When I came back from Honduras, I was so psyched to stay in
the same place for more than 3 months at a time. Evidently, I can’t do
it.

Next Saturday, I’m heading to Guatemala. I’ll be there from October 13-22.

I’ll be making a promotional video for a donor to Mennonite Central Committee, on a food security program. I’ll get to see a couple
different sites around the country, some of which I’ve heard are really
beautiful. (I’ll take pictures, I promise.) I’ll be going with a friend
of mine from the college, so at least I won’t be traveling alone.

Maybe I’ll even see a Quetzal. (Doubtful)

I had my exit interview for the Service Inquiry Program (who gave me a scholarship for going to Honduras) today. It was interesting to try to process my experience a month and a half later. The whole experience is fading fast, it feels. I’m not sure I like that.
It’s already harder to articulate my views on neoliberal capitalism, on globalization, and things like that.
So did the experience change me? Probably, but hopefully more so in a subconscious way than in a conscious way, perhaps.

This is about 2 months later than it should be, but I’ve bene having some annoying camera/computer problems that kept me from posting.

Before I left for the DR, my brother convinced me to get a pair of Skechers that are basically leather sneakers. Great idea. I so enjoyed getting my shoes shined. Now that I’m back in the U.S., I am faced with the decision between paying $10 at an airport for a shoe shine or having dull, lifeless shoes.
In the DR, shoe shines were 15 pesos, about 50 cents. Cheap. But still quality. I walked up to a shoe shiner at “Nueve,” a big intersection on the north west side of Santo Domingo, and they would jump out of their seat, and I would sit down. I was impressed that they went over each shoe twice, ending with a snap shine that impressed the other people in my group.
But nothing prepared me for the Honduran shoe shine. I paid 20 lempiras, about a dollar. I felt slightly ripped off, until the shoe shiner got working. My shoe laces were out in seconds, and I had sock guards protecting my socks from the 13 different liquids being thrown at my shoes. I just sat there, reading a newspaper, and when I looked down, my shoes absolutely gleamed.
I really wish there were some 7 year old shoe shiners hanging around the park here…

Photos: Shoe before, Shoe after, and the shoe shining booths in San Pedro Sula

Last night and this morning the news on TV was filled with images of protestors, mostly getting beaten by the police. I asked my host dad to explain the background: “It’s the same problem as always, North American Capitalism. They come in and don’t pay their taxes. And the people are mad because we have to pay taxes, and they don’t. A mining company came in and their operations are making people sick.”
So these people took over the roads in Santa Rosa, and were met with police brutality. I saw some horrible images - people laying on the ground being beaten by police, a daughter being torn away from her mother.

Sure, it was probably provoked. But still, this isn’t healthy protesting, in my view. (I’m a sucker for Ghandi’s approach, personally).

This morning what really blew my mind on the news was their daily question. People can call a certain number to answer “yes” to the question and another to say “no.” The question today was “Are you in agreement with police brutality?” It was tied. Fifty percent said they agreed with police brutality. That boggles my mind.

I find it really interesting that working and living conditions here remain so low despite a long history of social organizing and unions. I feel honored right now to be working with a women’s organization that is working with health and education, in the long tradition of women’s organizations here, but still wonder why this tradition hasn’t made this into a better society than it is.

When I was with Justicia Global in the DR, they taught me a bit about social organizing, and how it often has been corrupted throughout Latin America through a variety of means. For instance, if the government or another larger organization starts funding a grassroots organization, it generally destroys it. Before, the workers were working for social change, but now they are working for a paycheck. When unions started here in Honduras, there was a lot of power struggle. The less radical ones (and the ones backed by North American corporations) were recognized, leaving the more radical ones to die.

Last weekend I got to take a trip with my host brother, Nelson, to Tegucigalpa, the capitol of Honduras. Definitely a fun experience. Left early Saturday morning on a new bus line that cost 50 Lempiras, about a third of the regular price. I’d heard stories about passing on curves and other stupid bus maneuvers, but now I can say I have experienced it myself. We also broke down for about 30 minutes.
Tegus is a city of 1.1 million, or so I heard, and like many Latin American cities, growing way too fast. Especially after Hurricane Mitch, it’s grown a lot. But most people still are loyal to their hometowns, and wouldn’t think of themselves as from Tegucigalpa. Maybe the next generation will. But there are restaurants advertising “Fish- Lake Yajoa Style” and “Food from the North”. And funeral homes advertise services in any part of the country. It’s interesting seeing how intra-country migration produces some of the same cultural dualism as migration to other countries.

I went to a youth retreat of the local Mennonite church, and had a blast. We played some soccer in the rain (and then threw people in the mud afterwards). It was in the mountains- cold and foggy. We also roasted marshmallows over a fire… inside.

Sunday we went to the Mennonite church in Tegus. After church, the youth (about 20 of us) went out to eat Papusas (a Salvadoran tortilla stuffed with cheese or fried pork skin). Then we went to Picacho, a park on top of one of the mountains surronding Tegus (although the city now extends all over these steep mountains as well). There’s a huge statue of Christ overlooking the city, as well as a United Nations Park, and a replica of a Mayan pyramid.

Then - and this is amazing - we went to a place that has 2 lempiras baleadas. Baleadas deserve a post of their own, but basically are flour tortillas with refried beans and sour cream, and occasionally with eggs, avocado, or whatever else. But 2 lempiras (10 cents US) is less than half of the usual cost. So that was an amazing supper.
Then Nelson and I made some rounds with Henry, a bus driver who we were staying with, as he made his rounds. We finally got to bed around 11.

By the way, if anyone has a couple thousand dollars to spare, I have a GREAT idea for a prank in Tegucigalpa. Email me.
For more photos from the trip, click here.

Church here in Honduras is loud. Well, it depends. There
seems to be a continuum between Catholic and Pentecostal. The closer to
Catholic, the quieter. The closer to Pentecostal, the louder you need
to have that mic.

I was in a service with about
20 people, in a small room, and yet the pastor was yelling into the
mic, with the sound system at full blast. At times, the mic cut out,
and everyone could hear just fine. I know someone who wears earplugs to
services because they are too loud.

But why? Here are some reasons that have crossed my mind:

• A pastor was asked why church was loud. He replied, “It says so in the Bible.”
• It’s
  used to alert people around that a church service is going on, who
  then, theoretically, they will come in.
• It’s
  used to drown out competing churches, or in the case of one retreat I
  was at, the bachata coming from a nearby bar
• It’s used to enhance the emotional experience, or help people feel “the Holy Spirit.”

It’s
probably a combination of them all, plus other reasons. But the idea
that it is used to enhance the emotional experience kind of scares me.
When does it cross the line into creating a false sacred experience?
When does making sure the music is at the right level cross the line
into manipulation? Recently a Ugandan pastor was caught with an
electric shocker the government claims he was using to convince people
he touched that they were having a sacred experience (Link). I’d say that crosses the line. I
know I felt manipulated when a pastor put his hand on my forward, with
his hand shaking forcefully. I’d say that it is good to create an
environment where one can meet God, but it goes too far to create the
meeting with God itself.