The Befogged Traveller

Do you ever get the feeling that you really have no clue what is happening? That, despite seeing things clearly, you are one or more steps behind the parade? I think that is the story of my life.

Today is the Honduran National Election. I have seen people carrying sample ballots which are enormous with 20-30 pictures on them. To be honest, I have no idea what all is being voted for. I think that even the mayor’s position is being voted on. The confusing thing about that is he won some sort of election last year. Was it, as I think I understood from translation, that he won the election to run in the election? Sigh. That is too confusing. Talk about seeing men as trees walking.

Overnight, the streets around the city centre were festooned with long strings of banners and pennants advertising various candidates. I recognized a number of them standing near the polling station to greet and, I presume, influence the voters. Things were very peaceful and festive. The last two days have seen an increase in police and military activity as they seek to forestall any violence today. Every vehicle was being stopped on highways and passengers asked to step out to be searched and to allow the vehicles to be searched. One of my workers took over three hours to make the usual one and a half hour trip from San Pedro Sula.

This morning I went to church to sing with the choir. There are only six chairs for the singers (the rest of the space being taken up by bongo drums, regular drums, three types of guitars and an electric piano) so you have to really be first string to get a chair. A level up from that are the four people who get microphones. The leader of the group has been quite excited about having me practice with them and today he worked it so I got one of the chairs. I find it so amusing to be second and third string. The last time I was second string in a choir was the first two months of High School Choir in 1972. It really is a great deal of fun to just go along for the ride. I don’t mind as most of the songs are memorized by the singers and, if I am lucky, have the words scrunched on to poor quality Xerox copies (never all the songs). So, I have to learn the tune, learn where the line divisions are (what ... you wanted the lines separated??) and how the words go with the music. The Spanish versions of songs seem, to me, more than with other languages I have sung in, find ways to squeeze extra words in at every opportunity. Often, this boy is scrambling as the parade disappears around the next corner. As long as I stay ahead of the guys with the shovels and the street cleaners I am okay ... I guess.

The service had started and we were singing the acclamation for the Gospel reading. I noticed that the priest’s assistance was looking at us and motioning for us to keep singing. Well, the musicians picked up on the signal and we rolled through the song a second time. Still motioning. Third time (great for me because I was now fairly sure of the tune and able to keep up readily) and I finally saw what we were waiting for. A coffin was being carried down the aisle to set on the long wooden bench waiting (it had been brought out just as the service was starting).

The service continued and, just as the communion was being readied, someone remembered that the baptismal candle should be out and lit. It was brought out and stuffed between the bench and the altar steps. My long acquaintance with Murphy’s law foresaw trouble. I was right. Just before communion was to be served, the family very kindly thought to move the coffin so that the people could come forward for the elements. You guessed it. As soon as the bench was moved over went the candle. The assistant rushed to rescue it and things were soon reorganized. I kept eyes firmly on my music so as not to chance finding a twinkle in the eyes of anyone else.

A list of students is now on the wall. Tables were delivered on Thursday and tomorrow we will get the computers, all freshly loaded with programs and materials, organized and readied. The school yard has been given a makeover by my “projects” man. I hope that my next posting will begin talking about individual students rather than my adventures.

Yesterday I went out to see Bernabe, the bee man. He has been moving the hives to a new location to rescue them from a man who decided to cut all the trees down in the area they were in. I took a couple lassos along so that it would be easier to pull the cart with the beehives. Three more hives to move. I will be sooooo glad when that is all settled. As I left, the lady of the house sent me off with a bag of tangerine oranges. What a lovely gift.

I walked out to the main road (only a mile and a half) and stopped to talk to a man raising chickens on a small scale (great to see competition to the massive farms of Cargill) with no need for electronic equipment and such. Further down the road I stopped to talk to a lady who is growing passion fruit using living trees, barbed wire and string for support. Great to see these innovative ways of production. That is what I hope to encourage ... that step above subsistence farming but one that provides a dignified living without demanding destruction of the environment or community.

At home I was able to visit with my neighbour for an hour or so before calling it a day.

TTYL

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