Dec 8

Written by: reh
12/8/2007

Saturday, December 08, 2007

Nothing to do till 3:00 this afternoon. A few observations/thoughts during the past week that I have not had time to record.

Item #1 Anyone who ever lived on a dirt road know that, when a vehicle crosses a bridge the vehicle tire drops from the hard bridge surface to the less rigid dirt surface and a pothole develops. The size of the pothole depends primarily on the amount of maintenance the road receives. In Honduras, many roads receive no maintenance; potholes can quickly make the road impassable. Usually a couple of children, sometimes an older man, will station themselves at the bridge exit with a shovel and throw dirt into the pothole. As vehicles pass, some will give the kids one or two lamps (5 to 10 cents). Es una costumbre (it’s a custom). The kids are usually 6, 7, 8, or 9 years old and the shovel is far too big for them to use efficiently but in a day’s time they can stay ahead of pothole development. Some even learn to put larger rocks in the bottom and cover them with dirt, thereby forming a firmer base and reducing the day’s work. These are country kids, most of whom probably inherited the job from an older brother or nephew and they clearly enjoy the excitement of what must seem like an endless succession of different vehicles. As you slow down they rush over and ask for an outlandish toll, as high as 10 or 20 Lps. (50 cents to a dollar). They laugh with the driver and always thank the driver for any amount. The other (younger) kid who is not negotiating, puts his hand in front of the air conditioning vent and really gets a kick from the blast of cold air. The other day I finally thought to ask Fernando to take a few pictures and I will try to add them to this trip log when I get back. When I was a kid, we would roll hay bales into a line, the men would drive a flatbed by very slowly and would throw the bails on the truck. At the end of the day, the farmer would give us kids a couple bucks and we really thought we had done something. I think I see this same look of useful accomplishment in these kids but I can assure you the couple bucks they make during the day is very significant to their family.

Item #2 I just walked downtown to buy a handful of Guatemala coins. Things have changed. The first time I went down town was 4 years ago with Christopher, the fellow who helped me find Anabel. I have gone downtown many times since. The streets are narrow, full of cars, both parked and moving. The outdoor market where vendors have a tarp held up by polls goes on for blocks. Street vendors are located haphazardly all along the sidewalks leading to the market. It is dirty, it is dark; one travels with a heightened sense of awareness, knowing how to backtrack, where the last cop or armed guard was seen. Every store, every restaurant, every business larger than a taco stand has an armed guard at the door; sawed off shotgun with a pistol grip is the weapon of choice. You can buy anything from live chickens to grenade launchers; from horseshoes to stolen house generators. I don’t mean to make it sound too desperate, after all this is where everyone goes shopping on Friday and Saturday. Everyone takes just folding money in their front pocket, no jewelry, no purse. It’s just the way it is; its downtown Teguci. There is a large square with a large Catholic Church just to the right of this huge thief’s market where I walk to on many Saturday mornings. If things don’t feel right walking down I simply take a cab back. Like Jorge says, it’s just a question of knowing the setting. There has always been talk of closing the thief’s market down.

As I said, I just walked downtown. The sidewalk vendors are gone; the guy who sells coins and other stuff off the top of a wooden box is gone. Downtown, the thief’s market is gone. The streets are blocked off to traffic, are cleared of all obstructions, blind spots, overhangs. I had no idea how wide these streets actually are! New shops, bakeries, eateries, department stores and businesses occupy the ground floor of all the buildings. Except at banks, armed guards are inside and to the side of stores, and only have side arms; a clear effort to make them less conspicuous. There in a pair of very visible city police at every intersection. Business is clearly flourishing. Streets leading to this area are blocking car access, clearing out street vendors and joining this newly created downtown. There is another Catholic Church several blocks away that only a person more bold or more foolhardy than me, would walk to. Now it is a pleasant stroll.

I know the new is good but there is a part of me that laments the loss of the character, the allure, and (I suppose) even the charm of the old more unsettled environment of downtown. I should have taken more pictures.

Item #3 I think it is human nature to want to place blame when something is not quite right. It is government, big business, “the man”; someone. Usually it is simply a confluence of events, a comedy of errors. Sometimes, to see things as they are is an end in itself. I guess that’s the point of this discussion.

I have said, many times, that the only things cheaper in Central America are food and labor. It’s the labor thing that has caught my attention.

