Hello everyone and thanks for checking this out again. While I understand that for many people they simply don’t have the time to read this and keep up to date (to be honest, I would probably be one of those people), I really appreciate those of you that do and it provides a great comfort to know that many people are praying for me and thinking of me. I love getting the brief responses and I appreciate that you understand that I may not be able to reply to all of them as I wish I could. In fact, those of you that I have been in touch with more personally, I hope that can continue but I will be having less and less time online as classes are coming to an end and we are going to have different schedules.
That aside, let me tell you a little bit about a beautiful pueblo on Honduras named “Esquias”. My host family is from Esquias and I had the opportunity to join my host brother and two friends for a trip out of Tegucigalpa. I experienced a very different and perhaps much more traditional culture. The best way I can think to describe the experience is just to go in chronological order and share the sights I saw. This blog may be a little longer than usual, but I will try to keep it responsible in length.
The journey obviously began in Tegucigalpa, the city I have learned to call home. I asked my brother when I needed to be ready in the morning and understood earlier than 6am, so being the good little STEPper I try to be I was up, packed, showered and ready to go at 5:45am – and then I realized I was the only one up. You may think this is because of the whole “Latino time” thing where everything starts late and time really isn’t important, but that would be inaccurate as I have not found that to be true at all. It may be a fact of life in other parts of the country, but for city folk and specifically this congregation (who has an ex military leader as pastor – and that may be why) time is followed almost to a tee. What actually happened that morning was that Lemuel (my host brother) had planned to wash the car, check the engine, repair a flat spare tire, and dig out all sorts of things from a shed in the back I never knew existed. After a long morning of getting things ready, we fueled up and finally hit the road at 9:34am (yea, I checked just so I could blog accurately).
The beginning and middle of the trip was relatively uneventful as four of us (the other two in the car were Victor, the brother of Lemuel’s girlfriend, and Cesar, a friend from the church) made our way through the mountains to Esquias. After about two and a half hours we were very close to the pueblo “mileage wise”, but still had another hour to go “road wise” – trust me, there’s a big difference. We entered this road that appeared to me as I imagine the surface of the moon. The old Toyota Tercel we were in was a real trooper and wove the mountains roads with precision, shuttered over the craters and rocks, and forded the bridges with ease (the water was only over about three inches). In all reality, it wasn’t that dramatic, just impossible to sleep. We stopped four times in that hour to cool the engine and refill the leaking fluid compartments. Finally, we made it to a paved road and found the quaint little town for which we were searching.
We met friends and family of Lemuel’s before finding his dad and heading to the place we were staying. The place was fairly new and was reasonably big, but was bare as it is a house that teachers rent out when they come to work at the school. Regardless, it was a welcomed sight and I set my stuff down on the single bed I would be sharing with Victor for the next three nights. Though I wanted to sleep (given my wake up time that day), we headed off to play soccer for the afternoon.
I have found that here, things are freely borrowed (generally with asking or by telling) and I was immediately asked for my tennis shoes when it became apparent that I wasn’t going to play soccer (Victor has plenty of better shoes for soccer, but had left them where we were staying). Reluctant to give up my shoes to another’s sweaty feet and not knowing how to continue to refuse the insistent demands for my shoes, I gave in and played the sports I still have yet to appreciate. We didn’t actually play a game as the field was being cut and lined, but we kicked around and played other variations for a few hours.
After soccer we headed up to the “feria” which is just a fair for the town. It is a celebration of a saint of the city. The week of the fair is the weekend before, the week, and the weekend after the birthday of the saint. I don’t know much else about this tradition or why each city and pueblo has a saint, but I do know it is a Catholic tradition here and much of the Latin Americans are Catholic (I believe I heard 97% of Honduras proclaims to be Catholic). The fair was just a bunch of games and food that night and we returned reasonably early by their standards (about 12am) to head to bed. Don’t worry, I will tell you plenty about the fair if you are curious, just keep reading.
