I always thought of culture shock as a symptom that could occur upon arrival to a foreign country: in the midst of a new and radically different environment, it certainly seems natural that a person might feel overwhelmed, intimidated, and even frantic. I did not experience this sense of shock upon my arrival to Honduras – although I was indeed struck by the living conditions, I was not overwhelmed but was rather intrigued and exhilarated by the opportunity to serve in a drastically different culture. Aided by the companionship of my fellow volunteers and the incredible warmth of the villagers of El Porvenir, I had a fairly smooth transition to life as foreign volunteer. And so I thought I had successfully avoided culture shock.
I was wrong. When I landed on American soil nearly two months later, I was seized by a surprising wave of stress. The crowds of the Atlanta airport, the cold blast of air conditioning, the people rushing about with their smart phones and laptops and fancy clothes – I felt like the world was playing in fast-forward while I was still moving at the slow and relaxed pace of life in rural Honduras. I was experiencing culture shock…in my very own culture. The feeling gradually dissipated over the next few days, but I still find myself feeling sudden pangs of surprise over the most random things – like how much money I spend on frivolous purchases, or how many times a day I check my email, or how I have my phone permanently attached to my hand. My life here is based extensively upon material things; though I feel fortunate to live in such a privileged country, there is something to be said about the simplicity of Honduran life. Let me explain.
In my experience with the people of El Porvenir and El Cacao, I have realized that what Hondurans lack in material wealth, they more than compensate for in a certain intangible spiritual wealth. Despite the hardships of poverty, they display a remarkable sense of faith – a faith in religion, in family, in community, and above all in the potential of the future. Yes, Honduras has many problems – high crime, inadequate health care and education, problems with water and electricity – but it also has a spirit of optimism that thrives in the hearts of people like Rosa (the indomitable teacher at the kinder), Alex (the firefighter who believes the cycle of poverty can be broken), and Miriam (the El Cacao teacher who believes in the potential of each and every child at the program). It is difficult to capture this spirit in words; it is more something to be felt than to be described (so, readers, go volunteer in Honduras!). Just to give you a taste of what I mean, I am going to list a few anecdotes about my interactions with community members. Hopefully these stories will inspire you, as they have inspired me.
1. On my last day in El Cacao, Miriam (the teacher) and her son Jeffrey came over to the volunteer house to say goodbye. While Jeffrey was playing outside, I began to ask Miriam about her house and family. With a gentle smile, she explained that space was limited in her house; there was only one small bed for a family of seven, so Jeffrey and his sister Miley had to sleep on the floor. After talking for awhile longer, I went into the bedroom and pulled the sheets off of my bed. I handed them to Miriam and told her that I hoped these would make the kids a bit more comfortable. She gave me a huge hug and thanked me. What she said next, though, made me realize that she probably would have been just fine without my small parting gift: “Nicole, we are poor. But we are happy. It doesn’t look like we have a lot, but we do. We have family, and I would rather have too little space for a big family than too much space and no family.”
2. Our volunteer group stopped in The Funez Store one day to discuss a new idea with Sr. Funez – a fundraiser for the local health clinic. We hoped Sr. Funez could offer us guidance; he was a prominent man in the community and was always eager to help out with any sort of improvement project. He said he would take us to meet with a nurse, and we all assumed that this meeting would happen sometime later, sometime when he wasn’t working. Instead, he walked right out of his store and told us to get in his car so he could drive us to the nurse’s house. It didn’t matter that he was in the middle of a work day, it didn’t matter that this hadn’t been planned in advance – all that mattered was that we had an idea, and he wanted to help.
3. Rosa’s description of Semillas de Esperanza, a local elementary school: “Hay muchos ninos y no hay mucho espacio, pero es maravillosa.” This means, “There are many children and not a lot of space, but it is marvelous.” Enthusiasm for education triumphed over lack of resources.
4. People make time for each other. (No, this is not a story…sorry to disrupt the list. But it’s an important observation). People are never too busy to help out with something, to stop and chat for a minute (or an hour, in the case of Alex), to offer a ride, or to offer a snack (like Sr. Funez and his bags of baby bananas). People are committed to each other first and foremost, and this is a refreshing feeling.
5. Honduras made it to the World Cup for the first time in twenty-something years, but the team didn’t score a single goal. Disappointment? No. Enthusiasm. People were proud of the team just for being there; it was amazing to see so much national pride and spirit. Everyone wearing soccer jerseys, waving flags, cheering when a Honduran player so much as made contact with the ball – it was inspiring to witness.
6. Throughout our health education camps, the kids were enthusiastic and eager participants. They showed an appreciation and love for learning, always wanting to sing more songs, play one more round of Simon Dice, or add one more food to the giant nutrition pyramid. They were excited simply about being students.
I realize these stories don’t give much information about our specific project, but I feel like that has been well-covered by the other posts. So what I wanted to do here was convey the experience outside of the classroom, in the hopes of offering a more complete picture of the life of a volunteer and the culture of an amazing country. In reality, the project was only a small part of what we did in Honduras. We came as volunteers – funny-looking gringos – but we left as friends, neighbors, respected teachers, and enthusiastic pupils. And I think this subtle change reveals more about our experience than any one of our lesson plans.
Que le vaya bien, Honduras.
- Nicole
