finished our Project Citizen class, spent time with friends on the island of Amapala, survived our mid-term medical examinations, celebrated Daniel’s golden birthday (25 on the 25th), and disguised ourselves for Halloween. Our trip to the States was a delightful whirlwind of all the things we had missed during our first 15 months away: friends, family, the Indiana Dunes, microbrews, Cannon Beach, football, salmon, clean running water 24-7, grandparents, Little John, a democratic government, Powell’s Books, and home. We had a wonderful time and only wish it could have lasted a little longer. Here are some pictures from our trip.
Since we last wrote, we have traveled to the States and back, finished our Project Citizen class, spent time with friends on the island of Amapala, survived our mid-term medical examinations, celebrated Daniel’s golden birthday (25 on the 25th), and disguised ourselves for Halloween. Our trip to the States was a delightful whirlwind of all the things we had missed during our first 15 months away: friends, family, the Indiana Dunes, microbrews, Cannon Beach, football, salmon, clean running water 24-7, grandparents, Little John, a democratic government, Powell’s Books, and home. We had a wonderful time and only wish it could have lasted a little longer. Here are some pictures from our trip.
Emily at Cannon Beach
Mimi, Grampur, and Daniel enjoying an exquisite meal and excellent conversation
Daniel and Little John (21 years old)
Cheryl, Daniel, and Ken in Michigan City
When we arrived back in Honduras, completing our Project Citizen class was our number one priority. Along with our wonderful counterpart, la Profesora Maria Teresa, we held numerous additional classes to make sure that the students were ready for their October 15th presentation. The night of October 14th, the Honduran fútbol team played against El Salvador to qualify for the World Cup. After a harrowing victory on behalf of Honduras, the whole country watched with bated breath for the outcome of the U.S. vs. Costa Rica game. If the U.S. won or tied, Honduras would qualify. With a spectacular goal with only seconds left in the game, the U.S. tied with Costa Rica and the country of Honduras erupted with celebration. As we were cheering their victory qualification, the de facto president announced a national holiday for the following day. Our joy turned to disappointment as we realized that the 9:00am presentation had probably just been cancelled. The following morning, we rose with little hope that anyone would be at the school when we arrived for the presentation. To our surprise and delight, even though classes had been cancelled, all the students, as well as many of the distinguished guests, had come for the presentation. After coming Saturdays, holidays, and many more classes than originally planned, it was only fitting that the students would still honor their commitment to the project, despite the national holiday.
Our Project Citizen Class
Before our Mid-term Meds, a group of volunteers decided to take advantage of already being in Tegucigalpa and travel another 3 hours south to the island of Amapala. This little island on the Pacific coast has become our favorite vacation spot in Honduras, mostly because it has not been developed for tourism. The volcanic islands of El Salvador and Nicaragua also make a spectacular backdrop for sunset photos. We spent time with friends swimming, hiking, singing, and laughing.
PEACE!
P (Emily) E (Brenna) A (Ana) C (Nathan) E (Amanda) ! (Miguel)
Jessica Gausman cutting Emily’s hair for Locks of Love
Sunset
After Amapala, our mid-term meds went surprisingly well. We had fun spending more time with friends and were about as healthy as could be expected after nearly 16 months in Honduras.
We hope you enjoyed our quick synopsis of the past month and a half. As always, we hope this finds you well, in good health and happiness. Finally, we will leave you with a picture of us in our Halloween costumes.
Daniel as a bus ayudante (the guy who takes your money) and Emily as an elote (ear of corn)
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Seasons of Peace Corps
In celebration of completing one year as Peace Corps volunteers, we decided to write a tribute using the award-winning song, Seasons of Love, from the hit musical RENT. Seasons of Love illustrates the ways to measure a year, so we came up with the ways to measure a year in the life of a Peace Corps volunteer. Here goes:
Seasons of Peace Corps
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
How do you measure a Peace Corps year?
In earthquakes, in kittens, in dogbites, in cups of coffee
In projects, in coups, in friendships, in strife
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
How do you measure a year in the life?
(chorus)
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love.
Seasons of love.
Seasons of love.
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty five thousand bus trips to plan
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure the stress of another travel ban?
In books that she read
Or in hours they talked
In the classes he led
Or the miles that she walked
Its time now to sing out
though the story never ends
lets celebrate, remember a year
in the life of friends
(chorus)
And here were a few other ways to measure a year as a volunteer in Honduras that didn’t quite make the list.
How do you measure, measure a year?
…in clothing we’ve ruined
…in stool samples
…in cups of sugary coffee
…in sleepless nights
…in the veggies we’ve planted
…in the sugar cane that we’ve chewed
…in the lessons we’ve learned
…in laughter
…in friends that we’ve made
…in emails we’ve sent
…in Spanish vocab
…in new grammatical structures
…in stitches received
…in gum boots
…in lempiras spent
…in tropical depressions
…in letters received
…in cheap macrobrews
…in ant invasions
…in places we’ve visited
…in bananas we’ve eaten
…in the times we’ve played the bean game
…in the many uses of “echar”
…in machetes
…in jalones received
…in Peace Corps points
Seasons of Peace Corps
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
How do you measure a Peace Corps year?
In earthquakes, in kittens, in dogbites, in cups of coffee
In projects, in coups, in friendships, in strife
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
How do you measure a year in the life?
(chorus)
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love.
Seasons of love.
Seasons of love.
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty five thousand bus trips to plan
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure the stress of another travel ban?
In books that she read
Or in hours they talked
In the classes he led
Or the miles that she walked
Its time now to sing out
though the story never ends
lets celebrate, remember a year
in the life of friends
(chorus)
And here were a few other ways to measure a year as a volunteer in Honduras that didn’t quite make the list.
How do you measure, measure a year?
…in clothing we’ve ruined
…in stool samples
…in cups of sugary coffee
…in sleepless nights
…in the veggies we’ve planted
…in the sugar cane that we’ve chewed
…in the lessons we’ve learned
…in laughter
…in friends that we’ve made
…in emails we’ve sent
…in Spanish vocab
…in new grammatical structures
…in stitches received
…in gum boots
…in lempiras spent
…in tropical depressions
…in letters received
…in cheap macrobrews
…in ant invasions
…in places we’ve visited
…in bananas we’ve eaten
…in the times we’ve played the bean game
…in the many uses of “echar”
…in machetes
…in jalones received
…in Peace Corps points
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Seguir Adelante - A lesson in empathy
Time for your random bit of Spanish: "seguir adelante" generally means "to go on", "to continue forward" etc. and is used in the spirit of gathering oneself to continue with a difficult task. As we sit here in the office of the NGO with whom we sometimes work trying to update our laptop’s antivirus program with a 6.6 kB/sec connection, seguir adelante takes on an entirely new meaning. Trying to download a relatively small file is scheduled to take, oh, roughly the rest of our service with the Peace Corps. And think, we were hoping to get home before dark to prepare a nice meal (when you live near the equator, darkness always sets in at 6:00, which seems abysmally early in August)!
Aside from computer problems, the breadth and duration of which we won’t bore you with here, there have continued to be a number of challenges and problems throughout the country owing to the coup that happened about a month and a half ago. Seguir adelante. To varying degrees, most people are trying to continue with their normal lives. For our part, we feel like it’s not really possible for the country to return to normal right now in any real sense because, well, the president who is officially recognized by almost every political entity around the world that has shared an opinion on the subject has effectively been barred reentry to the country unless he’s willing to be arrested and put on trial upon breaching the border. Indeed, it´s quite a conundrum. Although we have our opinions on what’s going on in the country right now, what has happened, and what’s likely to happen, we recognize this is not the forum for such ideas. For the time being we’ll just say life seems to have a sense of suspended motion right now. However, one still has to go grocery shopping, wash the clothes, cut the grass, bathe (a greater chore than you may realize), and life’s not without it’s small pleasures, like reading “Donde está Spot” to our five year old neighbor for the umpteenth time or chasing our cat, Luz, who has grown by leaps and bounds and insists on trying to flee from our yard and stalk everything in sight. Seguir adelante.
