Photos from a visit to the nearby villages

Nearby villages I visited to hand out seeds for growing vegetables and talk about their health needs

WHEN YOU GONNA GET UP?

My home for the next two years!

When I hit the point where I thought I could take no more, the twelve weeks of never-ending technical training and Spanish classes have finally come and gone and I am now officially a Peace Corps volunteer! After an awkward day of meeting my counterpart for the first time and forgetting all my Spanish upon being introduced and having 5 LONG hours of classes with my counterpart after being sworn in as a volunteer at the American Embassy, I found myself frantically searching for my fellow volunteers to get a final hug and dish out words of encouragement before entering the next stage of my voyage. With tears in my eyes and thoughts of terror in my mind, I dutifully packed my bags and prepared myself for the lonesome trip I would be taking to my site in the morning. Heading out to what is known as the Wild Wild West of Honduras, I took one last eventful ride in the Peace Corps vehicles –whipping around the mountainous roads, holding onto the other volunteers and praying that none of my bags would be sacrificed from the tops of the vans and into the abyss below. Upon arriving in Tegucigalpa, my poor counterpart was forced to help me lug all my crap to the bus station heading for Olancho. Thank you PC for giving us so many books and manuals – I arrived in country with three bags and now somehow have eight bags due to all of the materials I have received while in country.

Shortly after noon I arrived in my site to be slapped back into reality that yes I am in Honduras and yes I am in the Peace Corps. As I patiently waited for my third and final host family to find the key to my room I began chatting it up with several high school students who also rent rooms from my family. After about 30 minutes my little host brother somehow managed to open up my door sin llaves and I got a glimpse of my glorious room. Stark empty except for a rickety old bench and the dried blood stains from all the mosquitoes killed on the walls I begin laughing to myself thinking this must be a mistake. I can’t remember how many times PC staff reminded us that we volunteers are spoiled by our families in field based training and it’s not the reality once we get to site. But come on, I didn’t expect to be sleeping on the floor with the creepy crawlies. I don’t even have a sleeping bag. After about an hour and realizing that yes this is indeed my room I decided to be the rude American and ask my host mother if I would be getting a bed. She politely informed me that it would cost an extra 100 lemps so I politely informed her that I would have to check with Peace Corps since they approve our housing allowances. Then after another ridiculously polite conversation with Peace Corps things seemed to be straightened out and a bed was placed in my room!

Other than a few very awkward days, I am happy with my site. It is located in a picturesque part of the country – in many ways it reminds me of the Appalachians. I am surrounded by beautifully lush green mountains and live in a quaint little town that has plenty to offer including two hotels. That’s right, you all can come visit me any time you like; for a few American dollars you too can experience my life as a volunteer! I know all of you are jumping out of your seats to come experience the ice cold bucket showers, raw meat being dried on the same lines as your clothes, and hours spent hand washing your clothes only to spend days drying on the clothes line because of the torrential down pours of rain that occur every few hours. I expect only the true adventure seekers to trek it down south to my parts of the woods. For those of you who can do without the commodities listed above, I do live only a few hours from the beautiful beaches of Trujillo and the North Coast. I can always meet you up there – just not in the next three months as we new volunteers are not allowed to stay out of our sites overnight until August 15.
Until then I’m sticking it out and getting along just fine down here. Hope you all are doing the same!

As I’ve done in my other posts here is a list of my oh-so-awkward yet still amusing experiences:

· I most recently saw my male landlord sitting on the toilet as I walked into the courtyard of our house. And yes, we made eye contact as he slowly closed the door to the bathroom and I embarrassingly stared at the ground.

· After waking up one morning all groggy and blurry eyed I almost ran smack dab into a piece of raw meat hanging on the clothes line as I was walking to the bathroom. Talk about a health risk!

· It took me 5 days to have a bowel movement upon moving to my new site; and in case you hadn’t noticed, among us volunteers talking about our bowel movements is as common as talking about how are days went.

· At the house where I go to eat, I was lucky enough to watch a mouse scale down the wall, which occurred again around the same time the following day. I never new mice could crawl on walls.

· Again at my place of eating, I watched a large and very alive chicken jump on the kitchen counter and eat leftovers off of the plates in the sink.

