The main focus of this past week has been getting fruit tree seedlings for the agriculture project in Santa Rita. The Government run nursery is about 30 km from St. Rita or, in Honduran terms, about forty-five minutes driving.
Wednesday we made our first trip to the location. We found the office where you could get information and order seedlings. However, it was too late in the day (3:15 p.m.) to get any. The next day we headed back and found the nursery itself and bought seventy seedlings – ten each of seven different varieties. The truck box was full.
Friday, Manuel and I headed out again, this time via a different route ... faster? Fortunately, we were only twenty-five kilometres or so down the road from Santa Cruz when we found out by phone that the nursery closed at 2:30 on Friday. I left Manuel at a bus stop and headed back to Santa Cruz.
Monday morning, Santiago and I left the office at 10:00 with plans to make two trips to the nursery in one day. What a revolutionary concept ... as I was to find out. We arrived at the nursery only to be told at the gate (by the armed guard – seedlings are expensive ... but THAT expensive?) that Ena, the lady who takes money at the nursery was sick. We would have to go to the office (5km away) and pay there before returning and getting seedlings.
Vicky, in the office, was very helpful but quite amazed that we hoped to get a second load on the same day. Despite phone calls, she made an effort to hurry the process of filling out the order form (four copies) and the receipt for the money (duplicate – one copy needed for the armed guard upon leaving with the trees). We hustled back to the nursery and Santiago explained that we hoped to make two trips in one day. Unheard of. But, it garnered one extra man with a wheelbarrow to help load.
This time we managed eighty plants – twenty behind the seats in the cab. Still room. Off to Santa Rita where we unloaded in a hurry and where I left Santiago to move and sort. As I passed Muncho’s house, I saw his son, José, sitting. I shouted and asked if he wanted to come along. He hustled to the car and off we went.
One more visit to Vicky (genuinely surprised to see us) and back to the nursery. The guard recognized our truck so waved us through without stopping. We loaded ninety seedlings (we are getting better at packing) and left for home.
Along the way we hit a torrential rain storm. The windows went up and the defrost went on. I realized a few kilometres later that the fresh, citrus smell of the seedlings was being replaced by wet José. Oh well, have been on lots of buses in worse situations (olfactorily speaking).
Yesterday Manuel and I got the final load of trees. In order to buy twenty coconut seedlings, the remaining seventy had to be packed very closely. As I had no passenger for the return trip, nine sat on the seat and in front of the seat (these seedlings are at least one metre tall and have very large root balls – in terms of seedlings).
After unloading the seedlings and sorting out the various varieties – many look almost exactly alike (Muncho pointed out, quite correctly, that it really won’t matter once they are planted – we will know what they are in two years when the fruit comes – there is something Biblical in that).
Muncho looked at the sky (his clock) and said we should go up the mountain for banana shoots. Seemed good to me. The road up the mountains is steep but in good condition. We stopped every few hundred metres to pick someone up. One lady, in her sixties, was making the two hour walk from the bus stop by the highway.
We arrived at a home where Muncho and crew got out to talk to the banana owner. Five minutes later and we piled back in to head up the road some more. At a muddy branch, everyone got out and I was told to go further up and turn around. Did so and then waited.
Five minutes later, down the muddy trail came the crew carrying banana shoots on their shoulders. These were good sized shoots and weighed up to fifteen kilos each. The boys had forgotten boots so had rolled up their pants and gone bare foot. The mud was halfway up their calves so it must have been rather sticky up top. Nineteen shoots later and we had what we needed. These are a water loving banana that produces red fruit and is, evidently, very medicinal for women.
In the school this week, we are once again getting a group ready for graduation. We should have between ten and fifteen more students finishing a grade. Exciting.
As well, we are getting a group of about fifty stories and books ready to put on the computers for the students to read. We will have some of the students work on enhancing the stories with pictures and so forth. I am extremely excited about the progress on this. I will now have to read Snow White in Spanish.
TTYL
bb
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
The Most Dangerous Instrument in the World
The sins of the parents do come back to haunt them ... at one time or another. This was brought home again on Sunday morning. Even half a continent away, safe in the rural area of Honduras, the instrument that strikes terror in the heart of every parent surfaced.
Students from the local Catholic Primary School were featured in the morning service. Nice, cute and, certainly, more extraneous activity than normal to distract during a long sermon. But, that wasn’t the horrible part. More than twenty of them came equipped with recorders. Of course, you can imagine the mayhem that accompanies twenty bored children with recorders in their hands. Odd snatches of notes from idle lips, the occasional nostril, and continuous clatter and activity were the order of the day. And then, finally, the moment we waited for ... the performance. Of course, I suppose, they could all have had accordions.
Saturday night I went to a church supper in a neighbouring community. Their church was, at one time, the central church in the whole diocese. It was a four hundred year old structure made from adobe. Truly fascinating. The walls were over a metre thick and the old rafters were well seasoned with age. So incredible to step back in time and so unexpected as well. Coming from Alberta where nothing is really more than one hundred years old, it is always so strange to be able to place one’s feet in the paths of people from such a long time ago. In a way, I connect with most of Alberta’s historical timeline because I know (or have known) people who were there at the start.
Last night Edel, Santiago and I went to move a trap hive into a new home. I waited for the phone call to establish the fact that it wasn’t raining in El Belin but it didn’t come. At nine, I finally got through to Edel and found out it was a go. I loaded the equipment in the truck and headed to the home where the new beehive was located. The boys had decided to wait at the pulperia so weren’t around until I called and located them.
We got out the equipment and I then asked where the new hive and trap hive were. “Just over there”. Well, fortunately, the moon was at three quarters and provided a fair amount of background light. We headed behind the house, past the worm bin, past the little shed with 100 nine day old chicks and came to the river. Ummm. You never told me about this. But ... wait ... there is a bridge. A four by four stretched across the river about two metres above the water. Fortunately, it hasn’t rained heavily for a couple of days so the river was really only a noisy, rushing stream depth. Still, not something I wanted to fall into. Edel and Santiago hot footed across the ‘bridge’ and, happily, found a long branch which I was able to use as a safety crutch.
