Juana (my neighbor and a member of the latrine committee) and I, recently paid a visit to the municipality to verify whether or not they had decided to fund the latrine project. This is how it went: We arrived at 8:00 am and sat in the mayor’s waiting room for awhile. No one bothered to tell us that the mayor wouldn’t be arriving for another two hours. Meanwhile, I was hit on by the sixty-something year old municipal board member who once told me that my ticket into his swimming pool would be free, with the condition that I wear a string bikini.
We left and came back a little after 10:00 to find the waiting room full, primarily with people waiting to ask the mayor to pay for their most recent medical bill. (It’s literally like case-by-case welfare.) The creepy board member entered and, on his way by, both caressed and squeezed my arm, allowing his hand to linger for a highly inappropriate length of time. A couple of people were attended to before a corpulent pair of television reporters burst in and went straight into the mayor’s office. The mayor proceeded to allow them to conduct an interview. As the reporters left, two more entered and were let into her office in front of everyone else. At this point, Juana called Franklin, the vice-mayor who also happens to have a farm in El Sauce, and told him that we were waiting to see the mayor but couldn’t get in. Soon thereafter we could hear the mayor talking with Franklin on the phone. The door promptly opened and the “people from El Sauce” were asked to come in. Mind you, we were still not actually addressed. The reporters, still in process of interviewing the mayor and various others, had come to inquire about the pressing political issue of the soccer stadium. Apparently, I learned, it is to be renamed after the creepy municipal board member. The mayor was repeatedly interrupted by her cell phone but finally asked us what we had come for while someone else was being interviewed. She answered our inquiry with one sentence before her cell phone rang again.
We were informed that the project will be reviewed on the 29th of July. That’s it. That’s all we wanted to know. I can think of several more efficient ways that this information could have been communicated to us. Before leaving I got in one more question, which was to ask to borrow the projector. She yelled out to her secretary, whose eyes were completely rimmed in shocking electric-blue eyeliner, to check it out to me. We waited for another inordinate amount of time while the secretary typed out the necessary form with two fingers. Just two.
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To raise money for the ecotourism committee we hooked a DVD player and speakers up to a projector, powered them with a car battery and created a temporary movie theater in El Sauce. One little boy called it the gran tele or great T.V.. Only 3 families in El Sauce have televisions and no one has electricity, so it was a popular event. I’m sure that for some of the kids and perhaps even for some of the adults it was really special, something they’ve never done before. The movie selection, however, was a bit odd in my opinion; they chose to play Valdez, an old Burt Lancaster Western dubbed in Spanish. First of all, I’d never heard of Valdez and I certainly never expected to see it in Honduras. Secondly, I expected Burt Lancaster to be Burt Reynolds and was therefore slightly confused for the entire length of the movie.
The big dilemma is that what people really want to see is violence. Quality of is no importance. A movie starring one of the following action stars is preferable: Jackie Chan, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Steven Segal, The Rock or Chuck Norris. What these men may not realize is the extent to which they are idolized in Latin America. In an isolated community in the Peruvian Amazon, my friend Michelle snapped a priceless picture of a large mural of Jesus with his arms embracing Jackie Chan and Jean-Claude Van Damme.
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The other day I was inside my house when I heard what sounded very much like my scrub brush being scraped along the built-in washboard of my outdoor sink. Alas, I opened my door to find my neighbor, the same one with whom I discussed the merits of my pee bucket, lovingly scrubbing my brush back and forth along the washboard. She wasn’t washing anything. Oh no. She was merely observing the excellent quality of my scrub brush. She wasn’t embarrassed to be caught in the act of admiring a scrub brush but, rather, she continued to caress it while commenting on its remarkable attributes.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Untitled
It’s been ages since I last posted a blog, primarily because I’ve been uninspired. On the one hand, those incidents and observations which once struck me as noteworthy or ridiculous have long since slipped into the mundane. Furthermore, for whatever reason, I spent a good deal of the first five months in Honduras just plain unhappy and, hence, uninspired.
Thankfully, I’ve been busier than I ever was during the first five months in Perú or I might have gone insane, literally. In short, I’ve been helping the community to organize a latrine project, teaching sporadic environmental education classes and helping the local ecotourism committee to get off the ground. Here’s a brief synopsis of each if you want more info:
Latrines:
My parents informed me that many people don’t actually know what latrines are, which frankly blew my PC oriented mind. To clarify, latrines are outhouses. Currently, half of the population of El Sauce shares one large communal bathroom—the great outdoors. The other 50% uses latrines. The goal of the project is to provide 100% of the population with latrines and, therefore, avoid environmental contamination and infectious diseases. Thus far we have formed a committee and determined the basic structure of the project, which I wrote up in the form of a grant proposal. We are currently looking for funding. The total cost to repair and construct 46 latrines will be roughly $6,600.
Environmental Education:
At the local primary school in El Sauce, I do various activities with the kids to teach them about their natural resources and the importance of living sustainably. They don’t always comprehend, of course. Once I asked what trees are good for and a young boy enthusiastically responded, “Burning!” They seem to enjoy the classes which are a welcome change of pace from the monotony of normal classes which they spend mindlessly copying information.
