The classrooms are extremely clean and organized and all the kids wear uniforms. I heard that they are hand-washed every day. The kids are also very clean as they shower at least daily.
They will copy notes from the board for a long time. I am quite certain that my students would revolt. (JK, but I rarely, if ever, have them copy from the board.) One proud teacher showed me her latest test scores and the class average was 84%. Sounds pretty good to me. Rumor has it that the teachers "teach to the test" quite a bit here. (Well, I hate to admit it, but we do more of that than ever as well, with high-stakes testing facing us every 4 months.)
So far I have visited Montessori, second, and fourth grade classes, as well as religion Class, English for new (and mostly uneducated) students, and music. The teachers always get me involved somehow and again, I feel right at home. You know, generally, even with the language barrier.
Lunch is served at 1:00 and the kids all go home to do homework and chores in the afternoon. These kids can wash clothing by hand like nobody's business. Not to mention clean floors, carry large loads, and well, yes, slack off when they feel like it. : )
The first few days I walked around and distracted kids from their chores by wanted to interact with them. But I learned quickly. Now 2:00-4:00 is down time. I wish I could share some of it with the volunteers that work ten-twelve hours a day. I keep asking them if there is something I can help them with and they all say the same thing: "You are doing exactly what you should be." I had visions of being on task before I came. I thought I'd be asked to paint a room, or clean, or I don't know something "harder." But, I must say, this has been pretty much a learning field trip. I step in at school when I have something to offer. . . but I haven't lifted a finger really, no hard, or semi-hard labor. YET. Now watch, someone from here will read this and walk up to me with a can of paint. : ) I can do that; anything but clean bathrooms!
From 2-4, I usually work on my word-art names. The first or second day here, I made Tresy her name in word-art. Since then, about 30 other girls have asked me to do their names. I hope my markers don't run out of ink! I brought two packs of those cool "Changeables." I will bring a lot more next time I visit. For sure.
The girls here, as in MN, are having fun doing their word-art too. I bet some of the boys would enjoy it too, but we only do it in the hogares in the evening, so not sure. Anyway, the afternoons are spent catching up on my "orders," blogging (like now), resting, chatting with other visitors, or cleaning up my room.
At 4:00, I was invited to join the music ensemble. Wilfredo and some of the pesguenos (orpahns) gather to learn, sing, and play. I am seeing that Wifredo is such a good musician that he doesn't seem to understand how hard it is to rise to his level. Yesterday was funny in sort of a frustrating way. (Not for me, but for some of the older boys.) He was trying to get the boys (and me, but I gave up) how to do a Latin American beat, which involves playing on the upbeat, not just the down beat. He makes it look so easy.
Wilfredo is going to be famous someday, or at least he should be. He is FABULOUS!
We end right at 6:00 just in time for dinner. Okay, the meals here are one of my favorite parts. They are efficient. People laugh at me when I take photos of my bowls, but meals are a big part of whole experience! Last night it was warm milk and a banana. (I have chips, salsa, granola bars, and yogurt in the fridge as well.) Corn on the cob is generally available for everyone around 5:45- an appetizer of sorts. : ) Maize wonderful maize. Just as I remember learning in school as a child: The food staples in Central America are maize and beans. (Throw in eggs, rice, chicken, and bananas, and sweet fresh milk. Every meal is here is a combo of these foods. Did I mention that there are no seconds? Also, if you have any food leftover on your plate, you ar
e not to toss it, but to offer it to anyone at your table; There are always grateful takers. : )
After dinner, the kids shower, brush their teeth, and get in their pajamas for about an hour and a half of free time. Chores are rotated, so some of the kids clean floors or help with dining hall clean up. Tonight, I will bring my guitar to Treisy's hogares for some "jammin'." Last night, they wanted to fix my hair and I let them again. OMGosh, I hope I don't get lice! Estimates are that 75% of the kids have lice here. (Pinewood, watch out! JK. I plan to treat my hair as soon as I get home regardless.) I wear hats a lot here and I keep them ON. The kids know that I do not share my hates.
8:00 is lights out. The visitors tend to gather to talk about our days. I love it here.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
My Typical Schedule (Part 1)
I wake up to either the roosters or the flauda (flute, actually a recorder like the ones the fourth-graders have at school). I love to hear both. One of the young men from the music group plays for the ranch at around 6 AM most mornings. What a cool way to start the day and a wonderful way for him to contribute.
The first thing I do is survey the floor for las cucuraches. They're fast, but not faster than my shoe, thank goodness. I take a HOT shower (yes, I am lucky), get dressed, and head to the kitchen right down the courtyard hall to make coffee, which is boldy terrific and inexpensive. Apparently, the mucho cheapo coffee they sell in the grocery stores is lower grade that what they import, but in my opinion, it beats (or rivals) Starbucks. I haven't been able to find Half and Half here so I have gotten used to black cafe. : ) I did, however, find 2% milk identical to the stuff at home.
There is life stirring by 6:30 AM from all directions. The children are giggling, people are collecting breakfast (food is always transported/carried in buckets), and visitors here are waking up. There are currently four of us. Two women (a sponsor and her sister-in-law) and an NPH accounting auditor from Mexico City, and me. An international employee is expected sometime today as well. I think she may be staying in one of the casas on the hill though.
Between 8:00 and 9:00 AM, I head down to the school. The walk is beautiful. I saw another snake the other day laying on the path and made such a strange sound that one of the tias turn around and wondered if I was okay. . . I had to force a chuckle so she would know I was fine. Then I had to imagine NOT being "afraid" of snakes so I could continue my daily travels.
I still hesitate to walk that path, but it won't paralyze me.
School is great. I am making tons of obervations and comparisons, of course, as a teacher. The teachers, both Honduran and American, have been so welcoming and comfortable to hang out with. The kids get used to taking notes and copying from the board at a fairly early age here. There seems to be a pecking order relative to how much the kids respect the teachers. 1. Male Honduran teachers. 2. Female Honduran teachers 3. American volunteers.
The first thing I do is survey the floor for las cucuraches. They're fast, but not faster than my shoe, thank goodness. I take a HOT shower (yes, I am lucky), get dressed, and head to the kitchen right down the courtyard hall to make coffee, which is boldy terrific and inexpensive. Apparently, the mucho cheapo coffee they sell in the grocery stores is lower grade that what they import, but in my opinion, it beats (or rivals) Starbucks. I haven't been able to find Half and Half here so I have gotten used to black cafe. : ) I did, however, find 2% milk identical to the stuff at home.
There is life stirring by 6:30 AM from all directions. The children are giggling, people are collecting breakfast (food is always transported/carried in buckets), and visitors here are waking up. There are currently four of us. Two women (a sponsor and her sister-in-law) and an NPH accounting auditor from Mexico City, and me. An international employee is expected sometime today as well. I think she may be staying in one of the casas on the hill though.
Between 8:00 and 9:00 AM, I head down to the school. The walk is beautiful. I saw another snake the other day laying on the path and made such a strange sound that one of the tias turn around and wondered if I was okay. . . I had to force a chuckle so she would know I was fine. Then I had to imagine NOT being "afraid" of snakes so I could continue my daily travels.
I still hesitate to walk that path, but it won't paralyze me.
School is great. I am making tons of obervations and comparisons, of course, as a teacher. The teachers, both Honduran and American, have been so welcoming and comfortable to hang out with. The kids get used to taking notes and copying from the board at a fairly early age here. There seems to be a pecking order relative to how much the kids respect the teachers. 1. Male Honduran teachers. 2. Female Honduran teachers 3. American volunteers.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Today-- Tuesday
Last week, I hated to see the two other visitors leave, but knew it would force me to grow more independent here at the rancho. Before they left, I never went to the kitchen for meals alone. I wasn't with them all the time, but I didn't really go anywhere "new" alone.
That changed quickly and as expected, I go everywhere alone and love it. The best surprise in this is that there are hidden English speakers out there everywhere I go. People don't tell you they speak English, but yes "they" do and can and will if there is no translator available. I am also getting very good at using my hands. I have loosened up and am starting to be myself and much more expressive with my voice and gestures. You would think that I am learning Spanish, at least a little by now, but sadly. . . I am not. I wish I had brought a good "Beginner Spanish" text along, or my computer disc Espanol 101.
The most significant sign that I am beginning to be ""familia" is the high-five greeting. The first week, it was exchanged in standard form with little eye-contact. The second week, it was usually followed with a fist bump. This week is the sweetest. . . Most people (all ages) high five, gently grab hold of my hand, and smile with loads of genuine eye-contact. It's unique.
It will bring me back.
Armin told me that Latin American communication is heavily enhanced with body language.
It sure is. I like it. In some ways, I feel more at home here than in MN. In many ways.
So. . .I have a snapshot I want to share with you: The girls' bedtime (Treisy's dorm, 9-11 year olds, or about that.) Imagine about 30 bunkbeds, stacked three high. The furniture is as simple as can be, of course, and each bed contains a sheet, a woolish blanket folded nealty at the end of each mattress and a chunky pillow. The walls are painted, but there are no decorations or osters in the large, bare room. The center holds a huge shoe rack which holds both tennis shoes, flip flops, and black closed toe shoes. Each child has a small square locker which holds his/her entire possesions. For most of the girls, this equates to possibly a blanky and some photos or letters.
The girls don't seem to have ANY idea what they are missing. . . They end each day with a shower, teethbrushing, and "free time" in a recreation room with their tia and 1-2 volunteers. (Plus any visitors that might be there, which is not all that often from what I hear.)
The girls (20 of them or so) tend to cluster into groups during this time. If there is not something special planned, the default seems to be perfectly okay with them. The current default mode seems to be this: About 1/3 of them play "beauty salon." They fix each others' hair, and/or pretend to do manicures. Another 1/3 likes to lay on the concrete floor and play various games. (Games don't last long here. I am so going to bring group games next time I come.) The other third either draw, color, or read. They are getting into "word art" this week.
