Orchestra de la Calle

I lie down to retire;

early again;

missing a song, perhaps

to see me to sleep.


Until I realize that such a

possibilty lies

just outside.


Choruses of laughter mounted

upon other rings of chatter

accompanied by

cacophanies of dinner ware

backed up by a dog's

bark off on

the other side of the tracks.


Cocks miss their cue

and overecstatic;

they sing too soon.


Children bounding,

up and down and threw

falling misshapen streets

percuss

the otherwise

irrythmic orchestra.


My own music broke

but if it were

to be working

I would have never heard

such valiant attempts

to share theirs.

Dia de Independencia - the flip side.

Dia de Independencia en Nueva Suyapa.

The neighborhood had the scent

of holiday; so much

that I forgot other people

in other places were not experiencing

the same.

“We will not go down to the parade,”

they say,

“the buses don’t run;

there are ALBA protests and rowdy people,

and our bands are not playing anyway.”

So instead we hear

every TV from

every diametric stones throw

singing songs

of feigned freedom

as we reinvent the drainage system

that sends access food and trash

into the gulley down below;

as we finally finish that roof,

nine months overdue;

as we dig our buckets

deep into the pila

using the last of it to

wash brilliantly

the clothes of one

who is not our own.

When all is said and done

we sit down and drink a glass

of Pepsi or Coke and toast

to the gods who were so benevolent

to give us jobs

at Burger King, McDonalds and Pizza Hut;

and factories of Gap and Walmart

at banana plantations and coffee farms

on the land of our ancestors

who gave us some walls after the hurricane

and left.

Disclaimer -- this poem is quite; well, negative towards the US, I tend to be so... especially when their presence is so visual here. Yes, this is a poem about re-colonization and asks the question; is Honduras really independent?I am playing with that, yes. I mean what I wrote, but, Independence Day is quite a cool thing here, if you read a blog entry of fellow co-workers, particularly the Troyers: troyteguc.blogspot.com: who are in Copan right now, you might learn that; marching bands from high schools across Honduras practice for months to prepare for this day, much of the community gets involved; it is quite exciting and beautiful; maybe I am just bitter because I wanted to go down and see the parade but couldn't, and if I did, I would have written a different kind of poem I'm sure. I'm glad I stayed though, and I'm glad I wrote this one. I might have been getting to know Honduras better if i went, but not the Honduras that I am currently living and working in. I'd like to know your thoughts on this,

Peace,

Rachel

Nice things

once again -

" there are nice things in the world---and I mean nice things, we're all such morons to get so sidetracked." (Salinger, Franny and Zooey p.152)

I know I can often get caught up in the analysis, and sometimes, allow things to appear like they are worse than they really are. But really, there are some really nice things going on here that I notice, so I thought to honor a good line from a good book, I would have a blog on nice things that I notice in Honduras. It will be a random list that I will update as the situations arise. And, those in Honduras, feel free to add anything you notice, love, can think of or are enjoying at the moment, in the comments, or send me an email and I'll add them to the list - with your name attached, si quiere.


Primero:

Dia de los ninos - I might have a blog entry about this, but I may not have time, so for now, a nice things entry will do. They have a day for children like mothers day or fathers day; many Americans say every day is children's day, but I don't know, I think I beg to differ, and maybe the day of the children here is just giving kids more of what they don't need -- kitchy toys and candy and pop, but it also allows for a time for everyone to stop and celebrate, and enjoy having fun and being silly, and I think, well, maybe in the US we just need a sill day, but I can understand calling it a children's day because us serious adults would not admit to needing a silly day; I think I do, often. I was talking to a coworker, that we call Carlito who compared it to Halloween, a similar idea, that makes sense to me; because I guess on Halloween we do all get dressed up pretty silly and crazy and have fun taking on other personas. Anyway, where I work, well its basically a community organization that does micro-finance but many other things too, I should, write a blog explaining that. Anyway, part of the project is a low income Christian primary and high school that has been around for around 14 years. Well, our office is inside the school grounds, and right outside our window is their recess/play and assembly area. So, yesterday for children's day, they had a program with a couple of plays. It is always fun to see teachers making fools out of themselves to make children laugh, and this group of people seemed to not be very self conscience about it at all. There is a T.V program called "Del Chavo del Ocho." a very funny one that many people/kids like, and these teachers and some people from my work seemed to mimic this program very well; possibly catering it to the school, but that I would not understand. I may post the video of it here. But that I liked. Celebrations seem to be over the top here, and ya, kids get pretty spoiled on this day, and the day becomes commercialized like so many holidays in the US, but hey, I like the idea.