Once across, we donned the new bee veils I had brought from Canada and headed to work. The hive was easily moved and we did so within short order. Then, the return trip. Since the hive was located near the bridge, I felt that we should cross the bridge before taking off the equipment. No point in having a cloud of bees around you as you head across four inches of wood (which, comfortingly, Edel was telling us was beginning to crack). We made it quickly and, after a couple of brushes and inspections, were able to remove the veils and head home. Uneventful really.
Manuel and I visited the police station to offer our program to their members. I had been stopped at a police check on Saturday and the officer was most interested. We will see whether the interest shown by the officer in charge yesterday translates into new students. Our system is perfect for these officers because, even if they are transferred (a regular occurrence), they can continue their studies in the new location.
Three hundred passion fruit seedlings are in the ground. This week we will work on some grass cuttings and, hopefully, some fruit trees. It was nice to see things taking shape in the ‘orchard’.
At El Cipres, a small piece of land where we are trying some ideas, a storm broke apart one of the fish tanks we had been repairing. As well, continual petty theft of fruit and fish is proving to be a real discouragement. We will decide this week whether it is worth the effort to continue. The potential for a family to have a good living from this property is so great but we can’t do any of the demonstrations we want because of the loss of things before they mature. We know who is stealing the stuff but can’t do anything about it.
TTYL
bb
Students from the local Catholic Primary School were featured in the morning service. Nice, cute and, certainly, more extraneous activity than normal to distract during a long sermon. But, that wasn’t the horrible part. More than twenty of them came equipped with recorders. Of course, you can imagine the mayhem that accompanies twenty bored children with recorders in their hands. Odd snatches of notes from idle lips, the occasional nostril, and continuous clatter and activity were the order of the day. And then, finally, the moment we waited for ... the performance. Of course, I suppose, they could all have had accordions.
Saturday night I went to a church supper in a neighbouring community. Their church was, at one time, the central church in the whole diocese. It was a four hundred year old structure made from adobe. Truly fascinating. The walls were over a metre thick and the old rafters were well seasoned with age. So incredible to step back in time and so unexpected as well. Coming from Alberta where nothing is really more than one hundred years old, it is always so strange to be able to place one’s feet in the paths of people from such a long time ago. In a way, I connect with most of Alberta’s historical timeline because I know (or have known) people who were there at the start.
Last night Edel, Santiago and I went to move a trap hive into a new home. I waited for the phone call to establish the fact that it wasn’t raining in El Belin but it didn’t come. At nine, I finally got through to Edel and found out it was a go. I loaded the equipment in the truck and headed to the home where the new beehive was located. The boys had decided to wait at the pulperia so weren’t around until I called and located them.
We got out the equipment and I then asked where the new hive and trap hive were. “Just over there”. Well, fortunately, the moon was at three quarters and provided a fair amount of background light. We headed behind the house, past the worm bin, past the little shed with 100 nine day old chicks and came to the river. Ummm. You never told me about this. But ... wait ... there is a bridge. A four by four stretched across the river about two metres above the water. Fortunately, it hasn’t rained heavily for a couple of days so the river was really only a noisy, rushing stream depth. Still, not something I wanted to fall into. Edel and Santiago hot footed across the ‘bridge’ and, happily, found a long branch which I was able to use as a safety crutch.
Once across, we donned the new bee veils I had brought from Canada and headed to work. The hive was easily moved and we did so within short order. Then, the return trip. Since the hive was located near the bridge, I felt that we should cross the bridge before taking off the equipment. No point in having a cloud of bees around you as you head across four inches of wood (which, comfortingly, Edel was telling us was beginning to crack). We made it quickly and, after a couple of brushes and inspections, were able to remove the veils and head home. Uneventful really.
Manuel and I visited the police station to offer our program to their members. I had been stopped at a police check on Saturday and the officer was most interested. We will see whether the interest shown by the officer in charge yesterday translates into new students. Our system is perfect for these officers because, even if they are transferred (a regular occurrence), they can continue their studies in the new location.
Three hundred passion fruit seedlings are in the ground. This week we will work on some grass cuttings and, hopefully, some fruit trees. It was nice to see things taking shape in the ‘orchard’.
At El Cipres, a small piece of land where we are trying some ideas, a storm broke apart one of the fish tanks we had been repairing. As well, continual petty theft of fruit and fish is proving to be a real discouragement. We will decide this week whether it is worth the effort to continue. The potential for a family to have a good living from this property is so great but we can’t do any of the demonstrations we want because of the loss of things before they mature. We know who is stealing the stuff but can’t do anything about it.
TTYL
bb
Monday, August 9, 2010
Have Wheels ... Will Travel
The headphones are on and playing a section of African music which I am preparing for the music group tomorrow. I do hope that at least one or two will appreciate the songs. New types of music are often hard to appreciate. The current song is from David Fanshawe’s “African Sanctus”. This work takes sounds and songs from Africa and then combines them with a Latin Mass sung by a British choir. The work has some wonderful combinations of sounds and music. He has, in my opinion, kept true to the wide variety of situations, religious expressions and sounds of Africa. This song combines the Call to Prayer from an Egyptian mosque with the Kyrie (Lord have mercy).
Today I took the last batch of seedlings to the Santa Rita project. Five pickup loads of seedlings in all – 800-900?? Muncho is beginning to see some of what I want to accomplish and, now, the real work begins. Many of the previous plantings are doing well. Trees planted in April are now over one metre tall and beginning to take off. We are all learning new species and, from them, getting new ideas. Today we unloaded lemon grass (neat flavour and essential oil), a second grass for thatching and medicine, chaya, chipolin (both good food sources), aloe vera (good for medicinal purposes), passion fruit, flame trees, calliandra and leuceana (good nitrogen fixers and animal fodder trees).
