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.

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.....

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!

How to make macaroni and cheese

This title might seem rather strange to you. "Macaroni and cheese?" you might ask yourself, "But everyone knows how to make macaroni and cheese." Well, perhaps all Americans know how to make good ole mac and cheese, but come down here, and no one even knows how to open the box.

This took me by surprise when I first got down here. So many things that we know how to do, things that we take for granted, they have no idea how to do where I live. It really hit me when I gave my first computer class. The little girl walked into the room, and I told her to turn on the computer, and she just looked at me blankly. I thought she was just being stubborn at first and refusing to do it, but quickly realized that she had no idea how to turn the thing on. I was sort of taken aback. I had never even thought of the fact that she wouldn't even know how to turn it on, because she had never even seen a computer in her life.

Another example is the lack of facts that they know, that mostly comes from the lack of a good education. Many times, people would ask me if Spain was close to the US. I would kindly tell them that it wasn't anywhere near, but to be honest, in the back of my mind would sort of think how rediculous it was that they didn't know such a simple fact that I've always known and taken for granted.

I was completely humbled the other day when I asked a man in my site how to saddle my horse (yes, I bought a horse. His name, translated into english, is Champion). I took the horse to him and told him, "please help me. I have no idea how to do this." He, with a little smirk on his face, agreed and began patiently teaching me how to put the saddle on. A few of his kids, all students of mine, were sitting around watching the event, obviously amused by my total lack of knowledge in the area of horses. Each time I made a little mistake (I will admit, it was amusing), they would start cracking up. They especially enjoyed watching me put the bridle on, which is complicated, because there's a part that you have to force into the mouth of the horse. This was something that took me a while. I have a small fear of touching the mouths of animals that could potentially bite me. But I finally did it, after about 5 tries, and a chorus of laughter coming from the kids and the dad each time.

This was a very humbling experience for me. I realized that these people have grown up surrounded by horses. Just like I've grown up having geography facts fed to me. Saddling a horse is something that they take for granted, and have always known to do, so when they see someone who has no idea how to do it, they find it almost shocking. Just like when I meet someone who doesn't know where Spain is, I find it slightly shocking. They are very intelligent, but in different ways. Obviously they can't help the fact that they were never taught in school where Spain is, and I can't help the fact that I never grew up around horses. That's why I'm here. To learn from what they know, and to teach them what I know. Even if it's something as simple as how to saddle a horse.

when life hands you a mango....

Why not make jelly with it?

The jelly training was interesting to say the least. The first day of the training, the women showed up ready and excited at 9 o'clock sharp (something that I rarely see here in Honduras), only to have to wait 3 more hours until the woman showed up to do the training. It was an incredibly stressful event for me, calling the man who picked up the lady doing the training, trying to convince the women not to leave, and just stressing out in general over whether or not the idea to make jellies was grand, or a grand disaster.

Right when they showed up, though, the women went to work, preparing the jelly. I was impressed by their work ethic and enthusiasm. They also learned very quickly, most of the time much quicker than me. Various times, when I was trying to help the women cut the mangos, boil the jelly, or add the sugar, they would tell me "no, Elizabeth. It's like this, not like that. You have to do this."

The first day, we made mango jelly. As well as the second day. The third day, we moved onto papaya and banana jelly, and finally pineapple. I think I ate more sugar that week than I normally do in 2 months......but oh, was it worth it! The mango jelly is excellent. Not to sweet, not too mangoey, a perfect tropical flavor that would go well with any type of bread, or shortbread cookie. The pineapple is surprisingly sweet and tangy. Delicious, but very expensive to make, because one whole pineapple only makes about half a pound of jelly (about half the amount as mangoes, bananas and papayas). The papaya jelly was excellent as well. It has a pinkish color, and a rich, sweet flavor. The banana, although it may seem strange, was my favorite. The texture didn't really turn out to be very jelly-like, it had more of a texture of gerber baby food. But it was absolutely delicious.....a perfect topping or ingredient for chocolate cake!

So now, after making the jellies, we are trying to find a market for them. For now, we are just taking the jelly everywhere we go.....to celebrations, to fairs, etc. But I hope to find them a more permanent, steady market like at a supermarket, or even exporting them to the states! But we have to start small. And then think big........until next time.

fruit and english

Hello, all. Well, it seems that my work has slowly become less and less coffee-focused, and more and more fruit-focused as well as youth-focused! That is just fine with me, I like coffee lots, but actually working on the production is not quite as thrilling as it sounds. I prefer fruit and kids!

In two weeks, the women in my group are going to be in a training all week long (the trainers are coming to my town) on how to make jelly from all the delicious fruit in our town! I am really excited about the training, and hope it will go really well. Since the last time I wrote, we have only had one meeting, although we were supposed to have three, but the people running the show never showed up (an NGO from a city about a 3 hour drive away). Both times that they didn´t show up, all the women showed up though, and are still as animated as ever to work, although the people have stood them up 2 times as well as have changed the dates of the training 2 times! Oh, goodness. I still hope everything goes well, and I think it will!

Besides that, I´ve been teaching English in the school on the weekends, which I truly enjoy. It brings me so much happiness seeing these kids grow, and understand concepts slowly. I also love trying to figure out what I get do better to help them understand.....does this mean I should be a teacher? Hmmmmm.......not quite sure! Next time, I will be writing about how the training went! Until next time, my friends. Adios.

typical campo experiences

I just had my friend Lisa from Aquinas come visit me. She was only there for two days, barely enough time at all to get to know my town, but apparently just enough time to experience practically every normal and funny experience I have had since I've been here. Here are a few of them-

1-getting a plate of food without a fork, and having no idea how to eat it
2-getting some strange piece of fruit at a family's house, and sitting and staring at it for a while before someone finally notices that you have no idea what to do with it, then helps you out
3-seeing a pig in the middle of the road, followed by a couple of chickens
4-having teenage boys in the neighborhood very obviously, awkwardly, and shamelesly try to take a picture of you with their camera phone
5-going to church and getting stared down by the little kids at first, but by the end of the service, they have all migrated to the seat behind you, and are continually touching you, playing with your hair, and calling your name
6-little kids asking you to sing a song in English, or to teach them some words in English
7-walking close to an hour to the next town, and finally, when there's only about half a mile to go, a car passes by and gives you a ride, which is practically pointless by this time
8-trying to convince the families your visiting that you have to go, and them telling you "no, don't go now. Who cares if you have to walk in the dark?"
9-while you're walking back at night alone because you gave in to the family's pleads, about everyone you pass yells "what are you doing out so late? be careful! You're gonna get robbed!"
10-being visited very awkwardly and inappropriately late at night by a man who's try to "steal your heart" as they say (this obviously didn't happen to her, but she was lucky enough to experience it)

We also had many other experiences like, going and visiting gold mines, joking around with silly people in my town, making guacamole out of remains of food in my house, doing skits in English in front of my English classes and trying to get them to tell us what we said (during the skit, we also added a few rediculous phrases in there just for our own amusement!), and many other good times just in a couple short days! I was really happy to have someone from home come visit, especially Lisa, because she's so laid back and thinks just like me in many situations. When she left, I felt my heart sink a little, knowing that that comforting feeling of having constant company was gone.....and here I am again. Just like it was before. Only now, everyone won't stop asking me when Lisa's coming back.