Meeting El Padrino

A saga of intrigue, defiance, and good faith

“Aló?” I answered my cell phone. The caller id displayed a number I did not recognize. I was sure someone had dialed the wrong number, like so many other times, but it is always amusing to try in vain to make a Honduran understand that Paco or Liliana does not live here and that this is my phone number.

“Good morning” said the voice in the other end of the phone. It was a young male Honduran voice. “May I speak with Lynnette Acosta?”

I did not recognize the voice either. This was definitely someone I had not met before. But he knew my name and he knew my number. This wouldn’t be the first time someone knew me that I hadn’t met. Ceiba is a small town and people are interested in a young couple of foreigners, like Max and I, living in the city.

“This is Lynnette speaking” I replied. “Who are you?”

“My name is Diego Manzanero and I am a lawyer. I would like to meet with you about the tourism project in East End, when are you available?”

“You are a lawyer?” The veins in my temples started pulsing, something here didn’t seem right. “And who do you represent?”

“I represent Pablo Morgan, the owner of the island where the community of East End is located. We would like to meet about the tourism project. How does Thursday morning sound?”

Not only did he know my name and my phone number, he also knew what I was working on. I have to admit I’ve never figured out how they learned this information. It could have been the community who told them, or a friend of ours talking to a friend of them during a casual conversation. I pondered for a few seconds. We are not doing anything wrong here, just a project to help the community. I have not violated any law in the process, and the community presented us with a title to their land. I shouldn’t worry about this meeting; they probably just want more information. Since, after all, they are neighbors.

“Thursday morning sound good” I replied. “Your office, or the Foundation’s?

“Let’s leave the Foundation out of this. This is between you and me. Let’s meet in my office, 10am.”

After he explained where to find his office, we ended the conversation. He had not been impolite, and yet this phone call made me very anxious. Max and I had never met Pablo Morgan, but we had certainly heard about him, all kinds of things. People in Ceiba say he’s descendent of pirates, somehow his family ended up settling in Cayos Cochinos. For years his father and the Garífuna lived there together in harmony, but there were many stories of confrontations between him and the communities. I decided I shouldn’t go alone to this meeting, that I should invite Max and the director of the Foundation to accompany me. I recognized the lawyer asked me not to involve the Foundation, but we were volunteers here per their request. Issues of this matter should be handled by the Foundation and not by us alone.

Prior to the meeting, we decided we would be completely open about the project. We had nothing to hide, and it was best to work on good faith. Perhaps they didn’t appreciate not being included in the process from the beginning, perhaps they wanted to ensure the building would not be outside the confinements of the community’s property. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything that a rational conversation could not resolve.

Thursday morning arrived and I dressed in my business casual clothes. I wanted to make a good first impression. A.O., the director of the Foundation, drove us to the lawyer’s office. We arrived at 10am, sharp, and there were other people in the office waiting ahead of us. The office was a relatively small room, with white walls and fluorescent lights. There was a couch and other chairs in the waiting area and a coffee table in the middle stacked with local newspapers. The secretary’s desk was in front of us. She was an attractive lady in her early thirties, if slightly overweight. When she saw us she raised her glance from her desk and politely greeted us. She explained the lawyer was not in the office but that we were in his agenda so he would see us, and returned to the phone conversation she’d been having. We sat and waited, staring at each other’s faces and pretending to read the newspapers. All I could do was wonder why they really wanted to see us and if this would be an amicable meeting. I tried not to stare at the people sitting across from us. A high-class looking lady, dressed in all back, with a ‘campesino’ man, clad in a worn out white long-sleeved shirt, jeans and cowboy hat. By their conversations it seemed like they were there to read a dead man’s will. Diego arrived about 30 minutes later. Like I guessed from the phone conversations, he was a young Honduran guy probably in his early thirties. He was still wearing his sunglasses and looked very fashionable wearing his slacks and tie. He saw the other clients first. I wondered if he made us wait in an effort to assert his power or if it was just one more case of being late, an engrained custom in Honduran culture. He didn’t seem intimidating, but I was happy not to be there alone.

Another half an hour later we were asked to step into the lawyer’s office. It had all the characteristics you would expect in a young Honduran lawyer’s office. The big leather chair, nautical motifs, black accents. Diego started the meeting reiterating that he represents Pablo Morgan, and then proceeded to assert that his client is the owner of the land upon which the community sits, and therefore is the owner of the land where the community plans to build their project. Pablo Morgan sent the expressed message that the land is his and the community must recognize such fact. The lawyer’s tone was polite, even apologetic at times, but his boss’ message was firm. This was for us a worse case scenario, the meeting was more than just curiosity; they wanted the project stopped.

The director of the Foundation and I clarified that we had proceeded with the project based on the title issued to the community of East End by the government of Honduras and that our interest is to support the economic development and well being of the inhabitants of East End. The lawyer said his client is prepared to challenge the government of Honduras on their right to issue the title to the community. We asked that the message be sent to Pablo Morgan that, independent of any legal action he might be taking against the government of Honduras, we understood he cared about the well-being of the community (truth be told we weren’t convinced he cared at all, but maybe the pressure to seem like he cared could help us achieve what we wanted). That the community would benefit greatly if we continued with the implementation of the project. We also asked to convey the message that we are willing to collaborate together in helping the community and that, without any intention of confrontation, we would continue the project in recognition of the government issued right to the community to use their land. The lawyer agreed to convey the message and to communicate any response to us.

I wasn’t feeling particularly good at the end of this meeting. They said they were prepared to sue the government of Honduras, and I wondered what were they prepared to do to us? If you know me well, you know I am the kind of person that worries about things, and this situation was making me really worried. Everybody had worked so hard on this project so far. Would we be able to execute it? I was lucky to have Max remind me that there wasn’t much I could do at this point, and that the best thing to do was to wait for their call.

At this point we had received the money from Peace Corps to start the construction but, to avoid confrontation, I decided to put the project on hold until we heard back from Pablo Morgan or his lawyer, Diego Manzanero.

I didn’t have to wait long. A couple of days later, I received another call. This time I recognized the number. It was Manzanero, the lawyer, again. He explained that “El Padrino”, who had Pablo Morgan’s power of attorney, would like to meet me. He explained “El Padrino” wanted to learn more about how the Peace Corps supports the community and the specifics of the project. He again asked that I go alone, without the Foundation. Trying to promote better relations between the community and these people, and work in good faith, I agreed to meet in Manzanero’s office on September 8^th, 2006. I would finally be meeting “El Padrino” and this time, I decided, I would do it alone.

To be continued in “El Padrino, ‘Great Benefactor’ of the Garífuna”