It has been just about 3 weeks since I last left El Porvenir, and I can hardly believe that so much time has passed. My memories of Honduras run deep, much deeper than even I had thought. At the core of my experiences in El Porvenir lies the essence of the human experience, something raw and tense and beautiful. The rawness comes from truly feeling emotions and forging friendships without the distraction and oh-so-convenient aloofness of modern technology that actually dissolves real feelings and expressiveness into dispassionate texts and emails. It is surprisingly refreshing to converse and laugh and just be with other people, totally relaxed and with no agenda other than to simply learn about cultural nuances through individuals. The tension comes from attempting to dissuade my Type-A tendencies from maintaining control over the project and yet not letting project decisions fall completely to the wrath of Fate and its power outages, World Cup losses, scorpion-and-bat incidents, and unfortunate robberies. There is a delicate balance between being proactive enough to accomplish project goals within the natural bounds of Latin American time and being unrealistic or demanding with an unsustainable approach to achieving goals. I have found that the best way to achieve this balance (to tip it towards success rather than epic failure) is to follow the old cliché “go with the flow.” Last year and this year it has really put things in perspective for me to simply adjust to the pace of life in Honduras and then to define goals within the context of the setting rather than to try to impose any goals or objectives on a community. Ultimately actions and programs are only sustainable if they involve community leaders in development, implementation, and most importantly – follow-up. I believe we’ve done a great job this year of integrating community leaders into our health project through simply connecting existing resources and leaders to new audiences.
And last – the beauty I have witnessed stems from the vivid and memorable landscapes of people, the environment, and the interactions between these two facets of life. Beauty has both sensory and psychological appeal.
I saw with my eyes the stunning beauty that Nature has bestowed on Honduras: the thatched-roof huts surrounded by banana trees that are sprinkled throughout the Honduran countryside and mountains (we saw many of these on the drive from San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba); the breathtaking juxtaposition of the Pico Bonito mountain range to the west of El Porvenir beyond the miles of piñeras (pineapple fields) in El Pino and the lovely view of the Caribbean Sea to the east of El Porvenir from the balcony of the volunteer house; the pleasing blend of colorful clothes hung stiffly to dry in the summer heat; the unfettered, vibrant contrasts of hot pink flowers and shiny green leaves, trees, and grass; and the soothing cotton-candy wisps of clouds on the horizon of a colorful goodnight at 6 o’clock most evenings.
I felt with my heart the beautiful humanity of each person who we worked with for our project: the laughter of Rosa’s children as I chased them around the church pews on a rainy afternoon will forever echo in my mind, and in my heart – because it is then that I felt most strongly that children can give us a renewed sense of life, much more than we can ever give them; the smile on Rosa’s face when she told us “hay muchos niños y no mucho espacio, pero es maravillosa” (referring to Semillas, “there are many children and not much space, but it is marvelous”) will forever stay imprinted with me as the moment when Rosa expressed her true nature and her true passion for children and teaching; the proud determination on Bomero Alex’s face when he shared with us his vision to build a community fire station and recounted that his team had rescued 22 people who otherwise would have drowned during the Semana Santa festivities; the unbridled joy of the kids at the Kinder when the Bomeros let them climb onto the fire truck and wear the uniforms and protective hats; the children softly singing our songs about handwashing, nutrition, and malaria and dengue while rinsing out their dishes or walking home; the giant bear hugs from all of the Grandma’s kids and even Luis; Luis’ unwavering enthusiasm for Kinder and his boundless energy, which at its worst still just reflected a basic need for attention and love; Edwin’s humor in the Water meeting and his kindness in driving us up to the community water source and water tank (while listening to “Hotel California” and “Red Red Wine” in the truck); Charlie’s reluctant but unfailing help with killing a stubborn scorpion that clung to the ceiling; Amalia’s thoughtfulness in driving us to the Kinder during our health camp week, and helping set up meetings with the nurses and doctor at the health clinic; Doctor Karen’s eagerness to share her opinions and concerns about women’s health in El Porvenir; Señor Funez’ jovial personality and awe-inspiring ability to shape ideas into action through driving us to the clinic, a nurse’s house, and finally the Kinder; and perhaps most touching for us all (besides the smiles and enthusiasm of the kids and adults at the Kinder, Semillas, and in Rosa’s group) was the personal investment that many of the current volunteers undertook to ensure that the kids were engaged and that our group had the resources we needed to carry out the project.
Each snapshot, or even all of them taken cumulatively, does not quite capture the full essence of my experience in Honduras. But I hope what you can see and feel from the words on this page and the pictures below can give you an idea of the richness and special meaning of each aspect of the experience. What I have seen, and felt, is not unique to me – but is simply one tiny bit of a vast human experience. I know there is still so much about people and the environment and all of our intricate interactions that I do not know and never may know. Yet I must say that life – as I know it – has plenty of difficult moments and yet it is something raw, tense, beautiful, … human.
~Anna
