A Day in the Life….
Many of you may be wondering what your atypical Peace Corps volunteer does (I say atypical because, as you may imagine, most volunteers are not placed on the Caribbean coast, living in a disco). I’ll let you in on the chaos that is my life during these first three months, what the Peace Corps likes to call “community entry.”
8AM: Wake up. Upon opening my eyes I 1) Thank God we have electricity and that the fan is still on (and on days it is raining and we lack electricity, I get annoyed and try to go back to sleep, but can’t because I am beginning to sweat. Although usually on rain days, I am awakened the second it starts raining because we have a tin roof, and it sounds like bullets are being fired in rapid succession when the rain hits). 2) Wonder why the hell I’m sleeping inside a giant net, then realize it’s just my mosquito net. I pause to examine all the dead bugs lying on the top of the net, and am glad that there exist great chemicals like the DEET that is impregnated in my net, to allow me to sleep bug-free.
8:30: Go to the kitchen. Greet my host-brother Edicson and his wife Denia, who are lying on the couch watching telenovelas. I make breakfast. Recently, I learned that just because the tap water cooked with oatmeal gets pretty hot in the microwave, it does not mean that it is actually making it safe to consume (Using tap water, however, implies that the water bill has been paid, thus that we have running water. I’ve found out this week that is not always the case). I sit down to breakfast and enjoy a few bites before a mouse runs across my foot, or across the wall, etc. I lose my appetite, but it doesn’t matter because at this point, the ants have overtaken my food.
9AM: Apply vigorous amount of sunscreen and bug spray, making sure to stand in front of the fan so that 1) I am able to stop sweating long enough for the sunscreen to absorb and 2) Create a breeze so that I don’t inhale toxic amounts of bug-spray chemicals. Now ready for the outside world, I get my umbrella (used more for sun protection than rain, thus far), and head to either 1) Centro de Salud (Health Center) 2) Oficina del Patronato (Similar to the mayor’s office) 3) Wander around chatting with random people 4) to Tela (the city nearby).
I spend the morning hours talking about various projects that are already going on, projects they would like me to help with, and projects that I would actually like to do. Because we are recommended during “Community Entry” to support current projects rather than begin our own, I am left with quite a bit of wandering around time
12PM: Return home. Usually there are a number of people hanging out in the champas (wall-less huts made from palm leaves) near my house. When I’m lucky, someone gives me a lunch…usually consisting of an entire fish (brains, eyeballs, and bones included) deep-fried, and accompanied by a portion of rice appropriate for a sumo wrestler, and some deep-fried plantain chips. One special day I got a can of sardines in tomato sauce. However, I can’t complain…food is not included in my rent and they actually do give me some really great stuff. Whenever people cook special Garifuna foods, they usually bring me a taste. My favorites so far have been pan de coco (coconut bread), a soup with fish, mashed plantains and coconut milk, cassabe (a tortilla-like thing made from yucca) and any kind of fish. Surprisingly, I haven’t gotten sick from eating random food. I don’t say this as an insult, but there are definitely different manners of hygiene here. I usually eat with my hands, and although I have not picked up these habits (yet), it is common to pick your nose, spit any and everywhere (including on the floors of houses/buildings), and for guys, to fold up your shirt and to get air on their bellies (I actually have started doing this…it’s such a nice breeze!)
Afternoon: Back on track…In the afternoons, unless I have a meeting or am trying to meet a specific person in the community, I typically hang out around my house. Sometimes, I work on charlas that I will eventually give. The charlas I will give are basically an interactive style of lecture. The Peace Corps calls them ‘non-formal education techniques;’ I see them more as a lecture broken up by a few games. I also trade English lessons for Garifuna lessons, and have picked up quite a few words. I feel that my Spanish level has reached a plateau here, so I’ve really got to work on improving that while I try to pick up some Garifuna. Everyone here speaks both Spanish and Garifuna, but will speak Garifuna in most situations unless I am involved in the conversation. Some people also claim to speak English, but it is not a form of the language that I am familiar with.
