My son and I spent many hours going through the “Where is Waldo” books when he was little. There are many times, here in Honduras, that I feel a lot like Waldo – part of the crowd, part of the action, but ... really, in another way, rather oblivious to all that is happening and looking just a tiny bit out of place to anyone looking on from a Google earth perspective.
The last couple of days have been fraught with Waldo wanderings. Sunday was a big event day for the local parish. A music group from El Salvador was slated to perform in the soccer stadium and preparation involved much meeting and planning. Planning not being an ordinary occurrence, the emphasis was on longer meetings.
The music group was busy practising some songs to open the show with. I showed up for each practice within an hour of the starting time and did a fair bit or origami while wondering just what was being prepared. It looked like some songs were settled on and learning the chords and tunes was well underway when the priest showed up and a long discussion ensued. Missed a lot of that but got the impression that new songs were on their way. It being Lent, one is never sure what will fit in with prayer and fasting and what will fit in with special event and Latino crowd-having-a-good-time needs. In the end, I got the distinct impression that we went with some old numbers from a previous concert (of course, songs in Spanish – like songs from the sixties for a boy growing up in a Bible Belt stronghold – are always new and an interesting adventure for me).
Waldo 2. I met the leader of the music group Thursday night and she reminded me that we were to sing at a service on Friday. She was reminding ... I was understanding for the first time. Friday was the feast of St. Joseph and, as such, Father’s Day here in Honduras. The evening service was held in a small, adobe covered building that held about fifty people comfortably. Of course, there were quite a few more there for the service. Half of the music group stood outside one of the windows and sang into the room. Seeing as we had the dubious benefit of two huge speakers, the efforts of the second stringers without mikes was likely unnoticed. Being outside allowed me a quick break to go check out a snake that had been killed by the children whose parents were at the service.
After the service there was another planning meeting. A long discussion occurred which, in the end, became rather heated. Obviously some confusion about when the volunteers were to set things up. The priest thought that working many hours in the night was preferable to working a few hours Sunday morning. He was obviously wanting to have the music on Sunday morning and the work done at the same time. The workers thought differently. Sigh. Finally, that part was ended and, I thought, we were headed home. For some reason, I tend to be a bit anxious walking around after ten thirty at night. Suddenly, the group started arranging the chairs in a circle and in walked two of the group with a small Father’s Day creation for each of the fathers in the group. It was a lovely gesture and I was very surprised and touched. Surprisingly, all the fathers in the group were included ... even the one whose child was born out of wedlock. That impressed me.
Waldo 3. The concert was to begin at four. I was quite pleased with that because I figured it would mean an early evening ... watch some soccer perhaps? Well, of course, the concert did not get underway until close to five. The music stopped at 7.30 and preparations began for a mass. The mass finished, preparations began for another event. Obviously many had come prepared for a long evening as quilts, jackets and blankets appeared for the children to go to sleep. Only Waldo had no idea of what was happening. The final part of the evening was spent in adoration. It is very moving to be part of a group of people who are so very seriously making an effort to understand and develop their faith. Of course, different religious persuasions have different approaches to that but, in the end, there is often very common ground. When you have a group of people earnestly waiting for the Presence of the Invisible it is a powerful experience. There were several thousand people and many of them were extremely moved emotionally. I was grateful for the chance to be there.
At 11.15, one family in the group started to head home so I tagged along. Things were winding down and I heard some of the final applause as we left the stadium. Very fortunately, it waited to start raining until we were almost home.
This morning we opened a satellite centre in El Ciprés. A project there has set up five computers for students to use. Ten to fifteen students will have access to these computers and the first five began this morning. This means several new students and spaces for several more here in the centre. At a meeting on Friday I found out that our school is now about 20% of the total students in the Educatodos program in the Santa Cruz region. That tells you we are growing but it also tells you how absolutely enormous the challenge is. When less than 500 students in a “province” are attending Grades 7-9 it gives you an indication of how few people have the chance to access education.
TTYL
BB
Monday, March 22, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
El Ovido – New School
Several weeks ago, a delegation from the community came to talk about setting up a computer there for their children to continue studying. We ended up taking one laptop, a gift from a High School in Canada, and an older desktop model, also a gift from Canadians.
We were met by about fourteen students all ready to begin learning with our program. We set up the computers on the two available tables and they set to work to learn how to turn the computer on, how to find their files and so forth. For most of them, it was their first time to touch a computer. Mothers and the community education committee members were on hand to make sure that the transition went smoothly.