I have a list of about 25 girls that want me to design their names in word-art, con designs.: )
At 8:00 PM, well after dark here, the tia announces that it is time for bed. The girls lollygag as kids will do and then eventually climb into their beds. They hang their arms out and wait for big hugs from the volunteers. (The twenty-somethings that give 13 months of their lives to the rancho in different capacities. . . awesome group!) After hugs, the lights are turned down and a prayer is recited. THIS choked me up. During the prayer, there is silence and the girls are encouraged to add their own words.
As usual, I peeked to watch the girls during the prayer. Were they looking around? Were they playing? Were they giggling? Nope. Each and everyone was focused and erneast; a moment I will never forget.
That changed quickly and as expected, I go everywhere alone and love it. The best surprise in this is that there are hidden English speakers out there everywhere I go. People don't tell you they speak English, but yes "they" do and can and will if there is no translator available. I am also getting very good at using my hands. I have loosened up and am starting to be myself and much more expressive with my voice and gestures. You would think that I am learning Spanish, at least a little by now, but sadly. . . I am not. I wish I had brought a good "Beginner Spanish" text along, or my computer disc Espanol 101.
The most significant sign that I am beginning to be ""familia" is the high-five greeting. The first week, it was exchanged in standard form with little eye-contact. The second week, it was usually followed with a fist bump. This week is the sweetest. . . Most people (all ages) high five, gently grab hold of my hand, and smile with loads of genuine eye-contact. It's unique.
It will bring me back.
Armin told me that Latin American communication is heavily enhanced with body language.
It sure is. I like it. In some ways, I feel more at home here than in MN. In many ways.
So. . .I have a snapshot I want to share with you: The girls' bedtime (Treisy's dorm, 9-11 year olds, or about that.) Imagine about 30 bunkbeds, stacked three high. The furniture is as simple as can be, of course, and each bed contains a sheet, a woolish blanket folded nealty at the end of each mattress and a chunky pillow. The walls are painted, but there are no decorations or osters in the large, bare room. The center holds a huge shoe rack which holds both tennis shoes, flip flops, and black closed toe shoes. Each child has a small square locker which holds his/her entire possesions. For most of the girls, this equates to possibly a blanky and some photos or letters.
The girls don't seem to have ANY idea what they are missing. . . They end each day with a shower, teethbrushing, and "free time" in a recreation room with their tia and 1-2 volunteers. (Plus any visitors that might be there, which is not all that often from what I hear.)
The girls (20 of them or so) tend to cluster into groups during this time. If there is not something special planned, the default seems to be perfectly okay with them. The current default mode seems to be this: About 1/3 of them play "beauty salon." They fix each others' hair, and/or pretend to do manicures. Another 1/3 likes to lay on the concrete floor and play various games. (Games don't last long here. I am so going to bring group games next time I come.) The other third either draw, color, or read. They are getting into "word art" this week.
I have a list of about 25 girls that want me to design their names in word-art, con designs.: )
At 8:00 PM, well after dark here, the tia announces that it is time for bed. The girls lollygag as kids will do and then eventually climb into their beds. They hang their arms out and wait for big hugs from the volunteers. (The twenty-somethings that give 13 months of their lives to the rancho in different capacities. . . awesome group!) After hugs, the lights are turned down and a prayer is recited. THIS choked me up. During the prayer, there is silence and the girls are encouraged to add their own words.
As usual, I peeked to watch the girls during the prayer. Were they looking around? Were they playing? Were they giggling? Nope. Each and everyone was focused and erneast; a moment I will never forget.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Weekend Report
Happy Monday.
I hope everyone had a good weekend. It sounds like Minnesota has had its share of interesting weather. I am happy to have missed it. We had a steady downpour of rain here on Saturday.
The weekend was full. I am getting a big kick out of having no watch and literally falling into activities. . . which happens frequently; Like on Saturday, Sunday and today. I am not in charge. This is a blast.
Saturday morning, I was invited to go on the "Pilgrimage Walk" with the youth (teens). Roxanna, the head of the "religious department" told me about this and I wanted to go. The kids here that have a strong set of beliefs do much better in life than those that don't and it is good to join them for prayers, singing, and worship-- even though I can't understand anything outside of "Allelujia, Amen, and Senor. Oh and Santa Maria.
Roxanna, her husband Armin, and their son, Ernesto were where they said they would be at 7:30 AM. It was raining. Roxanna looked disappointed when no one else showed up. We waited. A few people trickled in, eating mangoes. We waited some more. Five, ten, then twenty more teens came! Everyone seemed cheerful, as usual, as they shared umbrellas in groups of two or three.
Finally, about an hour 1/2 later, a bus pulled up and took us to a village just outside of Tegucigalpa where we waited for at least another hour 1/2! I couldn't help but imagine this scene in Minnesota. Folks would be far less comfortable. I have to talk to myself a lot in situations like this and learn to be quiet, to observe, and to appreciate the situation for what is there. This is huge. : /
Several people got up on a makeshift platform and spoke to the group before we embarked on our trek. . . .We started walking around 9:30 AM and we got back to the ranch around 5:00 PM! It was a mini walk-a-thon without the pledges. There were about 150 of us walking and singing. Every 3-4 miles, there was a skit put on by one of the parishes. Each skit was about making healthy choices with God's help, put on by teens.
I couldn't help but notice a few things:
1. The parish groups did not mix much.
2. No one complained at all.
3. Several kids' shoes were completely worn out and they were basically walking with their socks/skin to the ground.
4. The guitar players kept playing, rain and all. . . happily.
5. There was an elderly lady in flimsy sandals and a skirt who walked the entire time. . . happily.
6. The group had to wait at least an hour for lunch to be served on the side of the road and about another hour for clean up. . . People here seem totally used to waiting. . . happily.
During the waiting period, Armin took me on a field trip. We walked about a mile to see a brick "factory." Imagine the most primitive kiln, that's what we say. (I have photos.) On the way there, we ran into a couple of men that were toothless and staggering drunk. Armin said that this is tough work and that when it rains, they basically can't produce the clay bricks. So they drink. Moonshine.
Armin has great compassion, without much (expressed) emotion, for the poor. He is an interesting man;. He was raised in a stable environment and family in Switzerland, visited Al Salvador in the 80's to promote bicycling as a mode of transportation (during the war), met his wife there, and now they work for NPH while raising two wonderful sons. (I got to see visit their house here on the ranch with Christina. The boys proudly showed me their large iguana that had free reign inside their home, as well as the parrot that sat on a bucket in the middle of the "living room." This family fascinates me. I want to clone their sons.
So, that was my Saturday surprise. I was stiff and sore on Sunday, but it was well worth it.
Alas! There has yet to be an uneventful day here in Honduras.
P.S. I met Angela!
I hope everyone had a good weekend. It sounds like Minnesota has had its share of interesting weather. I am happy to have missed it. We had a steady downpour of rain here on Saturday.
The weekend was full. I am getting a big kick out of having no watch and literally falling into activities. . . which happens frequently; Like on Saturday, Sunday and today. I am not in charge. This is a blast.
Saturday morning, I was invited to go on the "Pilgrimage Walk" with the youth (teens). Roxanna, the head of the "religious department" told me about this and I wanted to go. The kids here that have a strong set of beliefs do much better in life than those that don't and it is good to join them for prayers, singing, and worship-- even though I can't understand anything outside of "Allelujia, Amen, and Senor. Oh and Santa Maria.
Roxanna, her husband Armin, and their son, Ernesto were where they said they would be at 7:30 AM. It was raining. Roxanna looked disappointed when no one else showed up. We waited. A few people trickled in, eating mangoes. We waited some more. Five, ten, then twenty more teens came! Everyone seemed cheerful, as usual, as they shared umbrellas in groups of two or three.
Finally, about an hour 1/2 later, a bus pulled up and took us to a village just outside of Tegucigalpa where we waited for at least another hour 1/2! I couldn't help but imagine this scene in Minnesota. Folks would be far less comfortable. I have to talk to myself a lot in situations like this and learn to be quiet, to observe, and to appreciate the situation for what is there. This is huge. : /
Several people got up on a makeshift platform and spoke to the group before we embarked on our trek. . . .We started walking around 9:30 AM and we got back to the ranch around 5:00 PM! It was a mini walk-a-thon without the pledges. There were about 150 of us walking and singing. Every 3-4 miles, there was a skit put on by one of the parishes. Each skit was about making healthy choices with God's help, put on by teens.
I couldn't help but notice a few things:
1. The parish groups did not mix much.
2. No one complained at all.
3. Several kids' shoes were completely worn out and they were basically walking with their socks/skin to the ground.
4. The guitar players kept playing, rain and all. . . happily.
5. There was an elderly lady in flimsy sandals and a skirt who walked the entire time. . . happily.
6. The group had to wait at least an hour for lunch to be served on the side of the road and about another hour for clean up. . . People here seem totally used to waiting. . . happily.
During the waiting period, Armin took me on a field trip. We walked about a mile to see a brick "factory." Imagine the most primitive kiln, that's what we say. (I have photos.) On the way there, we ran into a couple of men that were toothless and staggering drunk. Armin said that this is tough work and that when it rains, they basically can't produce the clay bricks. So they drink. Moonshine.
Armin has great compassion, without much (expressed) emotion, for the poor. He is an interesting man;. He was raised in a stable environment and family in Switzerland, visited Al Salvador in the 80's to promote bicycling as a mode of transportation (during the war), met his wife there, and now they work for NPH while raising two wonderful sons. (I got to see visit their house here on the ranch with Christina. The boys proudly showed me their large iguana that had free reign inside their home, as well as the parrot that sat on a bucket in the middle of the "living room." This family fascinates me. I want to clone their sons.