Around 2-3PM, I head out for a run. I’m not sure why I always choose the hottest part of the day, but it feels pretty damn good. My house is at one end of Tornabe; the town’s other boundary is a lagoon. My typical run (actually the only run I can safely do) is from my house to the lagoon and back, anywhere from 4-10 times. It’s about 1K each way, but it’s unsafe to run outside of my community (for now), so I’ve got to stick to the same route. I run barefoot on the beach, with the waves crashing at my feet. My calves were so sore for the first week after sand running, but I love the workout. I run in my swimsuit, so as soon as I’m done, I hope in the ocean to cool off (although the water is not much cooler than bath water). If there aren’t too many people in the disco, sometimes I use it to do a Bikram yoga workout after my run…I thought people stared at me just walking down the street, but it was nothing compared to the reaction of people watching me do yoga!!
After running, I shower (assuming there’s water), using a hose that is stuck through a small hole in the wall in the bathroom, connecting it to the outside. Of course, there’s no hot water, but I wouldn’t use that anyway, so it’s very refreshing. I think there is a mouse habitat situated under the (non-functioning) washing machine in the bathroom, so they occasionally dart out. The other day, my host brother asked if I had seen any mice. I confirmed that I had in fact seen a few mice, he responded, “When you see them, don’t get scared…you need to stomp on them!!” Not exactly the reaction I was anticipating, but an interesting way to handle it nonetheless. I would suggest perhaps putting traps or poison around the house, but that might harm the pet rabbit we have that roams freely throughout the house. The rabbit, however, is an excellent pet. He eats all my mango, banana, avocado, and various other peels, and because he spends most of his time outside, there isn’t a lot of rabbit shit in the house.
Around 4PM, the neighborhood kids start coming around. When I’m up for it, we get a game of soccer going on the beach. Other times, I hang my hammock under 2 coconut trees, and spend a few hours reading (and by reading I mean explaining to curious passers-by that I’m not studying nor reading the Bible…leisure reading and reading in general is pretty non-existent here, probably because most people don’t have more than a 3rd grade education).
I’ve also begun having lessons in Garifuna from a guy I met about a week ago. When I met him, he offered to show me some native fruits growing near by house, called ycacao (I have no idea how to spell it). Next thing I know, I’m on a horse-drawn cart galloping through the jungle on a non-existent road. We filled a giant bag with the fruit and collected about 25 coconuts he had retrieved from the tops of the trees (I’m becoming addicted to coconut water). Anyway, the guy shows up at my house a few days later with the Holy Bible, in Garifuna. He tells me that I’m going to learn Garifuna, and that this particular Bible is one of the few books that exist in the Garifuna language. The only problem, he says, is that he can only borrow the book for 15 days. His interesting solution is that I should begin copying the Bible into a notebook. Although this was one solution, I wasn’t entirely enthusiastic about the prospects of copying a book (the Bible, nonetheless) in a language of which I understood not one word. Instead, we decided to begin with the most important words and continue from there.
Once the sun sets, I head inside to escape the wrath of mosquitoes and jejenes (sand fleas). I usually cook dinner for myself. Sometimes I’m lucky and my host-brother’s wife is making tortillas and she gives me some. They are amazing. So far, I haven’t gotten too fancy because I don’t have a lot of foods nearby me. I taught myself how to make beans (not from a can!!) and they are slowly improving. Another thing I’ve discovered here is licuados. It’s basically frozen fruit and milk blended together (without ice, like a smoothie). They are really good, especially when it’s so hot and I don’t want a heavy meal. I haven’t ventured out to buy fish from the fishermen yet (their boats pull up right on the beach and people rush out to buy…at times they even start swimming towards the boats before they hit land), mainly because I don’t know how to clean the fish and am not too sure how to cook it. I’m sure after two years here, I’ll be a pro.
Anyway, after dinner, I hang out and talk with my family and whoever else happens to be around. We have a TV (actually 3) which I occasionally watch just for the news. I also read a lot, and head to bed around 9 or 10PM (unless it’s a disco night).
So, there’s a typical day. As you can see, the “community entry” process is extremely rough, but I guess I’m handling it pretty well (sarcasm, if you can’t tell. Something that does not exist in Latin American countries, which makes it very difficult with my sense of humor, at times). The truth is that I’m slowly getting accustomed to my new home, just as everyone here is getting used to the random gringa sticking around longer than a few days like the tourists they’ve seen. I’m really looking forward to getting into more meaningful work, but right now, I realize the importance of getting to know as many people as possible in the community and gaining their trust. It just so happens that my community is on the Caribbean, and meeting people requires me spending several hours a day on or near the beach.
