Famous for a Day

Buenos días… buiti binafi… good morning; people greeted each other as they arrived at the city’s five star resort. The convention center arranged with rows of chairs, a table of hors d'oeuvres and a welcome table. There was also a long table in the front of the room, the main table, where all the important participants would be seated. The few people who had arrived before me seemed to come from all walks of Honduran life. A sports star, a writer, a politician, a reporter; the thing these people had in common was their ancestry, they were all Garífuna. After signing in at the guest table I was handed a sticker with my name and the organization I represented. It read Lynnett Acosta, Cuerpo de Paz. I wasn’t bothered by the missing “e” at the end of my name, Lynnette is not a common name in Honduras and people have a hard time getting it right. At least it didn’t say Lineth like most of the time. I am not particularly fond of that version. I walked into the room, the air conditioner too cold, and smiled at everyone I saw, trying to find a familiar face. I didn’t really know what the meeting was about, only that I had been invited because of my work with the Garífuna as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Something special about my Peace Corps service is that I get to attend these kinds of events. A lot of volunteers work in towns with no electricity or with people that have never been in air conditioning and yet there I was, in a nice convention center, wearing a cocktail dress and greeting important personalities of the Garífuna community. I accepted the invitation because it was a great opportunity to meet people, some of which are the leaders of the people I serve. When you are a volunteer with absolutely no resources other than yourself, you can use all the contacts you can get. These are also great opportunities to find out about projects you might be interested in supporting.

After scanning the room with my eyes, I found an empty seat towards the back, near the door and placed my belongings there. I would use the time before the meeting to meet and greet and make a quiet exit at the first opportunity. Near me was sitting a retired Honduran soccer star. I think I should have known who he was, but I didn’t, and he was telling me all about his career when we were approached by the organizer of the event. I had met him and his father a few weeks before when I was looking for the assistance of a human rights lawyer. They had introduced me to a lawyer, and given me a lot of advice on my work. I was glad to see him now.

The Invitation
The feeling did not last long. He had been looking for me, to let me know that he had reserved a seat for me in the main table, at the front of the room. He wanted me to sit there, in front of everybody, next to the diputada (congress woman), secretario de las etnias (Honduras’ secretary of indigenous groups), several politicians from Tegucigalpa, and himself. I panicked. I wanted to leave early, I didn’t know what the meeting was about, and I was way out of the league of the other guests. I had also seen several members of the press arrive to cover the event, and I would end up on TV and the newspapers if I accepted. That was not at all what I expected when I decided to attend, and I was not prepared to deal with the situation, so I politely refused. I explained that I was honored by the invitation but that I preferred to sit with the rest of the audience. He insisted that it would be an honor to have me join them at the main table and that he would take it as a personal offence if I refused. What could I have done? My biggest weakness is that I have a hard time saying no.

The Question
After the panic receded I started feeling a little more confident. How hard could it be? Sitting there in a chair and looking at the audience? Smiling whenever the camera came by? Nodding with the head every now and then to look engaged. Perhaps some useful skills if I ever decide to go into politics. Plus, I had blow dried my hair and put on make-up, so at least I would look good on TV.

The meeting started with the organizer thanking everyone present and introducing everyone at the main table. I waved my hand and smiled when I was introduced as a representative of the Peace Corps. I don’t like that introduction because I am a Peace Corps volunteer and my words and opinions are personal and not always necessarily reflect those of the organization. A volunteer would have been a more appropriate introduction than representative, but it was only words, and most people would not have noticed the difference anyway. I put the thought aside; no use in worrying about those things, everything was going quite well. I rearranged my hair and focused again on the meeting. The program moved on with a prayer and a discussion of the agenda. The organizer then gave a very eloquent speech explaining why we were all there (to give the Garífuna community an update in the plans for the celebration of their 210th anniversary of arrival in Honduras). He also discussed a lot of very interesting issues affecting the Garífuna community and what could be done about it. The crowd cheered his speech and I really enjoyed it personally. He then introduced the next speaker, Honduras’ secretary of indigenous groups, who was seated in the far left corner of the main table.

After the Secretary’s animated and interesting talk, the next speaker was announced. It was the person seated next to him, in the second seat of the table, three people away from me. When he was finished and the crowd was done cheering, the next speaker was announced. The third person seated in the table! Two people away from where I was seated! As I remember it, that’s about when the organizer of the meeting walked by me and asked if my speech was ready.

Spotlight
I felt the blood rushing up and down my head in a matter of seconds. I must have gone from pale to flushed to pale again almost instantly. Of course my speech was not ready. That is not what I was seated there for. I was there for support, for sympathy, not to talk. What was I going to say? How was I going to say it? How was I going to survive past this moment? I could hear my heart beating, and feel the veins pulsing on the sides of my neck. I need to be strong and say no. I can’t do this. Be strong, be firm, don’t worry about all the people watching, it doesn’t matter that you’ll be the only person sitting on this table who will not say a word…

“Sure, I’ll have my speech ready”. “Cool, thanks, you’re third in line.” I just couldn’t say no. Not then and there. I calculated that each person in front of me would speak for about 10 to 15 minutes. I had 20 minutes to put something together. I asked the congress woman sitting next to me if I could borrow her pen and started franticly making an outline of what I could say. Next thing I knew it was my turn.

My palms were sweating. I walked to the podium and adjusted the microphone to my height. To my right I saw the people from the press standing, the red blinking light in the cameras indicating I was being recorded. My mouth felt dry. I looked at everyone in the audience, their inquiring faces. Right there I realized that I liked what I saw; the elite of the Garífuna, some of the woman wearing their bright traditional dress, the men their equivalent shirts. And they were all listening to what I had to say, all of which came from the heart.

The Speech
“I’ve only know the Garífuna for a little over a year… but it only took me one day to fall in love; to fall in love with your people, your culture, and your traditions.

“While I’ve gotten to know you I have also come to have a dream. The dream to see all the Garífuna communities united, being self-sufficient, where every kid has access to quality education, and where your youth does not have to migrate to the cities or the north because there is no opportunity where they grew up.

“I’ve been told by many that I am naïve, unrealistic, a romantic. But those people do not see the potential that I see. The potential I see when I swim with your kids in the ocean, when I listen or dance to the punta or parranda (traditional music), when I eat riceandbeans (traditional meal), or when I work hand in hand with you, everyday.

“People like me; we come from other countries and want to help. We can support you, but it is you who are the leaders of this change, it is you who can make a difference.

“I know my dream is your dream. So I ask you, keep working, keep trying to make this dream a reality.

“Thank you.”

The End
The crowd cheered, and when I returned to my seat the congress woman congratulated me and asked for my e-mail. I have to admit, I enjoyed the moment after all.