Here are some of my journal entries from spending a week in the “campo” of Honduras, possibly one of the most amazing experiences of my life:

25 de Abril:

Today we arrived in San Luis, we took a “jalon” to the house where Kristin and Becky were staying. Then Aplolinario and Josh and I walked up to his house out in the beautiful campo of Honduras. Our little pueblo was called “Tablon”

On our jalon ride we started to get a taste of Apolo’s love for nature. We drove through the recent damage of forest/brush fires. Some trees were still burning. Apolo was not happy about that situation.

Apolo’s little white house is surrounded by a “finca” of flowering trees, coffee plants, banana and platano plants and all sorts of other greenness. We saw the front edge of the fire buring up a ridge in the distance. Apolo was not happy. Kristin and Becky and their “dad” Ishmael had come up to visit. As we talked about methods of raising bananas and watched the chickens scurry around in the dust something amazing started to happen. Little black blades of grass and fern leaves started falling from the sky. The ashes from the fire were slowly drifting to the ground all around us. We all just stood and watched, amazed. It was like a final grievous farewell to the forest that was burning around us.

The rest of the night had a lighter tone. We went down to Ishmael’s house to play some music. His son and one of his friends played guitar and accordion. Josh and I took turns as accompaniment. It was great! We played ranchero music. Josh and I played James Taylor and some Hootie and the Blowfish song. Josh played a Spanish hymn too. What an amazing experience! It turns out I am decent at accordion.

26 de Abril:

Today we woke up and ate two breakfasts, it was tough. We went down to Ishmael’s house and played some more guitar and squeeze-box as we waited for something (I’m not sure what), We hiked down to the caves with a decent sized group through a dry river bed. It looked like it usually had quite a bit of water in it. Carlos said it was dry because too many people cut down the surrounding forest. I think it is also because we are at the height of the dry season. We came to the entrance which was a little hole just big enough for one person to fit through. The first 50 feet of the cave were not much better. It was a tiny winding shaft until we came to the underground river, then we could stand upright. We followed the river through muddy sections, under stalactites and crazy round dimples in the ceiling. At times the roof was low. We continued until the ceiling was a foot from the top of the water and the water was less than a foot deep. Then we decided to keep going. So we army-crawled for about 20 minutes through that little water soaked crack in the mountain. It was crazy! Finally we reached the e3nd of the cave. On the way back we found another section hidden behind a wall. This one looked like a mine shaft half filled with water I was the first one in. I followed it around three or four bends. With each step the water was clearer, until finally I reached an impasse. The only way to continue would have been through a tiny little tube that was completely under the clear water. It was tempting to swim on, but also very intimidating. Who knows how long it would be before you would come back up into air. Maybe you never would.

It was like the earth gave birth to a litter of slimy, muddy, humans when we squeezed from the small entrance to the caves. We were greeted into the world of sunlight by a group that had come from town. We walked down the dry creek until we found water and then eventually a swimming hole. It was a nice little bowl surrounded by big white boulders. We swam and bathed, and goofed around. I felt like everyone was watching us. We came back and bathed near the banana plants and the chicken coop. We went to church that evening. Everyone was on their knees praying in the dark little sanctuary. We did too. We introduced ourselves and heard a mini-sermon from the pastor. Came back home after playing some more guitar and prayed with our family. It was beautiful. We stood kin a circle in the quiet candlelit house held hand and prayed together in Spanish.

...more to come...

Sights of Central America

During spring break I was able to see some beautiful parts of Central America. Here is a summary based on the sense of vision.

If you want to see pictures check out our Development Semester Website

A group of us decided to visit Antigua Guatemala because we wanted to experience the festivities of Semana Santa. On our bus ride through El Salvador we saw the mountainous terrain from the front top seats of a large double-decker bus. The Honduran, and Salvadorian countryside were filled with flowering trees, hearty desert plants, and cows. In El Salvador we were immediately amazed by the sight of the huge volcanoes dominating the horizon.

Antigua was easy on the eyes. The entire city maintains its colonial feel. From the colonnades of the old colonial palace to the old Catholic cathedrals that are practically on every corner. Since it is a national historic site of Guatemala the city is kept up well. All of the buildings are painted in pastels and earth-tones. One of those buildings was our little apartment that we rented for the weekend.

