Straddling cultures

Today, I tagged along with the Honduran Mission Team of New Hampshire as they drove around to several pueblocitos to hand out supplies. It was an interesting experience for me. I can't quite relate to the We're-going-to-save-the-third-world-by-handing-out crayons-and-bandaids-mentality, but I do see the sincerity in the idealism. And, though I'm not Honduran, I do have the ability to see things from a Honduran perspective. Today, I felt as if I was straddling two cultures- one foot in the culture that I'm a part of everyday and one foot in the culture I left behind six months ago.

We began the journey by heading out to Pueblo Viejo, an itty-bitty town on some unidentifiable dirt road in Olancho. We came in a three-truck caravan with twenty-five gringos, so needless to say, we had the attention of the entire village. As we passed, every child playing soccer, Mami beating corn dough and Papi clearing land with a machete came out to see what we were doing. And, what was it that the Honduran Mission Team was doing? Well, we were washing heads in the river, of course. The first time that I was told that we would be doing this, I didn't quite understand. How did washing heads help the people of Honduras? The response that I received was that it developed the bond between the Hondurans and the Americans and helped the two groups not to fear one another. Sound like something from the early colonization of America? I thought so. Still, we washed heads. The mission team did this last year, so everyone expected it. People lined up by the bank of the river while curious Americans with shampoo bottles and bowls poured water and sudsed. I was part of the detangling and styling team, so my mission was to comb and braid. It was actually a cooler experience than I expected. Being one of two fluent Spanish speakers, I was able to have real conversations with the village kids and help translate conversations for both parties. The Americans were shocked to learn things that we here in Honduras have grown to accept: there are kids who have no shoes, who have been running around barefoot for their whole life; people cut themselves and don’t have bandaids; older babies have the responsibility of taking care of younger baby siblings and insects like the bot fly can cause horrifying bites and growths.

From Pueblo Viejo, we headed to La Colonia Laguna Seca, a poor little town where each wooden or cinder block home had an outhouse constructed by USAID. None of the children who came running to the river had shoes and most had dirty, matted hair and uncared for cuts and sores on their bodies. We washed heads here and this time, I saw lice for the first time and encountered feisty children who kept asking for more: Dame un peine, Regalame una goma mas (Give me a comb. Gift me one more rubberband.) The lack of gratitude made me really upset, as this is the same attitude that I encounter with my neighbors down the hill here in Juticalpa. It's an understandable attitude though. We're rich, they're poor- it's easy to see. They're going to grab at all they can get. The Mission Team passed out supplies here too and it was like Christmas for these kids. The little kids were running up and down their streets- hair cleanly washed- with toothbrushes, stuffed animals and soap. They were happy with their gifts but it's interesting to think about how these gifts are perceived, since very little communication took place between the two groups. Is it that the Americans think the Hondurans are unclean and don't brush their teeth?

From Laguna Seca, we headed to Becerra, where Esperanza invited us to her home for lunch and then we sat around and sang while she played the guitar. In her house, a baby chick ran around on the dirt floor and her dog slept in the stove. Later, we went to the church to color, play balloon games and do art projects with the kids while their parents were in mass. Overall, I was a glad to have this short, missionary experience of Honduras. It's not what I'm used to, but I feel as though I straddle two cultures now and that's something that not too many people get to experience.