There are a few young adults coming to Santa Cruz for an evening or Saturday class and they told of the cost of that. One mother is spending $25.00 a week just on transport for her children. When most families earn less than $100.00 a month you can appreciate the strain she is under.
Another hot day ... despite a forecast to the contrary. Santiago is working on painting a piece of roofing to start a solar food dryer idea for drying Stevia leaves. We will try and get that going on Wednesday.
Two funny things happened last week. On Thursdays, I generally cook a meal for the workers. Last week it was Santiago’s turn to help with the food prep. This was his first time in a kitchen (he is, after all, only nineteen) and he was bug eyed. Onions, surprisingly, made him cry. We were making Nairobi Guest House curry (for a recipe, send me an email) and one of the ingredients in the dish was a can of coconut milk. I grabbed the can opener and worked on the can. Well, that was worth Santiago’s price of admission. His first time to see a can opener. Another thing that I have added to his list of “needs”. Sigh.
Another day last week, I was in my house as Julia, my house keeper was working. I grabbed the metre long shoe horn that was lying on a table and went to hang it up. Julia asked what it was. I showed her and she was highly amused. It had been so confusing what I might possibly be using the thing for. It seemed such an absurd type of cane but what else could it be?
TTYL
BB
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Elin Banessa Zelaya Ramirez
Elin is one of our smaller students but she makes up for her size with determination and excellent work habits. Early malnutrition leaves much of the local population smaller than their potential. In the first three months of school she has finished all but the last few sections of her work in Grade 8. By the end of March she will be starting Grade 9.
Another of our students, Blenda, also in Grade 8, told her about Centro de Enseñanza Fraternidad. At first she had concerns about our credentials but after she and her mother checked at the local education office, she was happy to come to our school.
The youngest of seven children, she is the only child to study beyond Grade 6. Her father does not read or write but her mother is studying Grade 5 with the Adult Educatodos program. She may also be a student of ours in a couple of years. Only two of her siblings have finished Grade 6.
Elin is excited about the speed with which she is progressing and hopes that by finishing Grade 9 this year she will have a much better choice of job opportunities. Her family and friends are all supporting her efforts and providing her with the dollar it takes for transport each day.
In the future we hope to have satellite centres in communities like Elin’s so that she will not have to travel to school each day. That will be an exciting step in our development.
The youngest of seven children, she is the only child to study beyond Grade 6. Her father does not read or write but her mother is studying Grade 5 with the Adult Educatodos program. She may also be a student of ours in a couple of years. Only two of her siblings have finished Grade 6.
Elin is excited about the speed with which she is progressing and hopes that by finishing Grade 9 this year she will have a much better choice of job opportunities. Her family and friends are all supporting her efforts and providing her with the dollar it takes for transport each day.
In the future we hope to have satellite centres in communities like Elin’s so that she will not have to travel to school each day. That will be an exciting step in our development.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Bees ... Moving Day (Night)
Well, time to move the bees. Yesterday I took three men to the Santa Rita land and we cleared (I directed and planned – they slashed and dug – excellent division of labour from my standpoint) ten spots and set up the hives for coming bees. There is a stretch of land that is returning to forest and this is ideal for a few hives.
Tonight Edel and Santiago came to work and we began getting the bees ready for transport. The big barrel hive was easily sealed and loaded on the truck. The four hives in the tree are proving to be more interesting. Edel climbed up and let each one down with a rope. The jostling was enough to get the bees excited and we have them sitting around the yard waiting until they move back inside their quarters. Both of us had equipment on but still managed to get a few love bites. Working in the dark is definitely a plus.
Santiago was our tape man but as things progressed, we sent him inside the school. A few bees found their way inside and are buzzing around one of the lights. That was enough to send Santiago into the bathroom for safety. Each time we come in he peeks out and gives us a brief hand before heading for cover. Don’t blame him a bit.
Our goal will be to get the bees into some sort of closed container and into the truck. We will give them an hour to cool off and then get on with the program.
This morning I took the truck into the garage for a “half hour” repair. Sigh. Five and a half hours later I returned to the school. However, it is working again and much safer. I reminded myself of all the things I might be doing which would have been much more onerous than sitting under a tree waiting for a truck repair. I had money, I knew where I was, I was only a half hour away from my house, only thirty seconds from snacks and drinks and it was warm but not hot. How bad is that?
