the dream

The other day, my sister told me about a dream she had about me. It was incredibly profound, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

In the dream, we were both riding a bike. I was the one who was pedaling, and my sister was riding behind me. After riding for a while, we came to a huge hill, practically impossible to get up. But I decided to start going up it anyway. As I began to pedal up, my sister started screaming at me to stop, saying ¨what the hell are you doing? You’re gonna get us killed, you could never do this, it’s impossible!¨ But I kept on pedaling, trying my best to ignore her.

Finally, after we had reached about 3/4ths of the way I stopped, and we both fell to the ground. And sitting there on the ground, I started bawling and bawling. In between tears, I looked up at my sister and asked her ¨why didn’t you just let me do it? I could have done it, why did you keep telling me to stop?¨

This dream was so profound not just for me, but I think everyone can learn something from it. I told it to my 7th grade class (I just started teaching classes on Saturdays again) the first day of classes. After telling them the story, I asked them what it meant. They all looked at me shyly, searching for the right answer.

I told them that it meant that they can’t always listen to their friends, family, and society when they tell them something is impossible, or that it has never been done. They just have to keep pushing and listening to themselves.

The funny thing, is that I have thought about the dream over and over again, wondering especially who the person on the back of the bike is that is keeping me from doing the impossible. I finally cam to the conclusion that it’s me. I am weighing myself down. Every time I think of a new project, or something to do, I just tell myself ¨oh, no one would listen to me¨ or ¨nobody does that, so I shouldn’t either.¨ After Sarah told me about the dream, I have been conscious about those types of thoughts, realizing that they really do keep me from doing my best work that I could do. Sometimes numerous times in a day, I will catch myself saying ¨no, I can’t do that, that’s impossible for me.¨

So I will continue each day, praying for the strength to do the impossible, because I know that if I keep listening to the voices inside of me telling me I can’t do it, I won’t be able to reach the top of the hill.

ummm.......awkward......

There is no word for awkward in Spanish. The closest that comes to it is ¨incomodo¨, which means literally ¨uncomfortable.¨ This is obviously not the same as the word awkward, a word which almost cannot be described without giving an example of an awkward situation, or perhaps an awkward person.

It is actually quite ironic that there is not a word in spanish for awkward, as I have gotten myself into more awkward situations since I have been here than I ever have in my life. I do not know if it actually has anything to do with the Honduran culture. I actually think it has more to do with the tiny size of my town, and the fact that people spend their entire lives socializing with the same people, and never meeting anyone new. Because of this, they have almost no idea how to relate to outsiders.

This was something I definately had to adjust to when I got to my site. When I would go and visit a new house, sometimes I was welcomed with warm arms, and people would not be able to stop asking questions about the States, or what my family was like. Other times, it was a little more difficult. A couple times, I have arrived at a new house only to be met by stares from every single member of the family, and complete silence when I sit down to have a conversation. After about 5 minutes about asking questions about their family and about the weather, I would run out of things to say, and just sit there in silence.

I have gotten so used to this way of life, that it doesn´t really affect me anymore. In fact, I kind of enjoy it. As oppose to in the States, when someone comes to visit, the host feels like they have to be entertained the entire time with conversation, music, or games. However, when I have gone to visit houses, many times I just sit in silence for a while, completely content to just be in the company of others.

Other times, in the middle of conversation the woman I am visiting will get up to make me lunch or dinner, and leave me just sitting there, staring at the wall by myself. But by the end of the visit, she comes back, and we begin to talk about the father of her first child, who left her while she was pregnant at 17, and has never come back to visit. I leave the visit with my belly full, and a new outlook on the lives of the women here in the country in Honduras, and feel that much closer to the woman I visited.

I wrote this blog in response to what my sister Sarah wrote in her blog about feeling awkward when she came here to visit. It is really interesting, but in the situations where she felt awkward, I felt calm and relaxed. She mentioned that if we both had felt the same way, we would have left that visit without lunch, or having the great conversation we ended up having.

So, if I come back to the States an awkward, non-social mess, I am sorry. But I have come to really appreciate the way people are here. There doesn´t exist a word for awkward for them, perhaps because awkwardness doesn´t exist. It´s all in the heads of the people who are in the situation. And when someone begins to feel awkward, they miss so many wonderful opportunities!

Just another night....

A couple nights ago was the culmination of the town fair in the next town over for me. These town fairs usually last for a couple weeks with food, rides, ect...you know, the standard fair necessities. And always at the end of the fair, is a blow-out dance that lasts into the wee hours of the night.

Now I had heard about this fair since the day I arrived at my site, and was no less than ecstatic to go. I got all ready to go, and left on foot with one of my girlfriends (who am I kidding? I only have girlfriends! Which is a good thing...) from the town.

The walk started out pretty wonderfully, the sun was going down, and it was all downhill, which was a plus. I also refused to wear my shoes, so the dust of the road and gravel were a pleasant feeling on the soles of my feet. Eventually, about 1 hour in, I began to get a little hungry and weary. My shoes had gone back on due to the rocky terrain, and my feet were developing blisters in about 6 different places. The only thing I had to look forward to was the goal in front of me. I kept chanting to myself ¨I think I can, I think I can.....¨ All I wanted to do was dance, man!