So, that was my Saturday surprise. I was stiff and sore on Sunday, but it was well worth it.
Alas! There has yet to be an uneventful day here in Honduras.
P.S. I met Angela!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Those Brave Volunteers
I guess all I want to say is that the younger generation seems to have an easier time trusting. They
have a way of ignoring "warnings" and trusting their gut. I can't quite decide what my opinion is on all this.
I asked some volunteers what they were planning to do on their weekend/s off. They said that they were going to town. I asked if they came back every night. . . They said, "No, we have friends we can stay with in town". I asked, "Are they associated with the rancho?" They said, "No."
The mom in me said: BE SAFE. PLEASE. They seem to have very little fear.
I don't know. . . I hope they stay safe!
have a way of ignoring "warnings" and trusting their gut. I can't quite decide what my opinion is on all this.
I asked some volunteers what they were planning to do on their weekend/s off. They said that they were going to town. I asked if they came back every night. . . They said, "No, we have friends we can stay with in town". I asked, "Are they associated with the rancho?" They said, "No."
The mom in me said: BE SAFE. PLEASE. They seem to have very little fear.
I don't know. . . I hope they stay safe!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Friday Night on the Ranch
TGIF everybody back there in The US. . .
I just may stay in for the evening and do this, read, and/or make some flashcards for "school" next week. The language barrier is really hard and our music session didn't happen tonight. (Again, plans are always tentative here it seems or else I am simply misunderstanding some of them.) At any rate, I think I'm in for the night. I learned how to be okay with being alone about 5 years ago, thank goodness. There are times when I just can't hang with the language barrier and have to escape, like this.
Stealing is an issue here at the ranch. I was told to never set anything down if I wanted it. The belief here is, "If you want it, you guard it." The visitor's building is locked and the only people that have keys are other visitors and Honduran employees. We have been told that it is wise to lock valuables (such as computers, cameras,etc) in our suitcases as well.
So today, I came out of my room and walked into the kitchen area and found two teen boys (friends or family of one of the office workers, I think) at the table with all my food; yogurt and peanut butter. It was so awkward. I told them and I think they understood most of what I was saying), "If you want something, please ask. This is my food for when I cannot eat what is being served." (Those times are rare, but they have happened. The cheese here tastes sour to me and the chicken tends to be really tough, at least so far.)
It bummed me out. I can't allow them to do that for every reason under the sun. If they had asked me? That would be a different story. Ugh.
Tomorrow morning is some kind of a "walk" put on by the religious department. It is called a "Pilgrimage" and I am not entirely sure what it will entail other than walking and probably singing. Roxanna told me to meet out front at 7:20 AM tomorrow morning.
Her husband, Armand (sp?) is from Switzerland and they live here on the ranch in their own home with their two sons, Ernesto and Christian. I am fascinated by this unlikely family; They met about 20 years ago in El Salvador, Roxanna's home, while biking. Armand was there with some kind of organization that was promoting bicycling as a mode of transportation. (Peace Corps?) Their son Christian shared with a grin on his face, "My mom fell off her bike in front of my dad and they fell in love."
Speaking of love, the female volunteers have this thing called "The Ranch Crush." They say that everyone has one. The director, Stephan, is a handsome and pleasant (single) thirty year old. I am guessing he is a popular choice for this category. He has an important job and he seems to really care for these kids. These young volunteers remind me so much of my daughters. I wish they were here right now, in fact. The whole "love/romance" thing is an issue here for the kids and for the culture. I am learning, observing, and hoping for change in some of the practiced norms. The main one is the accepted belief that men break hearts. I am not entirely sure how that plays out and why, but it seems to be the "known" deal here.
Next blog: Those Brave Volunteers!
I just may stay in for the evening and do this, read, and/or make some flashcards for "school" next week. The language barrier is really hard and our music session didn't happen tonight. (Again, plans are always tentative here it seems or else I am simply misunderstanding some of them.) At any rate, I think I'm in for the night. I learned how to be okay with being alone about 5 years ago, thank goodness. There are times when I just can't hang with the language barrier and have to escape, like this.
Stealing is an issue here at the ranch. I was told to never set anything down if I wanted it. The belief here is, "If you want it, you guard it." The visitor's building is locked and the only people that have keys are other visitors and Honduran employees. We have been told that it is wise to lock valuables (such as computers, cameras,etc) in our suitcases as well.
So today, I came out of my room and walked into the kitchen area and found two teen boys (friends or family of one of the office workers, I think) at the table with all my food; yogurt and peanut butter. It was so awkward. I told them and I think they understood most of what I was saying), "If you want something, please ask. This is my food for when I cannot eat what is being served." (Those times are rare, but they have happened. The cheese here tastes sour to me and the chicken tends to be really tough, at least so far.)
It bummed me out. I can't allow them to do that for every reason under the sun. If they had asked me? That would be a different story. Ugh.
Tomorrow morning is some kind of a "walk" put on by the religious department. It is called a "Pilgrimage" and I am not entirely sure what it will entail other than walking and probably singing. Roxanna told me to meet out front at 7:20 AM tomorrow morning.
Her husband, Armand (sp?) is from Switzerland and they live here on the ranch in their own home with their two sons, Ernesto and Christian. I am fascinated by this unlikely family; They met about 20 years ago in El Salvador, Roxanna's home, while biking. Armand was there with some kind of organization that was promoting bicycling as a mode of transportation. (Peace Corps?) Their son Christian shared with a grin on his face, "My mom fell off her bike in front of my dad and they fell in love."
Speaking of love, the female volunteers have this thing called "The Ranch Crush." They say that everyone has one. The director, Stephan, is a handsome and pleasant (single) thirty year old. I am guessing he is a popular choice for this category. He has an important job and he seems to really care for these kids. These young volunteers remind me so much of my daughters. I wish they were here right now, in fact. The whole "love/romance" thing is an issue here for the kids and for the culture. I am learning, observing, and hoping for change in some of the practiced norms. The main one is the accepted belief that men break hearts. I am not entirely sure how that plays out and why, but it seems to be the "known" deal here.
Next blog: Those Brave Volunteers!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
More Music!
Wilfredo told me that there would be musica at the church at 4:00 PM today. Although Treisy asked me to join her for swimming at the posa (pond), I opted to meet for a music fix instead. The language barrier makes music, the universal language, irresistible.
I was at the church at four and wasn't at all surprised when no one else was there. I took out my guitar, hoped that Treisy was having fun, and started strumming and picking my guitar. I was in the shade and enjoying the solitude. After about 15 minutes, a boy named Carlos joined me. He recognized the melody of one of my songs ("Seek ye First") and started singing along en Espanol. He sang falsetto and in nearly perfect pitch. I asked Carlos which house he lived in and he told me that he lives in the house (donated by the Daly family) Immanuel; the home designated for boys with special needs. Carlos was so engaging, pleasant, and talented musically, I could hardly tell he had special needs until I saw the way he walked and held my camera.
I urged Carlos to stand up for the empty "auditorium" and fill the space with his excellente voice. He giggled and giggled until his eyes watered "happy tears." I am curious about Carlos' story. I asked him, in broken Espanol, if he liked the ranch. He nodded and answered "Si!"
Carlos wanted to take pictures with my camera and because he was the only person around, I let him. I will post his photo shoot on FB. : )
I am delighted by the way I can connect to the musical style of the ranch. Wilfredo and I can play off of each other in a way I haven't been able to do since I attended Oak Hill Lutheran Brethren
Church. That is oddly beautiful! As I wrote to Dan earlier in the week, the music is kind of folksy and the guys play guitar similarly, chords, hammerons and runs. Occasionally they will play "marachi" style, which makes me set my guitar down and move. (Yes, Betsy, still like an American pom-pon girl from the 70s. I know you were thinking it!)
Finally, at about 5:30, just as Carlos and I were on our twentieth round of the same song, Fredrico walked by. (He is a teacher of religion.) Carlos ran up to him and the two embraced each other in a way that would have most of you "sensitives" choke up. So sweet. Fredrico guided us to the other church, where the group was singing. . . We made it for the last 1/2 hour and was it ever worth it. Wowieee! We sang/played our hearts out, found mutual melodies, and put them to one word lyrics, "Hallelujah." The impromptu ensemble included maracas, guitars, flutes, and strong voices.
I gestured to the group that I wanted to leave my guitar with the music department when I left.
They all said gracias and then they clapped and clapped and clapped. . .
Wilfredo said that we should come back every day at 4:00 PM to practice for mass. (?)
I want to bring the group back to Minnesota with me to play for you! I wish I could.
Time to assist in English class. . . Have a great day everyone.
Please feel free to ask questions in the comment boxes and I'll answer them when I see them.
I was at the church at four and wasn't at all surprised when no one else was there. I took out my guitar, hoped that Treisy was having fun, and started strumming and picking my guitar. I was in the shade and enjoying the solitude. After about 15 minutes, a boy named Carlos joined me. He recognized the melody of one of my songs ("Seek ye First") and started singing along en Espanol. He sang falsetto and in nearly perfect pitch. I asked Carlos which house he lived in and he told me that he lives in the house (donated by the Daly family) Immanuel; the home designated for boys with special needs. Carlos was so engaging, pleasant, and talented musically, I could hardly tell he had special needs until I saw the way he walked and held my camera.
I urged Carlos to stand up for the empty "auditorium" and fill the space with his excellente voice. He giggled and giggled until his eyes watered "happy tears." I am curious about Carlos' story. I asked him, in broken Espanol, if he liked the ranch. He nodded and answered "Si!"