Other nice things:

The drive from Gracias Lempira to Tegucigalpa, the road was bastante fea..more than that really, but a nice thing, is Amanda, who is "connecting me" with her husband Andrew to my SALT job; gunning it in the truck at the right moment, and using just the right amount of force in the right places to get us out of a sticky situation in the mud in the road, and keep us from spinning. We were all very proud of her. But the fea'ness of the ride allowed for a lot of laughter, because when things are just a little crazy and bizarre, well there's not much less to do than laugh. Other things that happened on that trip: a crane almost missed its destination, and came very close to dropping that pile of dirt on our car; there were few signs and the signs that existed pointed in the wrong direction on worse roads through little towns, while on one such bad direction, a group of men and boys working outside greeted us, one man saw it necessary to salute us, and on the way back, when we realized we were going the wrong way, he insisted on saluting us again. In the end Amanda just kind of picked roads, and somehow, we ended up at the town where we were to meet up with an actually paved road - in La Esperanza.

La Esperanza is another nice thing, and I especially like the town square with a fountain; where kids played and many talked, and there were no ants on the grass when I laid in it.

But yes, the drive it self was beautiful, going from one spectacular mountain range to another, different feels, like driving West in the U.S. I tried to take pictures with Andrews camera, but we were driving around mountains after all.

Futbol --Right now are the preliminary games for the World Cup, maybe you are watching them at your house for the US team, but I can assure you it will not be like here; last night the whole town was alive, I will write about this one "creatively" because it was awesome; with every goal that Honduras scored, and they scored 2 you could hear cheers from all over the hill, and firecrackers as well; after a while I went to bed because I figured I did not need to watch to know what was happening, use my other senses for this one.

Trumpos - Tops, in Copan a lot of the kids had plastic tops that they spun from a string that they were very good at making spin, and then putting on their hand to spin some more --- this all took technique which I did not have, the kid who was showing me grew impatient.

Thoughts from a Nueva Suyapan porch

“ Sir, we ought to teach the people that they are doing wrong in worshipping the images and pictures in the temple.”

Ramikrishna: “That’s the way with you Calcutta people: you want to teach and preach. You want to give millions when you are beggars yourselves…

Do you think God does not know that he is being worshipped in the images and pictures? If a worshipper should make a mistake, do you not think God will know his intent?”

~ The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna. Taken by me from Buddy and Seymour’s room in J.D Salinger’s Franny and Zooey. ~

I have now arrived in Nueva Suyapa, and, resting, I sit on my porch, enjoying the activities of the night. It is here that yearning and satisfaction; anguish and joy; fear and confidence, live together holding hands, one because of the other, the other in response to the other, it is hard to know after a while where it came from and who dealt what first. It is here that I live, and here that I come with a lot of the same.

The winding paths nearing entry ways to both well planned and randomly arranged houses offer an exciting through passage for children to lose a little control as they bowl down the hill. However, also it seems a perfect spot to jump some unsuspecting individual, to grab a trustful child. And outside, I see two guys standing on the corner, and maybe, I would like to think, they are simply talking, simply discussing the day, but it does not look like that to me. And on that same corner, were two kids consumed with the game pong just twenty minutes before; and I watched them until they noticed me because the process was so fascinating at that moment. As these two men appeared at that such corner, the song Alabare wafting from the church at the top of this mini hill seemed to create a new mood, because in some way, we all could feel it though it had no way of really understanding this condition. Not unless it was an honest praise; unless it was an angry Psalm turned grateful; unless it says “Oh God; my God; why has thou forsaken me”. But maybe, I feel that way more than they do, maybe they have something to teach me in that area. Maybe we have something to teach each other; humans struggling with human things when we take money out of it. When we stop looking at the outward signs and all that may represent in this stuff driven world. I am not proposing that I understand, just because I struggle, the level of material, emotional and social struggle that exists here. I am also not proposing that the emotional and spiritual and social ways of seeing oneself supersedes the physical, but maybe I am saying as I mentioned before, that the physical is simply a representation of those ways of being treated, being seen by the rest of the world, and in turn, the way they begin to see themselves. I am instead simply making the point that it is better to stop comparing levels of pain based on things our society deems as most important and to start to realize in many ways we all struggle; and maybe it is better to see it as struggling together than to start creating hierarchies based simply on lucky opportunity that one may have been allowed to have in one area instead of another. It just so seems that a whole community seems to be unlucky in many areas, and a whole different one very lucky in many specific areas. And it is at that point we notice, it is not luck at all; it is intentional malice, by one group over another, it is power stealing and grabbing, it is suffering never realized, deeply hidden and turned on its own. But it still does not make them very lucky or happy in the end. And some of us know that story all too well, and we do not want to perpetuate it, but our desire to help can sometimes further enforce such untrue artificially created feelings of inferiority in these people. I guess there in lies grace’s duty; to lift the veils of good intention and even grief guided bad ones and help us start to try to understand those of one another.

