Angela G's Peace Corps Experience

A Simple Sunday

2005-09-19T11:22:00.000-07:00

if i were a fly upon the wall

attention...i would not call

tiny bird perched on the second floor

peering at the people down below

every movement i feel and every breath i hear

watching the drunken man saturated in his vomit and drowning in his tears

couples blissful holding hands

grandmas stealing flowers of my landlord´s land

robbers, thieves looking through pockets

if i am to witness, am i too a culprit?

man in pressed blue uniform on the corner rifle embraced

trying to force gaiety into his sad face

school girl singing after a delightful meal

hugging herself protecting herself from the mountain chill

little boys playing soccer, no shoes, juice in hand

laughing and frolicking as hard as they can stand

giggling, nibbling on sweet ears of corn

the young maids, beauty captured in their youth, clothes are old ragged and torn

half conscious, hands outreached toward the dark sullen sky

praying and pleading 'i am worth nothing...Lord save me...i want to die'

then body stiffens as if rigor mortis has set in

the parrallels of the universe

one of innocence...the other perverse

one of pure luck...the other a curse

if i were a fly upon the wall

attention...i would not call

tiny bird perched on the second floor

peering at the people down below

every movement i feel and every breath i hear

watching...

as i hold back my joyful sorrowful tears

All the kids in da´ school gettin´ tipsy........

2005-08-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

a couple of weeks ago, honduras celebrated Dia de Lempira. According to historical dates. it is believed that lempira was born in 1499. Lempira was a Lenca warrior who was famous for fighting for the rights of the Lenca people. every year he is honored through fiestas. the name of honduran money is derived from the name of this warrior. some say that he actually did not exist and is a representation of all leaders of indian tribes who were in the struggle for freedom, but who knows......

the celebration fell on a wednesday and on wednesdays i go to a small village called el portillo. there were lots of comida tipicas like ticuco and bebida tipicas like atol (typical cultural drinks and food). i ate this..... drank that...... some stuff i liked..... some stuff...... not so much, but you learn after being here a while that you can´t turn down what is being offered to you. well, Lillian, a pregnant lady and mother of one of the kids that is in my group offered me a drink. wasn´t anything out of the ordinary. i just tried like five different drinks and some food, just thought it was another bebida tipica. she extended her arm and offered her drink to me ( which she had been sipping on since i arrived). i reached for the orange plastic cup....a little apprehensive, because i just got through trying the almost most yuckiest stuff i have ever tasted and wasn´t quite ready to try something else as equally disgusting, but i thought "what the hell!! you only live once." hmmmmmmmm!!!!! smells interesting ....kinda tart. what is this called again? chicha. uh huh... and what is it made from? Corn. uh huh......and how do you make it? like the others. uh huh! but it smells.....funny....like alcohol. this is alcohol?? nooooooooo!!!! promise me this isn´t alcohol. are you guys joking with me? noooooooo, we promise. i had my doubts, but why would these lovely catholic god loving women lie to me.(four of them in all) why would a pregnant lady be drinking alcohol. okay so it isn´t alcohol. i´ve smelled weirder stuff. eaten stranger things....

i put the plastic orange cup to my lips, and the mere touch against my lips let me know that i wasn´t about to just taste a bebida tipica but something a little stronger. i gave the cup back and said nu-uh this is alcohol!!! there heads swaying side to side. noooooo!!!! no es alcohol. okay tell me again how do you make this stuff? a woman walks up i guess intrigued by our banter and wanted to get in on the giggling. i asked her. she begins by saying se fermenta..... se fermenta!!!!! well, ladies... that is how you make alcohol. it ferments. you take barley, grain, oats, fruit whatever your heart desires and you ferment it and over a couple of days or weeks it becomes alcohol!!!!! their chins dropped a couple of inches in disbelief. they had no idea what they were drinking and dishing out to their youngsters was in fact able to get one drunk. these ladies thought that because they could make it with their own hands that there was no way that it was alcohol. alcohol is something made with intriquite machinery and such not by their own hands. therefore.... all members of the commmunity: grandmas, grandpas, uncles, aunts, pregnant, unpregnant, and KIDS partake in chicha fun!!!

yes, people, my little 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 year olds were a sippin´that there good ol´moonshine. i proceed to go into the room where i meet with my kids. they ask me did you like the food? yes. did you try the drinks? yes. do you like chicha? no. why not....We Do!!! what?? you guys like chicha? and in unison, the kids broke out SI!!!!!!! NOS GUSTA.

needless to say, the kids were a bit rowdier than usual. high on life......NOPE....tipsy of chicha!!! i was flabergasted at first, but it has been awhile since that incident and....not too surprised. just another interesting fact to add to my what in the world!!! list.

Aiiiiiiii, NO!!!!

Alone v/s Loneliness

2005-07-26T11:18:00.000-07:00

If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it´s not because they enjoy solitude. It´s because they have tried to blend into the world before and people continued to disappoint them.

passage from My Sister´s Keeper

by Jody Picoult

Hello... Pretty Bird?!

