I am sitting on the back stoop of our house, hoping we'll have running water soon ... and by running water I mean water that will be literally running off of our roof and into the basins we have set out to collect the rain ;) Talanga seems to have somewhat regular water pressure problems - sometimes on our designated water days the water will only trickle out of the faucet or won't turn on until late in the day or it'll be straight up brown water and won't be enough to last until the next time comes (3 - 4 days later). When we absolutely run out, usually we just load up the truck with two basins and drive to a junkyard where they sell water. I don't know what families without trucks (a.k.a. the majority) do when this happens. Until now, I've never really thought twice about the luxury that in my U.S. home, water comes 24/7 and that even the water in the washing machine and toilet is drinking quality.
Our back stoop is walled off from the street but is not a quiet or separated place, right now I'm listening to the totally unfamiliar sounds (well previously unfamiliar to me, except for these past six weeks since I've arrived) of people speaking in tongues. Two of our immediate neighbors are Evangelical Christian churches and the celebrations throughout the week last for hours. In terms of religious belief here in Honduras, a Christian perspective on the world seems almost universal. I help a few mornings a week at a public school a few blocks away and Profesora was explaining to her second grade yesterday that "there is a great diversity of religions here in Honduras, for example, Catholics, Jehovah's Witnessness, Seventh-Day Adventists, Pentecostals, Mormons, Baptists and ... some of you may have heard of these people ... Jews."
When walking down the main street of Talanga, you'll most likely see public buses (yellow relics of school districts from across the U.S. that no longer meet emissions requirements) painted across the backside with phrases like "PROPIEDAD DE CRISTO." Many homes and businesses are decorated with an assortment of posters of the Virgin Mary, Bible quotes, and Crucifixes. My sense so far is that the prevalence of religious references in public has to do with a blend of cultural tradition, heartfelt belief, and ... trying to prevent crime through guilt. I think grocery store management was thinking about the latter more than anything else when they plastered the huge sticker of Christ emblazoned with the words "NO MATARÁS" (Thou shalt not kill) on the cash register. Also, I've been informed that if anyone feels like sending me a package, it helps to paste some pictures Jesus on the box to ward off potential mail "inspectors."
There are also a few phrases Hondurans use often (and I remember Salvadorans using them too) that incorporate belief into everyday conversation. It was startling at first to hear such overt religious references casually, like "Si Díos quiere" (God willing) or "Si Díos lo permita" (If God allows it). Even though I can recall people in the U.S. mentioning God's will, it seems like they are always in reference to big unknowns, like terminal illnesses, natural disasters, and presidential elections but here the sentiment pops up casually and often, i.e.
Me: See you later this afternoon!
Honduran co-worker: Si Díos lo permita ...
My first thought is ... that´s crazy ... can't we I at least take for granted the few hours between now and this afternoon when we have our meeting? I'll see you soon. If God allows it. The phrases are more than just conversation niceties or kitschy superstition though; actually they seem to suggest a way of looking at things that packs a lot of gratitude and very little entitlement at the same time.
I think that sometimes in my life in many parts of Los United, it's easier to assume that my plans trump those of the universe and that I'm in charge of my own life - it's almost never that I'm challenged on those assumptions. I'm an individual and I've earned what I have. For so many of the families we work with, it's not a given that things that are necessary to make a life - like work and food and open beds in the one public hospital in Tegucigalpa - are available. How is it that I have those things through the [gift, luck, rigged system ...] of my family? More and more as I have waded through both the incredible heaviness and the unexpected joys here in this community, a phrase like God willing seems like a truthful reflection of the big-ness, the interconnected-ness, the mysterious-ness of life.
Our back stoop is walled off from the street but is not a quiet or separated place, right now I'm listening to the totally unfamiliar sounds (well previously unfamiliar to me, except for these past six weeks since I've arrived) of people speaking in tongues. Two of our immediate neighbors are Evangelical Christian churches and the celebrations throughout the week last for hours. In terms of religious belief here in Honduras, a Christian perspective on the world seems almost universal. I help a few mornings a week at a public school a few blocks away and Profesora was explaining to her second grade yesterday that "there is a great diversity of religions here in Honduras, for example, Catholics, Jehovah's Witnessness, Seventh-Day Adventists, Pentecostals, Mormons, Baptists and ... some of you may have heard of these people ... Jews."
When walking down the main street of Talanga, you'll most likely see public buses (yellow relics of school districts from across the U.S. that no longer meet emissions requirements) painted across the backside with phrases like "PROPIEDAD DE CRISTO." Many homes and businesses are decorated with an assortment of posters of the Virgin Mary, Bible quotes, and Crucifixes. My sense so far is that the prevalence of religious references in public has to do with a blend of cultural tradition, heartfelt belief, and ... trying to prevent crime through guilt. I think grocery store management was thinking about the latter more than anything else when they plastered the huge sticker of Christ emblazoned with the words "NO MATARÁS" (Thou shalt not kill) on the cash register. Also, I've been informed that if anyone feels like sending me a package, it helps to paste some pictures Jesus on the box to ward off potential mail "inspectors."
There are also a few phrases Hondurans use often (and I remember Salvadorans using them too) that incorporate belief into everyday conversation. It was startling at first to hear such overt religious references casually, like "Si Díos quiere" (God willing) or "Si Díos lo permita" (If God allows it). Even though I can recall people in the U.S. mentioning God's will, it seems like they are always in reference to big unknowns, like terminal illnesses, natural disasters, and presidential elections but here the sentiment pops up casually and often, i.e.
Me: See you later this afternoon!
Honduran co-worker: Si Díos lo permita ...
My first thought is ... that´s crazy ... can't we I at least take for granted the few hours between now and this afternoon when we have our meeting? I'll see you soon. If God allows it. The phrases are more than just conversation niceties or kitschy superstition though; actually they seem to suggest a way of looking at things that packs a lot of gratitude and very little entitlement at the same time.
I think that sometimes in my life in many parts of Los United, it's easier to assume that my plans trump those of the universe and that I'm in charge of my own life - it's almost never that I'm challenged on those assumptions. I'm an individual and I've earned what I have. For so many of the families we work with, it's not a given that things that are necessary to make a life - like work and food and open beds in the one public hospital in Tegucigalpa - are available. How is it that I have those things through the [gift, luck, rigged system ...] of my family? More and more as I have waded through both the incredible heaviness and the unexpected joys here in this community, a phrase like God willing seems like a truthful reflection of the big-ness, the interconnected-ness, the mysterious-ness of life.