In the age of innocence

He comes in the usual polite Honduran way, shaking hands and greeting everyone in the room before being offered a seat. He often makes jokes as he’s doing this, chumming up to each prospective hand shaker. He then sits down and begins to comment or question regarding predictable topics: the weather, the latest soccer game, the latest in Nueva Suyapa’s People magazine or the most recent most corrupt political official. Tonight it was politics.

He is a short man with well toned muscles which he makes sure he shows off with tank tops even in cooler weather. A continuous small talk he has with me is when and for how long we went running that week. I am sure a weight lifting routine is not uncommon as well. He has a mane of a head of hair that flops on both sides, especially while walking. It isn’t too far from the popular male Honduran haircut that comes a little too close to a mullet, short throughout, stretching all the way down the neckline, near the collar, often accompanied with overly gooped gelled curly spikes that he has not taken the time to invest in. His face is evident of his attitude towards life, appears much younger than he actually is. He is not un-handsome and uses the mix of these two qualities to his advantage; cutesying his way into many a less than twenty something heart. This early blooming just teen nonchallantly greets and engages him as any other random house guest.

Both wait for the moment when conversation lulls and the living room population’s attention gravitates towards the latest TV love match game show. He then takes his chance to rob her of her childhood in one single glance, indicating immature intimacy. She reciprocates, as any low self esteemed early teenage would to romantic attention from a 30-something. This jump starts engaged conversation as might occur with high school sweet hearts: a series of questions about homework assignments, class gossip and goings on at the business where he works, reminders of the age discrepancy. He helps her on the current homework assignment she’s working on, as her father should have had he the patience and ability to read. She continues to milk up the manly attention she’s been lacking, learning her green eyes and attempts at flirtation have served for something. They continue to sit next to eachother, just touching, but not too close to alarm anyone. Parents keep a watchful eye but still permit the behavior.

This continued more that once a week for months, until he took it a step too far and took her out during school hours; to do, we are not sure what. She conspired with him, and a group of her friends to make this possible, not aware it was her that was the victim. She could not sneak past parents, who found out maybe a second too late and finally did what they should have a long time ago, not allow him to be a part of her life. The chaos has subsided after a suicide attempt by the girl. Who’s to know from who now she will receive what she rightfully craves.

~Mental health is a taboo topic in Honduras, especially Nueva Suyapa that comes last in the line of bills to pay and mouths to feed. Having food on the table and clothes on the body and sending the kids to school is what is expected of a good parent. This does not mean that the child is not nurtured as needed in many households. However with all the frustrations that living at or below a Honduran working class, investing much needed time and love in their children does not come first. This does not only exist in Honduras, as the US is infiltrated with this problem as well, perhaps only for different reasons. This is only one example of my experience of it happening here. It is a sad reality that has brought me to tears.~