2005-07-26T10:28:00.000-07:00

Despite what my hilarous, thought provoking web entries may have conveyed (ha ha), first months in site were pretty rough. you find yourself plopped into new place ready to fend for yourself. catch what life has thrown at you and also deal with being alone. not that being alone is a bad thing but, also being lonely. thoughts race through your mind...should´ves. would´ves. could´ves. whys- lots of whys. my thoughts picking at my brain just as the shiny headed black beady eyed vultures pick at the dead rats, old garbage and rotten mango peels at the garbage bin outside my house. every day i see these creatures, just as i see myself...my thoughts, devouring me. flying through the air at close range, sitting at times on my balcony waiting.... staring at me as i come out my door, as if they were waiting for me. any sweet thoughts that my brain would come across would then be devoured by my own vultures. thoughts of the past, thoughts of my future. why? i would wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat thinking about incidents that had taken place months before and some even years before... my brain trying to erase and rearrange. what i thought was the Aralen (medication we have to take for Malaria known to induce strange dreams) was actually me!! then i found myself during the day... mid stride.... day dreaming or day nightmaring, the same that haunted me in my sleep haunting me as i walked. stopping me in my tracks. what was it?

learning about myself? adapting to a new environment? dealing with loneliness? not having brainless entertainment to numb what thoughts may have been lurking in my noggin when i was back at home in GA? could it be all of these things and then some...reasons that i am unaware of?

these recent weeks have been pleasant, not to say that things still don´t get to me nor to say that everything has been all rosy (who says that anyway???) Peachy!! that´s better. not that everything has been peachy (after all i am from georgia). but they have been going....okay. the kids i work with are great. they remind me of innocence purity.. a life without vultures. with every dark creature lurking about me there are thousands of beautiful ones. some i recognize and many i do not. my goal now is to study them. learn about them and recognize when they are around.

Tis´ life

2005-07-18T10:59:00.000-07:00

hello friends. i just was in the middle of writing a lovely web entry about how have been going well these last week and how i have felt more at peace here this week than my first couple of months in site, and then, the power went out and erased it all....................................

ohhhhh well!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It matter not.....

2005-07-14T09:16:00.000-07:00

It matter not how straight the gate; o´ how many punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate.

I am the captain of my soul.

-W.E.Hensley

Shall I take a poll?

2005-06-30T09:08:00.000-07:00

What is a need anyway. you always here people say "I need to do this or blah blah blah." "I really need this dress!" "I need to get my hair done." "I need a car." But do we really need to do anything or have everything? i am taken aback at how some people choose to use this word, need ,even myself ( i feel the same when people use the word friend just having met the person 2 minutes ago or the word hate. hate is just such a mean strong ugly word), anyway...i am guilty of it as well, but i was curious as what good ol´Google had to say about it? so, i decided to look it up.

Need - That which is necessary; a necessary; a requisite; something indispensable

i have used the word plenty of times before, trust me, but i try not to use it too much because what seems to be a neccessity for us isn´t actually. do we really need clothes and shoes. well, maybe in some instances. we all have been told once in our life maybe in school about the 4 basic human needs: shelter, food, health, and safety. without these things we could not survive. one could argue that shoes and clothes would fall under one of those four categories, but i beg to differ. i have seen plenty of people, during my six months here, wearing minimal clothing and no shoes, not even flip flops, walking on scorching hot pavement, rocky gravel filled roads.

anyway, to the next question: how long do you think mayonaise lasts outside of the fridge, in 90 degree weather???? few days, one week, a couple of weeks. Oh nooooo.... a couple of weeks, that is too long, you got to be kidding me right? Nope, folks, actually it lasts way longer than that!! i arrived here in santa rosa the first week in april. Now it is almost the 1st of july (Wow! i will have been here six months on the 19th, not that i´m counting). i bought a jar of mayonaise. the same kind i buy in the states,Helmann´s fat free, lucky me. well, i was told buy one volunteer that he had mayo that lasted him 6 months. this volunteeer had a reputation of being very minimalistic and i wasn´t to keen on the idea of having mayo outside of the fridge any length of time. i use to get wierded out when i went to picnics and the potato salad hadn´t been refridgerated for a couple of hours. How in the world does mayo stay fresh outside of the fridge? this isn´t the north pole. it´s hot outside and about the same temperature resides in my house every single day. i don´t have airconditioning nor a fan to blow on my mayo to keep it cool, so... how can this be? my friend Helman the mayo has written across his back an expiration date 14 June 2005. Today is the 30th of june. i opened it this morning (i wanted to make tuna salad for lunch so i was just checking) and Yep!!! still fresh, tasted fine. no mold. still the same color as when i bought it. sooo, what´s the deal with this expiration date business? i am living proof, mayo does last outside the fridge. mayo will not kill you if you heat it up in the microwave, if my mayo has lasted through this heat for 3 months a little micro zap won´t kill ya. now, don´t let my judgement replace your own, but hey!! just thought i´d let you know. now, i´m not sure if we are told that things expire because they really do.... eventually or because they want us to gobble it all up so we can go buy a new whateveer it is. it may be a little of both. Sooo....

i was entertaining the idea of buying a fridge when i first arrived. i used the phrase, "Uh, uh, i´m not keepin´mayo outa the fridge. i need a fridge!!" (something like that more or less) but, hey what did i know? i actually don´t need a fridge. the onle thing that i can say that actually does need refridgeration is meat. note to self: hot dogs will not last more that 2 days without refridgeration (believe me i tried and it didn´t smell too great, the yellowish green tint wasn´t appetizing either).

then, i start to thinkin´"i don´t want to be closed minded."evertime someone says "I need blah blah" i didn´t want to feel like "what do they know about need. do they realize how good they have it?" so i get to looking up more definitions of this need. and i happened upon one that gives those of us with a broader view on what the word really means some slack:

Need - 2 a : a lack of something requisite, desirable, or useful b : a physiological or psychological requirement for the well-being of an organism

a fridge is useful, it could keep my hot dogs from turning green for atleast a few days. and.... if psychologically i felt that i was going to keel over from salmonela poisoning evertime i ate my mayo that has been fridgeless for three months...i guess buying a fridge wouldn´t be such a bad idea. well, it´s about lunch time and... and my three month mayo is a callin´my name.