The red tile roofs that are a part of the classic Central America scene require a lot of labor; the clay is quarried, refined and mixed to a particular consistency, pressed into form, laid out to dry, fired, loaded and transported. They are seldom used anymore. The same epoxy based corrugated roofing sheets you buy from Home Depot are now used. They are a fraction of the weight, don’t break so easily in transport, last longer, are lower maintenance, and are not made in Central America. All of the harnesses, cinches, and ropes found in a farming community where horses and oxen are still used were made of home-grown and processed jute or hemp or other natural fibers. All rope and heavy fabric things, even home woven hammocks, are now made from the same synthetic fibers we see around boat docks. The synthetics last longer, keep their color better, don’t fray under chafing so easily and are not made in Central America. The pot-belly, narrow neck water jugs that ladies use to carry water (see the Power Point about making a lunch) used to be made locally. The clay pots weighed as much as the water they carried and break easily. The plastic pots weigh a minute fraction of the water they carry and last forever. The plastic water pots are not made in Central America. Even red earthen-wear flower pots are no more, they are now the same plastic ones we use. As recently as 4 years ago most woodworking shops had several highly skilled carvers; now one man with a router bought from Sears does the work. One of the last true bastions of manual labor has always been the teams of machete men that cut grass along the main roads. Kind of a last chance for a laborer; something like the post-depression “make work” federal CCC program. On my last trip I noticed the first industrial sized handheld weed whacker in use. One weed whacker can easily do the work of ten men. Three years ago I reported that 50% of the people in Central America were 15 or younger. I just saw a UNICEF poster that says 50% of the people in Honduras are less than 18 years old. The need for manual labor is plummeting just as here to for unseen masses of young uneducated men hit the work force.

Item #4 People walking along country roads is very common. Walking is, of course, the primary mode of movement in the country. The loads people walk with vary from nothing to more than we would consider carrying. One little girl, she looked 6 but may have been nine, was pushing a bike. Under the cross-bar from the seat to the steering axel casing, was slung, by rope, a truck battery. Apparently, the truck battery went dead and the little girl was transporting the battery to get it charged; then would, presumably, push it back home the same way. Back to my story: Anyone in a vehicle will commonly pick up a person walking in the same direction. es una costumber. If a person is just going to the next house they will thank you very much and wave you on. Men and boys without loads will not even mention their stop buy simply step off the back (you aren’t going that fast anyway) and call out their thanks. Some, usually older ladies, who get in the back seat feel compelled to talk constantly (I think they think carrying the conversation is the polite thing for them to do, possibly they simply don’t have many people to talk to) others ride quietly but all are appreciative of the your thoughtfulness. Incidentally, nobody ever attempts to flag you down; they expect no help and they appreciate the help they get.

Fernando and I were coming along a dirt road from Pina Blanca School toward Goascoran. Sitting along the side of the road in the shade of an overhanging tree were two boys, possibly 9 years old. Next to each was a tightly bound load of fire wood. The boys were each obviously carrying a bundle someplace. The sticks in the bundle are up to 1½ inch in diameter, possibly 3 feet long. The sticks are of very irregular shapes and crooked. The bundles are tightly tied with rope. The father must have tied them for the boys because kids simply couldn’t synch them that tight. We stopped. Were those boys glad to see us! We got out to help throw the bundles in the truck. I was absolutely amazed at how heavy the bundle was! Those kids must half drag and half carry the load. It would take all day to get to Goascoran with these bundles by foot. They were going to get in the bed but the road was pretty good and I wanted to move along so told them to get in the back seat. Fernando asked them the things you would ask a 9 year old kid; where they live, where they go to school, where they were going with the wood. They are carrying the wood to Goascoran and will sell each bundle for 30Lps ($1.50). There is nobody that any of us know at any age that would put out that much energy for $1.50 per bundle. I once asked an older man from Montana how the great depression affected his family. He said “What depression, we didn’t have any money before the depression and we didn’t have any during, there was no difference to us.” If you were to ask these boys in 20 years, I think they would say they never thought of themselves as poor, they were just like everyone else they knew.

3:00PM Got to the church by taxi. Pastor Victor, (the x-Methodist Pastor from Costa Rica) is the pastor of this church and really has made improvements since Pr. Randy and I were there last. Somebody came up with an electric piano and amplifier. Three guys and two girls, all teenagers, are the choir or band, not sure which. Oddly, the hymnals have all of the songs in poem form with no music. I guess everyone just knows the melody. Everyone sings full throttle; Pr. Randy, they could give your congregation some lessons in song volume. Lots of energy, very inspirational.

After service, I made the mistake of saying I might be back next Saturday. They immediately told me I must do the service. I said no way! I’m a participant and that’s as far as it goes. Pr. Schemechel asked that I talk about L4L for 10 minutes. It was obvious that I wasn’t getting off scot free so I said 5 minutes about L4L. Pr. Schemechel said 7 minutes, I held to 5. Next Saturday I will talk for 5 minutes about L4L to the Teguci. Lutheran Church. Am not sure what my approach should be as this congregation is marginally better off than the families of the kids we feed.
End of day.

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