Admittedly, volunteers amongst our Peace Corps group are handling this period of uncertainty in different ways. Some volunteers have internet access in their homes while others read by candlelight for lack of electricity in their communities. For many who don’t have good access to any form of news media (typically those without electricity), it’s probably fair to say that life is relatively normal. When one lives in the countryside, life’s not quite as subject to the ebbs and flows that accompany life "connected." We’re neither connected in the modern tech sense, nor are we in the countryside. As far as we can tell, most people in our neighborhood are trying to live their normal lives while also paying attention when one of those familiar radio jingles sounds in their homes, signaling the start of another news bulletin. We’re ready to get back to work, but we’re also guarded about the success we expect due to the undercurrent of political preoccupation that has stalled and altered our work in these last 6 weeks. Seguir adelante.
¿As for empathy? We’ve been in Honduras for well over a year and while we claim no expertise on any aspect of the culture, we have experienced enough life here, in normal and abnormal days alike, to have some sense for how the average Honduran views and approaches their life. Conservative Christian faith and prayer are foundational and indispensable for nearly all. We’ve entered innumerable hypothetical conversations on various topics with Honduran friends and neighbors, all of us throwing out suppositions and theories, to ultimately say “Solo Dios sabe/only God knows.” We say it to. When you live someplace with as many unpredictable and unsettling occurrences as Honduras – between late May and late June Honduras has experienced the largest earthquake in recorded Central American history and suffered the first definitive coup to hit the region in decades, not to mention the devastating tropical storm that ushered us in to our service 10 months ago – well, at the very least one begins to realize they are not the undisputed author of their own destiny. Al revés, to flip the idea on its head, when volunteers go home to the States, even in these troubling economic times, they return to a more stable country, one where relative safety and relative political and financial stability are not necessarily unreasonable expectations. Some may even fondly think of home as a Candy Land of sorts, chock full of good pizza, ice cream, modern movie theaters, a plethora of good restaurants, and all of those other perks many miss during their service.
In spite of the comforts awaiting volunteers at home, we again ask ¿can we be empathetic? In the midst of our stresses and frustrations, and yes, joys as well, as volunteers here in Honduras do we learn to empathize with the Honduran people, those with whom we live and work? Well, to an extent. But there’s a catch, and here it is: while we get to go home, of course, Hondurans are already home. As new volunteer groups come and go, Honduras will continue in a mood it’s quite familiar with, patient resilience. It’s not joy but has the hint of a smile (or is it a grin?) and instructs that one should be happy when possible and patient when not. For volunteers who finish their service tomorrow and those who’ve yet to arrive, that patient resilience is something to be understood, and perhaps even put into practice for a time, but rarely does it become a mandatory way of life. Patient resilience pulled things back together last fall in the midst of and after the devastating tropical depression. Patient resilience will be the centerpiece as the country reassesses and reassembles itself when the current political crisis comes to an end. Patient resilience, by the way, will have nothing to do with the politics and innumerable platitudes we hear leading up to the presidential elections, scheduled to take place in November (will they be boycotted in protest?) It listens, and waits, always observes, and knows that things will be “all right” in their own time. Seguir adelante.
Aside from computer problems, the breadth and duration of which we won’t bore you with here, there have continued to be a number of challenges and problems throughout the country owing to the coup that happened about a month and a half ago. Seguir adelante. To varying degrees, most people are trying to continue with their normal lives. For our part, we feel like it’s not really possible for the country to return to normal right now in any real sense because, well, the president who is officially recognized by almost every political entity around the world that has shared an opinion on the subject has effectively been barred reentry to the country unless he’s willing to be arrested and put on trial upon breaching the border. Indeed, it´s quite a conundrum. Although we have our opinions on what’s going on in the country right now, what has happened, and what’s likely to happen, we recognize this is not the forum for such ideas. For the time being we’ll just say life seems to have a sense of suspended motion right now. However, one still has to go grocery shopping, wash the clothes, cut the grass, bathe (a greater chore than you may realize), and life’s not without it’s small pleasures, like reading “Donde está Spot” to our five year old neighbor for the umpteenth time or chasing our cat, Luz, who has grown by leaps and bounds and insists on trying to flee from our yard and stalk everything in sight. Seguir adelante.
Admittedly, volunteers amongst our Peace Corps group are handling this period of uncertainty in different ways. Some volunteers have internet access in their homes while others read by candlelight for lack of electricity in their communities. For many who don’t have good access to any form of news media (typically those without electricity), it’s probably fair to say that life is relatively normal. When one lives in the countryside, life’s not quite as subject to the ebbs and flows that accompany life "connected." We’re neither connected in the modern tech sense, nor are we in the countryside. As far as we can tell, most people in our neighborhood are trying to live their normal lives while also paying attention when one of those familiar radio jingles sounds in their homes, signaling the start of another news bulletin. We’re ready to get back to work, but we’re also guarded about the success we expect due to the undercurrent of political preoccupation that has stalled and altered our work in these last 6 weeks. Seguir adelante.
¿As for empathy? We’ve been in Honduras for well over a year and while we claim no expertise on any aspect of the culture, we have experienced enough life here, in normal and abnormal days alike, to have some sense for how the average Honduran views and approaches their life. Conservative Christian faith and prayer are foundational and indispensable for nearly all. We’ve entered innumerable hypothetical conversations on various topics with Honduran friends and neighbors, all of us throwing out suppositions and theories, to ultimately say “Solo Dios sabe/only God knows.” We say it to. When you live someplace with as many unpredictable and unsettling occurrences as Honduras – between late May and late June Honduras has experienced the largest earthquake in recorded Central American history and suffered the first definitive coup to hit the region in decades, not to mention the devastating tropical storm that ushered us in to our service 10 months ago – well, at the very least one begins to realize they are not the undisputed author of their own destiny. Al revés, to flip the idea on its head, when volunteers go home to the States, even in these troubling economic times, they return to a more stable country, one where relative safety and relative political and financial stability are not necessarily unreasonable expectations. Some may even fondly think of home as a Candy Land of sorts, chock full of good pizza, ice cream, modern movie theaters, a plethora of good restaurants, and all of those other perks many miss during their service.
In spite of the comforts awaiting volunteers at home, we again ask ¿can we be empathetic? In the midst of our stresses and frustrations, and yes, joys as well, as volunteers here in Honduras do we learn to empathize with the Honduran people, those with whom we live and work? Well, to an extent. But there’s a catch, and here it is: while we get to go home, of course, Hondurans are already home. As new volunteer groups come and go, Honduras will continue in a mood it’s quite familiar with, patient resilience. It’s not joy but has the hint of a smile (or is it a grin?) and instructs that one should be happy when possible and patient when not. For volunteers who finish their service tomorrow and those who’ve yet to arrive, that patient resilience is something to be understood, and perhaps even put into practice for a time, but rarely does it become a mandatory way of life. Patient resilience pulled things back together last fall in the midst of and after the devastating tropical depression. Patient resilience will be the centerpiece as the country reassesses and reassembles itself when the current political crisis comes to an end. Patient resilience, by the way, will have nothing to do with the politics and innumerable platitudes we hear leading up to the presidential elections, scheduled to take place in November (will they be boycotted in protest?) It listens, and waits, always observes, and knows that things will be “all right” in their own time. Seguir adelante.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
We´re Just Fine
To anyone who´s following the situation in Honduras right now and may be concerned for Emily and I, we want to say that we´re doing just fine. As all of our work activities are indefinitely on hold we find ourselves eating more, gardening more, reading more, chatting more, and like anyone who´s following the situation, waiting for more news. Our personal recommnedation for reliable news surrounding this event would thus far be the BBC at bbc.co.uk All the best, and once we know anything more definitive about what the outcome of this situation is we may present our own objective synposis here.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Temblores, y gatos, y milpas, oh my!
Temblores, y gatos, y milpas, oh my!