The whole family piled into the truck to help unload. I let the little boy ‘drive’ down the hill afterwards and he was some pleased with that.
Some banana circles are being formed from some clearing that we are doing for vegetable beds and so forth. It is so exciting to see some of the ideas starting to actually take shape. We will seen what happens in the next week as we endeavour to get all of these planted.
This week featured, as well, two trips with the Honduran board. We went and toured three different project sites. The board members are so very wise and patient. They brought with them many suggestions and solutions. When we descended upon a recalcitrant shop keeper, he visibly paled and shook and promised that everything would be in order by next Wednesday. We will see. I think the threat of having us all in his shop again will be enough. Two of the members showed our housing project families a better way to prepare pineapple seedlings and thus rescued a couple hundred dollars worth of seedlings. At another place, they rounded up the local village officials and explained our projects and got them on board to help protect some of our plantings. I got to watch and chauffeur.
On Thursday we took two more computers to a centre that has over thirty students. Currently they have shifts to all have access to the (now) four computers. Generally two students study from the same computer at the same time. They will up the numbers now with extra computers.
While there, I got to see some houses built from compressed earth blocks. This is a way of building which is rather dear to my heart and it was so exciting to see some of the similarities and differences. I had the benefit of working with an engineering professor in Uganda so had some different suggestions. However, their brick shape is different and offers some very interesting strength potential. During the earthquake last year, many of the concrete block houses cracked but none of the eighteen earth block houses suffered damage. The cost of these houses is very exciting as well. A three bedroom house for under $3,000.00. Simple, dirt floors but still, very adequate and useable. I would like to work with some of the African recipes for dirt floors which are beautiful and very sturdy.
We hope to start sprouting maize next week to use as fish food. We will see how that works. New idea being transmitted through several minds and two languages. We will try it at the school as well to get two ways of doing it.
The power just went out. I am glad I can touch type ).
Thursday night, as I returned from San Pedro Sula, I passed the body of a man who had been killed in a car accident. Obviously, the vehicle to take his body away had not arrived. The police were there and directing traffic. I was struck by the absolute aloneness of the man. One moment able to communicate, to plan, to be and, the next ... beyond.
One of the features of having a vehicle is police checks. So far, so good. I had to renew my licence in Canada and the new one did not arrive before returning to Honduras. Fortunately, I was able to receive a picture of the licence via email. I made a laminated copy of the licence and carry it along with a copy of my passport. I can always try to explain that I am worried about theft.
At both police checks, we got talking about our projects and, after a couple of minutes I was waved on. Phew. At the second stop, the policeman was excited to think he could join our school. I am eager to have a computer in one of the police stations so that word will get out to all the policeman in our area that I am their friend ).
The last exciting thing this week. I successfully explained to Muncho that I needed forty-one local chicken eggs to put into my incubator. Yesterday, we went up to the house of the lady who had collected them for me. I worked with the incubator last night – it was good to have something to do each time I woke up – and got the temperature stabilized. The machine is obviously not calibrated to +26 and higher temperatures. This afternoon, the eggs went in. I went over with Julia how the table with the eggs is not to be bumped for the next three weeks. I haven’t done this before so have no idea of how touchy things are. Likely they are much tougher than I think. Will let you know in a week or so the results of candling and ... hopefully, in three weeks, the results of hatching.
TTYL
bb
Today I took the last batch of seedlings to the Santa Rita project. Five pickup loads of seedlings in all – 800-900?? Muncho is beginning to see some of what I want to accomplish and, now, the real work begins. Many of the previous plantings are doing well. Trees planted in April are now over one metre tall and beginning to take off. We are all learning new species and, from them, getting new ideas. Today we unloaded lemon grass (neat flavour and essential oil), a second grass for thatching and medicine, chaya, chipolin (both good food sources), aloe vera (good for medicinal purposes), passion fruit, flame trees, calliandra and leuceana (good nitrogen fixers and animal fodder trees).
The whole family piled into the truck to help unload. I let the little boy ‘drive’ down the hill afterwards and he was some pleased with that.
Some banana circles are being formed from some clearing that we are doing for vegetable beds and so forth. It is so exciting to see some of the ideas starting to actually take shape. We will seen what happens in the next week as we endeavour to get all of these planted.
This week featured, as well, two trips with the Honduran board. We went and toured three different project sites. The board members are so very wise and patient. They brought with them many suggestions and solutions. When we descended upon a recalcitrant shop keeper, he visibly paled and shook and promised that everything would be in order by next Wednesday. We will see. I think the threat of having us all in his shop again will be enough. Two of the members showed our housing project families a better way to prepare pineapple seedlings and thus rescued a couple hundred dollars worth of seedlings. At another place, they rounded up the local village officials and explained our projects and got them on board to help protect some of our plantings. I got to watch and chauffeur.
On Thursday we took two more computers to a centre that has over thirty students. Currently they have shifts to all have access to the (now) four computers. Generally two students study from the same computer at the same time. They will up the numbers now with extra computers.
While there, I got to see some houses built from compressed earth blocks. This is a way of building which is rather dear to my heart and it was so exciting to see some of the similarities and differences. I had the benefit of working with an engineering professor in Uganda so had some different suggestions. However, their brick shape is different and offers some very interesting strength potential. During the earthquake last year, many of the concrete block houses cracked but none of the eighteen earth block houses suffered damage. The cost of these houses is very exciting as well. A three bedroom house for under $3,000.00. Simple, dirt floors but still, very adequate and useable. I would like to work with some of the African recipes for dirt floors which are beautiful and very sturdy.
We hope to start sprouting maize next week to use as fish food. We will see how that works. New idea being transmitted through several minds and two languages. We will try it at the school as well to get two ways of doing it.
The power just went out. I am glad I can touch type ).
