Splityear

“I did not go to Nicaragua intending to write a book, or write at all, but my encounter with the place affected me so deeply that in the end I had no choice. So: a moment, but I believe a crucial and revealing one, because it was neither a beginning nor an end, but a middle, a time that felt close to the fulcrum of history, a time when all things, all the possible futures, were still (just) in the balance.” Salman Rushdie, The Jaguar Smile, p. 5.

It is nearing the end of January, meaning I have just the same amount of time to go in my time here as the time that has passed. Like usual, it has gone by fast, and I reflect on what has come before.

Maybe this split of the year I find myself in is a little like being at the bottom of the hill on my common run a couple times a week: the way down, which is always in this case first, was less work, nonetheless much needed preparation for the way up, the more strenous part. But the way up, though once a grand feat, is now known, studied and experienced; pace intuitive, momentum steady, fear subsided. The amount of time is beginning to show more and more by my Honduran sister Diana, whose before mere bump is now a living being yawning, sleeping, stretching arms on their bed. Yes, 5 months, that is how long it has taken me to birth my own baby I’d like to call confidence and trust, in myself and in and from others and its still on its way. But I am constantly reminded, as being surrounded by the bible as a tool of reminders, that David wandered around for years in the pastures, attending to smelly sheep and killing bears and lions before slaying Goliath, and even that was just the beginning.

The outside living-ness of Nueva Suyapa such as children playing soccer in my path, donkeys going on their own and mothers bathing their children no longer makes me giddy like it did before. They now are everyday backdrops of the painting I’d like to call my life in Tegucigalpa.

Names, faces, children I’ve played with, promises I’ve made fly by like the buses going to their barns after a long day of hard work; too tired to really meet. That is something I’d like to change about myself and my situation, but with such a multitude passing through this community center each day, it is not always possible to invest, sometimes even to remember.

My expectations are beginning to lower, in a good way, it is making me happier and content, appreciative of the small things and small victories; me finally taking advantage of opportunities to joke around, understanding it all; a co-worker spending all day on a presentation for his bank meetings despite low turnout and finally giving my own presentations, and receiving positive results.

It is windier than usual here, making it cold this side of the mountain. I am finding myself robed much like those around me: everything looking nice but nothing really too practical for the situation at hand; hiding holes that expose goose bumping skin. No, it is not too cold here, but all things are relative, and when thin sweaters and blankets are all we’ve all got to keep us all warm, well, it feels cold. And how it feels really does matter, I’m beginning to realize.

Back in my house I’m led once again to decipher the difference between firecrackers, cars backfiring and actual gun shots. Though, hearing a real gun shot is much like the moment right when you’re going to throw up or faint, you just internally know it. I guess that is one of the many skills I am gaining while being here. I listen long to hear the after effects: children crying, fearful others or tormented participators running down the road; expectant individuals waiting to see what has really happened. I am convinced now; it is not so safe to walk around here at night. The fear that inhabitors possess, that multiplied x on the survey I am taking that says no these clients cannot live without fear of violence now also becomes a part of me. I now jump in fear when friends surprise me in the streets; an internal instinct of “watch out”. My eyes seem like they are only now beginning to open, my life now more a known part of the diffulculties every day Nueva Suyapans have had to live all of their lives. I always think about, how I will and can never fully know, for I have a way out, and access to more money; and it is in the end, only a year.