I guess at that point I can see a mother shaming a child for simply being a child as only doing what has been done to her, so many times, therefore only doing what she has known to be right, even if it is a way to grab a little piece of untouched power from the one group of people with which she feels she has been given some influence.

And the thirteen year old who says to her nine year old sister who is taking care of the baby “I am not the mother,” well she has probably taken care of more than her fair share for her age, and is maybe finally learning to stand up for what she wants and needs, even if it is not in the best way and at the expense of this such sister who simply wants some one to leave the baby with for a second so she can join the spelling game, because she knows she is a very good speller, and she loves it.

And I guess, in the end, that is what I want to do while here, I want to notice the smart girl who loves reading and spelling and help her find a way to do it, if the way is not very available to her, and if I have a way of making that more available.

I want to realize that the very same woman who shamed that child was also there when so many parents weren’t. And communicate that she did join in the game and let the little kid stuff her face full of a cookie when most others did not participate; and she did only laugh when that girl stuffed her face a little too full, and allowed everyone watching to laugh at and with her too, instead of getting annoyed. I want to make it known that that was her way of loving and knowing how to love; and I want her to find out how to use that rough charisma to rightfully regain that power from those who stole it from her, and to encourage those sitting on the sidelines to regain it too.

And maybe, maybe even first, maybe better, at the same time, I will finally do the same for myself, and very probably, they will help me as I explore such an option; I will write because I always loved to write, and sometimes, I can even be good at it. I will read because I have such a wondering imagination that would love to be transported to other worlds for at least some period of time; and then in turn, bring the lenses of such worlds back to this one, allowing for some type of cross world exchange. I will let myself wonder, and let myself ask questions, because when attentive, I always was so curious. I will also allow myself to be funny, because sometimes I can be, when I try a little less; and make room for laughing at the bizarre, the ironic and the every day, and to notice those things. Because, as Zooey said " there are nice things in the world---and I mean nice things, we're all such morons to get so sidetracked." (Salinger, Franny and Zooey p.152)

That I think, is our task, because the gold, we don’t need to bring that; it is already here, it already was here hundreds and thousands of years ago, it was simply taken by the conquistadors and every body else who followed; we just need to allow them to uncover it, reclaim it, and then, help people like ourselves to see it as such, and this time, allow it to stay with its rightful owner, realizing, we don't need to take theirs, but we can all share, for we've got our own gold too.

San Pedro hasta Nueva Suyapa

I thought I would quit being obscure and actually write something more direct, though I am working on more creative writing type pieces about my experiences; explanations are good too. But, you can look forward to those as they come.

I am finally in Nueva Suyapa, the neighborhood in Tegucigalpa where I am working and living and it feels very good. I am living very close to some friends from Calvin as well, which is nice. I guess, as reuniting with a place that I loved and haven't been in 4+ years would do to me. I'm sure I will write more about what I specifically like about it in many different forms. What I really love is the random disorganized organization of the houses here, they seem to be built with whatever is available wherever there is space, responding either to already existing streets or paths, or creating new ones, based on their location. I guess it, (man the words in English are not coming so easy... I guess when i add a couple spanish ones a few english ones drop out or something) I guess it signifies what I love so much about many developing countries, but about Honduras specifically, the organic creation of something that people contribute to little by little, without having as much of a specific plan, making the most of the opportunities they have and the things they have around them. Now, there are good and bad aspects to this quality, as a small conversation with a coworker indicated, but for now, I choose to enjoy it.

Getting to Nueva Suyapa, the colonia up on a hill where I am living and working, has been a long time coming. I would like to talk a bit to the experiences I had in the past week, as we went to many places, and learned about the work of many good organizations, most of which are partnering with MCC.

After our stay in Copan we went to San Pedro Sula for training. Us three SALTers made good use of the office, having dance parties and watching movies. We were told that we managed to turn it into a college dorm. While there we visited the organization/project called the Mama project which is the partner organization that MCC Honduras spends a good amount of their time, volunteers and money on. MAMA stands for Mujeres Amigas Miles Apart. They are a very diverse organization that does many things in San Pedro Sula and surrounding areas, but what they started for was to help and support children and youth, specifically marginalized youth. I was impressed to hear the headway they had made in a dangerous, gang controlled neighborhood called Seis de Mayo. The gang activity is still very present, as every business, taxi bus that enters has t0o pay them a certain amount to be there...and there is more...but they have managed to reduce the violence quite a bit. A story that indicates their presence in the community is that a group of guys from the gang stole something from their van, before they saw the logo, later someone noticed the logo, and they brought the item back to the organization.

