Monday, December 20, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
love/hate relationship
On the outside, poverty is such a romantic, beautiful thing. It makes for the best pictures and playing with the kids can bring you a joy that is only experienced with their true, innocent laughter. Life in poverty is simple. There are far fewer choices and an overall sense of peace that comes with not having. This is what I wanted, the simple life. I had romanticized poverty and the pure joy of living in it, mainly, I believe, due to my one semester I lived in Costa Rica. Four months was enough time to fall in love with the third world without having to deal with the harsh realties of it.
The honeymoon is over and poverty isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Yes, I am here to serve and live with the poor, but the things that I love about it are currently being overshadowed by the people and the life I live here. Coming back from my visit to the U.S. has been far more challenging than I first thought it was going to be. I have realized how utterly miserable life can be here sometimes and how bored and sad it makes me.
How many men do I have to see peeing on the side of the road/street/side of my house before it starts to irk me? Seriously, I passed a bus going down from my community a couple of weeks ago. There were about 12 men that had gotten off the bus and they were all peeing in unison. Where in the world am I?
How many times can you watch people throw their trash out the bus window before you want to scream? Honestly, I can’t say much though.... even though I save my trash to throw away at home, I have to burn my trash. That’s right, burn it. All of it. What's better? The side of the road or burnt to ashes?
I am constantly harassed or stared at by Honduran men here. It’s pretty disgusting and makes me hate being here. Unless you see it and experience it on your own, I can’t describe to you what it feels like to be not only a woman in this country, but also a redheaded, blue-eyed gringa. Sometimes I am scared. Is that what I came here for?
The things that used to seem so beautiful are annoying. The simplicity is driving me nuts because of the ignorance and absolute lack of education that comes with the simple life. I can’t talk to anyone here that doesn’t think silly things like the sky is falling or that giving my dog actual dog food will make him want to kill the chickens because it gives him the desires to eat real meat because of the flavor of the dog food.... Or also, that I can’t shower after exercising or some equivalent myth.
PC has these goals for grassroots development, but I don’t know how to even begin to carry those out sometimes. Especially, when the place where I am makes me so sad, lonely, and angry. How do you try and teach some teachers English when their overall level of education is so low? There are so many holes in the system, especially in the gobierno here, it makes it nearly impossible to achieve any tangible results of development.
It’s a love/hate relationship. I love the beauty of this country, but sometimes I hate it so badly, I could scream.
The honeymoon is over and poverty isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Yes, I am here to serve and live with the poor, but the things that I love about it are currently being overshadowed by the people and the life I live here. Coming back from my visit to the U.S. has been far more challenging than I first thought it was going to be. I have realized how utterly miserable life can be here sometimes and how bored and sad it makes me.
How many men do I have to see peeing on the side of the road/street/side of my house before it starts to irk me? Seriously, I passed a bus going down from my community a couple of weeks ago. There were about 12 men that had gotten off the bus and they were all peeing in unison. Where in the world am I?
How many times can you watch people throw their trash out the bus window before you want to scream? Honestly, I can’t say much though.... even though I save my trash to throw away at home, I have to burn my trash. That’s right, burn it. All of it. What's better? The side of the road or burnt to ashes?
I am constantly harassed or stared at by Honduran men here. It’s pretty disgusting and makes me hate being here. Unless you see it and experience it on your own, I can’t describe to you what it feels like to be not only a woman in this country, but also a redheaded, blue-eyed gringa. Sometimes I am scared. Is that what I came here for?
The things that used to seem so beautiful are annoying. The simplicity is driving me nuts because of the ignorance and absolute lack of education that comes with the simple life. I can’t talk to anyone here that doesn’t think silly things like the sky is falling or that giving my dog actual dog food will make him want to kill the chickens because it gives him the desires to eat real meat because of the flavor of the dog food.... Or also, that I can’t shower after exercising or some equivalent myth.
PC has these goals for grassroots development, but I don’t know how to even begin to carry those out sometimes. Especially, when the place where I am makes me so sad, lonely, and angry. How do you try and teach some teachers English when their overall level of education is so low? There are so many holes in the system, especially in the gobierno here, it makes it nearly impossible to achieve any tangible results of development.
It’s a love/hate relationship. I love the beauty of this country, but sometimes I hate it so badly, I could scream.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
I spent the weekend in Copan to celebrate my birthday and enjoy a relaxing weekend in the beautiful West of Honduras.
Enjoy some pictures!!
Enjoy some pictures!!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Cafelandia
I have never really put that much thought into that black cup of hot goodness that I drink most every day. Yes, I’ve seen the coffee plants before (first in Costa Rica) and I knew that coffee picking season was November to February, but living here in Cafelandia (coffee land) has caused me to think very seriously about this drink that people all over the world partake on a daily basis, and I imagine, mostly without giving thought to it.