Thursday night, as I returned from San Pedro Sula, I passed the body of a man who had been killed in a car accident. Obviously, the vehicle to take his body away had not arrived. The police were there and directing traffic. I was struck by the absolute aloneness of the man. One moment able to communicate, to plan, to be and, the next ... beyond.
One of the features of having a vehicle is police checks. So far, so good. I had to renew my licence in Canada and the new one did not arrive before returning to Honduras. Fortunately, I was able to receive a picture of the licence via email. I made a laminated copy of the licence and carry it along with a copy of my passport. I can always try to explain that I am worried about theft.
At both police checks, we got talking about our projects and, after a couple of minutes I was waved on. Phew. At the second stop, the policeman was excited to think he could join our school. I am eager to have a computer in one of the police stations so that word will get out to all the policeman in our area that I am their friend ).
The last exciting thing this week. I successfully explained to Muncho that I needed forty-one local chicken eggs to put into my incubator. Yesterday, we went up to the house of the lady who had collected them for me. I worked with the incubator last night – it was good to have something to do each time I woke up – and got the temperature stabilized. The machine is obviously not calibrated to +26 and higher temperatures. This afternoon, the eggs went in. I went over with Julia how the table with the eggs is not to be bumped for the next three weeks. I haven’t done this before so have no idea of how touchy things are. Likely they are much tougher than I think. Will let you know in a week or so the results of candling and ... hopefully, in three weeks, the results of hatching.
TTYL
bb
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Without Clothes There Is No Emperor
Naaman was a powerful general. Like all generals, in every army, he wore the accoutrements of his position whenever there were eyes about, whenever there was an opportunity for rivals to evaluate his current strength.
Naaman was a leper. Underneath the clothes of a general was an outcast, an untouchable, someone less than a person ... a dead man walking.
Naaman was lucky. He had an emperor who looked beyond the clothes. He had an emperor who looked beyond the leprosy. That is a long, long journey for any eyes to travel.
Naaman had a slave girl who looked even further. She looked beyond death and saw life. Maybe only a child still has the vision to look that far. Deaths’ shadows have not yet clouded the heart with cataracts of hopelessness. She, being a slave, was well acquainted with death but, somehow, life still shone.
Naaman was sent by the slave girl who could see life and the emperor who could see beyond leprosy to find healing. Being a general, he, of course, wore a general’s clothes. He went with a general’s escort. He went with a general’s status.
Naaman met a king. Generals always go to the top. They are the top. The king was afraid. Generals he could deal with. Emperors he could deal with. Death he could not. He did not see any life in the situation at all. Consequently, and rather expectedly, he was afraid.
Naaman was sent to a prophet. This prophet was not very professional. He didn’t live in the temple grounds. He didn’t have incense burning about. He didn’t seem to have much of anything. Certainly all that Naaman could see was a small house, seemingly rather removed from the power centres of palace or priestly halls.
Naaman never met the prophet. In fact, he only met a servant. The servant seemed rather confusing. Impressed but not impressed, polite but impolite ... or was that the prophet? No rushing about. No special seat or carpet. No pitcher of warmed water to wash a general’s dusty feet. No cooking fires lit to barbecue a fatted calf. No activity whatsoever.
Naaman got a message. That is all. Just a message. And the message was not very helpful ... at least it didn’t seem so to Naaman. Go bathe in the River Jordan.
Naaman got the message. He wasn’t happy about it at all. In fact, he was afraid. And, as is usually the case, because he was afraid, he got angry.
Naaman was afraid because he was told to take off his clothes. In daylight. In front of others. In a foreign country. He wouldn’t be a general. He wouldn’t be a man. He would be a leper. You may respect the general as long as you can’t see underneath the clothes. But ... if you can ... and he is a leper ... well ... that changes everything doesn’t it?
Naaman had a servant who could also see beyond death. He saw beyond the strangeness of foreign scenery, foreign gods and foreign environments, fraught as they surely must be with dirt, dishonesty and disease. He looked at the options available to a leper and asked Naaman to be honest for a moment. Honest for a moment, as far as
Naaman was concerned, was for a lifetime and a rather momentary one at that.
Naaman faced death. No cell phone cameras to upload to a waiting Facebook audience at home but, nevertheless, just as deadly. The general’s escort was watching. The general’s escort would remember. The general’s escort would talk.
Naaman got out of his clothes. He stopped being a general. He stopped being a man among men. He stopped being a person at all. He became a leper and waded into the water.
Naaman was no longer a leper. But, in a way, he was no longer a man either. He became, it says, like a small child. He still didn’t look like a man’s man or a general. He looked like someone starting over. And, really, he was.
Naaman became a general again. Did his decisions, previously so besotted with death, begin to have greening tinges of life creep in unexpectedly? Did he look beyond the suits that surrounded him and see people? Was he afraid anymore? Did hope begin to whisper and drown the shouts of anger?
Naaman discovered that without clothes there is no emperor. But ... equally ... without clothes there is life. He also discovered, hopefully, that nothing is more threatening to an emperor than losing his clothes. But ... equally ... only by losing the clothes is there hope for life.
Naaman was a leper. Underneath the clothes of a general was an outcast, an untouchable, someone less than a person ... a dead man walking.
Naaman was lucky. He had an emperor who looked beyond the clothes. He had an emperor who looked beyond the leprosy. That is a long, long journey for any eyes to travel.
Naaman had a slave girl who looked even further. She looked beyond death and saw life. Maybe only a child still has the vision to look that far. Deaths’ shadows have not yet clouded the heart with cataracts of hopelessness. She, being a slave, was well acquainted with death but, somehow, life still shone.
Naaman was sent by the slave girl who could see life and the emperor who could see beyond leprosy to find healing. Being a general, he, of course, wore a general’s clothes. He went with a general’s escort. He went with a general’s status.
Naaman met a king. Generals always go to the top. They are the top. The king was afraid. Generals he could deal with. Emperors he could deal with. Death he could not. He did not see any life in the situation at all. Consequently, and rather expectedly, he was afraid.