We were able to see an after school program for children with learning disabilities that encouraged tactile and experience based learning, and a pretty sweet language learning lab where the kids get to learn via Rosetta Stone and a US tutor via skype. I was impressed.

We also went to a farm of the Mama Project, where a couple with MCC is doing a 3 year volunteer stint. It is very refreshing to be out there after being in a smoggy city. The original focus was tilapia, which they take care of and sell; they have about four tilapia ponds, with quite a few tilapia, I decided I was going to shed my vegetarianism at that moment to eat it, and it was good. They also have many fruit trees, quite a few animals and some vegetables. While there, there was quite a storm during the night, and it felt like a pre-apocalyptic experience...not really, but I definitely felt like worse things were going to happen than did. The lightning seemed so close, and the tin roof made it so loud.

After this experience...we were on the road again to La Campa, where another individual from our group, Micheal will be working. The ride was OK but the arrival better. La Campa is beautiful, amidst an amazing mountain range where the highest mountain in Honduras, Celaque is. The town is very quaint, surrounded by cliffs and mountains, quite an up and coming vacation spot, I think. That area is where the indigenous tribe, Lenca originated. Typical to the Lenca is a beautiful hand made pottery; which we were able to see made very quickly as if it was super easy, before our eyes. She was able to create an anafre, out of just a block of clay in about ten minutes, I was super super impressed. Anafre is a Honduran version of fondu, I would say, beans and cheese, the most mild and well liked Honduran cheese quesillo and refried beans, and sometimes chorizo burning over a flame, sometimes a candle in this dish called an anafre, which is made specifically for this type of appetizer; it is eaten with tortilla chips. I love it, but love the anfre even more, and think, I love watching someone make an anafre dish even more. She also made a couple small vases, about one minute each. I am writing something about that, and so hope to have that ready some time when I find time to write about all these things I want to.

I will add to this blog more, or mabe just have a blog about my trip to Teguc., actually, just read about that part in nice things, and I just wanted to say a bit about my time in the orphanage -- It is an orphanage for children with AIDS and affected by AIDS, and is a well run, joyful place amongst much heartbreak, and much potential heartbreak. These children are well loved though they have to deal with their fair share of suffering --- one particular child, Hector, who was very could at making friends immediately and who I connected with, has very low platelets, which is a constant problem, currently has pneumonia, sores in a few places on his face and can eat casi nada (almost nothing). A hard life, and it did make me sad to wonder how long this beautiful child had to live. I will post a picture of me and him and his favorite Tia, because we took them to the hospital in Teguc when Andrew and Amanda were bringing me to Nueva Suyapa. I did love that place, even though I was there less than 24 hours, and imagine I will be visiting often; it is on a little mountain and has a beautiful view, and is a little away from all the noise of city life, and is only 45 minutes or so away. I don't know how often I will just go down describing events like this, but I figured it would be good to know the specifics, things I am not good at and don't usually connect to people on, but other people do, so I thought I'd include them. I might add more to this about La Campa too.

A night in Copan

Evening Events

They sat in a circle, across generations, and shared stories of the day and stories of the past. The youngest ones ran down the cobblestone hill holding hands, just far enough to feel the danger of distance, just close enough for the circle to know of their whereabouts. As we continued to climb the hill to our respective houses, a pair of children from another set of circles were rolling what seemed to be a set of light exercise weights, the kind one may keep in their basement, down another similar hill. As we neared the final corner, a caballero suited in a well worn sombrero; a loosely checkered navy blue and white camisa and soiled lived in jeans habitually but not less graciously said “Buenas” to wish us goodnight, and we responded.

Sunsets, Photographs and Pensamientos.

Some things that have been on my mind, a mix of inner ponderings, struggles and discoveries and the way I fall in love with the landscape here, and how I deal with that.

Sunsets, Photographs and Pensamientos

Copan and San Pedro Sula

And yes,

it was a sunset;

the hidden sun

mirrored by blinding clouds

creating shadows;

off setting its otherwise

overpowering illumination.

Oversized trees

with cement synonymous roots

edging their way

up, around and through.

Soft hills flowing into

mini mountains that seem so

conquerable from afar.

I said, what about that one?

the largest one leering in the distance

with the coca cola sign in the middle.

I wanted to capture it

I wanted to take a picture

but I didn’t;

too late, I did;

by that time;

diesel fume colored clouds

were taking my place

on the top;

obscuring any kind of a sign

and then, demasiado;

de-mass-iado;

tan demasiado para me.

There will always be more you know,

every day another kind of sun sets

behind, around and above

that same kind of mountain.


Well; today it seemed

another expansive mystery,

the gray clouds remained,

the top I still could not see

but the once unknown

florescent fushia reflections punched

through their nemesis blackness

and made quite a place for themselves,

quite a place indeed.