It’s been an interesting period since we last posted around two months ago. Principally, we’ve been busy trying to start new projects and continuing with old projects. Regarding old projects first, Emily is still working at the comedor infantil helping prepare meals for young children in addition to her bi-weekly responsibilities as an English tutor. I am currently in a lull with the projects I’ve begun with my primary counterpart, which has allowed me to search for secondary projects of interest to me. Principally, along with Emily and neighborhood leaders, I am helping direct a family garden initiative in the neighborhood. Together we continue to volunteer an hour a week at the local kindergarten (reading stories, creating activities, etc.) in addition to the time we spend coaching a baseball team alongside one of our fellow Peace Corps volunteers in town. Concerning new projects, within the next two weeks we’ll begin working with a local high school teacher to implement a once-a-week class with her students focused on citizen responsibility and action. The class will be structured around an existing program called Project Citizen and we look forward to starting as, of course, there’s always a need for the development of competent and passionate public servants and citizens. If this list leads you to believe we’re quite busy, well, that wouldn’t be quite accurate. Like most volunteers we still have a great bit of downtime in which we read, occasionally watch a DVD, garden, or entertain ourselves with one of any number of silly harebrained schemes we create to have fun (remember the pila boat).
Well, I suppose we’ve left you in the dark long enough about the meaning of that jarbled title we’ve chosen for this blog. Temblor = earthquake, gato = cat, and milpa = cornfield. Within the past two weeks we’ve received an 8-week-old kitten, experienced a 7.1 earthquake, and planted a 15 square foot cornfield in our back yard. In its own strange way, each experience has been both intimidating and joyful. Now, for the explanation.
Temblores. To go in chronological order, on May 28th at approximately 2:30 a.m., I woke to a sensation of violent shaking, which initially I thought emanated from our roof due to the commotion our metal roof was making. Although highly uncommon, it’s not unprecedented for a thief to attempt to enter a home through the roof, but I quickly remembered that’s only possible with tile roofs, whose tiles can be removed to create room for a thief to slip through. Then it hit me. ¡Earthquake! “Em, wake up, we’re having an earthquake” I said hurriedly, not sure yet whether to be afraid. We jumped out of bed to wait out the last ten seconds of what we estimate to have been a forty five second earthquake. Then, as quickly as it had all began, the earthquake silently slipped away into the night as if it were a carnival attraction being powered down, our dollar apiece now exhausted. What next; cotton candy, anyone? As is common in the wake of an earthquake, our power went out. For the next half hour we waited anxiously in the dark for an aftershock, for the power to come back on, something to break the post-trauma silence settling on the city. I believe our neighbors felt the same as we heard and witnessed a few of them waiting in front of their homes, asking one another quietly, “¿Está bien?” “Are you alright?” People giggled, perhaps for the same reasons we did: surprise, relief, and a hesitant sense of joy. As luck would have it, the power came back on and we shortly returned to bed where we’d pass the rest of the night sleeping fitfully, with clothing and our headlamps at the ready beside our bed.
All things told we enjoyed the experience more than anything, which, of course, owes purely to circumstance. Our home could have crumbled, our power could have been severed for substantially longer, and our local roads could have buckled amidst a host of other severe problems. Some weren’t as lucky as us. Although the damage was remarkably low for an earthquake of that magnitude, partially due to the fact that the epicenter was North of Honduras in the Caribbean rather than on land, some people’s homes were damaged, in total 6 people lost their lives, and long term damage was done to infrastructure elsewhere in the country. I think our memory of the quake will be one of mixed emotions, true dichotomies in fact – there was the sense of excitement at feeling the otherwise serene earth wake and shake off it’s dust, accompanied by the realization of having escaped a potentially life threatening situation completely unscathed.
Gatos. Well, in fact, only one gato. And further more, it’s a she and she’s a kitten, which makes her a “gatita.” About two weeks ago we received a phone call from a fellow Peace Corps volunteer who had heard that we might be willing to adopt a kitten. Subsequently, about a week ago, we adopted Luz, which means “light” in Spanish. She had been named Lucy by her former owners, and though we had thought long and hard about a name for her – ranging from Hernando (Dan was set on the name and was disinclined to change even though it was a female cat) to Cilantro and everything in between – we still had not come to a consensus on her name. When we walked into the room to meet her for the first time, I said “Hi, Luce,” as a shortened version of Lucy, but it sounded like the Spanish word “luz.” Dan and I looked at each other and realized that we had finally found a name.
Milpa. Although we have been quite busy with different projects lately, we’ve been slowly preparing a 15x15 ft. plot of land in our backyard for planting corn. We received Sweet Corn seeds from Oregon, which we were finally able to plant last Sunday. Dan ingeniously made a fence of recycled plastic bread bags to keep the pollitos (chicks) out. As part of our project with family gardens, we wanted to experiment with different types of fencing because chicken wire is rather expensive. We planted over 200 seeds, so if all goes well we will probably be eating corn-on-the-cob, cornbread, corn soup, and anything else corn-related we could think of, as well as sharing with friends and neighbors.
It’s been an interesting period since we last posted around two months ago. Principally, we’ve been busy trying to start new projects and continuing with old projects. Regarding old projects first, Emily is still working at the comedor infantil helping prepare meals for young children in addition to her bi-weekly responsibilities as an English tutor. I am currently in a lull with the projects I’ve begun with my primary counterpart, which has allowed me to search for secondary projects of interest to me. Principally, along with Emily and neighborhood leaders, I am helping direct a family garden initiative in the neighborhood. Together we continue to volunteer an hour a week at the local kindergarten (reading stories, creating activities, etc.) in addition to the time we spend coaching a baseball team alongside one of our fellow Peace Corps volunteers in town. Concerning new projects, within the next two weeks we’ll begin working with a local high school teacher to implement a once-a-week class with her students focused on citizen responsibility and action. The class will be structured around an existing program called Project Citizen and we look forward to starting as, of course, there’s always a need for the development of competent and passionate public servants and citizens. If this list leads you to believe we’re quite busy, well, that wouldn’t be quite accurate. Like most volunteers we still have a great bit of downtime in which we read, occasionally watch a DVD, garden, or entertain ourselves with one of any number of silly harebrained schemes we create to have fun (remember the pila boat).
Well, I suppose we’ve left you in the dark long enough about the meaning of that jarbled title we’ve chosen for this blog. Temblor = earthquake, gato = cat, and milpa = cornfield. Within the past two weeks we’ve received an 8-week-old kitten, experienced a 7.1 earthquake, and planted a 15 square foot cornfield in our back yard. In its own strange way, each experience has been both intimidating and joyful. Now, for the explanation.
Temblores. To go in chronological order, on May 28th at approximately 2:30 a.m., I woke to a sensation of violent shaking, which initially I thought emanated from our roof due to the commotion our metal roof was making. Although highly uncommon, it’s not unprecedented for a thief to attempt to enter a home through the roof, but I quickly remembered that’s only possible with tile roofs, whose tiles can be removed to create room for a thief to slip through. Then it hit me. ¡Earthquake! “Em, wake up, we’re having an earthquake” I said hurriedly, not sure yet whether to be afraid. We jumped out of bed to wait out the last ten seconds of what we estimate to have been a forty five second earthquake. Then, as quickly as it had all began, the earthquake silently slipped away into the night as if it were a carnival attraction being powered down, our dollar apiece now exhausted. What next; cotton candy, anyone? As is common in the wake of an earthquake, our power went out. For the next half hour we waited anxiously in the dark for an aftershock, for the power to come back on, something to break the post-trauma silence settling on the city. I believe our neighbors felt the same as we heard and witnessed a few of them waiting in front of their homes, asking one another quietly, “¿Está bien?” “Are you alright?” People giggled, perhaps for the same reasons we did: surprise, relief, and a hesitant sense of joy. As luck would have it, the power came back on and we shortly returned to bed where we’d pass the rest of the night sleeping fitfully, with clothing and our headlamps at the ready beside our bed.
All things told we enjoyed the experience more than anything, which, of course, owes purely to circumstance. Our home could have crumbled, our power could have been severed for substantially longer, and our local roads could have buckled amidst a host of other severe problems. Some weren’t as lucky as us. Although the damage was remarkably low for an earthquake of that magnitude, partially due to the fact that the epicenter was North of Honduras in the Caribbean rather than on land, some people’s homes were damaged, in total 6 people lost their lives, and long term damage was done to infrastructure elsewhere in the country. I think our memory of the quake will be one of mixed emotions, true dichotomies in fact – there was the sense of excitement at feeling the otherwise serene earth wake and shake off it’s dust, accompanied by the realization of having escaped a potentially life threatening situation completely unscathed.