Carlos wanted to take pictures with my camera and because he was the only person around, I let him. I will post his photo shoot on FB. : )
I am delighted by the way I can connect to the musical style of the ranch. Wilfredo and I can play off of each other in a way I haven't been able to do since I attended Oak Hill Lutheran Brethren
Church. That is oddly beautiful! As I wrote to Dan earlier in the week, the music is kind of folksy and the guys play guitar similarly, chords, hammerons and runs. Occasionally they will play "marachi" style, which makes me set my guitar down and move. (Yes, Betsy, still like an American pom-pon girl from the 70s. I know you were thinking it!)
Finally, at about 5:30, just as Carlos and I were on our twentieth round of the same song, Fredrico walked by. (He is a teacher of religion.) Carlos ran up to him and the two embraced each other in a way that would have most of you "sensitives" choke up. So sweet. Fredrico guided us to the other church, where the group was singing. . . We made it for the last 1/2 hour and was it ever worth it. Wowieee! We sang/played our hearts out, found mutual melodies, and put them to one word lyrics, "Hallelujah." The impromptu ensemble included maracas, guitars, flutes, and strong voices.
I gestured to the group that I wanted to leave my guitar with the music department when I left.
They all said gracias and then they clapped and clapped and clapped. . .
Wilfredo said that we should come back every day at 4:00 PM to practice for mass. (?)
I want to bring the group back to Minnesota with me to play for you! I wish I could.
Time to assist in English class. . . Have a great day everyone.
Please feel free to ask questions in the comment boxes and I'll answer them when I see them.
Musica!
Dear Friends,
Today was magnifico!
Wilfredo (sp?) the music teacher invited me to join him as he traveled to the different classrooms and to bring my guitarra. He told me to come at 9:00 AM, however, tiempo/time seems to be estimated and people appear to be very comfortable with waiting and hanging out. I came prepared to wait. It is usually in those waiting periods that friendships begin.
This morning, a boy named Alexis (sp?) approached and asked en Ingles/English what my name was and something about numbres. We ended up learning each others' names and ages (He was ten) and he wanted to open my guitar. It is hard to say no to the simple things, but if I say "si" to one, soon there is a long line and the outcome won't be fair. He was respectful when I told him "no, por favor."
Later on, I met the same boy, Alexis, in English class. We played a version of "Around the World," as we named animals en Espanol con Ingles. Alexis won! Before I left MN, I stuffed a bunch of blue and white balloons (Honduras colors) in my suitcase and they are coming in very handy as prizes. A balloon is a big deal here, as are the packages that their Lifetouch photos came in. They are being used as "masks." The clear cellophane window fits well over each beautiful face. (Marty, are you reading this?)
The kids are working on their English while I baby step and tumble through Spanish, so it can be quite funny. The other day, I thought someone was talking about a "miracle" when in fact, they were saying "Wednesday."
The music teacher plays wonderfully by ear and can harmonize to anything. Within a minute we were playing and singing duets; Seek ye First/Alelujia and Dona Nobis Pacem. It was a gift and I have a feeling, we will be singing and playing a lot together in the remaining 13 days! In fact, we are meeting at the outside "church" this afternoon at 4:00 and he gestured that he will bring songbooks. Uh-oh, that would be en Espanol. : )
He and three classes sang for me and filled me up with energy. After rereading my blog entry from last night, the timing was perfecto. I was a bit weary, but have been refueled by MUSICA,
necisito.
Desolation= language barrier : (
Consolation= Music : )
Grateful.
Today was magnifico!
Wilfredo (sp?) the music teacher invited me to join him as he traveled to the different classrooms and to bring my guitarra. He told me to come at 9:00 AM, however, tiempo/time seems to be estimated and people appear to be very comfortable with waiting and hanging out. I came prepared to wait. It is usually in those waiting periods that friendships begin.
This morning, a boy named Alexis (sp?) approached and asked en Ingles/English what my name was and something about numbres. We ended up learning each others' names and ages (He was ten) and he wanted to open my guitar. It is hard to say no to the simple things, but if I say "si" to one, soon there is a long line and the outcome won't be fair. He was respectful when I told him "no, por favor."
Later on, I met the same boy, Alexis, in English class. We played a version of "Around the World," as we named animals en Espanol con Ingles. Alexis won! Before I left MN, I stuffed a bunch of blue and white balloons (Honduras colors) in my suitcase and they are coming in very handy as prizes. A balloon is a big deal here, as are the packages that their Lifetouch photos came in. They are being used as "masks." The clear cellophane window fits well over each beautiful face. (Marty, are you reading this?)
The kids are working on their English while I baby step and tumble through Spanish, so it can be quite funny. The other day, I thought someone was talking about a "miracle" when in fact, they were saying "Wednesday."
The music teacher plays wonderfully by ear and can harmonize to anything. Within a minute we were playing and singing duets; Seek ye First/Alelujia and Dona Nobis Pacem. It was a gift and I have a feeling, we will be singing and playing a lot together in the remaining 13 days! In fact, we are meeting at the outside "church" this afternoon at 4:00 and he gestured that he will bring songbooks. Uh-oh, that would be en Espanol. : )
He and three classes sang for me and filled me up with energy. After rereading my blog entry from last night, the timing was perfecto. I was a bit weary, but have been refueled by MUSICA,
necisito.
Desolation= language barrier : (
Consolation= Music : )
Grateful.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Dear Blog Followers,
Tonight's entry is copying and pasting various personal emails I sent. I figured, "Why rewrite the same things?" So here goes. Please forgive the choppy nature of tonight's blog. : )
Well, today is a big day. So far, so good. Until today, as you know, I have been chumming around with Marty and Christina. I even got to go with Christina into town again yesterday because her work at the farm was finished and I am really viewed as a "visitor" here, but I am expected to pitch in, which I prefer to do. Today, however, we walked around a park which was actually somewhat maintained. It was beautiful! We also visited an elderly friend of hers that is middle-lower class and then I walked down the street to a neighbors' home where I gestured for an hour with five young women and their children. They love to see their digital images on a camera so it kind of turned into a photo shoot. I am fortunate to have these opportunities outside the ranch is "real life" Honduras, thanks to Christina who invites me along! Muchos Gracias Chris!
This AM I put myself on a new schedule. 8:00 tortilla house (pictures coming-so cool), and then English classes down at the school. THAT will be a niche for me here for sure. The young volunteer, Karen, from NJ is not a teacher and was despairing by her lack of behavior management skills. She asked me to "do anything." I was assertive and yet reinforcing of appropriate behavior choices. The kids responded very well.
We played some games and I even had some little balloons to use as prizes stuffed in my pocket.
1/3 of my trip is already over, so I think it's going to go fast. I am energized by the LA (Latin American) personalities. . . "they" (those here) really do tend to be "out there," open and affectionate, just where I feel most comfortable. The teens can be smart alecs, which bothers me as it does back home. I hate that cynical stand-offish phase. Lord have mercy.
Tonight there was a "rosary gathering" around a huge rosary (10 feet long) and most of the kids and tias and tios were into it, but there were 5-10 girls who were being brats. Everyone ignored them. I wanted to tell them to be quiet or leave. Grrr. We got rained out, but it was pretty cool, I thought. My Treisy was saying every single word. I was glad that she was able to find meaning in this ritual. She will need to.
After a lot of rain today, there are BIG HUGE bugs landing everywhere, including on me. They make me shudder, but not freak as the wormy snaky critters DO! Inasmuch as love it here, I will love being back in my sterile surroundings! OH MAN!
I am so glad that I sleep well here- under my mosquito net. I should take a pic of my bed.
I saw a 2 foot lizard today. I was freaking until I saw that it wasn't a snake. A bunch of caterpillars fell off of trees on me today and they were black. THAT was awful. EWWWWWWW.
Let's see. What else grossed me out today? Oh! The garbage here was full of maggots today when I opened it, so I bribed a young man to take care of it for me and gave him two pieces of banana bread that I got in town yesterday. It didn't bother him in the slightest. Sure he's seen worse. Okay and right now there is a 3 inch cockroach crawling towards me. Stuff like that is slightly stressful, but it doesn't wreck it for me, for which I am grateful. I hope I don't encounter any of those red and black snakes I heard about.
My Treisy was glum tonight. I wonder when her mom died. Must find out.
Tonight's entry is copying and pasting various personal emails I sent. I figured, "Why rewrite the same things?" So here goes. Please forgive the choppy nature of tonight's blog. : )
Well, today is a big day. So far, so good. Until today, as you know, I have been chumming around with Marty and Christina. I even got to go with Christina into town again yesterday because her work at the farm was finished and I am really viewed as a "visitor" here, but I am expected to pitch in, which I prefer to do. Today, however, we walked around a park which was actually somewhat maintained. It was beautiful! We also visited an elderly friend of hers that is middle-lower class and then I walked down the street to a neighbors' home where I gestured for an hour with five young women and their children. They love to see their digital images on a camera so it kind of turned into a photo shoot. I am fortunate to have these opportunities outside the ranch is "real life" Honduras, thanks to Christina who invites me along! Muchos Gracias Chris!
This AM I put myself on a new schedule. 8:00 tortilla house (pictures coming-so cool), and then English classes down at the school. THAT will be a niche for me here for sure. The young volunteer, Karen, from NJ is not a teacher and was despairing by her lack of behavior management skills. She asked me to "do anything." I was assertive and yet reinforcing of appropriate behavior choices. The kids responded very well.
We played some games and I even had some little balloons to use as prizes stuffed in my pocket.
1/3 of my trip is already over, so I think it's going to go fast. I am energized by the LA (Latin American) personalities. . . "they" (those here) really do tend to be "out there," open and affectionate, just where I feel most comfortable. The teens can be smart alecs, which bothers me as it does back home. I hate that cynical stand-offish phase. Lord have mercy.