When the rocky road finally turned into the cobblestone streets of the town, I almost burst with joy. ¨We're here!¨ I thought, ¨And only two hours till the dancing begins!¨ Why we had gotten there so early was beyond me. However, I wasn´t bitter at all (this is sarcasm) when we came upon some others from our town who had arrived only half an hour later than us in a truck. ¨why didn't you just come with us?¨ They had asked. I didn't know what to say, so I just smiled between gritted teeth while still feeling the burn in my feet.

After filling my belly and drinking too much pop (due to various men who offered to buy me beers, but I refused, knowing what that could do to my reputation), the dancing began. I danced with my first victim (or I should say I was the victim...) for a couple songs, quickly realizing that he was quite drunk (already?) and hitting on me with ridiculous force. For some reason, I accepted dancing with him to a slow song. Big mistake. The entire time he was whispering sweet-nothings into my ear, trying to pull me closer. Finally, when the song ended, I didn't even say anything, I just simply fled from his arms, and spent the rest of the time ducking behind trees trying to avoid him.

I tried to have better judgement since, and decided that if I could smell beer on their breath, they were out. This was a good measurement for a good dancing partner, and fortunately the next few men I danced with were much better, although I still had to make up an excuse every time in order to escape from them. One of them was actually an extremely fun person to dance to, and my absolute favorite becuase he didn't talk to me the entire time! As I always say (since I got here, that is) silence is much better than hearing how beautiful my eyes are (as a starry night? As a sunset on a placid lake? As those of a princess? Take your pick......).

So as the night winded down, I decided it was pretty successful. I had successfully danced the night away, managed not to give my number out to any guys, danced with a fair number of men so as not to arrouse gossip, had my fair share of good conversation, and enjoyed myself thoroughly.

The walk back to the truck that was going to take us to our town (no way were we going to walk it at 3 in the morning!) was more than interesting. As I was walking back, my friend and the only other girl walking with us disappeared in front of me, leaving me alone with about 5 men. As I was walking down the street with my arms crossed, I noticed one of the guys in front of me start to take off his shirt. I thought to myself ¨what the hell is this man doing? it´s freezing.¨ At that moment, as if he had been thinking the same thing, he put it back on. A couple minutes later, I overheard a few of the other guys talking about me, and pushing one of the others over to me. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, pretending not to notice as he walked towards me and started to take his shirt of as well.

I saw him freeze in his footsteps, and walk shyly back to the group of guys, only to be pushed back to me once again. Finally, in a surprisingly smooth manner, he asked me if I was cold and if I wanted to wear his shirt. Grinning at him, and trying my best to hold back my laughter, I agreed realizing how much he had gone through to gather up the courage to ask. Immediately after, the guy who had started to take off his shirt earlier said to me ¨I was going to give you my shirt, but I didn´t have another one....¨

So that was my night. Just another day in the life of a gringa in Honduras. Although I get fed up with the ridiculous attention I get from men, sometimes a small act of chivalry makes up for it!

girl power

So, for those of you who aren't very familiar with the culture of Hondurans in rural areas, there is such a thing as ¨machisma.¨ This basically means that woman are often treated un-fairly mainly because their husbands have an immense power over them: money. Men in the rural areas are virtually the only ones who work, and the woman is left at home to take care of the kids. Now, I am obviously not speaking against this, as my mother was a stay-at-home mom for many years. However, I am pretty sure that one way or another, she could have pretty easily figured things out if my dad had left her. It is a little different here. If a woman and man get divorced here, the man is okay, but the woman is left with virtually nothing. There isn't any McDonalds in the rural area that she could go and work at!

Unfortunatley, men constantly use this power to their advantage, often having a woman on the side, which is quite acceptable. Sometimes you just have to hear it from their own mouths to believe it. I had heard this numerous times before I came down here. I believed it, but it is one thing to just believe it. It´s another to hear men, even women talking about the numerous women they have as if it is no big deal. Or watching how men completely ignore their wives in public (and sometimes at home, as well), which I feel is one of the worst forms of abuse.

I have also noticed how women who live in the rural towns carry themselves. People who grow up in the country in general are often known as ¨humble campesinos¨ mainly becuase they spend most of their life in one area, almost never get out, and almost never have a vision of anything beyond what they know. Even more, many are un-educated, and live their whole lives seeing women and men in a certain role, and don't realize that there is any other way it possibly could be. Because of these factors, especially in the case of women, they often carry themselves as if they were nothing.....just as they are often treated.

This is one of the saddest things for me to watch here, especially after spending time one-on-one with some of these women, or watching them interact with other women from their town. Many of them are extremely witty, attractive, intelligent and capable. However, when they get in certain situations, for instance, when surrounded by men, they close up and seem almost like a shy child, hiding reluctantly behind his mother.

On the other hand, I have met some incredible women who have somehow been able to see beyond these roles, and are stronger than ever, often putting men in their places. There are a few women who are members of the cooperative, one of which is the president of the cooperative. They are each surprisingly respected greatly among the men, partially because they carry themselves with such confidence, and don't take any crap from any of them!

This is one of the reasons I have started working more with the women in my town. Up until now, I have spent almost all my time with men, members of the coffee co-op, which can get a little draining. When I got the idea to start a women´s cooperative, or just any sort of women´s group, where women can gather support from one another, I was ecstatic. With this idea, I wish for nothing more that to give the women of my town a little more hope and a little more self-confidence. If that is through going to seminars, or starting a craft to generate some sort of income, I am ready. With your prayers, I will be more ready!