Soooo, I know my little sister left quite a long time ago. She came back with me from the states, and spent an entire week in Honduras, most of which was spent in my site. We kept meaning to leave and do other things outside of my site, but never got the chance, because we both loved just hanging out in my site! Some of my favorite memories were:
1. Climbing the mountain up to the top, and sitting and taking pictures, and just taking in the beauty all around us.
2. Watching Mary freak out while taking a bucket bath basically outdoors, while continually swating at the bees that were buzzing around her, and screaming. I´m proud of her for getting through it!
3. playing soccer with the neighbors, two of which were guys around mine and Mary´s age. Every time she looked like she got hurt, they would run up to her, and ask if she was okay, and if she needed a massage!
4. Dancing with Mary in the discoteca!
5. Going and visiting the gold mines in the town over from mine, and taking a picture with a group of the miners, who were quite happy to do so!
6. Riding on my horse to the next town down the mountain taking turns, and then riding him back up the mountain with both of us on him on the same time! One of us eventually had to get off, because we thought we were going to kill the poor thing!
7. Going to a great typical restaurant our first night in Tegucigulpa, and having a Mariachi band sing a song about Maria to us
8. Cooking some grand meals in my house!
9. Playing with the son of one of my neighbors, my favorite little boy in the world! We both want to adopt him and take him home for good.
10. Watching Mary´s spanish get better and better only over a week span, and her getting less and less timid.
viernes, 30 de enero de 2009
jueves, 18 de diciembre de 2008
My last day in site
Just kidding. I'm still here, and will be here for 9 months more. But I left my town today to go back to visit the states, and I definitely felt like I was actually leaving forever at times. My day yesterday was full of good-byes and good lucks that it made me start to feel like I wasn't coming back. Well, the least it did was give me a little glimpse of what it will be like for me when I finally leave.
So, I woke up early in the morning to wash my sheets, and the rest of the dirty clothes that I had left in the hamper. Right as I finished up, I rushed off to a Christmas lunch that the president of the women's cooperative I work with put together for all the women of the cooperative. The main event was to celebrate Christmas, and just have a good time together.
We all arrived together in the car of one of the women in my town. When we got there, the woman who had invited us all had set up chairs in a circle on her porch and already had lunch cooking in the kitchen. She ran up to us with a warm smile on her face, and greeted each one of us with a huge hug. We each sat down in the chairs, some uneasy being in an unfamiliar place, and others content and perfectly at ease. As we began talking about the women's children and telling jokes, I could see the more timid women opening up, and soon everyone was laughing and opening up.
The lunch made was chicken boiled with vegetables, rice, fried shrimp and salad. It was the best Honduran meal I have ever had! After lunch, we sat around and exchanged secret santa gifts (yes, the exact same custom that we have here in the states, they have in my small town in Honduras). The person who gave me the gift was the host. Before handing it to me, she announced to everyone that her secret santa was a very special person who meant so much to the women's group, and that she was going to miss her very much when she left. I almost teared up when she announced my name, and went up to give her a huge hug. The person I gave my gift to was none other than the profesora whom I lived with for 5 months before moving into my own house. She is a person very dear to me, and probably one of my favorite people in all of Agua Fria. I was happy to have picked her name, and be able to give her my small gift.
After secret santa, they brought out the cake. Now this cake had been the idea of, and bought by the profesora, who wanted to buy me a goodbye cake (yes, she knew I was only leaving for 2 weeks) to thank me for all the work that I had done with the high school and with the women's group. I was so honored, and realized how much I really do mean to these people, and that they aren't just saying formalities when they tell me they'll miss me. They really mean it.
At one point during the day, one of the women announced how happy she was that the group had
formed, how much it helped her, and how she hoped that it would never fall apart. Last night my family asked me what was the moment in which I felt like I was making a difference. I suppose it was at that moment. During my time here, I'm sure I'll work a lot, and help many people. But the real difference I'm making I know will be very, very subtle. And revealed to me through gestures and small comments like that one.