Tonight there was a "rosary gathering" around a huge rosary (10 feet long) and most of the kids and tias and tios were into it, but there were 5-10 girls who were being brats. Everyone ignored them. I wanted to tell them to be quiet or leave. Grrr. We got rained out, but it was pretty cool, I thought. My Treisy was saying every single word. I was glad that she was able to find meaning in this ritual. She will need to.
After a lot of rain today, there are BIG HUGE bugs landing everywhere, including on me. They make me shudder, but not freak as the wormy snaky critters DO! Inasmuch as love it here, I will love being back in my sterile surroundings! OH MAN!
I am so glad that I sleep well here- under my mosquito net. I should take a pic of my bed.
I saw a 2 foot lizard today. I was freaking until I saw that it wasn't a snake. A bunch of caterpillars fell off of trees on me today and they were black. THAT was awful. EWWWWWWW.
Let's see. What else grossed me out today? Oh! The garbage here was full of maggots today when I opened it, so I bribed a young man to take care of it for me and gave him two pieces of banana bread that I got in town yesterday. It didn't bother him in the slightest. Sure he's seen worse. Okay and right now there is a 3 inch cockroach crawling towards me. Stuff like that is slightly stressful, but it doesn't wreck it for me, for which I am grateful. I hope I don't encounter any of those red and black snakes I heard about.
My Treisy was glum tonight. I wonder when her mom died. Must find out.
Photos 3
This is the Swimming "party" I went to last Sunday. Treisy is in the black shirt. She does no like being photographed, which I will respect. I always ask first (with everyone), but most people love it. Notice the sugar in one hand?
Photos 2
e
I am unsure of how to post photos quickly (American style)! It takes forever! I am taking many photos. Love my camera- thank you Dan.
The pictures are pretty self-explanatory, but I want to point out Treisy. She is the girl sitting next to me while playing guitar. This is a typical of her, as she is often in a care-giving role. She took on the mother role when her mom died, I heard, and it seems clear that her practiced "role" continues. Right after Marty snapped this, Treisy started cleaning out her friend's ears, with her finger! I will post more pics of Treisy and her friends (sisters).
The older woman, Gloria, runs the tortilla house. It was fun to watch her handle VERY large and heavy buckets full of "maize." It was even more fun to see her scoop up abut five tortillas at a time and have them stacked perfectly on the end of her tool. She works fast, oh boy. She's done this a few times.
The young woman next to her is 15 year old Allana who knows some English, which is always fun for both of us. She made me count out the tortillas in Spanish, even though I had to recount in English every time. We sang a long (I hummed) to the radio station she obviously loved. Every time I new song came on she said something like, "THIS is a good one, or I LOVVVE this one."
Typical 15 and so sweet.
I asked her if I could eat a fresh tortilla and she said "Si!" Then, she and Gloria conspired and whipped up an omelet for me as well on the side of the huge griddle. It was delicious and mostly because their hospitality skills are so very generous.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Tomorrow
Tomorrow is going to be a big day. My new "amigas," are going home. I am thankful for the six days we have had together. Marty needed help photographing the kids and I got to hold the flashlight and shine it into the childrens' eyes to bring out their "sparkle."
Marty's sister, Christine, who is deeply connected to the farm here, has been such a great help in every way. From warning me about the most embarrassing language mistakes to getting me into the village, I was lucky to meet her. She drove me into the city today to stock up on essentials including way more bug spray, coffee, paper, art supplies for the kids, shampoo, food staples for when I can't stomach the cheese-variety protein source here (it tastes sour to me, but some people love it), and more Crystal Light. When I told her I felt guilty for wanting/needing my comfort items, she share with me how important it is to pace oneself when entering a whole new set of cultural and economic norms. She majored in Anthropology and Agriculture (is that right Christina?) and I found every conversation with her fascinating.
But that wasn't the best part of the day. Christina wanted to visit an old friend in Teguc; a woman that had worked for NPH for a long time. (I can't remember her name, of course.) We parked the rental car near her home and suprised her with our visit. The woman was so happy to see Christine and hugged her/held her LA (Latin American) style, which always warms my heart tremendously. I always tell folks right away (or Christina does) that I don't speak Spanish so they know I am not being distant. They are usually super sweet and let me know that they understand with pats on the back and/or grabbing my hand and holding it. We all smile a lot to to compensate for our unshared language skills. I never have to fake it, not yet anyway.
People here tend to enjoy seeing themselves on digital cameras, and sometimes hint that they'd like me to take a photo. They laugh and laugh when they see themselves on the little screen. (Well, either that or the girls put their thumbs down like it's not "bonita." I think these folks were blessed with God's most artistic skills. They are beautiful, in my opinion.
I am stocked with snacks and other items, my list of "must-know" Spanish phrases, and ready to be more independent after Marty and Christine leave tomorrow at 8 AM. I will start the day in the tortilla house and then stroll down to the school to visit the English and music classes if possible.
My next blog will share my hesitation to "bond" with Treisy. . . my new "godchild"
Marty's sister, Christine, who is deeply connected to the farm here, has been such a great help in every way. From warning me about the most embarrassing language mistakes to getting me into the village, I was lucky to meet her. She drove me into the city today to stock up on essentials including way more bug spray, coffee, paper, art supplies for the kids, shampoo, food staples for when I can't stomach the cheese-variety protein source here (it tastes sour to me, but some people love it), and more Crystal Light. When I told her I felt guilty for wanting/needing my comfort items, she share with me how important it is to pace oneself when entering a whole new set of cultural and economic norms. She majored in Anthropology and Agriculture (is that right Christina?) and I found every conversation with her fascinating.
But that wasn't the best part of the day. Christina wanted to visit an old friend in Teguc; a woman that had worked for NPH for a long time. (I can't remember her name, of course.) We parked the rental car near her home and suprised her with our visit. The woman was so happy to see Christine and hugged her/held her LA (Latin American) style, which always warms my heart tremendously. I always tell folks right away (or Christina does) that I don't speak Spanish so they know I am not being distant. They are usually super sweet and let me know that they understand with pats on the back and/or grabbing my hand and holding it. We all smile a lot to to compensate for our unshared language skills. I never have to fake it, not yet anyway.
People here tend to enjoy seeing themselves on digital cameras, and sometimes hint that they'd like me to take a photo. They laugh and laugh when they see themselves on the little screen. (Well, either that or the girls put their thumbs down like it's not "bonita." I think these folks were blessed with God's most artistic skills. They are beautiful, in my opinion.
I am stocked with snacks and other items, my list of "must-know" Spanish phrases, and ready to be more independent after Marty and Christine leave tomorrow at 8 AM. I will start the day in the tortilla house and then stroll down to the school to visit the English and music classes if possible.
My next blog will share my hesitation to "bond" with Treisy. . . my new "godchild"
Before I forget. . .
I just have to share a few key moments before I forget. There will be many, so I am simply going to list them.
1. On the drive from the airport to the ranch, we must have driven past a dozen or so "dumps" of different sizes. Most of these dumps were busy places. I had read about people living off of them but I searched for signs of these people being "workers." Nope, the workers were out in front stacking and organizing the dump. The scavengers were in it. I guess they were all living off the dump, at least in part.
2. Small children (ages 4-10?) were filling in deep potholes in the road with dirt and sand. They wanted to be compensated for their work. They stood in the middle of the street with one hand on their shovels or buckets and the other outstretched for their much-deserved donation.
3. The day before I arrived, the ranch "adopted" baby Scarlet. At first they thought she was three months old, but because of her developed personality and activity level, they are reconsidering and thinking she must be closer to five months old. Scarlet is the apple of everyone's eye. The little girls at mass just watched her the whole time.
4. Towards the end of the Saturday afternoon church service, they did a "blessing for the children." There was no priest available, so two of the "religious mentors" blessed them. While the musicians sang to guitar (which was really good!), kids of all ages from tiny to young adult, formed lines up in front to have a moment of blessing. The lines were quiet and even kind of reverent. The way the adults held each head was what struck me. They didn't pat their heads, or touch them, they cupped them in their hands and held them, lice ridden or not, and held them as precious human beings who are kept safe here~ for life.
I have having trouble uploading photos here and I am dying to share them. I'll try again tonight and if I don't succeed, I'll resort to FB. I just returned from a visit to the farm. Lunch soon. I like the food here, most of the time. It's usually a combination of rice, tortillas, chicken, eggs, and sweet warm milk which I really like.
1. On the drive from the airport to the ranch, we must have driven past a dozen or so "dumps" of different sizes. Most of these dumps were busy places. I had read about people living off of them but I searched for signs of these people being "workers." Nope, the workers were out in front stacking and organizing the dump. The scavengers were in it. I guess they were all living off the dump, at least in part.
2. Small children (ages 4-10?) were filling in deep potholes in the road with dirt and sand. They wanted to be compensated for their work. They stood in the middle of the street with one hand on their shovels or buckets and the other outstretched for their much-deserved donation.
3. The day before I arrived, the ranch "adopted" baby Scarlet. At first they thought she was three months old, but because of her developed personality and activity level, they are reconsidering and thinking she must be closer to five months old. Scarlet is the apple of everyone's eye. The little girls at mass just watched her the whole time.
4. Towards the end of the Saturday afternoon church service, they did a "blessing for the children." There was no priest available, so two of the "religious mentors" blessed them. While the musicians sang to guitar (which was really good!), kids of all ages from tiny to young adult, formed lines up in front to have a moment of blessing. The lines were quiet and even kind of reverent. The way the adults held each head was what struck me. They didn't pat their heads, or touch them, they cupped them in their hands and held them, lice ridden or not, and held them as precious human beings who are kept safe here~ for life.