Buen Provecho!!!!

another day at the market

2005-06-23T10:53:00.000-07:00

yesturday i was on my way to El Portillo....the bus terminal is directly situated in front of a market. this market sells a variety of goods, cookies, sweets (LOTS AND LOTS of sweets), fruits vegetables, toys (bought two little toys filled with candy to give away as prizes for a game the kids and i were going to play on the subject of self esteem) and there she was...out cold on the concrete right in front of the small plastic froggie and bear toys and peanuts. money was strown about. her skirt above her knees exposing her torn knee high stockings. her eyes closed. both arms crossed in front of her. one elbow still holding on to her straw purse. everyone standing around chatting. through the mur mur of the crowd i was unable to overhear what had just taken place. so, i asked the kind lady that just placed my two little toy prizes in my green and white striped plastic bag, "que paso?" The Chele (paler fair skinned honduran) just hit her!!!

everyone was standing around. well, my first instinct was not that some man just hit her. i thought surely she had just suffered a heart attack or heat stroke. that wasn´t toooo far fetched. it was, after all, really hot and she was an older woman. The Chele was propped up against a Mi Leche truck with a menacing grin.. looking on at his wife, girlfriend, sister??? who knows? i didn´t want to partake in the whole showcase of this incident, but i was stunned. i couldn´t believe it. the longer i stood there, the more stunned i was at the fact that no one did anything. clearly there were witnesses. her eyelids started to open yet her eyes were not there. they were literally rolled back in her head. only the whites of her eyes were showing. a lady to my right began to pick up her money that had been laying on the sticky mango juice covered floor. the lady that had placed the toys in my bag began to say in a harsh voice, "what are you doing? you better put that back on the floor before someone accuses you of stealing." the lady continued to pick up the money.

i have mentioned before the state of machoism in this society. the increase of child and wife abuse. cases of hiv growing (not with males but unknowing housewives), young girls telling me that "if i ask the guy to use a condom he will call me a whore," men asking woman out on dates and when asked "are you married?"the response is "yeah but it doesn´t matter," boys in the household getting treated like kings while the girls run around doing errands and household duties, bossed around by brother. whether the forementioned has anything to do with machoism could be argued, but no police were called, no one helped until finally the lady that picked up the money grabbed the older woman´s arm. their faces were shockless expressionless. she came to, startled, ready to fight. the market lady put her hand on her head. calmed her. said kind words. the older woman laid her head back down. closed her eyes. i walked away.

i wonder how the woman is today. did she finally say to herself "i´m leaving this guy!" or is she still forever tied down by her womanly duties of taking care of the kids, cooking the meals, washing the clothes, staying at home day in and day out because she is afraid of being alone, unable to take care of her 8 children with her $2 a day salary. rather suffer the every now and then hits and jabs for an "easier" life with the man she loved and now no longer loves yet needs...his manliness, his occasional drunken embrace that makes her forget the blackeyes and fractured ribs. it may all be worth it in the end for her or may very well not be, but one can never judge.

BEWARE!!!

2005-06-23T09:22:00.000-07:00

so we have all heard of guard dogs, right? but what about guard ducks? yeah....guard ducks!!

back in training, a fellow volunteer was attacked by ducks and suffered an injury to her leg. she was unable to walk (only with the assistance of crutches) for nearly a month. i was not a witness to the attack so, i am unable to recount the story exactly. but she was walking along the street to come to spanish class and ducks began to walk toward her. she tried to shooo them away and they became infuriated and attacked her. she was so stunned by the attack, she took steps backward to escape and fell towards the ground in a manner that damaged her leg for a month. we were told this story and it seemed quite funny. "What???? you were attacked by ducks??? ha ha ha!!!"

BUT.............

listen up folks!!! they are really out there. they really are. you must take heed. i have been living here in santa rosa de copan for nearly 3 months and i have been a witness to not one, not two, but three places being protected by ducks!!!! the first two instances were sights to see, surely. ducks in the front patio. laying near the gate. quacking at passers by...protecting there nest, but this morning i was walking along this street. a street that i walk along very often. but this balmy morning ( on my way to exercise of these yuuuummmmy corn tortillas that have accumulated around my tummy and face) i see this car lot to my left. a car lot/junkyard that has been there since i have been here, with four GIGANTIC ducks full of grease. they are not pets my friends. you would think they would buy a pitbull or something, but after doing some thorough investigation (i asked four hondurans) i have found out that ducks are actually quite aggresive and protective AND people actually buy ducks and use them to guard their homes and businesses etc. AND the owners of these attack ducks inject their unknowing duckies with steroids!!! mmm hmmm!!! who woulda thought. just when you thoughts the streets were safe....................

Phew, IT´S HOT, RIGHT???