After I got back from the party, I went from house to house saying goodbye to people, hoping not to forget anyone. The last house I came to is the house of a woman who makes bread every other day, and sells it on the others in the city in order to make a living. I went to her house to ask to buy some bread from her. I spent 3 hours there, just chatting with her and her daughter and grandchildren about airplanes, people who go illegally to the states, and Christmas customs in the states. As I said my final goodbyes, I looked into the face of the woman, and saw that she was tearing up. At first I thought that something was wrong, and that something had happened. But I soon saw that those tears were for me. Her daughter laughed at her and said, "mother, she's not leaving for good. She'll be back in 2 weeks!" "I know, " she sniffed, "I was just thinking of how hard it's going to be when she leaves for good."
The lunch made was chicken boiled with vegetables, rice, fried shrimp and salad. It was the best Honduran meal I have ever had! After lunch, we sat around and exchanged secret santa gifts (yes, the exact same custom that we have here in the states, they have in my small town in Honduras). The person who gave me the gift was the host. Before handing it to me, she announced to everyone that her secret santa was a very special person who meant so much to the women's group, and that she was going to miss her very much when she left. I almost teared up when she announced my name, and went up to give her a huge hug. The person I gave my gift to was none other than the profesora whom I lived with for 5 months before moving into my own house. She is a person very dear to me, and probably one of my favorite people in all of Agua Fria. I was happy to have picked her name, and be able to give her my small gift.
After secret santa, they brought out the cake. Now this cake had been the idea of, and bought by the profesora, who wanted to buy me a goodbye cake (yes, she knew I was only leaving for 2 weeks) to thank me for all the work that I had done with the high school and with the women's group. I was so honored, and realized how much I really do mean to these people, and that they aren't just saying formalities when they tell me they'll miss me. They really mean it.
At one point during the day, one of the women announced how happy she was that the group had
formed, how much it helped her, and how she hoped that it would never fall apart. Last night my family asked me what was the moment in which I felt like I was making a difference. I suppose it was at that moment. During my time here, I'm sure I'll work a lot, and help many people. But the real difference I'm making I know will be very, very subtle. And revealed to me through gestures and small comments like that one.After I got back from the party, I went from house to house saying goodbye to people, hoping not to forget anyone. The last house I came to is the house of a woman who makes bread every other day, and sells it on the others in the city in order to make a living. I went to her house to ask to buy some bread from her. I spent 3 hours there, just chatting with her and her daughter and grandchildren about airplanes, people who go illegally to the states, and Christmas customs in the states. As I said my final goodbyes, I looked into the face of the woman, and saw that she was tearing up. At first I thought that something was wrong, and that something had happened. But I soon saw that those tears were for me. Her daughter laughed at her and said, "mother, she's not leaving for good. She'll be back in 2 weeks!" "I know, " she sniffed, "I was just thinking of how hard it's going to be when she leaves for good."
martes, 25 de noviembre de 2008
Noviembre sin agua
I´m very sorry, friends and family. I have just gotten worse and worse about updating my blog. The sad thing is that I am more free from work now more than ever, and I still don´t seem to have time to update my blog!
So, I decided to relate a recent story from my town, just so you could get a small glimpse of the way people work in my town, as well as many towns in Honduras. This can be a blessing as well as a frustration.
Each of the small towns in Honduras has their separate water system, which is not managed by the state at all, only by the people of the town. In my town, the people in charge of the water system meet on a regular basis to talk about upkeep of the system, the recieving of money, as well as various other things. At one of their recent meetings, they were all frusterated by people in the town who had not paid for their water for some time, as well as some who never showed up to any of the meetings. As a result, they decided to, as a punishement, turn off the water for an entire month.
Now, when one hears this story up to this point, they may assume that those who were punished fairly (those who had not paid water or come to the meetings) must have gone to the leaders of the water system, and tell them no worries, that they will pay as soon as possible, as long as they turn the water back one. One would also assume that those who were punished unjustly (those who had always paid on time and shown up to the meetings, but were getting punished anyway along with the rest of the town), would become infuriated and fight for the unjustice being done to them.
