Mary’s Rabbits

This week promises to be more higgledy piggledy than usual with preparations for a trip to Canada (my 90 day visa is up and I have to leave the country – and it can’t be just to a neighbouring one), the arrival of folks from Canada along with normal routine.

Yesterday, after waiting for Chepe and Laura to finish church and visiting family, we piled into a pick up and, after gassing up, headed down the highway worm hunting. There was a small stop as we located the man from the village who knew where they were located. The man was decidedly listing from a night of drinking but still able to communicate directions. It took several tries but we managed to get a hoody on him so that he could ride in the back without suffering unduly from the heavy mist.

We arrived at one intersection where first indications were that we were to head uphill. There were more than a score of people waiting for rides at the intersection and, as soon as they thought we were heading their way, they began piling in. It was déjà vu from Africa as they shoehorned into place. Bad news though. Our rollicking sailor guide found the next man in the chain and we were directed to turn around and head back for half a kilometre and head downhill. Every one of the new passengers climbed out, we reversed and were on our way.

After threading along the edge of a forest reserve we came to a gate which had a number of trucks parked in front of it. We stopped and our two guides strolled up and away to search for number three. We sat talking to some others who were also waiting. Beside us was a tree with an unusual looking fruit. I asked the name and it was, sure enough and quite aptly, Burro Balls. It is used for medicine although I am not sure just what. I’ll leave any raunchy comments about how to use and what not to your own imagination.

Soon Ernesto, the worm man, arrived and we began talking about Vermiculture and negotiating a deal for four pounds of worms which we can pick up this week. Everyone else seemed satisfied with how easy it was going to be to meet, get them on a bus and transport them. So, who am I to have doubts?

We returned via Lake Yojoa along the road which has numerous restaurants serving deep fried fish and fried banano (spelling is correct there) chips. A lovely meal later, along with some pauses to watch a travelling motorcycle gang (all on 120 cc bikes – not Harleys) race up and down doing tricks (as well as dodging through traffic) and we were headed back home.

In the evening, I went to sing with the music group. We were practising one of the numbers and I was puzzled to see the phrase "Mary’s rabbits". Not being certain of all the Honduran folklore associated with the Virgin, I continued to sing. Fortunately, one of the choir heard my version and checked out the printed words. She discovered a missing “s” in the word rabbit. The frustrating part about learning another language is when you come across what is certainly an error but have no idea how to correct it because you can’t understand the context. We would readily correct the phrase, “He is praying in the sangbox.” However, I had no idea what was one letter away from rabbits. Needless to say, we enjoyed the error immensely.

TTYL
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