I’m also working with the 9th grade class on both a tree nursery and a waste management project. Supposedly, they are supposed to be running the show. Instead, I offer them the training they need and then I’m surprised when both they and the teacher fail to do anything with it. It is the most disinterested group of kids that I’ve ever worked with. Enjoy is not a word that can be used in the context of this 9th grade class. It’s stereotypical. They stare at me blankly, talk, throw things, flirt, read magazines, wander off, etc. Finally, during the last class, I told them that they were the worst class that I’d ever worked with and that I couldn’t believe the extent to which they were throwing away their education. And, for the first time, they were silent.
Ecotourism:
Work with the ecotourism group is going surprisingly well. Basically the group consists of members from three communities that all lie within the buffer zone of the Parque Nacional Santa Bárbara. Honduran law allows for and encourages the co-management of all Honduran National Parks , meaning that a national or international NGO may formulate and execute a management plan which allows it to oversee the proper management of a given protected area. On paper this law is excellent because it eases the burden on the Honduran Government to invest significant capital in the management of their national parks while allowing for dedicated NGOs with adequate experience to pick up the slack. However, in the case of certain parks, such as the Parque Nacional Santa Bárbara, there is no co-manager which results in no management, no investment and no tourism. The overarching goal of the ecotourism committee is thus to one day obtain NGO status and transition into serving as the co-manager of the park. In the short term, we are starting to implement a community-wide environmental education project.
Besides work…
In June, my sister came and kept me company for an entire month. She probably wasn’t too thrilled when she had to lug her very heavy backpack, including a tent and myriad things for me, up the mountain to my site; but, after that, we had an excellent time. Literally, we were never much more than 12 feet apart for the entire month. We washed clothes by hand, cooked 3 meals a day, hiked around the mountain, rode in the back of pick-up trucks, drank licuados, perfected the art of tortilla making (almost), and talked about my neighbors by candlelight. My sister is probably one of the few people who would actually enjoy a comprehensive tour of the latrines of El Sauce while on vacation.
Besides hanging out in my site, we also visited Copan Ruinas (an impressive Mayan archeological site), Parque Nacional Cerro Azul Meambar and my friend Ellie, and Cayos Cochinos ( a marine reserve in the Caribbean). We even managed to hitch a ride on a catamaran to Utila, another Caribbean island off the coast of Honduras. We also stayed in one of the world’s sketchiest/dirtiest hotels in Tela and had a bunch of bananas thrown at us by an angry market vendor who, for good measure, yelled after us, “Vayase a la mierda,” because Kelly accidently broke some of the over-ripe bananas from their stems. My sister’s visit allowed me to enjoy a place that I haven’t really enjoyed because I’ve no one to enjoy it with. Plus, she taught me to always look under the toilet seat for spiders and left me with a surplus of semi-functional but creative, hand-crafted candle holders.
When my sister left for the States, so did I, which made her departure all the more bearable. At the last minute, my neighbors tried to send all sorts of strange and impractical gifts home for my parents—freshly made, un-pasteurized cheese, green peppers and dried cheese rings. They wanted to send coffee but, alas, none was ready. I can only imagine the sheer quantity of coffee they’ll attempt to send with me when I leave.
I went home for the week, primarily to attend my friends’ wedding but also to spend time with family. It was a wonderful week, uneventful but relaxing. Since I was just home six months ago, nothing was new or shocking. Though I was, admittedly, baffled by the punctual start time of the wedding, something my sister was not surprised by. Really, I thought the start time of 6:00 meant that most of the guests would be arriving at that time and that the ceremony would start at some time thereafter. To my sister’s dismay we were among the last guests to arrive.
Rather than finding the American lifestyle to be wholly overwhelming, as some PCVs experience, I felt slightly disconnected from it. We went to a local flea market and antique show and I felt like I’d walked straight into a Michael Moore film highlighting typical Americans. And, I still don’t understand the phone machines. People can justify them left and right, but I’ve survived for 25 years, nearly 26, without instant internet access, GPS and other cell phone applications and I DO NOT understand why everyone feels like THEY need those capabilities at their fingertips or they might, heaven forbid, not be able to what? I don’t honestly know. Anyway, instead of feeling out of sorts, I feel quite happy to feel just a little bit disconnected.
Back in Honduras, I reentered Honduran time. I was only gone for two and a half weeks, yet one young woman commented that I’d been gone for at least two months. Two months! Nonetheless, warped sense of time or not, the United States is never very far removed from Honduras. Case in point, yesterday, I met a young Honduran girl named Oprah.
Thankfully, I’ve been busier than I ever was during the first five months in Perú or I might have gone insane, literally. In short, I’ve been helping the community to organize a latrine project, teaching sporadic environmental education classes and helping the local ecotourism committee to get off the ground. Here’s a brief synopsis of each if you want more info:
Latrines:
My parents informed me that many people don’t actually know what latrines are, which frankly blew my PC oriented mind. To clarify, latrines are outhouses. Currently, half of the population of El Sauce shares one large communal bathroom—the great outdoors. The other 50% uses latrines. The goal of the project is to provide 100% of the population with latrines and, therefore, avoid environmental contamination and infectious diseases. Thus far we have formed a committee and determined the basic structure of the project, which I wrote up in the form of a grant proposal. We are currently looking for funding. The total cost to repair and construct 46 latrines will be roughly $6,600.