The next morning we left around 9am to watch soccer in the morning. Esquias has many teams and they participate in leagues with other pueblos and cities. Many of the people gather to watch the games that go all day Saturday and Sunday. We watched and went as we pleased which was fine with me. After lunch we headed on about a half hour hike through the country side to the river where we swam in a great little swimming hole. I had no idea swimming was such a challenge for some people as I have generally assumed my friends swim. Thinking about why many people here can’t swim, I have to believe that this culture doesn’t have the availability of pools as many countries and there is only one lake in all of Honduras which limits activities in the water. I was asked repeatedly if I could swim and I did not understand while it would be an issue as I grew up swimming and don’t remember not being able to swim. I have to admit, it was kind of fun watching my friends struggle to swim (not that they were in any danger) after they laughed freely at how I play soccer. During this, we also started doing the typical boyish-guy things and started competitions with throwing rocks. I told my STEP team that this was great savior of dignity for me after playing soccer and being humbled. At least here they could see I was good at something since they don’t play any of the sports I enjoy, think are worthwhile, and am good at.
I would like to add a cultural note here. First of all, Coca Cola is very popular here. I drink a lot of water and I had to stock up when I found it in the pueblo because all I could ever find was Coke. It was all we had with meals, snacks, for a snack, always (don’t worry healthnuts, I’m one too and definitely controlled my intake and prayed about it even when I literally could not find water in a store). But as we finished swimming we sat on a big pile of rocks close to the swimming hole and opened the coke one of the guys had bought. We had paper cups as well and each enjoyed a very refreshing drink. When the coke was gone, they casually put the cap on the bottle and gave it a good Honduran heave into this river – that means it barely made it. The cups followed, all except mine which made it back to the pueblo and in a trashcan. Here, you can’t help but find trash everywhere. If there isn’t a trash can within reach, and I bet even when there is, trash hits the street. If you’re in a car, it goes out the window. In the beautiful outdoors, apparently the river is the prime location (there was plenty of chip bags and other cups along the bank so it fit right in). I simply don’t understand the mindset of this (not that I have never littered, but never as a habit or really even remember), but it is interesting to see how little things are cared for as this attitude is reflected on much else. Even the verb usage in the language implies a non acceptance of responsibility as my teacher was sharing with me today (she claims it infects the culture) – if you have questions, ask about that in person as I don’t know how to explain it that well in writing. I just thought this was interesting especially since the guys I was with would be the last people I would expect this from, but walking down the street and putting trash in someone else’s pickup bed is no problem for them. I promise this is one cultural aspect I will not accept.
That evening we returned to the fair and I got to see a lot of traditional Honduran dances performed and experience the culture that way. Lemuel really does love his heritage and took the opportunities to tell me the names of all of the dances and information about everything, much of which I cannot remember the names for or describe for you. But I certainly can describe one tradition I learned to love. After the dancing on stage was completed, I was standing around with a friend. Suddenly people started screaming and running all about. I was thoroughly confused as there was a mix of surprise, glee, and genuine fear. I really didn’t know whether to worry or not and had no clue what was going on, but either way I ran to the side of the park where the festivities we located. Then I heard fireworks and turned to see a man with two boards on either side of his body meeting at the about his head to form a upside down letter “v”. On front was another board across the two forming a “v” with a bull’s head painted on it. On the board were fireworks of every kind including Roman Candles that were shooting fireballs into the crowd. Apparently this is a tradition named, “Toro Fuego” which latterly translates to “Bull Fire”. People (mainly kids) would chase this man around and dodge the fireworks that were coming off all sides. He would strategically aim at groups and just run around like a manic. I thought it was awesome because as soon at the fireworks ran out (this had gone on for at least 3 minutes) the kids swarmed him and “caught him” – unfortunately, they just let him go and nothing more followed.
After this the activities were over for the day and people either went home or to the restaurants in the area that had bands playing. Many of the young kids went to a building that they called the “disco” for a dance and club like experience. We got home late that night and bed was very welcome.
