Particulates

“Did someone remember the bug spray?” Emily calls to us as we leave the volunteer house, ready for the beach. We were off to our favorite spot. One of the region’s many rivers meets the ocean about a ten minute walk from our house. We like to swim in the cool, clear waters of the river just before the fresh and salt waters mix. The river bottom is stony instead of sandy there; our feet maneuver the thousands of small brick, navy, and deep green-colored rocks as we wade across the current.

I look up and notice how different this spot looks compared to yesterday. The beach between the river and ocean had shifted and a new pool of water had formed apart from the sea. It happened so quickly, I think to myself. In reality though, the change had happened ever so gradually. The river current had been gently carrying the sand and sediment, precipitate and particulates as the ocean persistently lapped at the dunes. Even as we stood in it, it was changing all around us, forming new beach and erasing old resting places. I squat to dip my shoulders beneath the surface and feel the pull—the change, really—all around me. How often do we overlook this constant evolution? I decide the progression will not be lost on me.

Just over three weeks of charlas, exercise classes, meetings, and almacigo plantings have passed. We’ve been elated, exhausted, inspired, and frustrated many times over by now. Enough time has passed so that even I am no longer carne nuevo for the mosquitoes and averaging twenty new bug bites a day. But what has changed here? What have we changed? How have we, the volunteers, changed throughout these past few weeks?

After some thought, I realize we’re standing knee deep in the estuary now.

Currently, there are home gardening lessons led by a local and exceptionally enthusiastic agriculturist, women’s exercise classes and nutrition talks, a school gardening program, and a few other endeavors either underway or in the works. New connections between community leaders are being made and past relationships are deepening as more people realize they have similar dreams for El Porvenir. You could say that same thing is happening between us volunteers as we realize we have bigger dreams for our own capabilities. Among us, we have an aspiring motorcyclist, a soccer player, a runner, a singer, a linguist, and a farmer—just to name a few. I can’t help but believe that as El Porvenir is slowly becoming what it is meant to be, so are we.

In other words, this town is basically a college student. Full of knowledge and resources and desperately searching for ways to connect it all and put it into practice. A little scared it doesn’t have what it takes to step out on its own and shine, but ready to add to the good in the world. And most importantly, constantly changing.

I don’t think we’ll ever get to witness or fully comprehend the changes that take place because of our presence here. Nor do I think will we wholly understand the changes that have taken place within us because of our experiences here. Sure, we can measure it in terms of how many gardens planted and how many henna tattoos given, but we’d leave out the pride of a young mother transplanting a new pepino seedling and the sense of freedom gained from reaching fifth gear in the middle of a pineapple field. We’d miss all the little triumphs, all the little grains of silt and sand as they fall into place.

What will the river sculpt for us? Where will the beach be tomorrow? I guess we’ll find out the next time we pause amidst the flow.

-Jessica Schultz (Senior HNFE major)

Buenas, this is Jessie with another update! Living and working in El Porvenir, for me, is entirely exciting and fulfilling. Today, during a bit of downtime, I was reading a book called “Triumph and Hope” by Barbara Joe, a former Peace Corps volunteer in Honduras who worked on health education in two very underdeveloped parts of the country. After describing one of the many challenges she faced in her work, she was reminded of theologian Reinhold Niebuhr’s famous Serenity Prayer: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can change, and wisdom to know the difference”.

This quote strikes a particular chord with me, as our group is constantly trying to figure out what our role is here in El Porvenir. Colin, Jessica and I (Garden group…. Assemmmmmble!!) have spent copious amounts of time over the last few days –weeks? Years? How long have we been here again?- with Jose Carlo, a former agricultural extension agent who has made it his pet project to start household gardens with a number of families. When Nicole and I were here in January, he explained his great vision for this project. It is wonderful to see his plans finally taking root in the community, and at the same time it’s a little overwhelming – he plans to work with fifteen families! Jose Carlo always seems eager to work with us, and our presence here seems to be some sort of catalyst for change (a reoccurring theme throughout each of our projects, planned and unplanned). As we struggle to find the balance between learning from Jose Carlo and sharing the knowledge we have accrued through extensive research and some experience, I yearn for the wisdom to understand what I can and cannot help change here.

As we try to figure out what it means to build capacity and community (and be brave enough to attempt this with only a few adept Spanish speakers), we have our ups and downs as individuals and as a group. Yesterday, however, was a hugely gratifying day for me. What seemed like distant dreams of linking community members and institutions to work on projects in which both parties have a vested interest were realized yesterday in a meeting with the primary school. The primary school has been trying to grow vegetables for the children to eat, and failing (Each of the teachers has an assigned plot of land for their students, but none have succeeded). At an earlier meeting, the teachers requested information and help from us on nutrition, agriculture, general health, and first aid. So, instead of trying to write out what little we know about agriculture in Honduras, Colin, Jessica, and I asked Jose Carlo if he would come to the meeting to answer questions. Once he showed up, the teachers eagerly questioned him for an hour and devised a schedule for preparing the soil and planting. Jose Carlo’s enthusiasm was contagious, and we left the meeting filled with optimistic sentiment. He had given the teachers his phone number and plans to return and give more charlas on agriculture.