Naaman was sent to a prophet. This prophet was not very professional. He didn’t live in the temple grounds. He didn’t have incense burning about. He didn’t seem to have much of anything. Certainly all that Naaman could see was a small house, seemingly rather removed from the power centres of palace or priestly halls.
Naaman never met the prophet. In fact, he only met a servant. The servant seemed rather confusing. Impressed but not impressed, polite but impolite ... or was that the prophet? No rushing about. No special seat or carpet. No pitcher of warmed water to wash a general’s dusty feet. No cooking fires lit to barbecue a fatted calf. No activity whatsoever.
Naaman got a message. That is all. Just a message. And the message was not very helpful ... at least it didn’t seem so to Naaman. Go bathe in the River Jordan.
Naaman got the message. He wasn’t happy about it at all. In fact, he was afraid. And, as is usually the case, because he was afraid, he got angry.
Naaman was afraid because he was told to take off his clothes. In daylight. In front of others. In a foreign country. He wouldn’t be a general. He wouldn’t be a man. He would be a leper. You may respect the general as long as you can’t see underneath the clothes. But ... if you can ... and he is a leper ... well ... that changes everything doesn’t it?
Naaman had a servant who could also see beyond death. He saw beyond the strangeness of foreign scenery, foreign gods and foreign environments, fraught as they surely must be with dirt, dishonesty and disease. He looked at the options available to a leper and asked Naaman to be honest for a moment. Honest for a moment, as far as
Naaman was concerned, was for a lifetime and a rather momentary one at that.
Naaman faced death. No cell phone cameras to upload to a waiting Facebook audience at home but, nevertheless, just as deadly. The general’s escort was watching. The general’s escort would remember. The general’s escort would talk.
Naaman got out of his clothes. He stopped being a general. He stopped being a man among men. He stopped being a person at all. He became a leper and waded into the water.
Naaman was no longer a leper. But, in a way, he was no longer a man either. He became, it says, like a small child. He still didn’t look like a man’s man or a general. He looked like someone starting over. And, really, he was.
Naaman became a general again. Did his decisions, previously so besotted with death, begin to have greening tinges of life creep in unexpectedly? Did he look beyond the suits that surrounded him and see people? Was he afraid anymore? Did hope begin to whisper and drown the shouts of anger?
Naaman discovered that without clothes there is no emperor. But ... equally ... without clothes there is life. He also discovered, hopefully, that nothing is more threatening to an emperor than losing his clothes. But ... equally ... only by losing the clothes is there hope for life.
Waiting for a Truck
Today we just tried out a new vacuum sealer unit that I brought to Honduras. We have some ripe plantains and tried peeling and vacuum packing them. Four people are taking a package home to put in their refrigerator and, from there, we will see how long they last.
There are a number of reasons for this experiment. Over half of the bulk and weight of the plantain is in the skin. As well, the skin is highly nutritious for animals. By keeping the skins in the rural areas, they can be used for animal feed. Shipping something less than half of the bulk is much easier. The downside is the use of plastic. I need to find some ways to package in bulk with reusable containers. Any ideas or leads would be appreciated.
Last night was a Honduras night all round. I was told to be at place X at 5:00 p.m. to sing with the music group. As well, I was told to wear a purple shirt. Five o’clock came and I was still eating supper (didn’t want to venture on an adventure without some fuel). Five fifteen it began to rain. Still raining at 5:30. How late did I dare be? Put on a jacket and wide brimmed hat and headed out. By the time I had walked four blocks, my pants were very damp. I arrived at place X. No one there. Traveled on half a block to one of the homes of the group. None of the group there. Sat and waited till 6:15, helping one of the girls with her English homework in the meantime. Finally one of the group arrived and asked why I was wearing the wrong colour of shirt. I explained that, in English, this colour was indeed purple. Sigh. Mauve is ‘purple’ and purple is ‘maroon’. Now I know.
At 6:15 we headed to the location of the presentation. Two of the group were setting up the equipment. Eventually found out that the program was for 7:00 p.m. So, I helped set up stuff and, generally, hung around in wet trousers. I had really hoped that hanging around in wet pants wouldn’t start for another twenty years or more. All depends on the situation, right?
At around 7:30, the music started. At 9:00 p.m. we were served a plate of fried plantains, some salsa type toping and a soft drink. By 9:30 I was able to graciously leave and head home.
One neat thing happened during the evening. The house we were at was on the upper edge of a wide valley. It began to rain on the far side of the valley and as the rain moved across, the roar of the rain on the tin roofs grew louder and louder. At first I thought it was a truck climbing the far side of the valley but as the sound grew in volume it became apparent that it was the rain. Since our group had their amplifiers, the rain was not a hindrance to the festivities.
We have one group of bees that have built their combs on the outside of a trap hive. Last Friday, Santiago dressed in the equipment and climbed up to put some holes in the hive near the bees to encourage them to make the step to the inside. He got stung a couple of times but is ready to try again tomorrow. He will try and make the hole a bit bigger. The first attempt used too small a bit. It seems so strange to have these bees in the rain but ... they seem content.
My truck was to be ready this week. We are still keeping our fingers crossed for Saturday. I am worried about the cost of fuel the first week or so as my list of things to do in various places is growing daily. I have a zillion seedlings to move and that will mean several trips right there. Then to find some fruit trees, coffee seedlings and so forth. I hope they will all get planted successfully by the end of August.
We are now at 96 students in Grade 7 alone. We listen to the stories of the students from the rural communities and are so pleased with what we are doing. Only about 10-20% of Grade 6 students continue on to Grade 7. The “official” numbers are better but the anecdotal numbers from people counting themselves are grim indeed.
I will also post a reflection on Namaan later. We are so ready to evaluate others by their outward presentation. I keep hoping that it will be easier to look past that as I gain more experience (meaning ... get older). Hmm. Wonder when that will happen?