Gatos. Well, in fact, only one gato. And further more, it’s a she and she’s a kitten, which makes her a “gatita.” About two weeks ago we received a phone call from a fellow Peace Corps volunteer who had heard that we might be willing to adopt a kitten. Subsequently, about a week ago, we adopted Luz, which means “light” in Spanish. She had been named Lucy by her former owners, and though we had thought long and hard about a name for her – ranging from Hernando (Dan was set on the name and was disinclined to change even though it was a female cat) to Cilantro and everything in between – we still had not come to a consensus on her name. When we walked into the room to meet her for the first time, I said “Hi, Luce,” as a shortened version of Lucy, but it sounded like the Spanish word “luz.” Dan and I looked at each other and realized that we had finally found a name.
Em and Luz enjoying en evening together in the hammock while reading Jane Austen´s Emma
Luz is a tabby and is very energetic, as most kittens are. We are really enjoying having her around the house, though she requires a lot of attention. She often tries to perch on our shoulders at mealtimes to put herself between our food and our mouths. If we are cleaning up the house, she likes to sit upon the shoulder of the person who is washing dishes or sweeping the floor. Often she mews while up there, looking very much like a supervisor critiquing the work of her subordinate. As we sit here writing this, we are also reminded of all of the loose threads on our clothing, loose shoelaces, unplugged cords, crumbs, clothing tossed casually on the backs of chairs, fallen leaves from our indoor plants, and un-stored plastic bags, amongst other things – in short, a majority of our home that previously seemed cozy, if a bit messy, that has now proven to be anything but “kitten proof”. Even though she can be a bit demanding, it’s all worth it when she’s peacefully asleep on our laps while we’re curled up in the hammock with a good book.
How Sweet it is to Be Loved by You!
Milpa. Although we have been quite busy with different projects lately, we’ve been slowly preparing a 15x15 ft. plot of land in our backyard for planting corn. We received Sweet Corn seeds from Oregon, which we were finally able to plant last Sunday. Dan ingeniously made a fence of recycled plastic bread bags to keep the pollitos (chicks) out. As part of our project with family gardens, we wanted to experiment with different types of fencing because chicken wire is rather expensive. We planted over 200 seeds, so if all goes well we will probably be eating corn-on-the-cob, cornbread, corn soup, and anything else corn-related we could think of, as well as sharing with friends and neighbors.
How we Recycle around Here
So there you have it: Temblores, y gatos, y milpas, oh my! We have been quite busy the past couple of months and imagine that you have been as well. We hope that you are well and would love to hear what you are up to (and if you have any corn-related recipes, they would be greatly appreciated).
Leaving a Friend´s Site Early one Morning near Choluteca we Snapped This Photo
*As travel writers, albeit fledglings at best, we owe it to our audience to be as accurate as possible with our facts. In our last blog “Transcendence” we made a mistake. The Casa de Cultura (Cultural House) did not disappear in the blaze. However, the museum is indeed gone. Additionally, we mistakenly said that several items from the country´s "héroes" had dissappeared in the blaze. While it´s quite possible that the museum housed such items, what we intended to write was that the blaze consumed important documents from the lives of some of the country´s "próceres", the ideological warriors whom we know were enshrined in the museum.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Eat Your Heart Out Hoover and Oreck; You Can´t Touch These Carpets
The Cathedral in Comayagua where a bunch of Peace Corps volunteers stood around and looked lost.
The oldest clock in the Americas located in the tower of the Cathedral
Bags of colored sawdust in preparation for the big day
For some of the bigger alfombras, the process started around 10pm on Holy Thursday and lasted until the carpets were destroyed by the procession on Good Friday. Here they´re laying a foundation of plain sawdust before starting the layers of colored sawdust.
Here´s an example of an alfombra up close. Each group had their own technique for making their sawdust smooth, but to do the designes, everyone used homemade stencils made of cardboard. Some families have been making alfombras for decades and make a different one each year.
One of the smaller alfombras about the cultural aspects of Comayagua
This is a good example of the scale of many of the larger alfombras
Although traditionally the alfombras are made of sawdust, some include rice, dried beans, grains, leaves, pine needles, and whatever else the designers think up
Here is the full scale example of the one using non-traditional materials
A great deal of planning has to go into the process since those making them have to start in the middle and work their way out.
After the processionTranscendence
Comayagua, Honduras. The one time head of government in Honduras and the eternal seat of Honduran culture, Comayagua is, culturally speaking, the heart of the country during Semana Santa, Holy Week. Of course, across the North coast of the country exist a plethora of beaches and resorts, both of which are popular choices for many during Semana Santa. Yet, for some good ol’ fashioned cultural, ecumenical fun, Comayagua’s the choice.
The cathedral and numerous colonial era churches found there are starkly beautiful in their scorching desert ambience, surrounded in the distance by imposing mountains that have yet to be broached by the city limits, and within the city, by shade providing tropical trees. Witnessing the hordes of churchgoers during Semana Santa is a reminder that Honduras is most definitely not a secular nation. Whether Catholic or Evangelical, the vast majority of people are Christians, many of whom consider it a life long ritual to entirely set aside their ordinary lives in remembrance of Jesus during Semana Santa.
Along with thousands of Hondurans, foreign tourists, and expatriates we observed and took part in many of the rich traditions Comayagua is so well known for. From attending an evening church service in the cathedral to touring Comayagua’s colonial museum and house of culture, known for artifacts of not only local but also national and international interest, to viewing the world famous alfombras, or carpets, that are artfully and painstakingly created on the city’s streets, we saw a great deal and, to be humble and honest, left a great deal unseen as well. We felt as if we were discovering something new, and yet transcendent, as we visited the museum and house of culture and viewed the alfombras being built (a process that lasts some 12 hours). The irony of our trip was that what we experienced as new and transcendent (so much timeless culture expressed with such potency, beauty, and precision) was soon to disappear, forever.
Every year the procession of Christ carrying the cross travels through the heart of the colonial capital, tramples and quickly destroys the several dozen ornately decorated carpets, which are displayed on temporarily blocked off streets throughout downtown. We knew to expect the destruction of the carpets, which are made of multicolored sawdust and tediously arranged on the processional route because, after all, they are delicate and made to be unmade. What no one expected was the disappearance of the museum and house of culture, which went up in flames only a few days ago, less than a week after we stood there, marveling at wooden masks, colonial era priestly garb, priceless jewelry, and precious documents from the lives of Honduras’ heroes. As an interesting aside, the word “héroe” (hero) is only used with reference to those who have physically fought on behalf of the nation. There is another word, commonly used and clearly distinct from héroe, used for the nations ideological and intellectual warriors, “prócer”. No one yet knows what caused the blaze but it’s plausible that the 100 + temperatures that have hovered over Comayagua recently caused a gas tank explosion. There’s also talk of an electrical fire.
We may never know what started the blaze, and I’m not sure it much matters. What we do know is that all that is transcendent, that quality we so appreciate about the many intangible beauties wrapped up in culture, for instance, is never truly encapsulated in what we can touch, but rather must be remembered by and enshrined in our senses. As we watched Christ bearing his cross through the streets – albeit a highly fantastical plastic Christ – little did we know how well that great life, ended over 2,000 years ago now, would so potently remind us of the present.
Artifacts are but stubborn things (albeit, artfully and painstakingly created beautiful things of historic value) that have yet to hand over the reigns to eternity. In a sense we mourn with the city of Comayagua – it lost a great deal in that fire. We also recognize that if a plastic figurine can duly remind us of the life of Christ, lived and terminated in a time so long ago that human civilization had better philosophized about what heaven consisted of than it had understood the basic shape of the earth, whatever was great about what was burnt in Comayagua will not disappear, but rather must take a new form. We left the city on the eve of the creation of transcendence.
The cathedral and numerous colonial era churches found there are starkly beautiful in their scorching desert ambience, surrounded in the distance by imposing mountains that have yet to be broached by the city limits, and within the city, by shade providing tropical trees. Witnessing the hordes of churchgoers during Semana Santa is a reminder that Honduras is most definitely not a secular nation. Whether Catholic or Evangelical, the vast majority of people are Christians, many of whom consider it a life long ritual to entirely set aside their ordinary lives in remembrance of Jesus during Semana Santa.