The most frustrating challenge for me has been the language barrier. With a year of basic Spanish instruction and a month of travelling in Latin America already this summer, I was hoping (maybe somewhat idealistically assuming) that I would have a better understanding of the language. The learning curve was sharp at first, but sometimes I feel like I’ve hit a wall. We each have our good days and our bad days- we’ll be coming out of a meeting and someone will be bursting with excitement that they understood pretty much all of what was said. On the other hand, there are some days or mornings when I can barely understand the most basic sentence. I am constantly annoyed with myself for my inability to express complex thoughts and use more than the same couple of verbs on a regular basis- something I might previously have perceived in others as a lack of intelligence or personality! My favorite activities here are ones that don’t involve much conversation, such as playing basketball with our firefighter friends, soccer with the plethora of kids running around El Porvenir, and the womens’ exercise class that Brooke just wrote about.

All in all, group morale is generally very high and we are excited to embark on the next two weeks with Rose, who just arrived last night. Que le vaya bien (go well/good luck)!

The Women of El Porvenir

As of today, we have been in El Porvenir, Honduras for exactly two weeks (although some days it feels like we have been here about two months!). I have learned so much from my time in El Porvenir-much more than I could ever gain from a densely written textbook, a lengthy homework assignment, or a lecture packed with fancy words. The most important (and perhaps most simple) lesson I have learned is that people are people no matter what country you are in. I have found more similarities between Americans and Hondurans than I would have believed was possible. Teenage girls here also like to paint each other’s creamy, sun browned faces with makeup and gossip about their boyfriends in excited, hushed tones. Scraggly little boys with dirt streaks on their faces and holes in their jeans also love to tackle each other and wrestle in the knee high grass. Men in colorful, sweat soaked jerseys also love to compete in adrenaline filled soccer matches. Families also love to sit on their porches in the evenings when the air finally cools and fireflies drift up to the trees to greet the moon with their twinkling lights.

The people here like to be talked to, listened to, and cared for. Don’t we all? About a week ago, my friend Nicole and I were discussing one particular group of people in the community that we wanted to reach-women. The women of El Porvenir are often brushed aside, merely used as a tool to help life run a little bit smoother. The women work so hard, but are rarely acknowledged for their integral role in society. Nicole and I decided it would be awesome to start an exercise class for women in the community. Only minutes after we expressed our idea to Jessica, the Peace Corps volunteer, we had an interest meeting set up for the next day. This is an example of just how quickly opportunities spring up in El Porvenir. I expected a grand total of about five women to show up for the meeting. So when about fifteen women sauntered into the meeting room Nicole and I were floored. Not only were the women willing to have an exercise class, buy they were actually excited and wanted an hour-long class five days a week. I left the meeting feeling more inspired than I had the entire trip.

Monday evening Nicole and I walked to the soccer field for the first exercise class with butterflies in our stomachs and hope in our hearts. Would anyone even want to come run and jump around with a couple of crazy gringas? That question was answered when a pack of Honduran women rounded the corner and waved at us with friendly smiles on their faces.

To say the class was a success would be an understatement. The level of comfort that was established so early in the class shocked me. The women laughed, joked, and hammed it up. The activities that were challenging did not deter them from trying. It was so encouraging to see the women’s different personalities whine through. One especially petite, feisty woman was always the first one running down the field during every exercise, screaming and laughing the whole way. She was usually doing the exercise wrong, but her energy and enthusiasm was contagious and lifted up the class. A fairly large woman wearing a shirt that said in English, “Where is the f***ing ziti?” tried her very hardest at every activity despite the challenges that her extra weight posed. Each day we have the class, more and more women come. Last night we had close to thirty women attend the class.

This exercise class is the highlight of the trip for me. I have grown to love and admire these women. Their positive attitudes, perseverance, and hard work have inspired me in many aspects of my life. This class is not great FOR the women; it is great BECAUSE of the women. Nicole and I simply opened up the road for the class, but the women are flying down the road at alarming speeds because of their attitudes and commitment. Tonight marks the end of week one of exercise classes. I look forward to tonight knowing that I will be sharing one more hour this week surrounded by friends in a healthy environment filled with laughter, love, and acceptance. In this class language barriers disappear and skin color makes no difference because we are united by the fact that we are all accepted, we are all passionate, we are all lovely, we are all women.