The Stories that Change Me
Living in Honduras has certainly been a life changing experience. The adventure, the work, the people are all so different from everything I’ve done before. It has definitely affected me in different ways, but it is the personal stories that affect me the most. How do I get those faces out of my mind? How do I not compare with, or even judge, the experiences I’ve had in the past? How to fall asleep on those nights when the emotions are so overpowering?
Here’s one of those stories that has changed me…
About a month ago Max and I went to Jocomico, Olancho; a very small town in the heart of the mountains in Honduras’ biggest department. Jocomico is one of the communities where MaderaVerde’s artisans live (Max’s counterpart) and we planned to spend a week there to do a study and document the production process for a few of their furniture items. Getting there and back was a huge adventure, but it was the time spent with the people there that will stay with me the longest.
Jocomico was the Honduran town most affected by the hurricanes this season, leaving many houses completely washed away, and the town cut off from the rest of the country. What used to be a small stream in the back of the town is now a huge crater that runs trough the middle of town, making it extremely dangerous for the houses that were left standing. In a town with very little, I met the kids of one of the poorest families. They live in a one-room wooden house that’s now sitting at the edge of the river bank. During our stay we hoped the next time we heard about this family wasn’t because their house had fallen down the steep slope, with kids and all inside.
A woman and her husband live in the house with their six kids. The older one, a twelve year old boy, wakes up every morning at 4am to go to the bush and work with his father clearing land. His arms, legs, and face are all scratched and scarred from the cuts with the grass and the occasional mismanaged machete. He is a smart boy that loves to talk. He really enjoyed hearing our stories, specially our modified version of Life of Pi. The next sister is seven years old, big brown eyes that look at you with the intensity of someone that’s lived a long life. She is the acting mother of her 1yr old baby sister, since her mother is too busy taking care of the house to care for the baby. Everywhere the seven year old goes the baby goes with her, she changes her cloth diapers, feeds her, and looks over her well-being. In the week we were there I never saw the mother holding the baby, and I never saw the sister without the baby. But I really fell in love with the twin girls, some of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever met. Their skin and hair were gold and their eyes a light brown, the color of the stream. They are four years old and always followed us everywhere we went. One was shy, and one was outgoing, and their smiles presented to us as gifts. Of course they couldn’t be with us as much as we liked since they were responsible for hand-washing the clothes for the entire family at a neighbor’s “pila” (wash basin) and for getting buckets of water from the river for their family. Every day they carried the buckets of water on their heads. The next girl is three years old and she mainly cried the whole time we were there.
These kids were the dirtiest in town, and the other kids sometimes made fun of them. Boogers were hanging from their noses and their clothes were always soiled. No shoes, ripped shirts, no toys. As normal kids do, every now and then they would do something their mom did not approved and she would follow them all over town hitting them with a leather belt. She even hit the three year old.
Yet these kids seemed happy. They were incredibly caring and loving, specially the twins. I spent a lot of time playing with them and the other kids in town, teaching them some of my childhood games. When we wanted to play “hot potato” we used a sock since we didn’t have a ball. We jumped rope, and played everything that did not require any special equipment. It was great to hear their laughter, and see how much fun they were having.
It has been almost a month since our trip and I can not get those kids out of my mind. I’ve spent many nights seriously thinking of adopting Honduran kids, but those twins kept me awake more than any other kid I’ve met. How can I be the same after meeting some of these great people? How to I buy another gift for my nephew who has more than all the kids in the community of Jocomico combined? How is this going to affect the way I raise my own children? I have no answer to any of these questions…
Here’s one of those stories that has changed me…
About a month ago Max and I went to Jocomico, Olancho; a very small town in the heart of the mountains in Honduras’ biggest department. Jocomico is one of the communities where MaderaVerde’s artisans live (Max’s counterpart) and we planned to spend a week there to do a study and document the production process for a few of their furniture items. Getting there and back was a huge adventure, but it was the time spent with the people there that will stay with me the longest.
Jocomico was the Honduran town most affected by the hurricanes this season, leaving many houses completely washed away, and the town cut off from the rest of the country. What used to be a small stream in the back of the town is now a huge crater that runs trough the middle of town, making it extremely dangerous for the houses that were left standing. In a town with very little, I met the kids of one of the poorest families. They live in a one-room wooden house that’s now sitting at the edge of the river bank. During our stay we hoped the next time we heard about this family wasn’t because their house had fallen down the steep slope, with kids and all inside.
A woman and her husband live in the house with their six kids. The older one, a twelve year old boy, wakes up every morning at 4am to go to the bush and work with his father clearing land. His arms, legs, and face are all scratched and scarred from the cuts with the grass and the occasional mismanaged machete. He is a smart boy that loves to talk. He really enjoyed hearing our stories, specially our modified version of Life of Pi. The next sister is seven years old, big brown eyes that look at you with the intensity of someone that’s lived a long life. She is the acting mother of her 1yr old baby sister, since her mother is too busy taking care of the house to care for the baby. Everywhere the seven year old goes the baby goes with her, she changes her cloth diapers, feeds her, and looks over her well-being. In the week we were there I never saw the mother holding the baby, and I never saw the sister without the baby. But I really fell in love with the twin girls, some of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever met. Their skin and hair were gold and their eyes a light brown, the color of the stream. They are four years old and always followed us everywhere we went. One was shy, and one was outgoing, and their smiles presented to us as gifts. Of course they couldn’t be with us as much as we liked since they were responsible for hand-washing the clothes for the entire family at a neighbor’s “pila” (wash basin) and for getting buckets of water from the river for their family. Every day they carried the buckets of water on their heads. The next girl is three years old and she mainly cried the whole time we were there.
These kids were the dirtiest in town, and the other kids sometimes made fun of them. Boogers were hanging from their noses and their clothes were always soiled. No shoes, ripped shirts, no toys. As normal kids do, every now and then they would do something their mom did not approved and she would follow them all over town hitting them with a leather belt. She even hit the three year old.
Yet these kids seemed happy. They were incredibly caring and loving, specially the twins. I spent a lot of time playing with them and the other kids in town, teaching them some of my childhood games. When we wanted to play “hot potato” we used a sock since we didn’t have a ball. We jumped rope, and played everything that did not require any special equipment. It was great to hear their laughter, and see how much fun they were having.
It has been almost a month since our trip and I can not get those kids out of my mind. I’ve spent many nights seriously thinking of adopting Honduran kids, but those twins kept me awake more than any other kid I’ve met. How can I be the same after meeting some of these great people? How to I buy another gift for my nephew who has more than all the kids in the community of Jocomico combined? How is this going to affect the way I raise my own children? I have no answer to any of these questions…
posted by Lynnette @ 10:13 PM
1 comments
1 Comments:
Great questions, Lynnette, ones that we all should be asking. Thinking of you and Max a LOT. Love, Kerry
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