Along with thousands of Hondurans, foreign tourists, and expatriates we observed and took part in many of the rich traditions Comayagua is so well known for. From attending an evening church service in the cathedral to touring Comayagua’s colonial museum and house of culture, known for artifacts of not only local but also national and international interest, to viewing the world famous alfombras, or carpets, that are artfully and painstakingly created on the city’s streets, we saw a great deal and, to be humble and honest, left a great deal unseen as well. We felt as if we were discovering something new, and yet transcendent, as we visited the museum and house of culture and viewed the alfombras being built (a process that lasts some 12 hours). The irony of our trip was that what we experienced as new and transcendent (so much timeless culture expressed with such potency, beauty, and precision) was soon to disappear, forever.
Every year the procession of Christ carrying the cross travels through the heart of the colonial capital, tramples and quickly destroys the several dozen ornately decorated carpets, which are displayed on temporarily blocked off streets throughout downtown. We knew to expect the destruction of the carpets, which are made of multicolored sawdust and tediously arranged on the processional route because, after all, they are delicate and made to be unmade. What no one expected was the disappearance of the museum and house of culture, which went up in flames only a few days ago, less than a week after we stood there, marveling at wooden masks, colonial era priestly garb, priceless jewelry, and precious documents from the lives of Honduras’ heroes. As an interesting aside, the word “héroe” (hero) is only used with reference to those who have physically fought on behalf of the nation. There is another word, commonly used and clearly distinct from héroe, used for the nations ideological and intellectual warriors, “prócer”. No one yet knows what caused the blaze but it’s plausible that the 100 + temperatures that have hovered over Comayagua recently caused a gas tank explosion. There’s also talk of an electrical fire.
We may never know what started the blaze, and I’m not sure it much matters. What we do know is that all that is transcendent, that quality we so appreciate about the many intangible beauties wrapped up in culture, for instance, is never truly encapsulated in what we can touch, but rather must be remembered by and enshrined in our senses. As we watched Christ bearing his cross through the streets – albeit a highly fantastical plastic Christ – little did we know how well that great life, ended over 2,000 years ago now, would so potently remind us of the present.
Artifacts are but stubborn things (albeit, artfully and painstakingly created beautiful things of historic value) that have yet to hand over the reigns to eternity. In a sense we mourn with the city of Comayagua – it lost a great deal in that fire. We also recognize that if a plastic figurine can duly remind us of the life of Christ, lived and terminated in a time so long ago that human civilization had better philosophized about what heaven consisted of than it had understood the basic shape of the earth, whatever was great about what was burnt in Comayagua will not disappear, but rather must take a new form. We left the city on the eve of the creation of transcendence.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Field Trip!
On Thursday, we had some special visitors to our house...approximately 60 kindergarteners! Dan and I have started going to the nearby kindergarten, which is about 2 ½ blocks away from our house, one day each week to teach a little something (eg. how to brush their teeth, wash their hands, etc.) We received a syllabus from the teachers there, so we can contribute to the themes they are already learning about. For the first class – which Dan couldn’t go to because of a Peace Corps training – I read Buenas Noches, Luna, the Spanish version of the beloved classic, Good Night, Moon, because the kids were learning about how to greet people.
The kiddos huddled around the garden
Our second class, we led a field trip to our house to show them our vegetable garden and compost pile. After leading the children up the street and into our yard, which felt eerily like being the Pied Piper, we had the children gather around our small chicken wire fence, which encloses the garden, to learn about growing produce. We identified the rows of fruits and veggies – cucumber, lettuce, tomato, spinach, artichoke (which they had never heard of, and which is not growing particularly well), carrot, and watermelon. We explained the purpose of the fence around the garden by pointing to the chicks that were tromping around our yard. We also discussed the growth of each plant and why we believed some were growing better than others (for example, the lettuce has thrived in this climate, but the watermelon does not receive enough sun).
Cucumber on the left and lettuce on the right (salad, anyone?)Then we walked over to the compost pile, and when Dan asked the children what they saw, they responded “¡Basura!” or “Garbage!” The eggshells, fruit peelings, cow manure, and leaves did indeed look like a pile of garbage, but we tried to explain why those particular items were there. After talking for a while about “plant food,” Dan finished up the lesson by pointing out the skeletal shells of what had formerly been locusts, which appeared on some of our trees a week or so ago. The children were delighted by the delicate, translucent, insect forms, and we were soon surrounded by the outstretched hands of children – the girls were as excited as the boys – hoping to receive one of the precious gifts.
Think cliff hanger, only on a smaller scale and confined to the insect world
Of course, kindergarteners are still too young to be starting their own vegetable garden, but we wanted to show them that even within the city limits, healthy fruits and veggies can be grown, and maybe they will be inspired to have a garden of their own some day. As far as the compost pile goes, in a country where most people burn their trash – most places don’t have garbage pickup, and those that do have their garbage burned by the local government (Siguatepeque’s trash is burned outside of the city, overlooking a watershed) – any time we can provide people an alternative use for some of their trash, we seize the opportunity.
Friday, March 20, 2009
¡El Día de San Patricio! (St. Paddy’s Day!)
In honor of the Emerald Isle, we decided to invite some friends over for a traditional St. Paddy’s Day dinner. Once the invitations were out and we had a rough idea of how many would be coming, the next step was to try to track down the necessary ingredients. Dan, in his infinite wisdom, managed to chip a tooth – not to worry, it didn’t hurt – by chewing on sugar cane, warranting a trip to the dentist in Tegucigalpa. I decided to accompany him, and while Dan had his tooth worked on, I embarked on an epic search for corned beef and Irish whiskey. Much to my dismay, while there were infinite options of Scotch Whiskey and at least one Tennessee Whiskey, there was no Irish whiskey to be found. I did find Carolan’s Irish Cream – a product of Ireland, no less – which would serve for Irish coffee. My search for corned beef was equally disappointing as the only corned beef to be found was in a SPAM-shaped can and a product of Brazil (and also far more expensive than I was willing to spend on such a product)! We decided not to take our chances with the canned variety and to go with plan B: an Irish beef stew.
After being thwarted by the grocery stores of Teguc, we returned to Siguatepeque to prepare for the dinner. Since our guests were traveling from far and wide, some of them came in on Friday for the festivities on Saturday. We dined at the best restaurant Siguat has to offer: Pizzeria Venezia, which is owned by an Italian family and is a true sight for sore eyes for volunteers from smaller sites. Saturday morning, the Siguatepeque baseball team had a game, so Dan fulfilled his coaching duties, Erik, a visiting friend from the South, umpped, and the rest of our guests were able to watch the glory and splendor that is little-league baseball, Honduran style (Siguatepeque won both games, by the way).
The menu for the evening was as follows:
Appetizers:
Green M&Ms (peanut and regular)
Lime and Chili Almonds
Key Lime Bars
Guacamole and Chips (going with the green theme)
Dinner:
Colcannon (traditional mashed potatoes with cabbage)
Irish Soda Bread
Irish Beef Stew
Dessert:
Irish Bread Pudding
Irish Coffee
After being thwarted by the grocery stores of Teguc, we returned to Siguatepeque to prepare for the dinner. Since our guests were traveling from far and wide, some of them came in on Friday for the festivities on Saturday. We dined at the best restaurant Siguat has to offer: Pizzeria Venezia, which is owned by an Italian family and is a true sight for sore eyes for volunteers from smaller sites. Saturday morning, the Siguatepeque baseball team had a game, so Dan fulfilled his coaching duties, Erik, a visiting friend from the South, umpped, and the rest of our guests were able to watch the glory and splendor that is little-league baseball, Honduran style (Siguatepeque won both games, by the way).
The menu for the evening was as follows:
Appetizers:
Green M&Ms (peanut and regular)
Lime and Chili Almonds
Key Lime Bars
Guacamole and Chips (going with the green theme)
Dinner:
Colcannon (traditional mashed potatoes with cabbage)
Irish Soda Bread
Irish Beef Stew
Dessert:
Irish Bread Pudding
Irish Coffee
Table decorations and appetizers, thanks to Mary Casey
Everyone enjoying the food wherever there was room (Right to left: Emily, Mark, Nathan, Daniel, Erik, Lauren, Not pictured: Jessica, Ana, David)
Emily eating in the hammock
We had a fun evening of good food, great company, and plenty of toasting the Irish. Our guests even tolerated a couple of my Irish jokes. It was a fun cultural exchange of a different sort (normally we are learning about Honduran culture and foods) in which I got to explain that the big X on the soda bread comes from the tradition of blessing the bread and everyone discovered how wonderfully potatoes and cabbage go together in Colcannon. David, one of our site mates, even came in a kilt, so what more could we ask for?! We hope you had a wonderful St. Paddy’s Day, wherever you were and that you drank a Guinness for us (we were stuck with one of the Honduran macro-brews). Thanks for all the emails and letters; please keep them coming. And as said in Ireland, Erin Go Braugh!