Mechanics keep me awestruck at the best of times. How they can take something apart, see what is wrong, fix it and put things back together is beyond me. Seeing them work here or in Africa is even more incredible. There are no fifteen drawer tool chests on castors. There are no lifts or carts on wheels. Today’s tool chest was a Phillips screwdriver, a pair of Grade 1 scissors, a pair of blunt nosed pliers and a clunky, homemade hammer. That was all that was needed to change the brake seals and brake pads on the rear tire. I got to use my Leatherman for one task at the end so felt useful for a brief, glorious moment.
Manuel and I spent an hour at the housing project in Tepiquilares yesterday. Only four of the eleven couples are married. Weddings are too expensive for most people to afford so it never happens. Manuel is lobbying to have them all get married before they move in. I suggested that we could have a guy come out and have a ceremony for everyone, have a barbecue and call it a party. (Not thinking of Sung Yung Moon by the way!) Fascinating though was the reaction of a couple of the men who didn’t want to carry through with the idea. Not sure how that went over for bliss on the home front last night. Quite puzzling in a way and indicative of the place which women have in much of society here.
Well ... time to buzz off.
BB
Tonight Edel and Santiago came to work and we began getting the bees ready for transport. The big barrel hive was easily sealed and loaded on the truck. The four hives in the tree are proving to be more interesting. Edel climbed up and let each one down with a rope. The jostling was enough to get the bees excited and we have them sitting around the yard waiting until they move back inside their quarters. Both of us had equipment on but still managed to get a few love bites. Working in the dark is definitely a plus.
Santiago was our tape man but as things progressed, we sent him inside the school. A few bees found their way inside and are buzzing around one of the lights. That was enough to send Santiago into the bathroom for safety. Each time we come in he peeks out and gives us a brief hand before heading for cover. Don’t blame him a bit.
Our goal will be to get the bees into some sort of closed container and into the truck. We will give them an hour to cool off and then get on with the program.
This morning I took the truck into the garage for a “half hour” repair. Sigh. Five and a half hours later I returned to the school. However, it is working again and much safer. I reminded myself of all the things I might be doing which would have been much more onerous than sitting under a tree waiting for a truck repair. I had money, I knew where I was, I was only a half hour away from my house, only thirty seconds from snacks and drinks and it was warm but not hot. How bad is that?
Mechanics keep me awestruck at the best of times. How they can take something apart, see what is wrong, fix it and put things back together is beyond me. Seeing them work here or in Africa is even more incredible. There are no fifteen drawer tool chests on castors. There are no lifts or carts on wheels. Today’s tool chest was a Phillips screwdriver, a pair of Grade 1 scissors, a pair of blunt nosed pliers and a clunky, homemade hammer. That was all that was needed to change the brake seals and brake pads on the rear tire. I got to use my Leatherman for one task at the end so felt useful for a brief, glorious moment.
Manuel and I spent an hour at the housing project in Tepiquilares yesterday. Only four of the eleven couples are married. Weddings are too expensive for most people to afford so it never happens. Manuel is lobbying to have them all get married before they move in. I suggested that we could have a guy come out and have a ceremony for everyone, have a barbecue and call it a party. (Not thinking of Sung Yung Moon by the way!) Fascinating though was the reaction of a couple of the men who didn’t want to carry through with the idea. Not sure how that went over for bliss on the home front last night. Quite puzzling in a way and indicative of the place which women have in much of society here.
Well ... time to buzz off.
BB
Friday, February 26, 2010
A Kerosene Seller
The lamp in my life refused to be snuffed out. God never let the kerosene of hope run dry.
- Nasreen Baig from Stones into Schools by Greg Mortenson
Far down the food chain of petroleum production, eons away from the giant machinery of extraction and fractionation and tucked away in dusty unmapped corners are the kerosene sellers. Their wares are kept in tiny grungy, sticky plastic jugs, brought from distant pumps tied to battered lorry sides, unhappy donkeys or, finally, atop dusty head cloths.
Late afternoons the sellers set out their merchandise in small plastic bottles for the evening market. By now the portions are small enough to attract the well rubbed coinage and single digit crumples of the poor. Kobos, centavos, francs, shillingis are counted out with a precision outrivaling anything on Wall Street to carry enough trembling light to darkening hovels.