Yesterday on my bus ride home from Marcala, I saw things that made me really cherish that cup of coffee I drank this morning. I’m assuming that most of you don’t really understand how coffee grows, what it looks like, nor the process that it goes through to make it to your coffee grinder. Let me explain it to you so that you can better grasp the process and the way of life in Cafelandia.
Coffee grows on a large bush with beautiful, green leaves. The beans grow along the branches of the plant turning from green to red when they become ripe. Coffee is grown in the shade, because if it is not, the plants will only last about 5 years. So in between the rows of coffee bushes, there are other types of trees, usually banana trees here, that produce a taller shade for the precious coffee plants. When the beans start to turn red, the first cosecha (harvest) of the beans is made. Usually there are about 3 cosechas of coffee during the 4 month period. There are no machines to pick coffee beans, only bare, human hands. So during this time of year, the coffee farm owners go into all the poor pueblos of the mountains to collect men, women, and children of all sizes and ages to go work in the fields for the day. They load up in the backs of the trucks and everyone brings their own machete and usually a little backpack with food and water for lunch. During this time of year, literally whole families spend every day in the fields picking coffee all day long for an average of $5 a day and that’s if they fill a whole large sack-full of beans.
shade-grown.
I had a conversation with this whole thing with a friend and it’s so hard because these children have to work. Their families need them to work to help feed everyone, but at the same time it’s so unfair that this is their lives and that the lack of development causes these little kids to have to work in the fields every day and because of that, they will probably never escape the same cycle of poverty because they won’t be able to finish school, because they have to do manual labor in order to help feed their family.
My heart broke as I saw countless children of 5, 6, and 7 years old carrying machetes and walking barefoot out of the cold mountain fields on my 5:00 bus ride home, the day just ending for them. Then all the sacks of coffee are loaded onto oxen-driven carts to bring all the coffee out to the main roads where it is loaded into pick-ups or other larger trucks. The trucks then take the coffee to various places to sell it to other people who then will do the other parts of the coffee-making process. At these places, the coffee is taken out of the large 50 pound sacks and is spread out across a bed of concrete to dry. I’m not exactly sure how long this takes or really what the exact science to it is, but that’s how it works. These same trucks then return the people back to their villages to get a good night’s rest in order to do it all again tomorrow.
coffee up close while it's drying out.
I’m also not quite sure about the next step either, but the bean is then removed from the dried outer shell somehow. Then all the beans are roasted and toasted. My host family does theirs by hand over their fogon (wood-burning stove), but most of the larger coffee cooperativos does their roasting on a larger scale. Then the coffee is ground if that’s how you like it, or just packaged into bags in whole beans (how I buy it).
This is where the coffee is dried.
and then roasted.
I know it’s hard for you to think about these things when you buy your $4 or more coffee from Starbucks in the mornings, but I encourage you to think about where that comes from and all the countless little hands that labored to bring you that wonderful sabor (taste). Growing, picking, roasting, and packing café is a way of life here that allows these people to survive from one day to the next, and it is very hard labor that I don’t think I could bring myself to do. When you buy coffee, find some that is not from a large cooperation that probably pays their children even less than the farm-owners here. Find some that is locally grown or that is fairly traded. Make smart choices when buying your things. I am living with and among the people that are affected by your everyday choices as simple as the cup of coffee you drink. Yes, it might cost you an extra dollar, but I promise it’s worth it.
Yesterday on my bus ride home from Marcala, I saw things that made me really cherish that cup of coffee I drank this morning. I’m assuming that most of you don’t really understand how coffee grows, what it looks like, nor the process that it goes through to make it to your coffee grinder. Let me explain it to you so that you can better grasp the process and the way of life in Cafelandia.
Coffee grows on a large bush with beautiful, green leaves. The beans grow along the branches of the plant turning from green to red when they become ripe. Coffee is grown in the shade, because if it is not, the plants will only last about 5 years. So in between the rows of coffee bushes, there are other types of trees, usually banana trees here, that produce a taller shade for the precious coffee plants. When the beans start to turn red, the first cosecha (harvest) of the beans is made. Usually there are about 3 cosechas of coffee during the 4 month period. There are no machines to pick coffee beans, only bare, human hands. So during this time of year, the coffee farm owners go into all the poor pueblos of the mountains to collect men, women, and children of all sizes and ages to go work in the fields for the day. They load up in the backs of the trucks and everyone brings their own machete and usually a little backpack with food and water for lunch. During this time of year, literally whole families spend every day in the fields picking coffee all day long for an average of $5 a day and that’s if they fill a whole large sack-full of beans.
shade-grown.
I had a conversation with this whole thing with a friend and it’s so hard because these children have to work. Their families need them to work to help feed everyone, but at the same time it’s so unfair that this is their lives and that the lack of development causes these little kids to have to work in the fields every day and because of that, they will probably never escape the same cycle of poverty because they won’t be able to finish school, because they have to do manual labor in order to help feed their family.