TTYL
bb
Last night was a Honduras night all round. I was told to be at place X at 5:00 p.m. to sing with the music group. As well, I was told to wear a purple shirt. Five o’clock came and I was still eating supper (didn’t want to venture on an adventure without some fuel). Five fifteen it began to rain. Still raining at 5:30. How late did I dare be? Put on a jacket and wide brimmed hat and headed out. By the time I had walked four blocks, my pants were very damp. I arrived at place X. No one there. Traveled on half a block to one of the homes of the group. None of the group there. Sat and waited till 6:15, helping one of the girls with her English homework in the meantime. Finally one of the group arrived and asked why I was wearing the wrong colour of shirt. I explained that, in English, this colour was indeed purple. Sigh. Mauve is ‘purple’ and purple is ‘maroon’. Now I know.
At 6:15 we headed to the location of the presentation. Two of the group were setting up the equipment. Eventually found out that the program was for 7:00 p.m. So, I helped set up stuff and, generally, hung around in wet trousers. I had really hoped that hanging around in wet pants wouldn’t start for another twenty years or more. All depends on the situation, right?
At around 7:30, the music started. At 9:00 p.m. we were served a plate of fried plantains, some salsa type toping and a soft drink. By 9:30 I was able to graciously leave and head home.
One neat thing happened during the evening. The house we were at was on the upper edge of a wide valley. It began to rain on the far side of the valley and as the rain moved across, the roar of the rain on the tin roofs grew louder and louder. At first I thought it was a truck climbing the far side of the valley but as the sound grew in volume it became apparent that it was the rain. Since our group had their amplifiers, the rain was not a hindrance to the festivities.
We have one group of bees that have built their combs on the outside of a trap hive. Last Friday, Santiago dressed in the equipment and climbed up to put some holes in the hive near the bees to encourage them to make the step to the inside. He got stung a couple of times but is ready to try again tomorrow. He will try and make the hole a bit bigger. The first attempt used too small a bit. It seems so strange to have these bees in the rain but ... they seem content.
My truck was to be ready this week. We are still keeping our fingers crossed for Saturday. I am worried about the cost of fuel the first week or so as my list of things to do in various places is growing daily. I have a zillion seedlings to move and that will mean several trips right there. Then to find some fruit trees, coffee seedlings and so forth. I hope they will all get planted successfully by the end of August.
We are now at 96 students in Grade 7 alone. We listen to the stories of the students from the rural communities and are so pleased with what we are doing. Only about 10-20% of Grade 6 students continue on to Grade 7. The “official” numbers are better but the anecdotal numbers from people counting themselves are grim indeed.
I will also post a reflection on Namaan later. We are so ready to evaluate others by their outward presentation. I keep hoping that it will be easier to look past that as I gain more experience (meaning ... get older). Hmm. Wonder when that will happen?
TTYL
bb
Monday, July 19, 2010
Waiting for the Ministry – Again ... Still
Warm, humid days with plenty of thunderstorms continue to make things green and, at times, change schedules. Generally, because the rains last less than an hour, everyone stops where they are and waits for a stoppage before venturing on. Consequently, meetings and appointments go on hold when a thunderstorm hits. Of course, this sometimes goes awry as there are, occasionally, rains that last for several hours. I still haven’t acquired the ability to tell the difference so, as a result, have, several times, gotten a good soaking for nothing. I may have to take the bold step of buying an umbrella – another thing to lose and, unfortunately, not really all that useful in a major downpour, especially if the rain is slanting at all.
Last Thursday or Friday was scheduled to meet with the Vice Minister of Education here in Santa Cruz. By Thursday afternoon it was obvious that that was not to be the case. A late afternoon phone call assured us that: a. The meeting was not on Friday. b. The meeting would be the following Thursday. Well, today, we got another phone call. The Minister has taken a trip outside of the country and, consequently, the meeting is postponed again. Understandably, having the Vice Minister of Education 200 kilometres away from her desk at such a time could be disastrous for the Ministry should a national emergency (a shortage of pencils, a case of discoloured uniforms or ... the prospects are simply too horrifying) arrive. Sigh.
The good news for us is that we are able to organize more and more of the materials we have and some of the new things we are gaining. In the last week we have found two digitalized “libraries” of sorts. We are now going through them and finding what books are there, what level they are and how we might use them in our program. It is very exciting to have at least some books to begin with. Hopefully, by week’s end, we will have a list from the first “library” and can then get on with loading them for our students to read. It will be such a huge step for them to be able to read stories for, in reality, the first time in their lives.
World Cup soccer is over for another four years and, as the Honduran soccer league has not begun it second half of the season, thousands of Honduran soccer fans are bereft of their fixes. Soccer Fans Anonymous is setting up free drop-in centres to help us out. Even worse news, the team I cheer for, Reál España, is changing their stadium to a city a further twenty kilometres away. My hopes for the odd game are, I fear, gone up in the smoke of political firestorms. As their line-up has had no substantial changes from the first half of the season, this may not be as devastating a blow as first glance would suggest.
On Saturday, I was invited, along with the music group, to a birthday party for a pair of twins turning eight. Obviously I missed a considerable amount in the translation as only two of us from the group showed up. The party was, I was told, to start at 1:00 p.m. That was going to allow me to play in a soccer game at 3:00 p.m. and a rehearsal at 6:00 p.m. Well, you can stop laughing because you already know what happened. I left the party early at 4:00, went home and then was stranded by two hours of rain. The upside was a chance to meet a couple who had studied English and French a bit so were aware of a few words in English, and, more importantly, aware of how to translate my Spanish into Spanish. We had a lovely visit.
The satellite centres (where we have one or more computers in a village) are doing well and we are getting more students all the time. They are progressing fairly well and we will see how they do on exams. One centre came in today with marks and they are reasonable. I suspect that we will find the marks a little lower but, possibly, more realistic of what we can expect. When students study here, they have access to help and that skews their results.