2005-06-14T10:32:00.000-07:00

I have never ever ever been much on small talk. "it is a useless waste of energy and oxygen. unless you have a genuine interest to get to know someone, why speak to them? just to hear yourself speak, perhaps?" i use to think. i have had to make plenty of small talk in my days and....never saw the point. you want my number..... ask for it. you want a favor..... ask for it. you want something done..... ask for it. yeah, yeah, you could get rejected or told "no," BUT let me know where you are going with the conversation. plain and simple.

well, living here, things are not....that....simple. small talk is not small talk. It is always an icebreaker to a conversation. for example, Lauren, friend and volunteer that lives about 45 minutes away, was telling me of a story. Pri, another health volunteer who is leaving at he end of this month, were off into the villages to make stoves. they walk into this house, where they were going to build a stove, and there stood a woman making tortillas. "so, ya making tortillas?" Pri says. Lauren thinks to herself "Uh, yeah she´s making tortillas. how obvious!!!" (those weren´t her exact words but i imagine that is what she was thinking and if you´ve never seen tortillas being made, take my word for it, it´s obvious, like making mini pizza crusts). so, lauren is telling me about her day and we both agree that every conversation always starts with something obvious. as Pri says, "you gotta state the obvious." like.... "Whew, it´s hot!" (like the mammoth sized balls of sweat weren´t indicators) or "It´s raining, huh?" (hmm, hmm yep, we are soaking wet, walkng in a foot of water) or "So, you are walking?" (yep.....suuuurre am). why state the obvious???

well, here is my theory. this is a very direct indirect society. we are told in training that Hondurans are very indirect people. Bashful. They have "pena." They have "shame" to say certain things. To some extent i agree. To some...i don´t.

They are NOT afraid to ask or make comments about:

skin color

race

weight

anything that has to do with physical appearances

your religious background (especially)

marital status

the difference between men and women

They beat around the bush when it comes to:

asking for water or another serving of food

help

directions (they´d rather give wrong directions than no direction)

interest in opposite sex

Well, okay, were am i going with this???.. i have to say, i´m getting pretty good at the small talk. I "state the obvious." at first it took some getting used to. but, i´m getting the hang of it. think about! Honduran sees gringo. honduran doesn´t know if gringo speaks english. gringo says "Que calore, verdad??" in their most superb spanish ever and then...honduran feels comfortable speaking to gringo. it´s classic.

i´ve actually gotten to know many people this way. you´d be surprised how much somone opens up to you when you make a little small talk. I have a new found respect for that that use to make no sense to me. I can´t say that i´m gonna start chatting up with the people in grocery isles when i get back to atlanta, but...I can say "So...ya buyin' some groceries, huh?!"

Since when....

2005-06-06T16:12:00.000-07:00

did I become chinese? every single day, without fail when i walk down the street, no matter where i go, people call out "chinita." i have to say, though, that names like "chinita" "negrita" and "gringita" (slang for white girl) aren´t actually considered offensive in the eyes of most Hondurans. Often you will here other Hondurans refer to their fellow countrymen "chino" or "negro" if they "fit the profile." If someone is really light skinned, they are called "chele," "leche" spelled backwards. (leche means milk). my site mate was telling me of a story about her Honduran next door neighbors in training. the little 6 year old boy was often called chele by his family and friends. it was normal. i don´t think she ever learned his real name.

I have been here for nearly 6 months and have always been called "chinita" (hardly ever gringita unless i am aroung other gringos). i often get asked "where are you from?" i say "the states" and they say "no really where are you from?" and i say "the states." and they say, "no, where are you FROM?" and i say "the states, GEORGIA." but you have chinese eyes." "no actually they are korean eyes,"i explain. "ohhhhhhh," they say. almost everytime, but atleast they ask?! right?? i always explain politely ( because, for the most part they genuinely think i am chinese. some people especially from very small villages have no idea what or where Korea is. why would they? they are just trying to live. world affairs are the least of their concern.

okay, since "chinita" the word "chinita" doesn´t REALLY bother me. (note: "ita" is a diminuitive. when added to a word it actually makes that object smaller, for example "casita" instead of "casa" or it makes the word much sweeter, like "Angelita" for example, more endearing) then why do i write to you guys about this???? well, every single day, one can not walk down the street without hearing some pass, some cat call from a man. it doesn´t matter what age, their color, income level, or marital status....men will say things like "preciosa," "bonita," "mamacita," "muñeca" and those things.... aren´t half- bad precious, pretty, bonita, doll...little mama is a bit wierd, but stuff like "grandotas," "quiero chupar," "grossera" and cat calls like that are......disgusting the way it is hissed at you makes you want to scream. i wish that i could communicate how it is said but it would never translate in writing. men make passes in the states too, sure! but i have never.... ever in my life experienced this ever. some volunteers say that you get used to it after a while. some say you will never get use to it (I bet for the later). i have spoken with Honduran women who say this is totally normal and it is part of the culture. i know we are suppose to integrate, cross-cultural understanding blah blah blah, but geez! AHHHHH!!!