However, nothing of the sort happened. When I found out about it, I just heard from a woman in the town who had always paid her water on time, and she just sighed and exclaimed ¨well, that´s going to make for a difficult month.¨ I heard little complaining from then on. I just saw the women going to the streams every day to wash their clothes, children dragging wheelbarrows full of water jugs to their houses, and people conserving their water more than ever without even thinking anything of it. I was shocked at this attitude, and somewhat upset. I couldn´t really believe that they would go through so much trouble to get their water, when really all they had to do was talk to the leaders of the water project. Something that probably would have taken a couple hours of discussion, but virtually no effort compared to what they were putting themselves through.
This situation, however, helped me to see more clearly why it can be so hard to get people in the town to work on projects. For example, if no one in the town is using latrines, and someone comes in and tells them all about them, and how wonderful they are, and how it would make peeing so much quicker and easier, they might be interested, but would they go through all that work for something more convenient, or would they just continue doing what they´ve been used to all their lives? Peeing in the grass. It may be less convenient, but is it really worth it to go through all that trouble to build a nice shiny new latrine?
Many volunteers often criticize the people here for that very reason. The fact that they are so set in their ways, they don´t really try to make the effort to better their lives. But who are we to judge? How many people do you know who would go through the work of finding funds, looking for materials, and building their own fancy new electric toilet if they were told it is better for the environment? Not many.
So, I decided to relate a recent story from my town, just so you could get a small glimpse of the way people work in my town, as well as many towns in Honduras. This can be a blessing as well as a frustration.
Each of the small towns in Honduras has their separate water system, which is not managed by the state at all, only by the people of the town. In my town, the people in charge of the water system meet on a regular basis to talk about upkeep of the system, the recieving of money, as well as various other things. At one of their recent meetings, they were all frusterated by people in the town who had not paid for their water for some time, as well as some who never showed up to any of the meetings. As a result, they decided to, as a punishement, turn off the water for an entire month.
Now, when one hears this story up to this point, they may assume that those who were punished fairly (those who had not paid water or come to the meetings) must have gone to the leaders of the water system, and tell them no worries, that they will pay as soon as possible, as long as they turn the water back one. One would also assume that those who were punished unjustly (those who had always paid on time and shown up to the meetings, but were getting punished anyway along with the rest of the town), would become infuriated and fight for the unjustice being done to them.
However, nothing of the sort happened. When I found out about it, I just heard from a woman in the town who had always paid her water on time, and she just sighed and exclaimed ¨well, that´s going to make for a difficult month.¨ I heard little complaining from then on. I just saw the women going to the streams every day to wash their clothes, children dragging wheelbarrows full of water jugs to their houses, and people conserving their water more than ever without even thinking anything of it. I was shocked at this attitude, and somewhat upset. I couldn´t really believe that they would go through so much trouble to get their water, when really all they had to do was talk to the leaders of the water project. Something that probably would have taken a couple hours of discussion, but virtually no effort compared to what they were putting themselves through.
This situation, however, helped me to see more clearly why it can be so hard to get people in the town to work on projects. For example, if no one in the town is using latrines, and someone comes in and tells them all about them, and how wonderful they are, and how it would make peeing so much quicker and easier, they might be interested, but would they go through all that work for something more convenient, or would they just continue doing what they´ve been used to all their lives? Peeing in the grass. It may be less convenient, but is it really worth it to go through all that trouble to build a nice shiny new latrine?
Many volunteers often criticize the people here for that very reason. The fact that they are so set in their ways, they don´t really try to make the effort to better their lives. But who are we to judge? How many people do you know who would go through the work of finding funds, looking for materials, and building their own fancy new electric toilet if they were told it is better for the environment? Not many.
viernes, 10 de octubre de 2008
Slow working
I was just reading my blogs, and realized that I haven't updated everyone about how work is going lately. The truth is, work is not getting much different, and projects are going very, very slowly. That is how it works most of the time in the peace corps, especially in rural Honduras.