P.S. We have long been thinking that what our pila needed most was a boat, but it was not until the arrival of the little Irish flags that my mom sent that Dan started making the worthy craft. With some duck lips from the Kellers at the stern, the Irish flag at the helm, and a halved bottle of shampoo as the hull, a more fearsome ship there never was! So here is a picture of the first launch of the most dreaded ship on the high seas, La Pata Irlandesa or The Irish Duck.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
The Thrill of White Water
The Thrill of White Water
If you were expecting a post about rafting, or for that matter, anything related to water sports, apologies. Shortly after our last post we headed out for a week to construct latrines with a group of volunteers from the United States, most of whom hailed from a church group in the Seattle area. They were definitely a fun group to be with for the week we spent together, and we hope that we were both fun and functional for them, as work partners and in our primary role as translators. For any of you who are map-readers, find the town of Minas de Oro (Gold Mines) in the middle of Honduras, and then head northwest. Contingent upon how detailed a map you’re using, you may or may not see the small community of Agua Blanca. Agua Blanca means White Water in English, but in this case refers to the one time color of the community´s water as opposed to rafts, adrenaline sports, etc. For those of you who aren’t map-readers, find the country of Honduras, located in the middle of Central America, and focus on an arbitrary point in the middle of the country – that should do the trick.
Agua Blanca, a small, picturesque community in the central highlands of the country was our home for a week, during which our group collaborated with community members to construct 36 latrines for the homes that most needed them. For a majority of us this was to be our first foray into latrine construction, and suffice it to say that the week began slowly as our group and the local volunteers and beneficiaries of the project took time to successfully begin their collaboration. In large part due to the language barrier it was difficult for the two groups to quickly and spontaneously communicate with each other, despite Emily and my best efforts as translators. Regardless, the two groups made headway together bit by bit, using a combination of translation, newly acquired Spanish and English vocab, and good old fashioned gestures – after all, it’s not too tough to mimic the motion of hammering – and by the end of our second day of work, even the most fit and strongest of the group were showing a few signs of fatigue. As I expect most who read this can understand, it’s tough to maneuver shovels full of sand and cement, swing hammers, saw rebar and wood, and all beneath a sun than can definitively, albeit temporarily, change one’s complexion in a matter of only a couple hours.
If you were expecting a post about rafting, or for that matter, anything related to water sports, apologies. Shortly after our last post we headed out for a week to construct latrines with a group of volunteers from the United States, most of whom hailed from a church group in the Seattle area. They were definitely a fun group to be with for the week we spent together, and we hope that we were both fun and functional for them, as work partners and in our primary role as translators. For any of you who are map-readers, find the town of Minas de Oro (Gold Mines) in the middle of Honduras, and then head northwest. Contingent upon how detailed a map you’re using, you may or may not see the small community of Agua Blanca. Agua Blanca means White Water in English, but in this case refers to the one time color of the community´s water as opposed to rafts, adrenaline sports, etc. For those of you who aren’t map-readers, find the country of Honduras, located in the middle of Central America, and focus on an arbitrary point in the middle of the country – that should do the trick.
Agua Blanca, a small, picturesque community in the central highlands of the country was our home for a week, during which our group collaborated with community members to construct 36 latrines for the homes that most needed them. For a majority of us this was to be our first foray into latrine construction, and suffice it to say that the week began slowly as our group and the local volunteers and beneficiaries of the project took time to successfully begin their collaboration. In large part due to the language barrier it was difficult for the two groups to quickly and spontaneously communicate with each other, despite Emily and my best efforts as translators. Regardless, the two groups made headway together bit by bit, using a combination of translation, newly acquired Spanish and English vocab, and good old fashioned gestures – after all, it’s not too tough to mimic the motion of hammering – and by the end of our second day of work, even the most fit and strongest of the group were showing a few signs of fatigue. As I expect most who read this can understand, it’s tough to maneuver shovels full of sand and cement, swing hammers, saw rebar and wood, and all beneath a sun than can definitively, albeit temporarily, change one’s complexion in a matter of only a couple hours.
When mixing cement, make a volcano, fill it
with water, cave in the sides, repeat
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the process of constructing a latrine, we’ll give you a brief description. The families that were to receive latrines were required to have their holes dug before we arrived. The holes needed to be at least 8 feet deep and were roughly 3 feet in diameter, all of which were dug by hand, some of which in particularly rocky terrain. The first step for us was to tapar, or cover, the hole with cement. In order to do so, we placed boards over the hole, placed formwork around the boards, and filled the formwork with rocks and rebar. Two small holes were left in the formwork. The first hole was intended to allow a tube to be connected between the outhouse and the collection hole. Another smaller hole was left in one of the centermost boards to leave space for the tube that we would vertically insert into the hole to serve as an air vent for the collection hole, helping to vent the methane and thereby prevent any accidental bomb construction. Then the cement was mixed by hand – an intricate process needing both finesse and brute strength – and poured into the formwork, covering the rebar and stones.
Formwork, equipped with rebar, and soon, stones
The following day, the outhouses were put up. While some volunteers were tapando the holes, others were putting together the metal siding of the outhouses. Once finished, the outhouses were transported to individual homes, where we were in charge of getting them set up. The most difficult part of this process was attempting to get the outhouses level, a challenge that was complicated by the fact that many of the outhouses themselves were not level (which can be attributed to some minor damages they suffered during the transportation process, as opposed to poor construction). Once an outhouse was finally level, concrete was poured into wooden formwork, identical to that described in the previous paragraph, that surrounded the outhouse, thereby creating a foundation for it. Finally, a third and much smaller form was placed on the newly poured foundation of the outhouse, filled with rocks and rebar, equipped with a "throne" and subsequently filled with cement. Finally, a large PVC tube was connected between the toilet bowl and the hole that was previously left in the concrete slab which sits atop the collection hole. These latrines are gravity fed, and therefore, after use, one can simply pour water into the bowl itself and the toilet will “flush” downhill to the hole.
The final product, in all of its splendor
In addition to constructing latrines, an interesting and challenging process that arguably was as much fun as it was work, the time we spent in Agua Blanca was culturally quite memorable. For Emily and I, as volunteers who regularly split our time between urban and rural environments, many of our experiences in Agua Blanca were new, but not surprisingly new as was the case for many volunteers from our group. For instance, seeing some of the depraved living conditions that are so common throughout Honduras no longer elicits a strong response from us, even though we’re here as committed and empathetic volunteers; “Asi es, es la vida,” as one learns to say.
Although we’re accustomed to seeing certain forms of depravity and hardship, even we were taken off guard by a few circumstances, such as the following. A large cow was somehow separated from its herd and, with caballero and a pack of street dogs in toe, it wove its way through the streets, visibly confused and frightened. Needless to say, the group of 15 or so dogs wasn’t some sort of excessively large super herding crew; rather, it was a pack of rather vicious street dogs that was quickly learning to follow it’s ancestral instincts (The Call of the Wild, anyone). Although the dogs didn’t kill the cow, nor, in truth, did they really come close, they did manage to severely lacerate the cow’s ears, and had the caballero not been there to scare the dogs away, the cow may have succumb to an Animal Planet worthy hunt.
The lengthy scene that followed, on the order of a couple hours, consisted in the caballeros, three in total by now, employing various means of abusing and frightening the cow so as to wake it from its nearly catatonic fear induced state owing to the dog attack. As strange as it may sound, we deliberately chose not to intervene and suggest a more humanitarian approach to moving the cow – simply said, it was not our place. You will be happy to know, however, that the caballeros eventually found their own less violent solution to the problem by bringing down the entire herd to where they’d tied up the cow and then leading the herd back to the corral, giving the frightened cow that precious sensation of strength in numbers.