We wondered around town quite a bit taking in the sights of Semana Santa. The centro was filled with flowering trees and a large fountain. We looked through some of the old cathedrals that had been ruined by earthquakes.

The most amazing things to see in Antigua during Holy Week were the processions, and the colorful sawdust carpets they walk through. We went out late at night to see the local people making intricate designs out of colored sawdust, flowers, pine needles, and other produce. Some of the carpets tell stories in pictures, and others are just decorative, but they are all destroyed when the procession comes through and tramples them down. The processions consist of local catholic congregations dressed in elaborate costumes carrying floats which symbolize the events of Christ’s week of passion.

One of the processions started right outside of our apartment in one of the local cathedrals. As I stood on the window sill of our apartment looking through bars I was amazed to see a float depicting Christ in the tomb carried on the shoulders of eighty men.

On Saturday Christ just stayed in the tomb, so we had some time to kill. We decided to climb a nearby active volcano called Pacaya. The first half of the hike looked the same as any other hike, but as we came into the clearing near the crater things changed. We started walking on black sharp rocks, and were covered in a mist blowing out of the valley below. As the mist cleared I saw the large black cone above us. At first the guide couldn’t let us go up because the main office said the volcano was too active. I could see in his eyes that he really didn’t think it was too dangerous. Finally they decided it was safe enough, and we scurried up the barren black slope.

It was a steep and hard climb up the volcanic rock. As we reached the top we were above the clouds and could see sulfur and steam coming from the crater. As we approached it we could see molten lava flying into the air. It was amazing! On the way down we watched the sunset from above the clouds with three volcanoes in the foreground.

On the next leg of our journey we watched the Guatemalan and Honduran countryside fly by from a bus window as we traveled to Ceiba, Honduras. From Ceiba we took a ferry to the bay island of Utila. Right away we became familiar with Utila as we walked around looking for a hotel. We saw the many scuba diving schools, and local Garifuna people sitting on their front porches.

As we sat out on a dock eating at one of the local restaurants we saw all the lights on the island go out. The generator that supplies the island with electricity had broken down. Although our dinner was a little late, the view of the stars was amazing from our table in the darkness.

On Friday we saw the beautiful colors of tropical fish and a coral reef as we snorkeled around the Island. The fish were of every shape and color, and the coral was amazing as well. I was able to chase a sea turtle around for a bit, and swim in circles as a sting ray and I checked each other out. That was a little intimidating since the ray was about six feet long!

A few of us toured a long canal of mangroves as we kayaked to the north side of the island. We snorkeled in the breakers on the north side hoping to catch a glimpse of the whale sharks that frequent the area. No luck.

On the boat ride home we were happy to see dolphins swimming and jumping in the air at the front of our boat.

It was an amazing spring break, and I have been blessed by what I saw and took part in.

Hasta Luego...

Currently Playing Third Circle By Enter the Worship Circle see related

Man it has been way too long since I’ve updated this site. We have been pretty busy with class and writing large papers lately. A few weeks ago we had a weekend free, so some of us decided to do some hiking in the eastern department of Honduras called Olancho. Here is my account of the trip as told through the sense of feeling...

Sensations of Olancho

Our trip started in Tegucigalpa’s dangerous twin city Comayaguela at the bus station. It was nice and cool in our air-conditioned bus, but it was not comfortable because my seat was broken. It would recline, but not lock in place, so as the bus veered around switchbacks and the winding hills surrounding Teguc I was fighting my seat to stay in one position. After four hours we arrived in Juticalpa and found a cheap hotel. The next morning I was in a daze as we got up at 3:30 to make the 4:00 am bus to Gualaco. A man was playing his harmonica on the street and rounding up people to take the bus. My tired daze turned into agitation as our “chicken bus” headed into the mountains of Sierra de Agalta. The gravel road was solid washboards, so by the time we reached Gualaco I was tired, a little motion sick from tight corners, and numb from vibrating for the past two hours. We walked around and talked with the people of Gualaco to try and find a guide. The local Peace Corps volunteer brought us to some of her friends in town who could take us to some caves that were in the area. That sounded pretty good to me. As soon as we started walking down the road out of Gualaco I knew the trip had been worth it. (Check out the Development semester website to see pictures from the trip)

As my body got into the rhythm of hiking we took the beauty of the Honduran country side filled with flowering trees and small tile roofed houses. At the end of the road we hiked through a pasture to the edge of the forest. I was hot and sweating a lot as we scurried up the steep, wet trail to the cave entrances. The dry dusty air in the first cave was an unwelcome surprise to my lungs, but the experience was well worth it. This was the real deal. The cave had stalactites, holes, and shafts in all directions. It was crazy to think about how far down, or up, or in it might go. We stopped, shut off our lights, and were absolutely still for a moment. It was absolutely dark, and silent.

