We Interrupt This Program For ...

The office is quiet and Henry is still working on the finishing touches on a beehive out back. We are trying to construct a type of concrete beehive that will moderate the warm temperatures of the hot season and not be too affected by the colder months. Not sure how concrete will work in the colder seasons but it should be okay. It offers a number of other positive features. It is cheaper than wood, lasts longer, impervious to insects and rather impervious to thieves. We are making the volume of the hives such that one will not need to work inside them more than three or four times a year. This makes them the equivalent to four or five supers of a normal style hive. They are heavy and so no thief will run off with them on a whim. Two people can carry them for a short distance and four can easily manage them. They come equipped with carrying handles which are really for holding the top bars when you are working the hive. We have the first one done – built using a form and surrounding mesh. Unfortunately, the form did not come off as it was supposed to so the form is now available for other uses ... such as firewood. Sigh. The second attempt is a base with thin blocks forming the walls. The handles are at the bottom rather than the top. It too is rather weighty but that shouldn’t be a problem. We are not into migratory beekeeping.

Henry has been a godsend. He is my neighbour but has worked in the States and is currently unemployed. He knows the town and so can track down the supplies we need and, even better, transform them into my ideas. He is happy to have any work and this work has potential for him and his family. We are going to start on a small smokehouse on Sunday. He and his wife both know a bit about processing meat and so will use the smokehouse to experiment and see if they can start a business. We will see. Manuel is eager to see how it works because it could also lead to a business for his family in the city. Monday or Tuesday we hope to start on a water filter, and, after that, a small poultry battery. Hopefully my money lasts.

I have decided that I no longer need to pay for rides at the fair. Of course, bumper cars may have to be the exception. Riding public transport offers so much more in the way of thrills and elevated heart rates. The San Pedro Sula Express really cannot be compared to even the most adventuresome Thrill-A-Tilt-Whirl-A-Gig. For greater thrill value, sit in the front seat. Small twinges of concern when we passed the remains of a van that had ended its life trying to be a chain saw on two telephone poles.

Noticing some new things happening. Not sure if it is my eyes starting to see things or if there are changes in the economy. Twice now, at the Typical Food Court, there have been street boys hanging around the tables waiting to take half eaten plates of food. This is, of course, familiar in African settings but it is new for me in Honduras. Noticed the same thing at the Terminal yesterday. The boys there were ostensibly carrying rags to wipe the tables but it looked suspiciously like they were checking out leftovers. That is rather sobering and, for me, makes the barbecued shrimp shisk-a-bob lose a lot of its flavour.

Wednesday night, after a home Bible Study that I was invited to outside my front door, I sat and watched the final half of a Real España football match. We were into the final twenty minutes and my team was hanging on to a one goal lead – the first lead in three or four games unfortunately – when the screen changed to a collage of scenic Honduran views with the President featuring in the vast majority. After sixty seconds of not so subtle political advertising, the Minister of Education came on to make an announcement. We checked the channel that featured two other Honduran teams playing and the Minister’s announcement was showing there. Obviously, they knew where everyone’s attention was going to be focused. Happily, the announcement only lasted about ten minutes and we were able to watch the last of the game without any further glitches.

I have a question. Where are Mormon missionaries always walking to or from? Only twice in my life have I seen a pair of these boys stopped and talking. Otherwise they are walking at a brisk, no-nonsense pace that eats up the miles. One of life’s smaller mysteries. I give it to their organization though. What a super way of working things. The boys can’t get married and start having children (a big deal in their theology) until they have done their stint of walking; they pay their own way; they are still young enough not to have questioned things too seriously; they are kept out of trouble for two years doing something that is really not too stressful, mildly adventuresome (except for the poor guys who got Vegreville, Alberta as their draw) and they come back to their homes with that whiff of the exotic, foreign shores wafting about them.

Manuel and I were sitting in the Mayor’s office area this afternoon when he looked at me and then asked, “Is that a boy or a girl coming up the stairs?” A rather striking blonde individual came into sight and looked very feminine. I have seen this person a couple of times now around the town so wasn’t too surprised. Nevertheless it is still strange, to me, in such a “macho” orientated culture to see people who cross dress. I can’t imagine the stigma that this person must face on an hourly basis. If I spoke Spanish I could maybe strike up a conversation ... but that will have to wait a year or so.

Time to go out and help with the clean up.

Bryan