Back to my chineseness. okay this past sunday, i was walking to the market about 6.30a.m. beautiful morning not humid yet, slight breeze and then a car full of honduran guys drive by and start honking incessantly. at first i thought something had happened, but then i realized they were honking at me. (my guess is that they were still up from the night before.) they stop right in the middle of the street where i was walking and started saying "choiy yoing yoing. tu comes ratones? choiy yoing yoing." need a translation??? "choiy yoing yoing. do you eat rats? choiy yoing yoing.?" i was so upset. so upset. i couldn´t even begin to describe how i felt. i remember experiencing stuff like that when i was a child being the only asian kid in school, but as a grownup....never!!!!! i wasn´t even mad, to tell you the truth. i was actually sad. i was hurt. for what? you tell me. it was shocking to me too. the worst part is, is that i couldn´t do anything, I DIDN´T DO ANYTHING! of course i could have done something but it wouldn´t have been nice and wouldn´t have been worth it. the car was stopped in the middle of the road and didn´t move. i could have easily stopped to say something back or whatever but.....i kept walking. I KEPT WALKING. as i walked they drove and continued with the same. I kept walking....

....walking was actually a calming delightful activity for me back in the states (i miss you Zeus) it is now an everyday hassle. i try to take different paths but....still the same thing. when i pass someone one on the street and they say "que le vaya bien" or "buenas" i am so overjoyed. they have no idea how much it means to me. but the "buenas´s" don´t surmount to the "chinitas" or the "preciosas," sad to say.

Possibly, this has been happening all a long and i just didn´t notice it, too overwhelmed with evrything else to even give a damn, but now....yes. like the Honduran ladies say "it is part of the culture." it really is and it is just how one chooses to deal with it which will make them or break them. i can´t say that i won´t feel the pain i felt this past sunday to be made fun of...to my race, my family, my heritage be disgraced, but i will say that "I WILL NOT LET IT BREAK ME." for every jerk in the world i would like to think that there are thousands of great people, respectful people. i would like to think that...................... and i do.

READ THIS RIGHT NOW!

2005-06-03T08:14:00.000-07:00

let me tell you guys a little story....about 4....5 years ago (wow, how time has flown by) i lived in mexico. Well, i had been waiting for a repair guy to come fix my cable (yeah, really important, huh) and at every phone conversation he would tell me "mañana." After about three weeks of "mañanas" (as you could imagine) i was well, let´s ust say, a little mad. "How could this guy not come?" "Why would he say tomorrow, when he clearly doesn´t mean it?" "Who is this guy´s mother and why would she raise someone this way?" I was ticked. Well, one day whilst being frustrated and mad at the world because this man could´t put in MY cable, i walked down to a restaurant that i usually frequented to grab a bite to eat. as i walk down the stairs down to the shore, the breeze brushing against my body. a beautiful view of the ocean. the sound of waves crashing against the shore. the smell of fresh grilled red snapper....I WAS FURIOUS. The anger on my face showed and i didn´t care who saw me that way because i was mad, why shouldn´t i be! Right???

I sat down at me usual spot. i said the old "buenos dias" "como estas?", not really thinking it was a good day. This older gentleman that i always saw there greeted me with a smile. As he sat eating at the table next to me, he asked me "Que tienes?" Direct translation "What do you have?" What´s wrong with me? "Well, this guy was suppose to come put in my cable and blah blah blah blah blah," i go on. He looks at me. Deeply. his eyes compassionate to what i had to say (no matter how silly it was). He looks at me......long pause.....and says "Why don´t you find something else to do?" "Huh? What? well, yeeeeaaaah, i guess i could find something else to do" i thought. "Yeah, i could find somethng else to do, but...." he stops me "Find something else to do" he says again and smiles. Pause..... somehow the subject was changed. We ate.

Living in a foreign country, especially a latin american country. the importance of time is well, not the most important thing on people´s lists. with the word "ahora" taking on a variety of meanings such as "now" "right now" "today" or "sometime in the next couple days," having learned this after many times people told "ahora," me getting myself ready to leave or for a meeting to start etc having to find myself waiting even more or being told "oh, no, not right right now (ahorita) but... sometime today we will do it." one can see that time is well, just time.

never did i realize, until now, how important that one little line would forever put a dent in my brain "find something else to do" Things don´t go the way you want. . . find something else to do. meeting doesn´t start on time. . . find something else to do. are in a situation that doesn´t make you feel comfortable. . . find something else to do.

don´t get me wrong, being punctual is a quality i like about myself and a quality i like of other people. (so tania, my dear, you are still not exempt from this rule) but, time...time... i remind myself everyday, especially here, time does not have dominian over our lives. i was tested of this the other day when i went to visit my kids in San Juan de Opoa (youth group who i tried to instill in them that they own the responsibilty of starting their meetings, directing activities, being an example for their peers, etc, etc). the meeting was to start at 5.00p.m. well, 5.15, 5.30, 5.45. I was warned of this before hand by numerous volunteers in different parts of the country that meetings NEVER, i mean NEVER start on time. always one hour later or more. I wait, not wanting to be the mean adult (Wow, am i an adult already?) the meeting well, started at 5.45 and i made it. i am alive. the world didn´t end and the meeting went on as planned. So, what´s my point after this long winded story about an old guy, time etc. well, screw time, being puctual, i´m going to arrive late at every meeting and function i have to go to for the rest of my years!!! why do we make appointments anyway, go to work on time. Rubbish. i´ve had it, people!!!

ha ha!! just kidding!!!!!

Desiderata

2005-05-14T10:07:00.000-07:00

Before my father passed a way 10 years ago, he gave me copy of this. I tought I´d share it with you....