Remember the Community Supported Agriculture project I was trying to work on with the coffee cooperative in my site? Well, I kept having to push and push them, and they kept putting their answer off, so I finally discarded working with them, and have started to work on the project with my women's group. None of the women actually grow any of the fruit that they would be selling to Tegucigulpa, which makes it much more complicated for them, and a lot more work, but they are ten times more willing and motivated than the coffee farmers ever were. We have had a few meetings to discuss the details and logistics, and I finally gave the woman who is buying the fruits a go in order to start the process. It's a sure go! We won't sell our first bunch of fruits for another couple of weeks, but I am excited to see how it goes. No matter what, it will be a very good learning experience for the women, in terms of how to organize products, and work with a fixed customer (which is what they would be doing if they are able to sell to a supermarket). I also recently talked with an NGO that supports women's groups all over Honduras in terms of training, motivation, and financial support. They plan on coming down within the next month in order to talk to the women, to see if they can help us at all.
My english classes are winding down. We actually have final exams next Saturday! I think many of the kids have learned a lot, and although I'm extremely relieved to finally have my Saturdays open again, I'm a little disappointed at the thought of ending classes, and saying goodbye to so many good, sweet students.
The coffee cooperative is busy as usual. I have recently been helping them with the fair trade certification process. A big part of that is keeping accounts of the money that comes in an out of the cooperative monthly. So I plan on starting to help them with that in the future, although I know it will be a HUGE endeavour, seeing as they have a large history of money records that they've never really organized before. I also am starting to help the look more actively for market in the states, by making panthlets in english and possibly a coffee video.
These are all the current projects I'm working on. I also have some that have been milling around in my brain, but have decided not to share them with anyone until they are a sure go. I will let you know when they are more developed!
Remember the Community Supported Agriculture project I was trying to work on with the coffee cooperative in my site? Well, I kept having to push and push them, and they kept putting their answer off, so I finally discarded working with them, and have started to work on the project with my women's group. None of the women actually grow any of the fruit that they would be selling to Tegucigulpa, which makes it much more complicated for them, and a lot more work, but they are ten times more willing and motivated than the coffee farmers ever were. We have had a few meetings to discuss the details and logistics, and I finally gave the woman who is buying the fruits a go in order to start the process. It's a sure go! We won't sell our first bunch of fruits for another couple of weeks, but I am excited to see how it goes. No matter what, it will be a very good learning experience for the women, in terms of how to organize products, and work with a fixed customer (which is what they would be doing if they are able to sell to a supermarket). I also recently talked with an NGO that supports women's groups all over Honduras in terms of training, motivation, and financial support. They plan on coming down within the next month in order to talk to the women, to see if they can help us at all.
My english classes are winding down. We actually have final exams next Saturday! I think many of the kids have learned a lot, and although I'm extremely relieved to finally have my Saturdays open again, I'm a little disappointed at the thought of ending classes, and saying goodbye to so many good, sweet students.
The coffee cooperative is busy as usual. I have recently been helping them with the fair trade certification process. A big part of that is keeping accounts of the money that comes in an out of the cooperative monthly. So I plan on starting to help them with that in the future, although I know it will be a HUGE endeavour, seeing as they have a large history of money records that they've never really organized before. I also am starting to help the look more actively for market in the states, by making panthlets in english and possibly a coffee video.
These are all the current projects I'm working on. I also have some that have been milling around in my brain, but have decided not to share them with anyone until they are a sure go. I will let you know when they are more developed!
lunes, 29 de septiembre de 2008
1 year in
Yesterday was the one year anniversary of us being in site. At this time last year, I was traveling to a place I barely knew, nervous, shy, and wondering what the hell I was thinking.
Now, everytime I go away from my site, and come back, I feel like I´m coming home. The people, the environment, the life, is all so beautiful here. I absolutely love it, and it´ll be really tough to leave. But at the same time, I´m beginning to look towards the future. Excited, and ready for what lies ahead.
I miss you all, and I´ll see you in a year!
Now, everytime I go away from my site, and come back, I feel like I´m coming home. The people, the environment, the life, is all so beautiful here. I absolutely love it, and it´ll be really tough to leave. But at the same time, I´m beginning to look towards the future. Excited, and ready for what lies ahead.