I have having trouble uploading photos here and I am dying to share them. I'll try again tonight and if I don't succeed, I'll resort to FB. I just returned from a visit to the farm. Lunch soon. I like the food here, most of the time. It's usually a combination of rice, tortillas, chicken, eggs, and sweet warm milk which I really like.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Swimming at the Pond
This morning there was a knock at the door. It was a peppy volunteer named Danielle delivering a dictated note from Treisi/Treisy. (I have seen both spellings of her name, not sure.) It read:
"I am glad you are here. I would like to invite you to the pond for swimming this morning. Will you come back at Christmas? I want to spend a lot of time with you. I would like to play games and draw with you. Will you sit by me at mass on Sunday?
I met her at the muddy pond and "muddy-water filled" cement pool. There were at least 100 kids there of all ages, including about ten kids in wheelchairs and the boys with degrees of, what appears to be, autism. I have to say that I am surprised by the love shared among them. I am incredibly touched by it. They truly do bond as family it seems and NPH will never take just one sibling. They take all or none and the kids are never adopted. I think that gives the kids a sense of permanence and makes the bonding easier. The "tias" (caregivers) are either returning orphans (fulfilling their year/s of required service) or hired help from the outside. I am amazed by the warmth. The way they expressive it is something I wish everyone could see.
It was fun to see the kids carry bags and bushels of food to the swimming "posa" this morning. They worked together to peel mangos, mix cornmeal and butter for tamales and build a fire. They arranged themselves into group activities with no help whatsoever from the adults present. They didn't need the help!
Four games, one puzzle, water, a soccer ball, and amigas/amigos kept these kids smiling, relaxing, and being kind to each other all day. (Granted, I have heard they battle it out as well.)
On the way back from the "swimming party," I noticed one little boy picking corn as an adult supervised. I wondered if he was receiving a consequence for something.
I am curious about how they manage behaviors, their school, the trade workshops offered for teens, the University and well just about everything. It is so great to be an observer and not the teacher right now!
Just a madrinas lucky enough to be invited to the pond this morning.
"I am glad you are here. I would like to invite you to the pond for swimming this morning. Will you come back at Christmas? I want to spend a lot of time with you. I would like to play games and draw with you. Will you sit by me at mass on Sunday?
I met her at the muddy pond and "muddy-water filled" cement pool. There were at least 100 kids there of all ages, including about ten kids in wheelchairs and the boys with degrees of, what appears to be, autism. I have to say that I am surprised by the love shared among them. I am incredibly touched by it. They truly do bond as family it seems and NPH will never take just one sibling. They take all or none and the kids are never adopted. I think that gives the kids a sense of permanence and makes the bonding easier. The "tias" (caregivers) are either returning orphans (fulfilling their year/s of required service) or hired help from the outside. I am amazed by the warmth. The way they expressive it is something I wish everyone could see.
It was fun to see the kids carry bags and bushels of food to the swimming "posa" this morning. They worked together to peel mangos, mix cornmeal and butter for tamales and build a fire. They arranged themselves into group activities with no help whatsoever from the adults present. They didn't need the help!
Four games, one puzzle, water, a soccer ball, and amigas/amigos kept these kids smiling, relaxing, and being kind to each other all day. (Granted, I have heard they battle it out as well.)
On the way back from the "swimming party," I noticed one little boy picking corn as an adult supervised. I wondered if he was receiving a consequence for something.
I am curious about how they manage behaviors, their school, the trade workshops offered for teens, the University and well just about everything. It is so great to be an observer and not the teacher right now!
Just a madrinas lucky enough to be invited to the pond this morning.
Airport Story
Hello Everyone and Happy Father's Day,
Dads, there are many boys who would do anything to have you for a sponsor- godfather. This is the perfect place to support a child (you choose gender and age) because once you do, you have an open invitation to visit! The kids LOVE to see you and consider you part of their family. I have heard that very few sponsors visit (?) and the other kids are saying, "I wish my madrina/padrino would come." These kids are open to us because most of the volunteers resemble us. (Well, minus twenty-five years.)
Anyway, back to the airport. Nothing like a little taste of being lost in a third world country for an hour and 1/2. Note: I hesitate to share this because I don't want it to detract from everything else.
But here goes.
My 5:20 AM flight out of Minneapolis arrived late into Atlanta and I had to run to catch the connecting fight. (I would do that again for it beats a five- hour wait that was available on a different flight pattern.) Once seated and while recovering my breath, I met "Walter" who was on his way to Honduras to visit his father. He explained through broken English that he didn't know him well because he left the family when he was three years old. Walter spent the rest of his life with his mother and grandmother in Spain. Discouraged by the even worse economy situation there, Walter recently decided to move (by himself) to San Fransisco where he hopes to improve his English and get a job as an interior designer. His sense of humor increased as we chatted and began to match his trendy attire; skinny jeans, black high-tops, tight white T-shirt and a gray scarf draped loosely around his neck.
Customs at the Tegucigalpa airport reminded me of the traffic jam we were in on Friday. Suitcases were landlocked by shuffling feet. Walter was protective of me, as I bet he would have been with his own mother and I was old enough to be his mama! He watched over my shoulder when I pulled out my documents and waved reassuringly through the sardine-like crowd in Baggage Claim.
It took ut 45 minutes to get through the lines and crowd at Immigration and my excitement grew as I searched for the large "NPH" sign that was surely going visible around the NEXT corner, per email confirmation just last week from the visitor coordinator. . .
When at first I saw no sign, I knew it would appear eventually. No worries.
When I nearly got pushed into a taxi, I thought someone had simply mistaken me for someone else. No big worries.
When three men surrounded me and rattled off words to each other, I wished I had not travel.gov before I left. Slight worry, but very slight.
When I dug in my large purse and couldn't find my sheet of "must-know" Spanish phrases, I thought how glad I was that Dan didn't have to witness the purse search this time. Slightly more worry.
When I moved to a corner from which to search for my cheat sheet, I was mad at myself for not sticking with my Spanish lessons, even if Jose, our school custodian laughed at my pronunciations. Officially scared and sure that I had been targeted as LA (lost and afraid) by now.
I looked for Walter. I could go with him to his father's house, he will help me get back home, it will beat being here in an emptying airport, everything will be okay, this is part of travel, be brave, at least look the part, you'll have a story to share, shoot, what if i get kidnapped, where is the coordinator, did I send my flight information correctly, i remember checking it thrice, why did i leave the US without international cell service, dumb dumb thing to do, safety nets are everything, even if you don't need them, payforthemwhydidIdothis. My thoughts raced along with my heart beat.
While I searched the thinning crowd for Walter, I scanned nearby buildings for anything resembling a motel. Thoughts of my packed netbook and a bit of cash in my wallet became my internal mantra. With no Walter in sight and unable to make out anything that looked like a motel, a lump perched in my throat as I saw a hotel van pull away from the curb.
I scolded myself for being indecisive and unprepared. Apparently, the three men were concluding that either I really did need help, or, that I really was an easy target. How I wished I had been able to push away the fear, but I couldn't. I tried not to think about getting kidnapped as they returned to talking around me and a sweat broke out on my forehead and upper lip.
I hoped they didn't notice. I wish I had a video tape of it now. I wonder if I even made eye-contact with them. They were probably kind people trying to help me and I couldn't trust it.
"God!" I screamed silently. "Please show up!"
I spotted a woman with a cross on her t-shirt, ran up to her and asked her if she spoke English. She did! I told her of my situation (with pleading status mind you which I hate to do) and she held my arm and said that she would NOT leave me. I think I said thank you a bunch of times and I even said Thank you God out loud.
I was prepared to follow this lady and her husband to their "missions trip" and mind fast-forwarded to my first blog post:
"Hello Everyone. All is well except I ended up with such and such church group on their missions trip instead of going to NPH as planned." By this time, I didn't really care. I knew I was safe and I am still thanking God for proving, time after time, that He/She is mysteriously present.
The rest of the story is that the nice lady stayed by my side and took me to a small group of Honduran people who she introduced as "part of our family." (I whispered, "but can I trust them? She laughed and told them what I said and they all formed a circle with me and explained that these were "God's People" who are doing such good things in their city. I started to tear up and hugged them all. The Honduran woman with kind eyes hugged me back~ LA style, Latin American style.
Although I would have been fine there too, I am thrilled that things worked out, again, for me to be here. Once I met Andrea, the visitor coordinator, the details suddenly didn't matter. She explained that she thought I was part of another group and apologized for being late. I wanted to put the airport behind me right then and there. I had to. Having been here now for three days, I am seeing that time here means very little, and that getting hundreds of kids fed, bathed, and cared for is the number one priority and that takes a lot of work, from a lot of people. The volunteers here seem to adapt for "survival" and not pay attention to detail as is expected in the US.
In a way, I am glad that happened. But, Lord knows, I will never allow it to happen again. I'll be a triple-confirmer while traveling alone from now on.
I'm so glad I'm here as I listen to some teens singing in the background here on the ranch.
Thanks for letting me share this with you. It's a great way to relax.
Next blog: Swimming at the Pond
Dads, there are many boys who would do anything to have you for a sponsor- godfather. This is the perfect place to support a child (you choose gender and age) because once you do, you have an open invitation to visit! The kids LOVE to see you and consider you part of their family. I have heard that very few sponsors visit (?) and the other kids are saying, "I wish my madrina/padrino would come." These kids are open to us because most of the volunteers resemble us. (Well, minus twenty-five years.)
Anyway, back to the airport. Nothing like a little taste of being lost in a third world country for an hour and 1/2. Note: I hesitate to share this because I don't want it to detract from everything else.
But here goes.
