Turning Fifteen

A girl’s fifteenth birthday is a very special celebration here in Honduras. Last night I attended a special mass for a girl’s fifteenth. Silly me, I had the idea that this was going to be a collection of fifteen year old girls all getting a special blessing at the same time. This was reinforced by the large number of young boys dressed in black shirts, pants and sports coats with matching hot pink silk ties and pocket handkerchiefs. I asked one of the music group what these young men’s duty was and they said it was escort duty. As well, looking out the window in between practising hymns, I noticed a few young girls dressed to the nines arriving.

Well, I was wrong. The whole show was for one young lady. After the priest and the altar girls processed down the aisle and the opening hymn was sung, three young girls (I think they were sisters) came down with a pillow (for the chair centered in front of the alter), a second pink pillow (for, I assume, room decoration and memorabilia) and a silver tray with a book and some other things (more on that later).

Following these girls, came the star of the show surrounded by twelve escorts. The young girl was dressed in a rosy pink, satin floor length dress covered at the top with silver filigree and layers of flounces over a well bustled skirt. On her head was a silver tiara and covering her shoulders a sheer pink shawl.

Part of the ceremony involved the parents giving the gifts that had been carried in on the tray. The first was a Bible covered in pink cloth with a ruffle and ribbon ties. A crucifix on a chain and a ring were the other gifts blessed and presented.

One thing that is fascinating in any place is trying to discern the symbols of status. Here in Santa Cruz I think that one of the status symbols is having the money to get a short styled hair cut with a perm. Every other woman has long hair generally tied in the back but let hanging loose for special occasions.

The second mass of the evening was a wedding. As the ceremony proceeded, the bride’s bouquet began disintegrating. Soon flowers were strewn across the front of the church. Eventually one of the flower girl’s bouquets was called into service to end the event. The priest forgot to have the couple sign the registry so the end of the service, which was to feature a procession, sort of disintegrated. By the time the actual recession took place most of the audience had left. Rather anticlimactic, poor girl.

On Friday, I received another lesson in translation ... or rather ... what can get lost in translation. We were going to look at a piece of property fifteen to thirty minutes away. As we were readying to start walking to the property, the people we were with said that we should take a truck to the edge of the property. Well, we did. Once the truck got to the end of the road (bad sign) we began walking. We were heading to a river which bordered the property. Fifty minutes later we were still hiking downhill. You do the math. We stopped when we could see the river although we were still fifteen minutes away and above. After a rest, we began the return trip. Nevertheless, it was a lovely hike through bush, forest, maize fields and cassava plantings. The guide told us that the hike was much too difficult for women. That, of course, made me feel soooooo much better.
 
I see the storage shelf frames are done at the mechanical shop. They can go to the carpenter’s shop tomorrow. The extra tables we need should be done by the end of the week. We will soon be ready to set students in chairs.

TTYL