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;and listen to others,even the dull and the ignorant;they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,you may become vain and bitter;for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs;for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;many persons strive for high ideals;and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love;for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,no less than the trees and the stars;you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,whatever you conceive Him to be,and whatever your labors and aspirations,in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

Everyday Hustle

2005-05-14T09:30:00.000-07:00

big city, fast cars, neon lights, big name stars, dime bags, drugs, dark streets, "New York Times, " "AJC," mystery, dank air, cold breeze, NorthFace downfeather, skullies, ------small town, pick up trucks, no fame yet recognized, cobble stone, sweet bread, refrescos, "mantucas", "La Prensa," "El Tiempo," fresh cut piña, mangoes, "churros," "tamilitos," "dulces."

man, boys on the street, rubbing hands together to avoid frostbite, huddled on street corner, observant, shiverering, maintaining waiting waiting waiting waiting for next sale-------little old woman, 5 feet tall, basket large, full and overflowing, squash, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, heavy dead weight, 25 pounds, haunting grace, balancing as if floating above her, "van a querer pan," "van a querer piña," "van a querer pan," "van a querer piña" mechanically, a robot, back to back hoping waiting waiting waiting waiting for next sale.

little boys barefoot aimless hopeless "deme un lempira" "deme un lempira" chanting "deme un lempira" singing his sad song, so lifeleess yet full of spirit-so much force brilliance from his small frame, draws you in with his eyes, his heart, his mind, wondering "how...when...why?"

empathetic---disensitized

intertwining ----parallel

hotdog stands----tin roofs suported by branches

dime bag---una bolsa de 5

stack---pisto

we are born, we breath, we breed, we create, we generate, we breed, we live, we laugh, we cry, we mourn, we are reborn, we hope, we love, we hope to love, we die

life remains.....

From those streets------to these streets

From your world----------------to mine

Every day hustle, Everyday grind.

Why did the Chicken. . . .

2005-05-11T15:34:00.000-07:00

Why did the chicken cross the road?. . . .hmmmm. . .think...think...think...Oh! to get to the other side of course!!!! so did the cow, the horse, the cat, and the dog for that matter. Silly observation, i guess, but. . .we´ve all heard the age old joke. . .Why did the chicken...But how many of you out there (yeah i´m talking to you big city folk!) have actually seen a chicken crossing the road. .. . Okay. . . I´m in my apartment, thinking random thoughts. . .my what to do list mostly. . .laundry check. . . .eat check. . . health center. . . office. . . go to random parking lot which sells fruit and various non perishable items check. . . check "pila" to see if red worms and green unidentified substance is still coming out check. . .you know. . .regular daily stuff like that. . .AND THEN. . . oink oink snort snort... i hear faintly outside my window. i smile. . . thinking "huh, that sounds like a pig." (Everyone that knows me knows i loooovvve piggies. . .NOTE TO SELF: buy pig one day name him Bert, if girl, name her Taloola.) I rush out the door (like i was 4 and just heard santa or something clinkedy clinking on the roof with his reindeer) and there they were waltzing down the street, a pig parade, justa minding their own business, without any assistance, huddled together as if chatting. I SMILE. So. . . why did the chicken, i mean, pigs go down the road?. . . .I don´t have any idea! But it sure was cute!

Through Dust and Smoke

2005-05-07T12:18:00.000-07:00

San Jorge de Ocotepeque, 10 km from the Guatemalen border. 2 and 1/2 hours from Santa Rosa de Copan. 1 1/2 hours from the main highway, up a winding steep road of dirt and gravel, along side mountains - only one bus passes through this town, because it is so far off the beaten track. We are traveling in a pickup - a volunteer in municipal development that has been living in santa rosa for a year and her counterparte - are off to do a workshop for a group of women in this village about "the importance of making decisions." I accompany them in their travel, this would be my second trip. we make a sharp right at the highway where a group of people sit on the side of the road hoping for passers by with a truck. they call it "jalon," we call it "hitchhiking." this is a very common mode of transportation for hondurans second to the school bus (American school buses, out of commision, sent here for their second go around - decorated with tweety birds and mickey mouse, religious sayings, and my last bus in particular with a carpet mounted on the ceiling with a picture of a tiger mouth opened wide with tassles, frightening yet intriqueing). They all pile in the back, kids, men, even little old ladys - hike up there dress - and get in. we drive up the mountain, over dried up streams, little boys herding cattle, naked babies playing, through thick clouds of smoke - from the massive deforestation-, passing beautiful brightly colored trees and flowers,. we stop every so often so people can hop out or get on. without fail, everyone jumps out and asks "cuanto le debo?" "how much do i owe you?" and of course there - is no charge. in return - a "gracias" and "Que Dios les bendige" "May god bless you all" from a tiny little old lady, she must have been about 70 i´d say but not quite sure , the sun and years of tolling in the sun tending to her family made her wrinkled and probably made her appear older than her actual age. This form of travel is sweet and refreshing. it makes me remember of the times when i was a child and my father would pick up hithchikers, complete strangers, on the streets to carry them to their next destination. in his rusty maroon El Camino, the stranger and my father would chit chat, exchange pleasantries, and then the stranger would be off to his next stop. i´d always ask "who was that? do we know them?" "No, we don´t know them, just giving a friend a lift." not until now do i CLEARLY understand what my father meant, why he always picked up "that stranger" why he always said "hello" to people, never knowing who in the world they were. Why? Because he could, without worry of robbery or getting hurt - the pure simple satisfaction of helping your fellow man, up that winding, steep, dirt, rocky, road - to aid them in their travel. We can only hope that in our travels, through the dust and smoke, we may find a friendly face (and a sturdy pick up) to help us along to our next destination.