I miss you all, and I´ll see you in a year!
lunes, 8 de septiembre de 2008
More stories with my parents
I wanted to write a couple more stories about when my parents were here, because I didn’t have much time before. Some highlights of their visit were:
1. Watching their plane land, then watching on the screen as they came through the door from the plane and stand in line to get their passports checked, and finally running to give them a hug, holding my tears back while my mom choked up.
2. Going with my mom (my dad was feeling a little under the weather that day) to visit the profesora, the lady that I lived with for 5 months, who is one of the most dynamic, and my favorite people in all of Agua Fría. The moment she saw my mom, she gave her a huge hug, and looked happier than ever to see her (happier than she ever has been to see me). When we went into the house, we had a good conversation (with me frantically translating everything, as she talks faster than any person I’ve ever met), which eventually led into the death penalty, and how people in Honduras were up in arms about a person who was going to be put to death that night in Texas. The pain she expressed of her people, and how much against the death penalty they were really touched my mom, and she told me later how much she respects a culture that respects life so much.
3. Visiting a wonderful woman from my town who makes some excellent bread. She left a lasting impression on my parents, being the caring, sweet and generous woman that she is. At one point, we were talking about the church, and my dad took out a rosary that had been sent to him in the mail for free, but looked really nice. She looked at it admiringly and instantly, my mom told me to tell her that they wanted to give it to her. Her eyes lit up when my dad handed it to her. I know that was a moment neither of them would ever forget. A couple weeks later, when I was at her house for the funeral that I talked about in my last blog, I saw her take out that same rosary while they were praying for the deceased baby.
4. Watching my mom, who hates coffee with a passion (bad luck, coming to a country where it’s custom to drink coffee at least 3 times a day), run over to the side of the house while no one was watching to dump out the unwanted coffee they had given her. A practice that I, in fact have gotten pretty used to, especially when given more than I can bear to eat.
5. When my parents and I went down to the house of a friend who wasn’t there, but where her kids and tons of others had curiously gathered around to see who these strange people were. My parents took tons of pictures of them, and they kept asking for more and more, getting excited each time we clicked the button. My parents were also having the time of their lives taking the pictures.
6. When my dad asked to take a picture of me and my counterpart, Isai. A picture I will cherish forever, mainly because in any other circumstance, I would never ask him for such a thing.
7. The first time someone mentioned that my parents were ¨gorditos¨ (literally meaning little fat person, but something they freely say to anyone who isn’t as skinny as a flagpole). I had no idea what to say to them, trying to quickly change the translation. My mother demanded to know what the woman had just said, seeing the look on my face. Not being quick enough to make something up, I just told her the truth, saying it wasn’t an insult, just a term of endearment here. She didn’t take it as that. My father either, and the two of them brought it up every once and a while since then throughout the trip, slightly offended.
8. When my parents met Ada, one of the poorest women I know, but extremely generous with what she does have, and a very special friend of mine. She is humble, but still very outgoing with every one, despite their race, sex, or social standing. I loved being able to introduce her and her kids to my parents
9. Going to a prayer event that had been going on all day, and was just finishing when we got there. The women had been praying since 5 in the morning for the soul of a deceased woman who had died that day a year ago. They prayed 5 rosaries throughout the course of the day, and served lunch and coffee and bread in the afternoon. This is a normal custom, something that I have been to various times, and I loved being able to share it with them.
10. Cooking typical and delicious food for my parents
11. Watching when my dad first started driving with the crazy Hondurans, as he carefully passed small cars only on long open stretches, slightly nervous the entire time. By the end of the trip, my mom and I had given him the nickname ¨Honduran,¨ because he was driving just like one. Even after they got back, my mom told me that he still acted a little crazy on the roads once and a while!
12.Watching my parents reaction every time I jokingly mentioned that I was going to marry a Honduran and stay in Honduras forever
13.Going to the house of the family I stayed with during training. This family is like my Honduran family. I love them, and they have always taken good care of me. I loved getting the chance to introduce them to my parents.
14.Teaching my classes on the weekends with my parents there. Teaching the kids here brings me such an overwhelming joy that I don’t get from anything else, and I loved being able to do it with my parents there, although they didn’t understand a word I said to my kids. But they still recognized the relationship that I had with them, and admired the love and respect the kids had for me.