In the same breath as highlighting one of the all too common incidents of animal cruelty we’ve seen in Honduras, if we claim to be discussing Honduran culture with regard to our time in Agua Blanca, we must also acknowledge how well we were fed, housed and otherwise received by the community. The group was always greeted kindly by community members, from the youngest schoolchildren to the elders. On a few seperate occassions we were also treated to beautiful impromptu musical performances by singing children and guitar and accordion playing adults. The backdrop to all of the other wonderful forms of hospitality was our food. Every day, three times a day, we sat perched in our standard fare plastic chairs, in dirty clothing, overlooking a breathtaking view and eating like the queens and kings of latrines that we were. We were happy in one another’s company, sharing a new experience and living in the parallel worlds of giving and receiving, worlds that to Emily and I seem distinct yet irrevocably connected in our everyday lives as volunteers.
La Buena Vista - The Beautiful View
Saturday, February 21, 2009
A Bit of Elbow Grease
Now that we’ve been in Honduras more than seven months, there are some things that had once seemed strange to us and are now part of the daily routine. For example:
Washing Machine
Lawn Mower
Hot Water Heater
Our “washing machine” is called a pila and it holds gallons and gallons of water that are used for more than just washing clothing. We are fortunate enough to have water every day, but we only have it for a few hours each day. Therefore, when we don’t have running water, we use our pila water to wash dishes, flush our toilet, water our plants, bathe, clean the floors, and anything else one might use water for. For those who have never flushed their toilet with anything other than that convenient lever, you can do it by pouring about a liter of water all at once straight down the hole. Due to some sort of miracle of physics, you can flush the toilet that way.
Our “lawn mower” is one of us – in this case, Dan – with a machete. Cutting grass and weeds with a machete is much more labor intensive than using the old-fashioned push-mower that I grew up using. You have to bend your knees to get as close to the ground as possible so that your machete hits the grass at the right angle. It takes numerous swipes from different directions, because some of the grass will lay flat when hit by the machete (kind of like shaving when you’re days overdo).
Our “hot water heater” is, indeed, a large pot on a one-burner stove. Whenever one of us would like to take a warm bucket bath, we heat pila water for 15-20 minutes, pour it into a metal tub we have in our shower and then add cold water until the water reaches the right temperature. Then we use a little paila (plastic bowl like the one sitting on the pila in the picture) to pour warm water on ourselves before soaping up. It’s a much longer process than simply turning a tap and hopping into the shower, but it produces similar results.
Recycling has also taken on a new meaning for us since there are no lovely green bins to put soup cans and pop bottles into to be picked up on Thursday mornings. An example of this is that our watering can is a recycled 3 liter pop bottle with holes cut in the top (as the saying goes: Necessity is the mother of invention). To water our plants, we simply fill it ¾ of the way up, put the cap on, and turn it upside down. We are also saving up soup cans to bake banana bread in (which should work, according to the Oregonian Food Day article my mom sent) so that we can share with our neighbors who are always giving us fruit, tamales, and tortillas to try.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
¡Bamanos Pues!
¡Bamanos Pues!
By a quirk of the Spanish language we’re able to bring you the aforementioned word play. For the non-Spanish speakers in the audience, the phrase “¡Vamanos pues!” usually translates to something like “Let’s go, then!” Alright, so here’s the quirk; B and V are very often indistinguishable in spoken Spanish, and depending on where you find yourself, they are often used interchangeably in written Spanish as well. So, please join us for an enthusiastic “¡Bamanos pues!” Why? Well, of course, for our new president. Not to digress too extensively from the purpose of this blog, which is a nearly unyielding focus on all things “us”, but we must say that as the ambassadors of sorts we are as PC volunteers, it is so very refreshing to have a president who both appreciates the art of diplomacy and promises to practice it, consistently and skillfully. The promise of Obama as a skilled statesman, albeit almost entirely untested as yet, has spread to the far reaches. Anecdotally, Obama is mentioned in the political conversations we hear here as often as Honduran and other Latin American politicians. Also, due to our relative similarity of stature and skin tone, one of my co-workers has fondly taken to calling me Obama and jokingly quizzing me about policies as one would the president. All word play, anecdotes and jest aside, we are decidedly happy to have this man in the office of president.
Alright, back to Honduras. We’re doing quite well, between settling into our new home and looking forward to new work opportunities. Regarding our home, as previously written, we’re completely moved in, new paint and all. Our remaining focus is on tearing apart a defunct earthen oven that was left in our back yard (it was approximately one cubic meter), continuing to grow our compost pile, and planting our garden.
Gardening has been entertaining in unexpected ways. It would seem that our back yard was previously employed as a makeshift dump. In addition to the half dozen hours we’ve devoted to picking up bits and pieces of trash, the process of preparing our 10 ft. X 10 ft. garden plot has been an amateur archaeologist’s dream. We’ve already uncovered in the ballpark of 20 fragments from a shattered plate, shards of glass, batteries (corroded beyond the influence of Coca-Cola), warped fragments of rusted metal, spent bottles of nail polish, and old clay roof tiles, amongst other items. Keeping with the theme of amateur archaeology, these “precious finds” have certainly kept us amused, and may for a while yet if we decide to reemploy the plate fragments as our newest puzzle set; we’ll see. Although the majority of our fun has come from digging, while preparing the topsoil of our garden Emily has also been nipped by one our neighbor’s chicks (yep, small, fuzzy, yellow, and equipped with a beak), who was visiting to feast on the earthworms we uncovered. Perhaps most surprising of all, today Emily mistook a young tarantula for a clump of dirt. Fortunately it began moving before she could move it!
As a parting thought, we’ll leave you with a short poem, intended both to redeem myself (Dan) after my last endeavor and more importantly, to give a taste for some of the simple things we appreciate about our experience thus far. All the best and please stay in touch!
I am a young experience in the happening and an eager memory in the making
I am the rooster’s crowing through day and night, I am the midnight dogfight whose bark foretells its bite
I am a full night sky with very small stars, whose brilliance teach that Earth is only one very small world; one very big very small world that can’t impress the universe and that can’t help but fascinate her stewards
I am the clever paradox of a pure, clean, dirty, dusty road
I am the wandering calf, colt, and chirping chick, constant reminders of and constantly reminded of the perennial necessity to venture forth and in so doing learn the meaning of exploration
I, too, am the please go away bludgeoning torrential rain and the please come again subtle morning mist
I am the constant sense of sensitivity in our tin roof, creaking under sun energy, crackling in the rain
I am a young experience in the happening and an eager memory in the making in one very big very small world, and I am t h a n k f u l for the complexities I’m learning to see in such a simple life
By a quirk of the Spanish language we’re able to bring you the aforementioned word play. For the non-Spanish speakers in the audience, the phrase “¡Vamanos pues!” usually translates to something like “Let’s go, then!” Alright, so here’s the quirk; B and V are very often indistinguishable in spoken Spanish, and depending on where you find yourself, they are often used interchangeably in written Spanish as well. So, please join us for an enthusiastic “¡Bamanos pues!” Why? Well, of course, for our new president. Not to digress too extensively from the purpose of this blog, which is a nearly unyielding focus on all things “us”, but we must say that as the ambassadors of sorts we are as PC volunteers, it is so very refreshing to have a president who both appreciates the art of diplomacy and promises to practice it, consistently and skillfully. The promise of Obama as a skilled statesman, albeit almost entirely untested as yet, has spread to the far reaches. Anecdotally, Obama is mentioned in the political conversations we hear here as often as Honduran and other Latin American politicians. Also, due to our relative similarity of stature and skin tone, one of my co-workers has fondly taken to calling me Obama and jokingly quizzing me about policies as one would the president. All word play, anecdotes and jest aside, we are decidedly happy to have this man in the office of president.
Alright, back to Honduras. We’re doing quite well, between settling into our new home and looking forward to new work opportunities. Regarding our home, as previously written, we’re completely moved in, new paint and all. Our remaining focus is on tearing apart a defunct earthen oven that was left in our back yard (it was approximately one cubic meter), continuing to grow our compost pile, and planting our garden.