My new T.V.

2005-04-24T11:10:00.000-07:00

Beauty, peace, serenity. . .walking along a road, bright gorgeous flowers in full bloom. a little dusty from the cars passing by. hot, but bearable. walking back to the bus station to see off my friend, lauren, also a volunteer. . . she lives near a neiboring village, Dulce Nombre. We are both quiet. . . exhausted from the long day and the walking. to our left and old man is sitting in the crevice of a rock. at first we assume he is siting or escaping from the abuse of the sun on his fragile skin, and then . . . we see. . . his but cheeks. and he is actually not sitting but crouched down. . . pooing. Wait, but that is not all. . .we walk some more, not very shocked by what we just saw. . . yet commenting on the fact of how sad it was, this old man was without home and shelter and how trying times would have to be if we had to in fact use the bathroom outside, on the side of a busy road. . . then, we walk pass a man, kind of young, i'd say 20's, standing facing the opposite direction looking on towards a honduran woman in a tight dark blue jean skirt, as we walk pass, the rapid motion of his hand forces my eyes to look downward, and there he was, right smack in the middle of the sidewalk on the side of this busy road going towards the bus station. . .masturbating. now if the man pooing didn't surprise us, you would think this would but. . .NOT REALLY. well sort of but it's amazing the kind of things you become accustomed to. THEN, we walk on a bit further, and see a little itsy bitsy doggy, fluffy, but not fluffy like a mop, but sort of like a dirty mop with dreads. . .nevertheless cute, on top of a huge roof, right smack in the middle just sitting on top of the roof, this wasn't a kind of roof top terrace with chairs etc., but. . .a roof. . . we began to laugh and giggle. for some reason the doggy on the roof was comical, but added with what we just saw. . .was all the more funny. . .more like hysterical laughter, like what is going on. . . we had just experienced life, walking down this road going to the bus station. something beautiful, something sad, something shocking, something cute and fun. that's what life is about. we experienced a plethera of emotions in a matter of minutes-some thought provoking-some mind blowing-some not much of anything. at times feeling a mix of emotions is very heavy on the heart and mind. . .and at other times. . .i think to myself "Who needs T.V. or movies or even books for that matter? We have all the entertainment we need right outside, . . . if we're lucky!"

obsession

2005-04-23T09:01:00.003-07:00

this week has actually gone by pretty fast compared to the last. i have been taking care of another volunteer´s home and doggy, Osa is her name, while she has been away on vacation. also, been painting my apartment. the walls were like this hideous blue green aqua color. . . but mind you only two of the walls, and in the other room a bright orangy color or something like that. i´ve kinda been obsessing over this apartment. my mind is filled with "what should i put here. . .do i like this color. . . is it clean enough. . . should i paint something on the wall. . . what should it be. . . do i like it. . .should i clean it again. . .when will the water come. . .am i always gonna have problems with water. . . blah blah blah" THEN i realized, i am actually not obsessing over this apratement but trying to control a part of my life that i actually CAN control. in the midst of all this "newness," (if you will) not knowing what will happen from one day to the next, what i will be doing for the next. . .2. . . years. . . of. . . my. . . life, not knowing, trying to find my routine. . .i realized that i might be obsessing because it feels good to actually have something you can control. not control in the sense like have power over something or maybe . . .yeah have power over something. until one is in a situation like this wherever it may be however it may be, you suddenly realize how many comforts you actually have "back at home" all those little things "you have control over." The time you wake up, eat breakfast, brush your teeth, even going to take a "poo". . .this even becomes a chore. I guess this is what they call the "adjustment period."

A Look Back at Training in Santa Cruz de Yojoa

2005-04-15T11:21:00.000-07:00

five pet roosters. count them. . .1.2.3.4.5. cocckaddoodoling at all hours of the night. 11.00 1.00 3.00 & 5.00. i wake at 5.30 to a cold bucket bath. sounds strange but is actualy refreshing in the hot humid climate. in the mornings we start with language classes. the classes are held in small concrete rooms with tin roofs. tuna cans if you will. but fun nevertheless. we walk back home for lunch we pass chickens eating watermelon. pigs being chased by dogs. dogs with nipples hanging down to the ground from all the baby rearing and sweet little old ladies selling super ripe sweet delectible oranges for only one lempira (equivalent to 4 cents) on the streets, makes me detest the way the prices are soooo jacked up back at home.

this month has been super heavy. we were in a city called santa cruz de yojao. centered among many smaller pueblos, or "aldeas." we go to small towns and work with midwives, go to schools and talk about aids ( hard to do in a country so deep into religion and the belief that using a condom is a sin in itself and hinders man´s abuility to procreate.) but we do it. "confianza" as they call it here or "trust" is the most important thing about being a volunteer. people have to "trust" you. what this means is that you do everything you can - go to church with them, laugh with them (even if you don´t understand them) hang out withem and make small talk, in the name of prevention of HIV and AIDS. things to us seem simple. use a condom, or abstinence, but this is hard to convey in a "machista" society. the woman has no rights. she never can say "no," or she can say "no," but doesn´t mean her voice will be heard.

this has been a wonderful and eyeopening experience. started to do an activity with a group of midwives where they had to draw a picture that represented themeselves, a smiley face a heart. . . something simple. "simple" i thought, the literacy rate here is low an i knew that. some women were even scared to pick up a crayon. it blew my mind. the activity was tailored, i thought, for the person that couldn´t read and write, yet never realizing that the concept of picking up a writing utencil has never been an option and that the thought of it would be frightening to some. wow.

almost done with training. i have shy of three more weeks left in siquatepeque.. i´ll be living in a city called santa rosa de copan, a few hours away from the guatemalen border. i am excited and a tad bit scared. ready yet at the same time so unprepared for a world soo big. . .all the poverty sickness and lost hope.. . can it get better.. . yes, it can. "un poco a poco" as they say. things take time and time is on my side.