Claustrophobia set in as we army-crawled through a tiny crevice, then scaled a small hole to get into the next cave. As the cave opened up I didn’t feel any better because there were bats all over the place. I hate bats!

The third cave was the best. We changed into our swimming suits and dipped our feet into the water. It was ice cold and perfectly clear. My heart was pounding as we swam into the black open mouth of the last cave. The sensation of sightless fish brushing past your legs was a little weird, but not quite as scary as the sensation that the bottom of the cave could be just below your feet or a hundred feet below you. We swam and climbed for about half an hour through this cave until it felt that we must be in the center of the mountain. A chill set in from the cold water and lack of sun as the cave opened up into a huge cavern. We turned off the lights and could see a shaft of daylight hundreds of feet above us lighting up the contours of this underground cathedral. I felt like Gollum as I scurried over wet rocks in the dark. The trip back seemed a lot shorter, and it felt very good to get back out into the sun.

My foot hurt on the way back toward town because I had slipped on a rock in the last cave. It hurt worse when I joined one of our guides, Juan-jo, in a local soccer game. It was a great feeling to be sweating like crazy out in the Olancho countryside as the sun set over Sierra de Agalta. I cringed later that night as the heat from the fire toasted my face along with the quesedilla I had balanced on two sticks.

I was surprisingly hot at 6:00 in the morning as we walked to the farm of Juan-jo’s dad. Not surprisingly, milking a Honduran cow is pretty similar to any other cow I have ever milked. Although that was the first time I had tasted granola with warm fresh milk for breakfast. We cut some sugar cane to chew on for the long walk back. I had never felt the sensation of hundreds of tiny ticks crawling on my body, but I wouldn’t recommend it. When we got back to camp we all noticed that we had been attacked by ticks. That day we hiked to some “aguas calientes” which turned out to just be a little warm sulfurous spring. It smelled bad, but felt good on my cut up foot. We swam in a deep part of the river for a few hours and had a good chance to pick all the ticks off our bodies later that afternoon. That night we camped on a hill above the village next to the community water tanks.

The ride home was a long blur of riding on a dusty chicken bus all the way back to Teguc. I was exhausted, but happy to have made some friends in Olancho, and seen some of the beauty of Honduras.

Currently Reading The Cost of Discipleship By Dietrich Bonhoeffer see related

The aroma of Honduras:

Each morning I wake up at 6:00 to the smell of platanos frying for breakfast. Everything smells pretty normal until I start walking to school. As I walk down the alley I smell the evidence of street dogs that have been there during the night. Who cleans that up anyway? There is always a funky smell coming from the gutters next to all the streets. It smells like sewage and rot. As I walk past the outdoor market in Colonia Kennedy I smell oranges, then the earthy smell of some root like things. Along the road I smell the potent smoke of busses and cars with bad exhaust systems. We pass a large dumpster with trash all around it. It smells like rotten vegetables and smoldering ashes. Later along the street something smells like the familiar odor of pigs, but only for a second. Near the university I can smell a stream that now during the dry season is basically just a river of sewage. At lunch I smell the food frying in the cafeteria as I wait in line.

On the way home I pass by a bakery in ‘the Kennedy’ and  stop to take in the sweet aroma for a bit. By the time I get home I don’t smell very good myself from sweating all day. I pick up Welmer and rub his stomach on my head. He needs his diaper changed.  Supper smells good. More beans, of course. I turn my fan on before bed because the smell of the dog is wafting in through the window.