On Friday, I went in to San Pedro Sula to look at a truck that is being prepared for me. It is exciting to think of having wheels to haul seedlings, sand, people, computers, etc. It will save a great deal of time. It remains to be seen what it will do to the budget though. I may be using the public transport for many things because of cost savings. What having a vehicle will do for the most part is allow me to work on things in the late afternoon without fear of missing the last bus home. That means that I can work in the office until two or three and then accomplish something else for a few hours. Working at four in the afternoon is so much cooler than at twelve noon.
As with many countries, Honduras participates in the Insurance Write-off market. When a car is in an accident in Canada or the U.S., it is, often, written off because of the high cost of repair in comparison to the value of the car. These cars are put up for auction on the internet. Over 1000 vehicles per day (according to my source) are sold this way. They are then shipped to the country of purchase, repaired and sold there.
The vehicle I am looking at is such a vehicle. It was in a minor accident in Florida and the box and tailgate were damaged. It runs well and the rest of the vehicle is in reasonable shape. By week’s end, the dents will be repaired, the body repainted, the interior cleaned, etc. I should, I hope, by next week be able to drive it out and about. The price is much cheaper than any other vehicle I can get so that is also a bonus.
As is so often the case, finding the people to accomplish this takes time, fortune and relationships. This was easy. The step-brother of a girl I taught in San Pedro Sula who, incidentally, runs a layer operation, (the step-brother that is) has a brother-in-law who imports cars as an aside to selling car stereos, fancy add ons and so forth. The brother-in-law’s wife speaks English and, as long as it concerns makes and models of cars and trucks, so does he. How much easier does it need to be? Only took a couple of years of relationships to find that out.
Time to run.
TTYL
bb
Last Thursday or Friday was scheduled to meet with the Vice Minister of Education here in Santa Cruz. By Thursday afternoon it was obvious that that was not to be the case. A late afternoon phone call assured us that: a. The meeting was not on Friday. b. The meeting would be the following Thursday. Well, today, we got another phone call. The Minister has taken a trip outside of the country and, consequently, the meeting is postponed again. Understandably, having the Vice Minister of Education 200 kilometres away from her desk at such a time could be disastrous for the Ministry should a national emergency (a shortage of pencils, a case of discoloured uniforms or ... the prospects are simply too horrifying) arrive. Sigh.
The good news for us is that we are able to organize more and more of the materials we have and some of the new things we are gaining. In the last week we have found two digitalized “libraries” of sorts. We are now going through them and finding what books are there, what level they are and how we might use them in our program. It is very exciting to have at least some books to begin with. Hopefully, by week’s end, we will have a list from the first “library” and can then get on with loading them for our students to read. It will be such a huge step for them to be able to read stories for, in reality, the first time in their lives.
World Cup soccer is over for another four years and, as the Honduran soccer league has not begun it second half of the season, thousands of Honduran soccer fans are bereft of their fixes. Soccer Fans Anonymous is setting up free drop-in centres to help us out. Even worse news, the team I cheer for, Reál España, is changing their stadium to a city a further twenty kilometres away. My hopes for the odd game are, I fear, gone up in the smoke of political firestorms. As their line-up has had no substantial changes from the first half of the season, this may not be as devastating a blow as first glance would suggest.
On Saturday, I was invited, along with the music group, to a birthday party for a pair of twins turning eight. Obviously I missed a considerable amount in the translation as only two of us from the group showed up. The party was, I was told, to start at 1:00 p.m. That was going to allow me to play in a soccer game at 3:00 p.m. and a rehearsal at 6:00 p.m. Well, you can stop laughing because you already know what happened. I left the party early at 4:00, went home and then was stranded by two hours of rain. The upside was a chance to meet a couple who had studied English and French a bit so were aware of a few words in English, and, more importantly, aware of how to translate my Spanish into Spanish. We had a lovely visit.
The satellite centres (where we have one or more computers in a village) are doing well and we are getting more students all the time. They are progressing fairly well and we will see how they do on exams. One centre came in today with marks and they are reasonable. I suspect that we will find the marks a little lower but, possibly, more realistic of what we can expect. When students study here, they have access to help and that skews their results.
On Friday, I went in to San Pedro Sula to look at a truck that is being prepared for me. It is exciting to think of having wheels to haul seedlings, sand, people, computers, etc. It will save a great deal of time. It remains to be seen what it will do to the budget though. I may be using the public transport for many things because of cost savings. What having a vehicle will do for the most part is allow me to work on things in the late afternoon without fear of missing the last bus home. That means that I can work in the office until two or three and then accomplish something else for a few hours. Working at four in the afternoon is so much cooler than at twelve noon.
As with many countries, Honduras participates in the Insurance Write-off market. When a car is in an accident in Canada or the U.S., it is, often, written off because of the high cost of repair in comparison to the value of the car. These cars are put up for auction on the internet. Over 1000 vehicles per day (according to my source) are sold this way. They are then shipped to the country of purchase, repaired and sold there.
The vehicle I am looking at is such a vehicle. It was in a minor accident in Florida and the box and tailgate were damaged. It runs well and the rest of the vehicle is in reasonable shape. By week’s end, the dents will be repaired, the body repainted, the interior cleaned, etc. I should, I hope, by next week be able to drive it out and about. The price is much cheaper than any other vehicle I can get so that is also a bonus.
As is so often the case, finding the people to accomplish this takes time, fortune and relationships. This was easy. The step-brother of a girl I taught in San Pedro Sula who, incidentally, runs a layer operation, (the step-brother that is) has a brother-in-law who imports cars as an aside to selling car stereos, fancy add ons and so forth. The brother-in-law’s wife speaks English and, as long as it concerns makes and models of cars and trucks, so does he. How much easier does it need to be? Only took a couple of years of relationships to find that out.
Time to run.