New Definition to "House Hunting"

2005-04-15T11:02:00.000-07:00

Whew!!! i have finally found an apartment people. i have been looking all week. must say one thing. . . looking for an apartment in this city is great exercise. There is no "Apartment for rent" section in the newspaper. You kinda just have to walk up and down and up and down and up and down the streets. . .look for itty bitty signs on buildings in tiny writing - SE ALQUILA APARTEMENTOS. . .and then when you find the little bitty piece of paper, you have to find the place that is actually renting the place because, of course, the building that the little piece of paper is attached to is not the actual place or rent. SOUNDS EXCITING, HUH? It´s like hunting for treasure (hee hee) and one heck of a workout. Apartments here run around 2000Lempiras which is about the equivalent of 100 bucks. Great deal, huh? It´s pretty cute. I have to start from scratch though. I need to buy. . . a bed, a frig, furniture (or atleast something similar to furniture) and . . . well, just about everything. This should be lots of fun on our volunteer budget. All that penny pinching i learned from my mom should really pay off here. Talk about budgeting!!!

i finally have my notebook

2005-04-12T11:24:00.000-07:00

well, today was productive. . . i got up, ate breakfast, went to the office, met my new counterparts, got a post office box, walked around. . . . pretty productive, NOT!!!! OR WAS IT? you know, living in a different country having to become accustomed to new. . . well, new everthing, but most of all . . .how we as Americans define success. of course i don´t want to bunch up all americans as being anal retentive, in a hurry at all hours of the day etc etc, but there is something to say about taking it slow. not measuring success with our money or how many THINGS we can acomplish in one day but defining success by the ease and enjoyment in which we do things. okay, okay, don´t want to make myself sound like i am some kind of ZEN master but, last night, before i went to bed, i made a list: run, wash clothes, go to bank, go to office, go to post office, visit some schools, go to the health center, go to the hospital and on and on and on. woke up, looked like it was going to rain. what´s the point of washing clothes, right? Mind you, washing clothes means, going out to the "pila" (or bucket or some type of thing with water in it) and washing clothes by hand. Went to the bank, bank is suppose to open at 8.00am. . .well, not open. i wait and wait and wait. . .9.00 o´clock rolls around still no bank, doors don´t open, okay. . do i stay here in line or do i go to the next thing on my list. if i leave they might open the door and i would have waited for nothing. if i stay i might be waiting around another hour for nothing, hmmmmm. we all have been there, i would assume and it is . . . to say the least . . . a big pain in the BUM! blah blah blah. .
So, what did i do? i leave, i go walk around, go to the office, run into another volunteer who is actually on his way outta here, back home to the states. i asked him "what would you have done diferently" guess what he said. . . "take my time and not rush things!" he expressed how he wished he hadn´t have rushed things (Apparently he too suffered from "Americanism") he regretted not getting to know his community and making friends "all the little stuff" that would have made his experience all the more enjoyable. We spoke a bit thereafter about the town, stuff he had acomplished during his service here, stuff about stuff and then. . .i went to the store to buy a notebook, something i had been putting of for weeks (because i had so many other THINGS i had to do) and that´s it, i finally have my notebook.

First Days in Site

2005-04-11T09:22:00.000-07:00

counter part day. friday april 9th. we met our future "co-workers." immediately there after around 5:00. we, sarah (my new site mate that works in water sanitation) paul (fellow volunteer that was jaloning a ride), and myself head off to santa rosa in a pick up. through mountains and winding roads. . . forgot to take my miracle pill . . . "dramamina," but didn´t manage to get sick. . .thank goodness. . .santa rosa, a beatiful quaint city with cobble stone streets, a fairly large city, but with lots of personality. from my understanding, there was a major overhaul couple of years back to "beautify" the streets. neon signs and crappy advertising are not allowed. you won´t see TOO much trash here either, which is pretty refreshing. to my surprise, this morning on my way to get me a baleada (you should try them they are fantastic) as i was eating a banana (yes, i was eating on my way to go eat hee hee) little old lady that was sweeping the street asked for my cascara (my banana peel) to put in her little garbage box. i was in shock but pleasantly surprised. i gave that little old lady my banana peel and walked away with a big grin. taking buses, walking down the street, people watching all you see is litter, people throwing garbage. . .bags of it right out the widow. the glow off the mountainside in the obscure darkness from trash burning. the choking fumes. . . so as you could imagine that little old lady and her "deme la cascara" MADE MY DAY.

Hola People!

2005-04-04T09:34:00.000-07:00

Welcome friends. I'm far away but you guys are still near my heart. This is is an exciting experience and I hope that you guys can get a little peak into my life here.