Environmental Education:
At the local primary school in El Sauce, I do various activities with the kids to teach them about their natural resources and the importance of living sustainably. They don’t always comprehend, of course. Once I asked what trees are good for and a young boy enthusiastically responded, “Burning!” They seem to enjoy the classes which are a welcome change of pace from the monotony of normal classes which they spend mindlessly copying information.
I’m also working with the 9th grade class on both a tree nursery and a waste management project. Supposedly, they are supposed to be running the show. Instead, I offer them the training they need and then I’m surprised when both they and the teacher fail to do anything with it. It is the most disinterested group of kids that I’ve ever worked with. Enjoy is not a word that can be used in the context of this 9th grade class. It’s stereotypical. They stare at me blankly, talk, throw things, flirt, read magazines, wander off, etc. Finally, during the last class, I told them that they were the worst class that I’d ever worked with and that I couldn’t believe the extent to which they were throwing away their education. And, for the first time, they were silent.
Ecotourism:
Work with the ecotourism group is going surprisingly well. Basically the group consists of members from three communities that all lie within the buffer zone of the Parque Nacional Santa Bárbara. Honduran law allows for and encourages the co-management of all Honduran National Parks , meaning that a national or international NGO may formulate and execute a management plan which allows it to oversee the proper management of a given protected area. On paper this law is excellent because it eases the burden on the Honduran Government to invest significant capital in the management of their national parks while allowing for dedicated NGOs with adequate experience to pick up the slack. However, in the case of certain parks, such as the Parque Nacional Santa Bárbara, there is no co-manager which results in no management, no investment and no tourism. The overarching goal of the ecotourism committee is thus to one day obtain NGO status and transition into serving as the co-manager of the park. In the short term, we are starting to implement a community-wide environmental education project.
Besides work…
In June, my sister came and kept me company for an entire month. She probably wasn’t too thrilled when she had to lug her very heavy backpack, including a tent and myriad things for me, up the mountain to my site; but, after that, we had an excellent time. Literally, we were never much more than 12 feet apart for the entire month. We washed clothes by hand, cooked 3 meals a day, hiked around the mountain, rode in the back of pick-up trucks, drank licuados, perfected the art of tortilla making (almost), and talked about my neighbors by candlelight. My sister is probably one of the few people who would actually enjoy a comprehensive tour of the latrines of El Sauce while on vacation.
Besides hanging out in my site, we also visited Copan Ruinas (an impressive Mayan archeological site), Parque Nacional Cerro Azul Meambar and my friend Ellie, and Cayos Cochinos ( a marine reserve in the Caribbean). We even managed to hitch a ride on a catamaran to Utila, another Caribbean island off the coast of Honduras. We also stayed in one of the world’s sketchiest/dirtiest hotels in Tela and had a bunch of bananas thrown at us by an angry market vendor who, for good measure, yelled after us, “Vayase a la mierda,” because Kelly accidently broke some of the over-ripe bananas from their stems. My sister’s visit allowed me to enjoy a place that I haven’t really enjoyed because I’ve no one to enjoy it with. Plus, she taught me to always look under the toilet seat for spiders and left me with a surplus of semi-functional but creative, hand-crafted candle holders.
When my sister left for the States, so did I, which made her departure all the more bearable. At the last minute, my neighbors tried to send all sorts of strange and impractical gifts home for my parents—freshly made, un-pasteurized cheese, green peppers and dried cheese rings. They wanted to send coffee but, alas, none was ready. I can only imagine the sheer quantity of coffee they’ll attempt to send with me when I leave.
I went home for the week, primarily to attend my friends’ wedding but also to spend time with family. It was a wonderful week, uneventful but relaxing. Since I was just home six months ago, nothing was new or shocking. Though I was, admittedly, baffled by the punctual start time of the wedding, something my sister was not surprised by. Really, I thought the start time of 6:00 meant that most of the guests would be arriving at that time and that the ceremony would start at some time thereafter. To my sister’s dismay we were among the last guests to arrive.
Rather than finding the American lifestyle to be wholly overwhelming, as some PCVs experience, I felt slightly disconnected from it. We went to a local flea market and antique show and I felt like I’d walked straight into a Michael Moore film highlighting typical Americans. And, I still don’t understand the phone machines. People can justify them left and right, but I’ve survived for 25 years, nearly 26, without instant internet access, GPS and other cell phone applications and I DO NOT understand why everyone feels like THEY need those capabilities at their fingertips or they might, heaven forbid, not be able to what? I don’t honestly know. Anyway, instead of feeling out of sorts, I feel quite happy to feel just a little bit disconnected.
Back in Honduras, I reentered Honduran time. I was only gone for two and a half weeks, yet one young woman commented that I’d been gone for at least two months. Two months! Nonetheless, warped sense of time or not, the United States is never very far removed from Honduras. Case in point, yesterday, I met a young Honduran girl named Oprah.
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