Gardening has been entertaining in unexpected ways. It would seem that our back yard was previously employed as a makeshift dump. In addition to the half dozen hours we’ve devoted to picking up bits and pieces of trash, the process of preparing our 10 ft. X 10 ft. garden plot has been an amateur archaeologist’s dream. We’ve already uncovered in the ballpark of 20 fragments from a shattered plate, shards of glass, batteries (corroded beyond the influence of Coca-Cola), warped fragments of rusted metal, spent bottles of nail polish, and old clay roof tiles, amongst other items. Keeping with the theme of amateur archaeology, these “precious finds” have certainly kept us amused, and may for a while yet if we decide to reemploy the plate fragments as our newest puzzle set; we’ll see. Although the majority of our fun has come from digging, while preparing the topsoil of our garden Emily has also been nipped by one our neighbor’s chicks (yep, small, fuzzy, yellow, and equipped with a beak), who was visiting to feast on the earthworms we uncovered. Perhaps most surprising of all, today Emily mistook a young tarantula for a clump of dirt. Fortunately it began moving before she could move it!
With regard to work, after over three months of supporting Aldea Global in many capacities Emily will begin volunteering with another organization that works to support orphaned children. Another Peace Corps volunteer worked with this organization in the past and had a very meaningful experience there. Thus far we understand that Emily will likely be supporting the children in at least a few capacities, from teaching and hosting other educational initiatives for they and their adoptive families to helping collect information about how well the organization and its affiliates are supporting the children to ensure they’re given the best care possible. Emily has long had an interest in supporting orphaned children and her work with this new organization promises to be fulfilling and challenging.
I am currently beginning work alongside a fellow PC volunteer who’s an architect as well as my counterpart and a civil engineer to design and plan for the construction of a biological research station to be built this spring. My role, owing to my background in urban planning rather than construction know how or design savvy, is helping ensure the location and design of the research station (which will be located in a national park here in Honduras) are consistent with the park’s development goals. I am also still working to get started on a project to map and delineate several of the park’s watersheds. Along with a few other volunteers in the area, and likely with Emily’s editing skills coming in handy very shortly, I am also helping to compile an informative brochure to educate local community members about the need to and advantage of preserving the park.
We would be remiss not to mention our part time job of helping coach a little league team. Whether we’re instructing on the basics of executing a bunt or teaching how to properly field a fly ball, it’s safe to say that we’re having fun, getting a decent amount of exercise, and, let’s hope, serving as positive role models.
I am currently beginning work alongside a fellow PC volunteer who’s an architect as well as my counterpart and a civil engineer to design and plan for the construction of a biological research station to be built this spring. My role, owing to my background in urban planning rather than construction know how or design savvy, is helping ensure the location and design of the research station (which will be located in a national park here in Honduras) are consistent with the park’s development goals. I am also still working to get started on a project to map and delineate several of the park’s watersheds. Along with a few other volunteers in the area, and likely with Emily’s editing skills coming in handy very shortly, I am also helping to compile an informative brochure to educate local community members about the need to and advantage of preserving the park.
We would be remiss not to mention our part time job of helping coach a little league team. Whether we’re instructing on the basics of executing a bunt or teaching how to properly field a fly ball, it’s safe to say that we’re having fun, getting a decent amount of exercise, and, let’s hope, serving as positive role models.
As a parting thought, we’ll leave you with a short poem, intended both to redeem myself (Dan) after my last endeavor and more importantly, to give a taste for some of the simple things we appreciate about our experience thus far. All the best and please stay in touch!
I am a young experience in the happening and an eager memory in the making
I am the rooster’s crowing through day and night, I am the midnight dogfight whose bark foretells its bite
I am a full night sky with very small stars, whose brilliance teach that Earth is only one very small world; one very big very small world that can’t impress the universe and that can’t help but fascinate her stewards
I am the clever paradox of a pure, clean, dirty, dusty road
I am the wandering calf, colt, and chirping chick, constant reminders of and constantly reminded of the perennial necessity to venture forth and in so doing learn the meaning of exploration
I, too, am the please go away bludgeoning torrential rain and the please come again subtle morning mist
I am the constant sense of sensitivity in our tin roof, creaking under sun energy, crackling in the rain
I am a young experience in the happening and an eager memory in the making in one very big very small world, and I am t h a n k f u l for the complexities I’m learning to see in such a simple life
Monday, January 5, 2009
Feliz Año Nuevo
Since we last wrote, we have been preparing our house and have celebrated Christmas and New Years. When we moved into the house, all it had inside was a pile of duffel bags, a bed, and a bad interior paint job. Since that time, we have painted, gotten a table and chairs, hung a hammock inside, and started to make the house look like a home. The process of buying household necessities has been a long one – with many to-do lists and whole days devoted just to running errands – and has left us reminiscing fondly about one-stop-shopping at Target.
Dan painting on the lop-sided ladder
For Christmas, we headed to La Esperanza to celebrate with friends. Miguel, who traveled 7 hours from his site in the south, met us in Siguat and, after eating a lunch of baleadas (flour tortillas with refried beans and sour cream, which go for as little as 25 US cents apiece), we hopped on a bus for the hour-long trip to La Esperanza. Once there, we enjoyed relaxing at Mark and Lauren’s house on Christmas Eve. Miguel brought his guitar and my (Emily’s) grandmother sent a book of Christmas carols that she had found in a thrift shop, so we gathered around and sang together. On Christmas day, we did a bit of walking around the city, cooked dinner, and at different times someone would slip out to talk to family back home.
The Nativity scene in La Esperanza
(who knew there were cheetahs and giraffes in Bethlehem)
Christmas dinner consisted of a turkey, gravy, cranberry sauce, garlic mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and sweet potato pie. Whenever cooking in Honduras, creativity is a must. My original plan was to make the sweet potato pie before we left Siguat and take it with us, already made. When I was reading the recipe, however, and the pie crust instructions stated “place dough in refrigerator for 30 minutes,” the plans changed, as we do not currently have a fridge. Fortunately, Mark and Lauren were kind enough to lend us theirs. The next step was to “place the dough between two sheets of Saran wrap and roll it out.” Since we didn’t have any Saran wrap, I put it inside a plastic grocery bag, which worked just fine. When we peeled the sweet potatoes, all of which looked the same on the outside, only one of the four was orange and the other three were tan. They all tasted the same, but the pie wasn’t nearly as pretty as usual. But, as the Irish Night Before Christmas ends, “´Tis ne´r a Christmas when everything’s right, Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.”
After returning home for a few days, we headed up to the North Coast to celebrate the New Year with 10 other H13ers (11 of us are from Municipal Development and Lauren is a Youth Development volunteer who has Muni-D envy). We spent New Year’s Eve swimming in the Caribbean and eating fresh fish and tajadas (fried green plantains with salt that are the French fries of Honduras). When we rang in the New Year, the ball had already dropped in New York, so Dan held up a balloon and slowly lowered it as we counted down to midnight.
On New Year’s Day, we hiked in Parque Nacional Pico Bonito. We hiked for about an hour and a half to a waterfall, where we went swimming and ate PB&Js before heading back. The water was cold and refreshing and deep enough that we could jump off a 10 foot rock. Natán, who had formerly been a gymnast and diver, flipped off the rock, but the rest of us were satisfied with simply jumping. The vegetation was lush, verdant, and tropical, so while admiring the beauty of it all, it was hard to convince ourselves that it was the first of January. It certainly felt like a good way to start off the New Year, though.
Emilia saltando (Emily jumping)
A natural knot
Our final day of vacation was spent swimming and walking on the beach. For lunch, we decided to splurge and go to a beach-side restaurant to take advantage of more fresh seafood. We shared Camarones al Ajillo (Garlic Shrimp) and Sopa de Caracol (Conch Soup). Both were excellent, but the conch soup, made with fresh coconut milk, was superb! The camarones came with arroz y frijoles (rice and beans) and tajadas. The conch soup also came with tajadas and rice that we mixed into the soup. With a cold beer, good company, and a view of the ocean, it was a perfect meal.
Dan, Emily, Natán, Ana, and our awesome food
After a bit of R & R, it´s time to get back to work! We will continue to work with Aldea Global and are also preparing to work with other NGOs and schools. We´ll keep you posted as that unfolds.
Whether you were buried in snow, worrying about getting sunburned or somewhere in between, we hope you had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Thanks for the letters, emails and packages. We always love hearing from you!
Dan watching the sunset from our livingroom
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