martes, 26 de agosto de 2008

The funeral

This morning, I was woken up by two little girls in my town calling my name softly outside my door. This is not abnormal, and I was extremely tired, so I rolled over, wanting to go back to sleep and just ignore them. But something inside me told me I should go out there. So I did. When I opened the door, I saw two little girls, cousins, looking up at me. The smaller one began speaking to me rapidly, and I had just woken up, so what she was telling me didn’t really register at first. When I then figured out what she was saying, I realized that her baby brother, who was born yesterday at 1 in the afternoon, 2 months early, had died. They wanted me to go and take a picture, so they could have a reminder of her baby brother who had barely lived 4 hours, which she had never been able to meet.

I ran into my room to change, and in a couple minutes was ready with my camera, and began walking towards the house with them. On the way there, I kept asking questions to the little girls to keep my mind off the horrific event and to keep from crying. When I got to the house, I saw the grandmother, whose cheeks were stained with tears, and the mother, and gave them both hugs. The mother actually looked surprisingly well, as if she hadn’t been crying at all.

Knowing how easily I cry, I hoped and prayed as I walked toward the room where they had baby that I wouldn’t burst out into tears. When I saw the baby, he looked like a normal, healthy baby who was just sleeping. For a split second, I thought he might actually wake up any second. I couldn’t help it, and even with all the kids gathered around me waiting to see my reaction, tears filled up in my eyes as I tried with all my might to hold them back. I quietly took 3 or 4 pictures of the baby, hoping I wouldn’t have them in my camera too long, knowing that it would kill me to look at them every time I ran through my pictures.

After taking the pictures, I sat down and quietly observed as the other mourners came to see the baby. I was surprised and slightly confused by the reactions of everyone. Almost none of the women who went to see the baby seemed to be bothered at all by the sight of him. Most of them, actually, as they approached the baby smiled and whispered ¨oh, he would have been so cute!¨, as if he were still alive. As I watched everyone come and go, I sat in awe and confusion by the reactions of all the people. So many would say to the mother, ¨well, that’s the way the Lord wanted it.¨ And just accepted it as one of the many pains a person has to endure in life. And almost no one went up to console the mother, rather would ask her questions such as ¨so, when was he born?¨ then, ¨When did he die?¨ and right into ¨I think it might rain today.¨

I think one thing that hurts the most is how something that is viewed as such a horrible pain to go through in the States, is so common here that most people don’t even see it as a very big deal. However, I have also noticed that people seemed to generally take deaths much more easily here than in the States. It may be because the majority believes that if the person was good, he or she is in heaven right now and there’s no reason to cry over that. They also very readily accept such a painful event as God’s will. I still don’t know if this is naivety or wisdom, but I know that I’m jealous of such faith and strength to be able to get through something like that with out wanting to give up or turn your back on everything.

lunes, 18 de agosto de 2008

A car story

My parents were here all week, and they just left this weekend. What a joy it was to have them here, and to be able to share all my experiences with them, and what I´ve been experiencing for the past year.

When I first saw them in the airport, they both came running up to me to give me a big hug, and my mom almost started crying. I was so excited to see them, and even more excited that I was about to share my new life with them. I was so excited to get up the mountain the next morning, I had to keep myself from yelling at my dad to go up the hill faster (they rented a car).

Well, lucky us, while we were inching up the awful road up to my site, the car all of a sudden stopped working. It started just fine, but wouldn´t accelerate. I looked back at my mom, and for the first time in the trip, she had a look of sheer horror on her face. We were in the middle of the mountain, with no houses anywhere near us, and no people in sight. Luckily, they had me. I quickly got out my phone, and called a friend of mine from my town who knows quite a bit about cars, and asked him what to do. He told me I had to go on foot to the next town (about a 45 minute walk) and find a mechanic.

So I did. I headed off alone, and left my parents to guard the car. Alone and helpless, not able to speak a word of spanish. I raced in to look for a mechanic, and after a lot of walking, waiting, and arguing with the mechanic after finally finding him (he was hesitant to come help), I finally got in his car and drove with him out towards where I had left my parents. When we got to the main road, and were about to turn down to go find them, we ran into them right there. Apparantly, just as suddenly as it had stopped, the car started working again while I was gone. I asked the mechanic to look over the car just in case, and thanked him for his help and asked him if we owed him anything. With a little wink, he said to me ¨just your number.¨ Kind of smooth, and more impressive than most Honduran men. But I politely refused anyway.

After this little dilemma, we got to my town later than I had hoped, but still with plenty of energy and joy because we were all together! More stories later to come.....

martes, 5 de agosto de 2008

San Marcos

My first experience actually selling the jam we made with the ladies was incredible. We went to a nice town called San Marcos during their town fair (always a big event in Honduras) to sell the jelly and wine (made from starfruit.....mmhhhh, mmhhh!)

I was more impressed with them than I ever have been with any salesman I've met. The minute we got there, the women were on a mission to sell this delicious jelly they had made just a day earlier. We didn't actually have a real post paid for, because that would have cost way too much, and seeing as we are just starting out, we couldn't afford the price. So, what we (or should I say "they") did instead was announce the sale of our jellies to the fellow coffee producers who were there at the event, then proceeded to run around the streets, knock on doors, and push the jelly into people's faces until they sold them all.

I was actually completely taken aback. Two of the women that had gone were very foreward and outgoing, and the third was a little quieter. But by the end of the day, even she was going up to random people on the streets, convincing them of how delicious our jelly is, and how it's "vale la pena" (or worth it) to buy a little. I, however, ran away to go to the bank for a while and print out more labels, as we had run out of them. I was making excuses to myself saying "it's really them who should be selling the jelly, not me" or "it's important that I print off these labels, although we sold the first half without them." But the truth is, I was scared. I've always hated selling things, since I was a girl scout in elementary school. And I didn't have the motivation or the courage to go around selling jelly at the time, either.

These women, on the other hand, had enthusiasm, talent, and determination, and God knows who gave them all that motivation, because I sure didn't. Instead, I ran away and hoped they would get the work done while I was gone. And when I got back, to my surprise, they had. In 2 short hours, they had sold 10 pounds worth of jelly and 10 bottles of wine. Not bad for a first day on the job. Not bad at all.

There have been times when I've worried about these women, and the lack of organization they have. But they've really taken this idea and run with it. They've come to accept the cooperative as their own, so much that they even forget that I formed it for them. And that's exactly how I like it. Even if I get no credit in the end, at least they feel proud of something that they created. Which they really did. All I did was round them up and put them in a room together. From there, they did all the talking and all the work!