1. Watching their plane land, then watching on the screen as they came through the door from the plane and stand in line to get their passports checked, and finally running to give them a hug, holding my tears back while my mom choked up.
2. Going with my mom (my dad was feeling a little under the weather that day) to visit the profesora, the lady that I lived with for 5 months, who is one of the most dynamic, and my favorite people in all of Agua Fría. The moment she saw my mom, she gave her a huge hug, and looked happier than ever to see her (happier than she ever has been to see me). When we went into the house, we had a good conversation (with me frantically translating everything, as she talks faster than any person I’ve ever met), which eventually led into the death penalty, and how people in Honduras were up in arms about a person who was going to be put to death that night in Texas. The pain she expressed of her people, and how much against the death penalty they were really touched my mom, and she told me later how much she respects a culture that respects life so much.
3. Visiting a wonderful woman from my town who makes some excellent bread. She left a lasting impression on my parents, being the caring, sweet and generous woman that she is. At one point, we were talking about the church, and my dad took out a rosary that had been sent to him in the mail for free, but looked really nice. She looked at it admiringly and instantly, my mom told me to tell her that they wanted to give it to her. Her eyes lit up when my dad handed it to her. I know that was a moment neither of them would ever forget. A couple weeks later, when I was at her house for the funeral that I talked about in my last blog, I saw her take out that same rosary while they were praying for the deceased baby.
4. Watching my mom, who hates coffee with a passion (bad luck, coming to a country where it’s custom to drink coffee at least 3 times a day), run over to the side of the house while no one was watching to dump out the unwanted coffee they had given her. A practice that I, in fact have gotten pretty used to, especially when given more than I can bear to eat.
5. When my parents and I went down to the house of a friend who wasn’t there, but where her kids and tons of others had curiously gathered around to see who these strange people were. My parents took tons of pictures of them, and they kept asking for more and more, getting excited each time we clicked the button. My parents were also having the time of their lives taking the pictures.
6. When my dad asked to take a picture of me and my counterpart, Isai. A picture I will cherish forever, mainly because in any other circumstance, I would never ask him for such a thing.
7. The first time someone mentioned that my parents were ¨gorditos¨ (literally meaning little fat person, but something they freely say to anyone who isn’t as skinny as a flagpole). I had no idea what to say to them, trying to quickly change the translation. My mother demanded to know what the woman had just said, seeing the look on my face. Not being quick enough to make something up, I just told her the truth, saying it wasn’t an insult, just a term of endearment here. She didn’t take it as that. My father either, and the two of them brought it up every once and a while since then throughout the trip, slightly offended.
8. When my parents met Ada, one of the poorest women I know, but extremely generous with what she does have, and a very special friend of mine. She is humble, but still very outgoing with every one, despite their race, sex, or social standing. I loved being able to introduce her and her kids to my parents
9. Going to a prayer event that had been going on all day, and was just finishing when we got there. The women had been praying since 5 in the morning for the soul of a deceased woman who had died that day a year ago. They prayed 5 rosaries throughout the course of the day, and served lunch and coffee and bread in the afternoon. This is a normal custom, something that I have been to various times, and I loved being able to share it with them.
10. Cooking typical and delicious food for my parents
11. Watching when my dad first started driving with the crazy Hondurans, as he carefully passed small cars only on long open stretches, slightly nervous the entire time. By the end of the trip, my mom and I had given him the nickname ¨Honduran,¨ because he was driving just like one. Even after they got back, my mom told me that he still acted a little crazy on the roads once and a while!
12.Watching my parents reaction every time I jokingly mentioned that I was going to marry a Honduran and stay in Honduras forever
13.Going to the house of the family I stayed with during training. This family is like my Honduran family. I love them, and they have always taken good care of me. I loved getting the chance to introduce them to my parents.
14.Teaching my classes on the weekends with my parents there. Teaching the kids here brings me such an overwhelming joy that I don’t get from anything else, and I loved being able to do it with my parents there, although they didn’t understand a word I said to my kids. But they still recognized the relationship that I had with them, and admired the love and respect the kids had for me.
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.
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.
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