Another update…had a change of plans this weekend. Was thinking I would head out of my site for a bit of anonymity, break from being surrounded by people all the time, etc. Instead, I went to Carnival, in the city of La Ceiba. I still haven’t quite figured out why they have Carnival, complete with Mardi Gras parade, beads, etc. in May, but I think it’s better not to try to reason a lot of the things that go on here. Anyway, 100,000+ people from throughout Honduras and Central America flock to Ceiba for parades, reggaeton bands, carnivalitos for the kids, and lots of dancing in the streets. I left my town Saturday morning around 8AM via taxi to the closest city, Tela. From Tela, I hopped on a bus for La Ceiba, although I got off at my friend’s site about 2 hours from here. It was interesting to get out of my site and into a more typical Honduran community (not Garifuna). We hung out in her site for a while and then hopped in the back of her family’s pick-up for the ride to Ceiba. It was a scorching hot 30 minute ride with the afternoon sun baking us in the back of the black pick-up, but we made it. We watched the parade for awhile…complete with Garifuna dancers, floats, bands, etc. It was a lot of stuff I had seen on a smaller scale at my town’s fair, but it was still fun to see. The streets were extremely packed with people, and there was a fair amount of other gringos there. In fact, we were voicing our jealousies of some gringos we noticed on a 3rd floor balcony overlooking the parade when we recognized them as fellow Peace Corps volunteers. We then got the invite up, and were able to watch more of the parade in the luxury of an air-conditioned apartment from a prime viewing spot. After a while, we decided to leave and meet back up with my friend’s host-family, who happened to be at Pizza Hut. When we got there, there were at least 75 people trying to rush into the place…a complete madhouse. Apparently, Pizza Hut is a happening place during Carnival. Anyway, we finally got out of there, headed to a carnivalito for the kids, and watched some Punta dancing while the kids played around. We headed back to my friend’s town later that night, happy to get out of the madhouse of Ceiba. Under different circumstances, it would have been fun to hang around and see how crazy the night gets, but I was glad to get the experience and get out of there this time around…there’s always next year! This morning, while trying to get back to my site, I was warned that the buses would probably be filled with drunk/hungover/barfing/smelly people who had been up partying all night. Sure enough, as I flagged the bus down to the side of the highway, I noticed that it was already filled with people standing (meaning all the seats were taken). In the US, most long-distance buses would sell tickets for the number of seats available, but of course that does not happen in Honduras. However, being a gringa does have some benefits. I got on the bus (from the back emergency door, because people were packed in so tightly in the front), and the ayudante (the guy that helps the bus driver and collects all the money) got me a seat despite the dozens of people standing that probably needed to sit more than I did (not elderly or pregnant, just hungover). I happily sat down (I don’t feel as guilty about this gringo advantage because of the many gringo “taxes” we have to pay, as foreigners), and promptly shut my window. I learned this trick soon after coming to Honduras…although it’s hot, it’s an excellent way to prevent vomit from flying back into your face if someone in front of you has not been feeling too great.
…Interestingly, I learned this trick from a personal experience I don’t believe I’ve revealed on my blog. A few weeks ago, my friends and I hopped on a bus one afternoon because we needed to go into the capital. I was not feeling so well, and in fact predicted that I would get sick on the bus. Unfortunately, I got stuck with an aisle seat, but I thought I could will myself into feeling better (it was only about a 1.5 hour bus ride). About 20 minutes into it, just as I was going to start searching for a plastic bag, a window seat opened up. I quickly moved and stuck my head out the window in preparation. I realized it would be rude to throw up without giving any warning, but I didn’t exactly want to yell to everyone behind me that I was going to barf. Instead, I spit a few times, thinking that anyone that gets hit in the face with spit would prefer that than vomit, and would probably shut their window. Anyway, after that, I just couldn’t help it, and I got sick, rather inconveniently, while the bus hit a cruising speed of about 60 mph. Miraculously, I did not get any barf on myself, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same for the people behind me. After the vomit, I heard several windows slam shut, which makes me think they didn’t catch the spit warning. Needless to say, I was afraid to look back, so I’m not sure how many Hondurans I doused with splatters of Gatorade-red vomit. The funny thing was that my friends on the bus had no idea I threw up until we got off and I told them; they were obviously sitting on the opposite site. So remember…when traveling by bus, particularly in 3rd world countries, keep your window shut! You never know what could fly in and hit you in the face!!
Sorry if that story grossed you out…but my fellow volunteers appreciated it so I thought I’d share.