My heart broke as I saw countless children of 5, 6, and 7 years old carrying machetes and walking barefoot out of the cold mountain fields on my 5:00 bus ride home, the day just ending for them. Then all the sacks of coffee are loaded onto oxen-driven carts to bring all the coffee out to the main roads where it is loaded into pick-ups or other larger trucks. The trucks then take the coffee to various places to sell it to other people who then will do the other parts of the coffee-making process. At these places, the coffee is taken out of the large 50 pound sacks and is spread out across a bed of concrete to dry. I’m not exactly sure how long this takes or really what the exact science to it is, but that’s how it works. These same trucks then return the people back to their villages to get a good night’s rest in order to do it all again tomorrow.
coffee up close while it's drying out.
I’m also not quite sure about the next step either, but the bean is then removed from the dried outer shell somehow. Then all the beans are roasted and toasted. My host family does theirs by hand over their fogon (wood-burning stove), but most of the larger coffee cooperativos does their roasting on a larger scale. Then the coffee is ground if that’s how you like it, or just packaged into bags in whole beans (how I buy it).
This is where the coffee is dried.
and then roasted.
I know it’s hard for you to think about these things when you buy your $4 or more coffee from Starbucks in the mornings, but I encourage you to think about where that comes from and all the countless little hands that labored to bring you that wonderful sabor (taste). Growing, picking, roasting, and packing café is a way of life here that allows these people to survive from one day to the next, and it is very hard labor that I don’t think I could bring myself to do. When you buy coffee, find some that is not from a large cooperation that probably pays their children even less than the farm-owners here. Find some that is locally grown or that is fairly traded. Make smart choices when buying your things. I am living with and among the people that are affected by your everyday choices as simple as the cup of coffee you drink. Yes, it might cost you an extra dollar, but I promise it’s worth it.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
back to the Depths, Honduras that is.
I know that it has been cold in the US the past couple of weeks, but you should be thankful for the little invention known as a heater. Over the past week, it has been in the 40’s here (quite freezing for a Central American country) and several days without electricity. Forty degrees without heat and non-insulated windows (some that have panes missing) is miserable. The past 3 days I have been camped out in my 20 degree Mountain Hardware sleeping bag, and I cannot tell you how thankful I am that I had that. I wish I had a picture to show you of what I have looked like the past few days: dressed from head to toe with my Underarmour winter gear, wool socks, a scarf around my head, a fleece, and a hoodie on top of that. Basically, I’ve felt like I was camping out in the mountains, only, this is my home and it’s been that cold inside. I debated bringing Rambo in the bed with me so that I could have a little body warmth, but he’s gotten huge and typically smells like the latest animal poop that he’s rolled around in, so I decided against that and resorted to turning on my hairdryer at intervals during the night to warm up. PC sent me a heater today though, so tonight I will finally sleep a little warmer.
Being home for Christmas was wonderful. I was extremely nervous about the whole thing, not knowing what to expect or how it would feel to be home, but I am glad I went home. The week started with the surprise of the century. My grandparents had no clue that I was coming home, so all the family gathered together for Christmas Eve breakfast and I walked in to surprise my grandparents. They were so shocked! Immediately, there were screams of joy and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house because we were all crying so hard. I’m so glad that I got to see you, Nannie and Papaw. I got to visit lots of friends and family, had parties, shared gifts, and enjoyed all my favorite foods I had been missing. I didn’t ever get to eat Chic-fil-a though. Such a travesty. I spent New Year’s in Nashville and got to spend time with friends from college, and as crazy as it sounds, it felt like I hadn’t been gone for a second. Home is a good feeling, a different warmth that I don’t have here in Honduras. I miss that.
The whole trip was great and I encountered little culture shock or awkward social circumstances, which is far better than I was expecting. A few times I had to take a step back so as to not freak out about all the stuff, but overall, I felt like I dealt with it pretty well. I guess that I had been gone away from the US for long enough to really appreciate all the things that I was missing, instead of being angry and bitter because of all the haves when I and all the people I live with and among have so very little in Honduras. It was a little weird to come back here though, to my little pueblo. I have realized how remote I am and how much I miss some of life’s modern conveniences. The weather situation hasn’t helped much either and I haven’t had much ganas de leave the house (to feel like). I hope that things will get better in the next few weeks though and school will start in February, so I won’t be so bored. Meanwhile, I am reading the new books I got and watching new DVDs and TV series to occupy my time.
I still haven’t washed any clothes. The water’s too cold. Oh well.