TTYL
bb
Back in Honduras – July 12
A short two and a half weeks has flown by. My daughter graduated from High School so a trip to Canada was in order. There were many other things that needed to be done as well so the trip was filled with activity. Alberta being what it is, huge in comparison to Honduras, a great deal of time was spent travelling from place to place.
This morning the power is off so, fortunately, my laptop has enough battery power to work for a little while. I just showed two of the workers pictures from the graduation so that seemed to use a fair bit of the battery.
Trees and plants have grown considerably in the two weeks I was away. One group of bees is still hanging around and building on the outside of the hive. So strange to have them clustered about in the elements when twenty centimetres away is the entrance to a dry and safer location. Obviously the queen said she wasn’t moving. I see that a number of cuttings have been planted and are sprouting. That is always so exciting to see.
My trip to Honduras was made eventful by my stupidity. Going through the security check in Edmonton, I sent the basket with belt, watch, pens, vest, coins, shoes and the kitchen sink through the scanner. As it disappeared, I realized that my wallet was still in my pocket (I am sure you picked that up while reading the last sentence.). Dutifully, I shoved it into a front pocket of my carry on and zipped it up. On the other side, distracted by someone who was having trouble going through the body scanner, I emptied the basket and went on my way, forgetting to rescue my wallet. Well, by the time I reached Minneapolis, I had forgotten about where I had put the silly thing and, upon reaching for a business card, began to panic. I was sure that I had left it in the basket. So, a frustrating hour finding the phone number for Edmonton lost and found, buying a phone card, phoning home to put holds on credit and bank cards. Fortunately, I have a classy Tilley vest (by the makers of the incredible Tilley hat line – if you are over 50 you know just how incredible it is) where I carry all my different currencies, passport and other valuables. Only my Canadian money was in my wallet. To make a long story short, the next morning, in a last, vain attempt to double check, I went through my carry on and, of course, found the missing wallet.
Atlanta airport has a wonderful feature. They have a curbside check-in service. So, instead of finding a cart (they charge $4.00 there) or wrestling with luggage through the terminal (the busiest in the world), you can check in at the curb, get your boarding pass and then waltz through the terminal (good thing for me as they changed my gate from Terminal E to A and back to E) with only your carry on.
On the plane to San Pedro Sula were several groups of people coming to do projects or mission work in Honduras. Their group T-shirts made them very obvious. One group had the logo, “Harvest Honduras” on their shirts. Several thoughts crossed my mind. Who did the planting, the weeding, the watering? Who benefits from the harvest? In a nation with churches on virtually every other block, who is the harvest for?
Coming through customs in Honduras was lovely. The Bronze medal game of the World Cup was due to start in ninety minutes and all the officials and workers were feeling the pressure to get things cleared before kick off. As well, having a number of groups tends to focus attention on their luggage and behaviour so my usual strange collection (this time two small incubators and a vacuum food sealer) was waved through with only a casual glance.
I took a taxi to the terminal and then a bus home. I missed the game but was happy to get home in the early afternoon. It is good to be back in Honduras again. We will see, as the morning progresses, what all has to be done. We are having official visitors later in the week so I imagine there will be a bit of stress in the next couple of days.
TTYL
bb
This morning the power is off so, fortunately, my laptop has enough battery power to work for a little while. I just showed two of the workers pictures from the graduation so that seemed to use a fair bit of the battery.
Trees and plants have grown considerably in the two weeks I was away. One group of bees is still hanging around and building on the outside of the hive. So strange to have them clustered about in the elements when twenty centimetres away is the entrance to a dry and safer location. Obviously the queen said she wasn’t moving. I see that a number of cuttings have been planted and are sprouting. That is always so exciting to see.
My trip to Honduras was made eventful by my stupidity. Going through the security check in Edmonton, I sent the basket with belt, watch, pens, vest, coins, shoes and the kitchen sink through the scanner. As it disappeared, I realized that my wallet was still in my pocket (I am sure you picked that up while reading the last sentence.). Dutifully, I shoved it into a front pocket of my carry on and zipped it up. On the other side, distracted by someone who was having trouble going through the body scanner, I emptied the basket and went on my way, forgetting to rescue my wallet. Well, by the time I reached Minneapolis, I had forgotten about where I had put the silly thing and, upon reaching for a business card, began to panic. I was sure that I had left it in the basket. So, a frustrating hour finding the phone number for Edmonton lost and found, buying a phone card, phoning home to put holds on credit and bank cards. Fortunately, I have a classy Tilley vest (by the makers of the incredible Tilley hat line – if you are over 50 you know just how incredible it is) where I carry all my different currencies, passport and other valuables. Only my Canadian money was in my wallet. To make a long story short, the next morning, in a last, vain attempt to double check, I went through my carry on and, of course, found the missing wallet.
Atlanta airport has a wonderful feature. They have a curbside check-in service. So, instead of finding a cart (they charge $4.00 there) or wrestling with luggage through the terminal (the busiest in the world), you can check in at the curb, get your boarding pass and then waltz through the terminal (good thing for me as they changed my gate from Terminal E to A and back to E) with only your carry on.
On the plane to San Pedro Sula were several groups of people coming to do projects or mission work in Honduras. Their group T-shirts made them very obvious. One group had the logo, “Harvest Honduras” on their shirts. Several thoughts crossed my mind. Who did the planting, the weeding, the watering? Who benefits from the harvest? In a nation with churches on virtually every other block, who is the harvest for?
Coming through customs in Honduras was lovely. The Bronze medal game of the World Cup was due to start in ninety minutes and all the officials and workers were feeling the pressure to get things cleared before kick off. As well, having a number of groups tends to focus attention on their luggage and behaviour so my usual strange collection (this time two small incubators and a vacuum food sealer) was waved through with only a casual glance.
I took a taxi to the terminal and then a bus home. I missed the game but was happy to get home in the early afternoon. It is good to be back in Honduras again. We will see, as the morning progresses, what all has to be done. We are having official visitors later in the week so I imagine there will be a bit of stress in the next couple of days.
TTYL
bb
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