My 5:20 AM flight out of Minneapolis arrived late into Atlanta and I had to run to catch the connecting fight. (I would do that again for it beats a five- hour wait that was available on a different flight pattern.) Once seated and while recovering my breath, I met "Walter" who was on his way to Honduras to visit his father. He explained through broken English that he didn't know him well because he left the family when he was three years old. Walter spent the rest of his life with his mother and grandmother in Spain. Discouraged by the even worse economy situation there, Walter recently decided to move (by himself) to San Fransisco where he hopes to improve his English and get a job as an interior designer. His sense of humor increased as we chatted and began to match his trendy attire; skinny jeans, black high-tops, tight white T-shirt and a gray scarf draped loosely around his neck.
Customs at the Tegucigalpa airport reminded me of the traffic jam we were in on Friday. Suitcases were landlocked by shuffling feet. Walter was protective of me, as I bet he would have been with his own mother and I was old enough to be his mama! He watched over my shoulder when I pulled out my documents and waved reassuringly through the sardine-like crowd in Baggage Claim.
It took ut 45 minutes to get through the lines and crowd at Immigration and my excitement grew as I searched for the large "NPH" sign that was surely going visible around the NEXT corner, per email confirmation just last week from the visitor coordinator. . .
When at first I saw no sign, I knew it would appear eventually. No worries.
When I nearly got pushed into a taxi, I thought someone had simply mistaken me for someone else. No big worries.
When three men surrounded me and rattled off words to each other, I wished I had not travel.gov before I left. Slight worry, but very slight.
When I dug in my large purse and couldn't find my sheet of "must-know" Spanish phrases, I thought how glad I was that Dan didn't have to witness the purse search this time. Slightly more worry.
When I moved to a corner from which to search for my cheat sheet, I was mad at myself for not sticking with my Spanish lessons, even if Jose, our school custodian laughed at my pronunciations. Officially scared and sure that I had been targeted as LA (lost and afraid) by now.
I looked for Walter. I could go with him to his father's house, he will help me get back home, it will beat being here in an emptying airport, everything will be okay, this is part of travel, be brave, at least look the part, you'll have a story to share, shoot, what if i get kidnapped, where is the coordinator, did I send my flight information correctly, i remember checking it thrice, why did i leave the US without international cell service, dumb dumb thing to do, safety nets are everything, even if you don't need them, payforthemwhydidIdothis. My thoughts raced along with my heart beat.
While I searched the thinning crowd for Walter, I scanned nearby buildings for anything resembling a motel. Thoughts of my packed netbook and a bit of cash in my wallet became my internal mantra. With no Walter in sight and unable to make out anything that looked like a motel, a lump perched in my throat as I saw a hotel van pull away from the curb.
I scolded myself for being indecisive and unprepared. Apparently, the three men were concluding that either I really did need help, or, that I really was an easy target. How I wished I had been able to push away the fear, but I couldn't. I tried not to think about getting kidnapped as they returned to talking around me and a sweat broke out on my forehead and upper lip.
I hoped they didn't notice. I wish I had a video tape of it now. I wonder if I even made eye-contact with them. They were probably kind people trying to help me and I couldn't trust it.
"God!" I screamed silently. "Please show up!"
I spotted a woman with a cross on her t-shirt, ran up to her and asked her if she spoke English. She did! I told her of my situation (with pleading status mind you which I hate to do) and she held my arm and said that she would NOT leave me. I think I said thank you a bunch of times and I even said Thank you God out loud.
I was prepared to follow this lady and her husband to their "missions trip" and mind fast-forwarded to my first blog post:
"Hello Everyone. All is well except I ended up with such and such church group on their missions trip instead of going to NPH as planned." By this time, I didn't really care. I knew I was safe and I am still thanking God for proving, time after time, that He/She is mysteriously present.
The rest of the story is that the nice lady stayed by my side and took me to a small group of Honduran people who she introduced as "part of our family." (I whispered, "but can I trust them? She laughed and told them what I said and they all formed a circle with me and explained that these were "God's People" who are doing such good things in their city. I started to tear up and hugged them all. The Honduran woman with kind eyes hugged me back~ LA style, Latin American style.
Although I would have been fine there too, I am thrilled that things worked out, again, for me to be here. Once I met Andrea, the visitor coordinator, the details suddenly didn't matter. She explained that she thought I was part of another group and apologized for being late. I wanted to put the airport behind me right then and there. I had to. Having been here now for three days, I am seeing that time here means very little, and that getting hundreds of kids fed, bathed, and cared for is the number one priority and that takes a lot of work, from a lot of people. The volunteers here seem to adapt for "survival" and not pay attention to detail as is expected in the US.
In a way, I am glad that happened. But, Lord knows, I will never allow it to happen again. I'll be a triple-confirmer while traveling alone from now on.
I'm so glad I'm here as I listen to some teens singing in the background here on the ranch.
Thanks for letting me share this with you. It's a great way to relax.
Next blog: Swimming at the Pond
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Day #3
Good Morning, (I started this in the AM)
I am sitting here with a strong cup of Mayan coffee (Yummm!) without cream and it's delicious. There is a cool breeze and I can hear children laughing in the distance. (Always~ And I am struck by how healthy they look. . . energetic, clean, well-groomed (hair) connected to each other, and smiling.)
My first two days have been very full. I have so much I want to share. I have several stories. . . I have the airport story, but I have to be in the right mood to write that one. It's a really good one! There is the Baby Crystal story, Road Repair, City Dump, Vera and Liz, Discomforts story and more. Oh, and most important, there is the Treisi, my godchild who I just met story. That's the most important one.
There are a few other visitors here and that has been perfect; the mom of a volunteer, a photographer from LifeTouch who is taking school pictures which has been interesting and last but not least, Christine, who is a legend here. She is an agricultural specialist that is currently interested in, among other things, cheese-making. She actually helped with starting the farm 25 years ago as a Peace Corps volunteer and considers this area her second home. She is close friends with some Hondurans in a nearby village and knows this place and culture like the back of her hand. I am extremely fortunate to have met these other visitors at this time.
Cristine took us sightseeing in the city after getting literally trapped in total chaotic traffic jam near Tegucigalpa. (She just laughed while the rest of us feared for our lives.) After visiting a beautiful cathedral and buying a few souvineers, we were invited to her friend's family home for dinner. That is another story. Wow. Most of the volunteers have the weekend off so I am extremely happy to be hanging out with them while getting my bearings straight. Speaking of bearings, being one of the only non-Spanish speakers around is really disorienting for an extrovert. What a valuable insight. It makes me think about my Somali immigrant students. . . Crossing cultural norms, especially when a different language is involved is enormous. And rich.
Putting these stories into words will be a challenge because I don't want to minimize them. I will do my best, but I am counting on my photos to carry more of the sharing when I come home.
Thank you for reading this blog! XO Latin American style
I am sitting here with a strong cup of Mayan coffee (Yummm!) without cream and it's delicious. There is a cool breeze and I can hear children laughing in the distance. (Always~ And I am struck by how healthy they look. . . energetic, clean, well-groomed (hair) connected to each other, and smiling.)
My first two days have been very full. I have so much I want to share. I have several stories. . . I have the airport story, but I have to be in the right mood to write that one. It's a really good one! There is the Baby Crystal story, Road Repair, City Dump, Vera and Liz, Discomforts story and more. Oh, and most important, there is the Treisi, my godchild who I just met story. That's the most important one.
There are a few other visitors here and that has been perfect; the mom of a volunteer, a photographer from LifeTouch who is taking school pictures which has been interesting and last but not least, Christine, who is a legend here. She is an agricultural specialist that is currently interested in, among other things, cheese-making. She actually helped with starting the farm 25 years ago as a Peace Corps volunteer and considers this area her second home. She is close friends with some Hondurans in a nearby village and knows this place and culture like the back of her hand. I am extremely fortunate to have met these other visitors at this time.
Cristine took us sightseeing in the city after getting literally trapped in total chaotic traffic jam near Tegucigalpa. (She just laughed while the rest of us feared for our lives.) After visiting a beautiful cathedral and buying a few souvineers, we were invited to her friend's family home for dinner. That is another story. Wow. Most of the volunteers have the weekend off so I am extremely happy to be hanging out with them while getting my bearings straight. Speaking of bearings, being one of the only non-Spanish speakers around is really disorienting for an extrovert. What a valuable insight. It makes me think about my Somali immigrant students. . . Crossing cultural norms, especially when a different language is involved is enormous. And rich.
Putting these stories into words will be a challenge because I don't want to minimize them. I will do my best, but I am counting on my photos to carry more of the sharing when I come home.
Thank you for reading this blog! XO Latin American style
Friday, June 18, 2010
Internet is working finally!
Hey Everyone,
I finally have an internet connection! It may or may not last. . . so I will update you quickly.
I love it here.
I knew when I signed up to come, or better put, when I was fortunate enough to come here that I would find myself outside of my comfort zone at times. But that is precisely what I wanted, at some level. : ) Hoping and praying that I would be a trooper, I was tested upon arrival at the Tegucigalpa airport, one of the known most dangerous landing strips in the world. We had to circle the airport for an hour until it dried because it was pouring rain which made a wet and short landing strip in Teguc unsafe.
We ended up being able to land there and the pilot was fabulous in his ability to communicate with us in a lighthearted way about the dangers of this particular landing.
Landing and stopping quickly felt something like a ride at an amusement park. We all clapped and affirmed the pilots for being extra skilled. (Only pilots with extra certification are allowed to land planes in Tegucigalpa.)
Today was a great day, but I am tired. I will be back soon. I hope.
I finally have an internet connection! It may or may not last. . . so I will update you quickly.
I love it here.
I knew when I signed up to come, or better put, when I was fortunate enough to come here that I would find myself outside of my comfort zone at times. But that is precisely what I wanted, at some level. : ) Hoping and praying that I would be a trooper, I was tested upon arrival at the Tegucigalpa airport, one of the known most dangerous landing strips in the world. We had to circle the airport for an hour until it dried because it was pouring rain which made a wet and short landing strip in Teguc unsafe.