The next day, I will spare you the details, because minus swimming the in the river, it was the same. We slept in a little more (which is welcomed because I get up at 6am daily here) and then proceeded to do much of the same as the day before. There was an activity called “Palo Ensebado” in which a tree (this one about 25-30 feet tall) is stripped of bark with machetes and stood up in the middle of the street. Money (this year valued at about $100) is placed at the top. First one to get to the top gets it. It’s not as chaotic as you may expect but I didn’t stay until the end as we needed to leave for dinner. Basically, anyone can try to climb, but most boys try. They role in the dirt and rub it on themselves as a chalk for grip. Some kids stuffed there pockets with dirt to refresh their grip halfway up. They would climb and step on each other and do all sorts of things to try to make it first.
That night I got to see a man eat 11 raw eggs shell and all for the entertainment of the city. I heard the next night he was planning to eat a live frog then later a snake. Apparently the pueblo he comes from is know for things such as drinking cows blood, eating raw eggs shell and all, frogs, and yes, seriously, dogs.
That night Lemuel and I went to bed early for the trip the next morning. I was glad we did because in the morning, I experienced my third flat tire in Honduras thus far. But the change was quick and we stopped to have the tired repaired shortly after – never go too far without a spare. We made it home safely and I welcomed the sight of my group along with English!!
Based on the above, it may seems that my experience was totally perfect and I was happy all the time, but that is why I need to add this, because that would be a horrible misconception. Upon arrival, everything was new and I was the shy kid that none of you know. The first night drug on like I didn’t think was possible. I realized in my lonesomeness that I missed my family like I haven’t in a long time. Through the last four and a half years I have spent a majority of my time away either at college or at my home in Indianapolis. But I was able to talk to my family whenever I wanted. They know as well as I do that we didn’t talk much at times because we were busy and we just didn’t take the time. But I am learning what a comfort it is to be able to communicate at any time. We didn’t take advantage of it, but I know now that just having the option that I don’t possess now was a blessing and comfort. I hope this gets my point across because I really am at a loss for how to describe it well.
When it was time to leave Esquias, Victor told me he did not want to go and asked me if I felt the same. I told him I was honestly ready to get out and go home to Teguz and he asked why. I explained to him the difficulty of not being able to understand much of what was going on and though I can communicate much better now, it takes so much effort it’s just not the free conversation about the silly things in life and the little details that help a person enjoy a conversation. I think he understood, but I will continue to believe that until a person actually experiences this, they won’t fully comprehend the difficulties involved; just like everyone experiences differently in life. I can’t fully understand the difficulties of others because I haven’t experienced the same things just like they don’t know my feelings perfectly.
While in Esquias I learned a lot about one of the many cultures in Honduras, I learned more about the language I am working so hard to understand, and I learned to know my friends better while realizing again how much I love my family in Ohio. But most importantly, I continued to learn how to trust God in all situations (as cliché as that may sound) and just give Him my suffering and strife and accept His joy because He’s the only one that truly knows how I feel and the emotions I have racing about my body.
Thanks for reading this story and my personal thoughts and opinions, I hope it was educational and entertaining and will provide each of you encouragement to push through the crazy things life throws at us daily.
I should have more next week but we’ll see as I noted the computer time is much more limited. On Friday we leave with a group of youth to go to La Ceiba and will return on Sunday. That’s about all I know as this was a last minute trip we just got finalized on Wednesday the 16th. All I know is that it’s about a seven to eight hour trip each way and your prayer will be much appreciated as we will be traveling at night, at least on Friday.
Blessings to each of you and may you continue to seek the Lord in every situation you encounter in life, good or bad, trivial or of great importance – He cares.
Me (obviously) trying to keep cool on the way home.
A shot out the front window that is oh so clean - that's Lemuel driving.
Us at the "llantera" getting the spare ready for the next potential problem - the Lemuel pointing and Victor in the A-shorts and sweater, they would hate this pic as they are usually well dressed individuals, by we were on the road so who cares!
Beautiful picture a river, I don't know the name of it. When Hurricane Mitch hit in 1998, water was 15-20 feet about the bridge I was on taking the photo!!
Video of “Palo Ensebado”