Carefully the small tin containers are filled and the cotton wicks lit. Smokey flickers drive enough of the dark away to allow a meal, fiercely concentrated reading and late night lessons. Never enough for more than an hour or two and never more than a glimmer but, still, enough to continue living despite the darkness.
Hope doesn’t come in tanker trucks along paved roads. It isn’t in mammoth pipelines scarring landscapes. Hope comes in the tiny bottles of light that solve one problem at a time, give light for part of the night of darkness already gloaming. It is seeds, ideas, tiny flickers of change that, for brief seconds, give light a chance to reach forgotten webbed corners.
Vendors of hope seldom see the inside of air conditioned corporate offices. They often get missed as the visiting professional drives by in four wheel drive comfort. Their ideas are too small, too simple and, sometimes, too obvious to attract mega-watt attention.
But, in the end, theirs is the light that matters.
- Nasreen Baig from Stones into Schools by Greg Mortenson
Far down the food chain of petroleum production, eons away from the giant machinery of extraction and fractionation and tucked away in dusty unmapped corners are the kerosene sellers. Their wares are kept in tiny grungy, sticky plastic jugs, brought from distant pumps tied to battered lorry sides, unhappy donkeys or, finally, atop dusty head cloths.
Late afternoons the sellers set out their merchandise in small plastic bottles for the evening market. By now the portions are small enough to attract the well rubbed coinage and single digit crumples of the poor. Kobos, centavos, francs, shillingis are counted out with a precision outrivaling anything on Wall Street to carry enough trembling light to darkening hovels.
Carefully the small tin containers are filled and the cotton wicks lit. Smokey flickers drive enough of the dark away to allow a meal, fiercely concentrated reading and late night lessons. Never enough for more than an hour or two and never more than a glimmer but, still, enough to continue living despite the darkness.
Hope doesn’t come in tanker trucks along paved roads. It isn’t in mammoth pipelines scarring landscapes. Hope comes in the tiny bottles of light that solve one problem at a time, give light for part of the night of darkness already gloaming. It is seeds, ideas, tiny flickers of change that, for brief seconds, give light a chance to reach forgotten webbed corners.
Vendors of hope seldom see the inside of air conditioned corporate offices. They often get missed as the visiting professional drives by in four wheel drive comfort. Their ideas are too small, too simple and, sometimes, too obvious to attract mega-watt attention.
But, in the end, theirs is the light that matters.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Ay Caramba!
If you are Tintin fan, you will recognize the phrase. Why it was plastered in two metre high letters on the inside of a circus tent in Santa Cruz is beyond me. It may simply be that old circus tents never die ... they just move on down and down the line.
Saturday or Sunday, I noticed that a circus tent was going up in a vacant lot near town center. As Manuel and I were walking past yesterday on our way to the mechanic’s shop, we stopped and asked about show times and ticket prices. 8:00 p.m. and $1.50. Sounded doable to me.
I arrived at the star studded venue and fought through the crowds to find a seat. Wait ... that was the Canada – Russia hockey game which I was missing. The inside of the tent was indeed covered with silver stars and the three energy efficient bulbs worked well to camouflage the lumpy dirt floor and left over debris of previous performances. By 8:00 p.m. there were almost twenty of us sitting on the rather precarious 1 x 5 boards around the tiny center ring. The announcer came on the loudspeakers and announced that in only a few minutes we would be amazed by spectacular performances. This must have had some effect because more people began trickling in. The short rain had stopped so that may have had more to do with it than the prospect of wonder and amazement.
The three bulbs went black and the spinning dance floor light show lit up the dressing room entrance and out came the dancing girls. They shimmied and shook to a Latin number and went back to somewhat subdued applause. The fact that one of the two was only seven or eight may have been a disappointment.
Spinning light show off, two spotlights on and out came the clowns. By this time, a few more people had come in, including a number of young men. Everyone had come to have a good time and they were happy to shout out comments and interact with the patter of the clowns. A huge improvement on the performance.
The star of the circus then appeared. An athletic man with waist long hair came out and did some rather amazing gymnastic routines. Considering the options if he were to make a mistake I was truly impressed. The safety mechanism for his one handed handstand on a metal pole three metres above the ground consisted of the smallest clown hanging all his weight on the stand.