My birthday is in 11 days (in case you forgot, I like mail. See side bar for my address), and the plan is to go to Copán for the weekend. I’m very excited and this will be one of the first tourist-ish things I have done since I came to Honduras. Google Copán Ruins. :)
Happy New Year to everyone. I hope yours is as great as mine has begun. I’m looking forward to a great year.
Being home for Christmas was wonderful. I was extremely nervous about the whole thing, not knowing what to expect or how it would feel to be home, but I am glad I went home. The week started with the surprise of the century. My grandparents had no clue that I was coming home, so all the family gathered together for Christmas Eve breakfast and I walked in to surprise my grandparents. They were so shocked! Immediately, there were screams of joy and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house because we were all crying so hard. I’m so glad that I got to see you, Nannie and Papaw. I got to visit lots of friends and family, had parties, shared gifts, and enjoyed all my favorite foods I had been missing. I didn’t ever get to eat Chic-fil-a though. Such a travesty. I spent New Year’s in Nashville and got to spend time with friends from college, and as crazy as it sounds, it felt like I hadn’t been gone for a second. Home is a good feeling, a different warmth that I don’t have here in Honduras. I miss that.
The whole trip was great and I encountered little culture shock or awkward social circumstances, which is far better than I was expecting. A few times I had to take a step back so as to not freak out about all the stuff, but overall, I felt like I dealt with it pretty well. I guess that I had been gone away from the US for long enough to really appreciate all the things that I was missing, instead of being angry and bitter because of all the haves when I and all the people I live with and among have so very little in Honduras. It was a little weird to come back here though, to my little pueblo. I have realized how remote I am and how much I miss some of life’s modern conveniences. The weather situation hasn’t helped much either and I haven’t had much ganas de leave the house (to feel like). I hope that things will get better in the next few weeks though and school will start in February, so I won’t be so bored. Meanwhile, I am reading the new books I got and watching new DVDs and TV series to occupy my time.
I still haven’t washed any clothes. The water’s too cold. Oh well.
My birthday is in 11 days (in case you forgot, I like mail. See side bar for my address), and the plan is to go to Copán for the weekend. I’m very excited and this will be one of the first tourist-ish things I have done since I came to Honduras. Google Copán Ruins. :)
Happy New Year to everyone. I hope yours is as great as mine has begun. I’m looking forward to a great year.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Some normal things in my life:
-coffee, coffee, coffee
-salsa, bachata, Latin music
-piropos (catcalls: whistles, hisses, “I love you, baby”)
-pigs on a leash
-boiling water
-PC sleepovers with 15+ people in the floor
-random people selling random stuff
-$.79 beers
-slightly sunburned nose
-Como se mata el gusano the morning after
-baleadas
-long bus rides
-bolos (drunks)
-over religious, under spiritual Christians
-earplugs
-rooster crows
-dogs barking
-cheque
-the question, “you only have one sister?” in disbelief
-milk in a bag
-having a maid
-reading
-hair in a pony tail
-robberies
-beautiful sunsets/sunrises
-beans and tortillas
-dirt roads
-early bedtimes
-Spanglish
-have I mentioned coffee?
-Tigo text messages
-lack of saldo
-poor Spanish grammar (on the part of the Hondurans)
-good hugs from friends
-smelly shoes
-bugs
-cuts, bites, scrapes, blisters, pila wounds, scabs
-little surprises
-a sense of peace and calmness
-farmer’s tan
What else could I ask for? I know these things may not seem normal to you, but that's my life. Anything outside of the norm has become the norm and the norm that once was, is now only an unexpected sighting or event. It makes you appreciate life and all it's little quarks a little more though. I definitely do.
some pictures for you:
-salsa, bachata, Latin music
-piropos (catcalls: whistles, hisses, “I love you, baby”)
-pigs on a leash
-boiling water
-PC sleepovers with 15+ people in the floor
-random people selling random stuff
-$.79 beers
-slightly sunburned nose
-Como se mata el gusano the morning after
-baleadas
-long bus rides
-bolos (drunks)
-over religious, under spiritual Christians
-earplugs
-rooster crows
-dogs barking
-cheque
-the question, “you only have one sister?” in disbelief
-milk in a bag
-having a maid
-reading
-hair in a pony tail
-robberies
-beautiful sunsets/sunrises
-beans and tortillas
-dirt roads
-early bedtimes
-Spanglish
-have I mentioned coffee?
-Tigo text messages
-lack of saldo
-poor Spanish grammar (on the part of the Hondurans)
-good hugs from friends
-smelly shoes
-bugs
-cuts, bites, scrapes, blisters, pila wounds, scabs
-little surprises
-a sense of peace and calmness
-farmer’s tan
What else could I ask for? I know these things may not seem normal to you, but that's my life. Anything outside of the norm has become the norm and the norm that once was, is now only an unexpected sighting or event. It makes you appreciate life and all it's little quarks a little more though. I definitely do.
some pictures for you:
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