Two weekends ago we went to a town on the outskirts of Tegucigalpa and stayed there for the weekend. The town consists mostly of people who were displaced after Hurricane Fifi. The Government gave them the land on top of the old city garbage dump. Here is a paper I wrote about it for class:          

Nueva Suyapa

            Today’s global economy allows a gap of distance, culture, and language to exist between the rich and poor of the world. It is difficult to bridge that gap unless the people with wealth and resources make efforts to understand the situation of those with less. Spending a weekend in Nueva Suyapa affirmed some of my assumptions about poverty, and changed many others. In Nueva Suyapa I focused on observing two themes: What are some of the factors that keep these people in poverty, and how does Christian faith influence their view on this position of poverty. 

            Staying in Nueva Suyapa challenged some of my assumptions about poverty, and allowed me to hear about poverty from those who are living in it. When we arrived at my family’s house I expected to find a small living place with few luxuries, and a family that was sad about their situation. Instead I found reasonably content and happy people living in a decent house with a nice stereo, and a TV. Mario, one of the young men living there, took us on as his guests. We ate a good typical Honduran meal, and then played cards with his friends. While playing cards I could tell that there was not a modern sewage system by the smell coming from the bathroom. Later, when I used the bathroom I noticed there was also no running water. The next morning this was reaffirmed when I took a very cold bucket shower. The air in the house was dusty and a bit gaseous from the poor sewage situation. I couldn’t breathe well in the morning. The next day we walked around town for a while. I saw some children relieving themselves in the street. We decided to climb the nearby mountain with some friends. On the way we saw villagers hauling firewood on their backs down steep rocky trails. Questions filled my mind: Why do they have an amazing stereo, and no water? How do you just ask someone why they are poor? How do you help them?

That night brought some answers. As the day went on I felt more comfortable around Mario, and his brothers. We talked until midnight about Honduras and the U.S. Finally I just asked them why the people of Nueva Suyapa are continually poor. They said mostly because of government corruption. The government does not fund things like good public education, water and sewage systems, or education benefits for college because the politicians are too busy lining their pockets. The people of Nueva Suyapa are stuck because they don’t have access to the basic things that can get them out of poverty like education. They don’t have time to get educated or to find better jobs because they have to carry firewood down from the mountain, wash clothes by hand, and take care of children.

            The brothers had a recurring joke that night; while trying to get into the U.S. many Hondurans make it to Mexico, and then try to jump a train across the border. Unfortunately some people fall and get their legs cut off underneath the train. Early that week one of the brothers had tried to get a job. This job was going to pay him sixty lempira for twelve hours of work, which is equivalent to three dollars. The thing that they were joking about was that he would rather make it to the U.S. and get one leg cut off by the train than work for sixty lempira per day.

            Mario, Tim and I went to church quite often during those few days. From those experiences I got a taste of how Christian faith interacts with poverty. The church provided an outlet for the community to talk and pray about their common struggles. I was surprised how frequently the people met at church. The church youth group gave a lot of young people something to do by having a Bible lesson followed by a sports and activity time, followed by a dinner. I can see that such close community involvement could keep kids focused on positive ways to spend their time. There were also a strong group of youth leaders who were around twenty three years old. I could see from their dedication to the youth group that it gave them a way to be part of something positive for the community. I was surprised at the ideas I heard at this church concerning money and poverty. The lesson at the youth group meeting had a theme of God shaping us as a potter. One verse that was mentioned gave the idea that we should not question what God is doing in our lives and in our circumstances. I like this view because it is very non-materialistic, and focuses on trusting God.  I agree with this idea because I know God works all things to the good, but I also think that God wants us to stand up against injustice. I wonder if that type of attitude leads to people accepting their position of poverty. I did see more of this attitude in the sermon we heard on Sunday. The preacher talked about how it was wrong for the church to hire outside help to do work for the church. He said it was wrong to pay a pastor because you cannot serve both God and money. He reprimanded the congregation for not getting some drywall work done because they didn´t have the skills to do it. It seems that these people think money is totally evil. What a sad situation for a poverty-stricken community to be in. I saw much of the teaching in that church as helping the cycle of poverty rather than breaking it. I hope that this sermon was just an isolated incident.

            After visiting Nueva Suyapa my view of poverty changed because I realized there are many similarities in the lives of people there and in the U.S. Many of my assumptions about the vicious cycle of poverty were reinforced by stories I heard, and things I saw. I had hoped that the church was working to fight poverty, but instead found that it may have been maintaining it. Overall I learned that the fight against poverty is a complex and long one, it takes a community effort from all sides to overcome it.