The entire troupe consisted of seven people so lots of double duty. The lip synch dancing midget came out in a orange tasselled bikini bottom and shimmering red and silver tasselled bikini top. The number went on about three minutes too long. The first fifteen seconds would have been plenty.
The last set of the first half featured the acrobat in drag doing some great impromptu with the audience. He used audience applause to choose which of the several male targets should be his “date”.
By then it was time for intermission and the troupe headed out to man the popcorn machine and battered freezer with cold drinks. It was already 9:30 so I took the chance to head home. A great evening’s entertainment.
In school news, we are now over the fifty student mark. A small neighbourhood on the far side (read – other side of the tracks) of Santa Cruz heard about the school and got themselves organized to bring eight students. Rather impressive work.
Another new student arrived with her mother. Fifteen years old, pregnant and, consequently, married and barred from entering public school. We were very pleased to have the chance to welcome her here. It is sobering to watch this girl – still a child but having to become an adult all too soon and without any chance to grow up and enjoy the process.
Three hot days – above 35’ C and now another cold front has moved in. It is becoming like Alberta weather wise.
TTYL
Saturday or Sunday, I noticed that a circus tent was going up in a vacant lot near town center. As Manuel and I were walking past yesterday on our way to the mechanic’s shop, we stopped and asked about show times and ticket prices. 8:00 p.m. and $1.50. Sounded doable to me.
I arrived at the star studded venue and fought through the crowds to find a seat. Wait ... that was the Canada – Russia hockey game which I was missing. The inside of the tent was indeed covered with silver stars and the three energy efficient bulbs worked well to camouflage the lumpy dirt floor and left over debris of previous performances. By 8:00 p.m. there were almost twenty of us sitting on the rather precarious 1 x 5 boards around the tiny center ring. The announcer came on the loudspeakers and announced that in only a few minutes we would be amazed by spectacular performances. This must have had some effect because more people began trickling in. The short rain had stopped so that may have had more to do with it than the prospect of wonder and amazement.
The three bulbs went black and the spinning dance floor light show lit up the dressing room entrance and out came the dancing girls. They shimmied and shook to a Latin number and went back to somewhat subdued applause. The fact that one of the two was only seven or eight may have been a disappointment.
Spinning light show off, two spotlights on and out came the clowns. By this time, a few more people had come in, including a number of young men. Everyone had come to have a good time and they were happy to shout out comments and interact with the patter of the clowns. A huge improvement on the performance.
The star of the circus then appeared. An athletic man with waist long hair came out and did some rather amazing gymnastic routines. Considering the options if he were to make a mistake I was truly impressed. The safety mechanism for his one handed handstand on a metal pole three metres above the ground consisted of the smallest clown hanging all his weight on the stand.
The entire troupe consisted of seven people so lots of double duty. The lip synch dancing midget came out in a orange tasselled bikini bottom and shimmering red and silver tasselled bikini top. The number went on about three minutes too long. The first fifteen seconds would have been plenty.
The last set of the first half featured the acrobat in drag doing some great impromptu with the audience. He used audience applause to choose which of the several male targets should be his “date”.
By then it was time for intermission and the troupe headed out to man the popcorn machine and battered freezer with cold drinks. It was already 9:30 so I took the chance to head home. A great evening’s entertainment.
In school news, we are now over the fifty student mark. A small neighbourhood on the far side (read – other side of the tracks) of Santa Cruz heard about the school and got themselves organized to bring eight students. Rather impressive work.
Another new student arrived with her mother. Fifteen years old, pregnant and, consequently, married and barred from entering public school. We were very pleased to have the chance to welcome her here. It is sobering to watch this girl – still a child but having to become an adult all too soon and without any chance to grow up and enjoy the process.
Three hot days – above 35’ C and now another cold front has moved in. It is becoming like Alberta weather wise.
TTYL
Monday, February 22, 2010
Angel Mauricio Orellana Montaya
Angel’s mother suffers from arthritis and, so, one of the three boys needs to stay at home with her during the day. This means that only two of the boys are able to go to school. His father runs a taxi between the main highway and Santa Cruz. A part of Angel’s duties are to clean the car and help with its maintenance.
The family lives in a small, one room wooden house. While small, it is their own. When his father is not driving his taxi, the boys help him with field work growing maize and beans.
Our program is proving to be easier, more informative and more interesting than public school. Angel enjoys being able to work on his own and at his own speed. He makes the trip to study each afternoon and works from 1 till 5 at the computer.
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