We ended up being able to land there and the pilot was fabulous in his ability to communicate with us in a lighthearted way about the dangers of this particular landing.
Landing and stopping quickly felt something like a ride at an amusement park. We all clapped and affirmed the pilots for being extra skilled. (Only pilots with extra certification are allowed to land planes in Tegucigalpa.)
Today was a great day, but I am tired. I will be back soon. I hope.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
I Can Say It!
Hondurasarudnoh: "Hun dur us sar ud know"
Tegucigalpa: "Tay goosie gulp uh" (At least I think that's right)
I've been practicing. The Spanish, however, isn't going well. Uh oooh.
P.S. This is Annie Krueger. Thank you Annie for everything. You are a gem.
Connection with Honduras (NPH Honduras Orphanage)
A few days following the Haiti Earthquake, my student, John Krueger, walked in and said," My aunt and uncle are on their way to Haiti to help people." The way he said it made me realize that this seemed somewhat normal for him. . . I fired a bunch of questions at him and he did the best to answer them, but as an appointed "Gym Helper" who was never late for his job, he needed to run. John's mom, Annie, teaches reading (Assurance of Master, AOM) at our school, so I scurried up to her office, "Your brother is going to Haiti?! Really!?"
She shared with me that her brother, Dr. Pete Daly and his wife, Lulu, who is a nurse, started a Surgery Center next to an orphanage "Nuestros Pequenos Hermanos" or "Our Little Brothers and Sisters" which is home to over 500 children in a village outside of Tegucigalpa, Honduras, and that they are connected to "Friends of the Orphans" throughout the Caribbean and Latin America. Peter and Lulu were going to Haiti to perform amputations and to do whatever they could.
The students were interested and moved by their classmate John's relatives who were on their way into a disaster zone for 2 weeks. I asked them if they would like to make "thank you" cards that would be waiting for the exhausted volunteers upon their return. We could thank them for being willing to not only face, but be immersed in such pain and suffering, unable to help the masses who were still trapped beneath the rubble, but doing what they could for those who had survived. So far.
The students' sentiments were genuine and sweet. Many tried to empathize with the children who had lost parents, naturally. I had a bag of "model magic clay" in the cupboard, so we formed key words and attached them to the front of the cards. The kids really got into it.
In March, Peter and Lulu came to our school to meet the students. Our fourth graders had the opportunity to see one form of "humanitarian work" up close. Most of us we were WAY outside of our comfort zone just by glimpsing some of the photos. Pete and Lulu said that they had three sets of photos and these were the least painful, which was hard to even imagine.
Following our special guests' presentation, I said to them, "I would like to go."
That was in March and by mid-April, I was in the books and had my flight reservation made. John's mom, Annie, has been such a wonderful support, as well as Annie's sister Katie who has been there and gave me some packing tips, like bring instant coffee. Last Friday night, Dan and I were invited to small informational gathering for potential volunteers in the medical field and it was so good to touch base with Peter and Lulu again. Although we will not be there at the same time, I do not feel as if I am entirely alone. My guitar is coming along. . .
I will hop on the plane in less than 40 hours. Thank you for joining me here.
Going Back to Go Forward
The suffering of the Haitian people on the news was unbearable yet I couldn't turn it off. I just sat there, "What to do? What to do? Is there really ANYTHING I can do to actually alleviate even one person's suffering besides texting money to the Red Cross?" With netbook in hand amidst every American comfort a gal could want including another new pair of flannel pajamas, plush Acorn wool slippers ordered online in just the exact shade of red I love, and a glass of wine by my side, I googled. I googled and googled and googled for answers to questions not yet formed:
Help for Haiti
FB fans for Haiti
Learn Creole
Miami's Little Haiti
Amazon.com
Voodoo
The Real History of Haiti
Relief Efforts in Haiti
Missionaries in H a i. . .
Suddenly, I remembered the names of the missionaries from 33 years ago and typed in "P-e-avey." Voila! There they ARE! SAME people with just-a-little-bit-older smiling faces (actually a LOT older, I don't think they'll be reading this, but even if they did, they aren't the type to give a rip about wrinkles, pretty sure) and the beautiful mountainous view we woke up to every morning while in Dessalines. Opening up that image was, as I soon realized, like opening the floodgates of the summer of 1977. Note: Haiti has shown up in my dreams repeatedly, often in the form of a search where we are/I am searching the Universe for starving brown babies that morph into creatures of sorts. Usually the dreams take place in outer space or Antarctica, remote places with obstacles galore. And in these nightmares, I am always alone. Sometimes there are tornadoes. And I digress.
If you're still with me? I told Dan how strange it was to look Haiti in the eyes again and how I had saved nothing from that summer; not even my pure vanilla stained/scented diary or one mahogany souvenir. I still can't believe he felt compelled to do this, but without my knowing, he searched the back corner of our crawl space and rummaged through my oldest saved "bin" and found a little box of slides labeled "Haiti" that I didn't even remember having. I took them to Walgreens and had them developed into prints.
The following weeks consisted of owning the possibility of going should something present itself by trying to turn down the volume of the what ifs posturing as rivals from everywhere, especially from within myself. Possibility thinking won. I mean the equation was perfect.
Empty Nest + Summers Off + Supportive Husband/Grown Daughters
Now, to find a place to go!
Next Post: Door Opens via The Krueger Family
Monday, June 14, 2010
The Beginning
The beginning was the earthquake in Haiti on January 12. It lasted 40 seconds and put Port-au-Prince and surrounding cities upside down; that is, what remained. . . Seeing Haitians suffering on the news was impossible to ignore, as I have admittedly managed to do with other tragedies around the world.
It was because I spent the summer of 1977 in an interior village of Haiti (Dessalines) when I was 17 years old. I went with Teen Missions International and stayed with an amazing couple (Don and Doris Peavey) with about 20 other teens. I don't remember how I heard about the opportunity, but I do remember writing my parents persuasive letters in hopes of them allowing me to go. . . Obviously, they agreed,
That summer was life-changing, or at least I think it was. It's difficult to know how it would have been different had I not gone. : ) Honest to goodness, if I had been allowed to stay in Dessalines with the Peavey Family at the time, I would have. Being there was simple, because we worked really hard (building a brick building) and had very little free time or money. I actually liked the structure, oddly enough. Although we had a week of "debriefing," it took several months, as I recall, to feel somewhat "normal " again. I ended up throwing away my journals and artifacts from there and I'm not even sure why. . . Maybe it was easier to be American if I could put that level of poverty out of my mind. I succeeded quite well until January 13, 2010. . . when Haiti was on every channel. Only this time, Haiti was hurting even more.
It was because I spent the summer of 1977 in an interior village of Haiti (Dessalines) when I was 17 years old. I went with Teen Missions International and stayed with an amazing couple (Don and Doris Peavey) with about 20 other teens. I don't remember how I heard about the opportunity, but I do remember writing my parents persuasive letters in hopes of them allowing me to go. . . Obviously, they agreed,
That summer was life-changing, or at least I think it was. It's difficult to know how it would have been different had I not gone. : ) Honest to goodness, if I had been allowed to stay in Dessalines with the Peavey Family at the time, I would have. Being there was simple, because we worked really hard (building a brick building) and had very little free time or money. I actually liked the structure, oddly enough. Although we had a week of "debriefing," it took several months, as I recall, to feel somewhat "normal " again. I ended up throwing away my journals and artifacts from there and I'm not even sure why. . . Maybe it was easier to be American if I could put that level of poverty out of my mind. I succeeded quite well until January 13, 2010. . . when Haiti was on every channel. Only this time, Haiti was hurting even more.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
My Title: Honduras (backwards) sarudnoH
I just finished reading, "On That Day Everybody Ate" by Margaret Trost; a book I couldn't set down. Margaret writes in the first person about her invitation to go to Haiti following the tragic death of her husband and lover.
Shortened Excerpt page 8: . . . "Bryan (an old friend) told me that he went to Haiti several times a year and invited me to go with a group the following year. My heart spoke and I said yes, almost in passing. Bryan explained that it would b a two-week pilgrimage of REVERSE MISSION. It was "reverse" because it would be transformational for the participants. It would involve volunteering at an orphanage and/or with sick adults. . . There would be plenty of time for reflection and journal writing. Witnessing life in poverty would raise all sorts of questions and feelings about life, faith, wealth, and poverty and would be transformational. . . On the surface, I appeared as a successful business woman and parent. Beneath, I had another broken heart and wondered if I'd ever heal. I was searching for something- I didn't know exactly what- but something that would move me forward and out of the rut I'd been in. This trip could help. It was certainly worth a try."
My husband hasn't died, thank goodness, and I am am not in a painful "place" right now, but the reverse mission title rings true. Hence the reverse spelling of Honduras.
Honduras! SurudnoH!
Shortened Excerpt page 8: . . . "Bryan (an old friend) told me that he went to Haiti several times a year and invited me to go with a group the following year. My heart spoke and I said yes, almost in passing. Bryan explained that it would b a two-week pilgrimage of REVERSE MISSION. It was "reverse" because it would be transformational for the participants. It would involve volunteering at an orphanage and/or with sick adults. . . There would be plenty of time for reflection and journal writing. Witnessing life in poverty would raise all sorts of questions and feelings about life, faith, wealth, and poverty and would be transformational. . . On the surface, I appeared as a successful business woman and parent. Beneath, I had another broken heart and wondered if I'd ever heal. I was searching for something- I didn't know exactly what- but something that would move me forward and out of the rut I'd been in. This trip could help. It was certainly worth a try."
My husband hasn't died, thank goodness, and I am am not in a painful "place" right now, but the reverse mission title rings true. Hence the reverse spelling of Honduras.
Honduras! SurudnoH!
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