· During the hottest part of the day, the lock on my door broke and I was temporarily locked in my room while my sister climbed in through the window only to discover that yes I indeed was stuck and she too was unable to open the door. Eventually another girl was able to unlock it from the outside.

· After asking an old lady how much a skirt cost that was hanging up she told me I was too fat and that it would not fit me. All I could do was shake my head at her poor business strategies and yet she was still surprised when I walked out empty handed.

· Almost every day I meet someone new I get the same questions of: Do you have kids? Are you married? Are you divorced? What religion are you? Have you visited a church here yet? Blah blah blah…

PHOTOS

Food eating contest sin manos and while dancing Punta

Mi Mama Catracha

The Health Team (minus a couple)

Sunset at the Ruins

Birthday time con mis hermanas!

Hermano Uno

Hermano Dos

Todos los ninos

My room - jackpot!

My bathroom companero

HONDURAS - 80% Mountains

STILL LOST IN TRANSLATION

Six weeks into training and if I had balls they would have sweated off by now. Currently I’m in La Paz for field based training and after settling into the cool climate of Zarabanda during the first few weeks I’ve struggled to adjust to the heat. While with my first host family during the initial four weeks of “pre-field based training” I began worrying about what was to come with my second host family considering that I would be living there for twice as long. Little did I know, I would be living in style. My host mother, Dalila, is the sweetest little grandmother; and when I say little I mean she doesn’t even reach my armpits. With great food, a private indoor bathroom, lots of space, and always someone hanging around for me to practice Spanish, any complaints I may have don’t even compare to how well I have been treated by my second Honduran family. One thing Honduras does well is hospitality - this is a hospitality you never experience in the States, not even in the South. For example, my host mother gave me her bedroom, which has the only indoor bathroom. Meaning everyone else has to go outside to use the bathroom or to shower.

The trip from Zarabanda to La Paz was interesting to say the least; a lot of tearful goodbyes and hugs were distributed all around to our first host-families and fellow trainees in the other projects. With tears in our eyes, we loaded all of our luggage onto a yellow school bus and began our two-hour trip to the tune of Phil Collins and other sappy 80s music that just kept the tears coming. This was when we put our “American” technology to good use; skits from Jerry Seinfeld and Episodes of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia made the trip much easier to handle.

After all being dropped off in the middle of our new town, we slowly dragged our bags through the dusty, rocky, uneven roads stopping after each block to ask the overlooking crowd of Hondurans if they could direct us to our families’ houses. Eventually I found my new home and was welcomed by a LOT of people – all of whom turned out to be related. Dalila has many kids and grandkids who have all welcomed me in with open arms. My little brothers followed me around the house for the first few days with their cute dimply smiles carrying a fan larger then they were so that the gringa didn’t get too hot or too many bug bites in her first week. As ridiculous and unnecessary as I thought this was at the time, as the temperature has risen and no fan for my bedroom has been provided I find myself thirsting for those days.

Training has been an intense roller coaster with all of our moves being closely monitored by both the Peace Corps and our communities. The gringos can’t do anything without the entire town taking notice. From counting the number of tortillas we eat at each meal to every illness we may encounter, our families are sure to discuss it with all their friends. In addition to the gossiping, having our Spanish constantly corrected and many times not understanding a word that is being said to us or not knowing how to respond in Spanish, we volunteers are experiencing duress. Compounding these stresses, we have had to adapt to numerous Peace Corps policies and regulations as well as new cultural norms. Needless to say, all of us trainees are trying to remain positive and allow as little frustration show as we count down the days to May 15th – the day we will officially be sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers.

Although intense, I have already begun to experience those rewarding Peace Corps moments I’ve heard mentioned by other volunteers. In our first two weeks here in La Paz, the health team has delivered three health education sessions to various community members. I personally have presented to the mayor and municipality of La Paz, a class of fifth grade girls, and most recently a class of ninth graders. With just hours to prepare for each of these presentations, I am always amazed at how well all of us manage to pull off these sessions, especially given some of our language levels.

This last Friday, we delivered an HIV prevention tutorial at a bilingual high school in a neighboring city. Packed with really creative and fun learning activities (including condom demonstrations using plantains), each group was able to teach and entertain their class for over three hours. Having always considered myself as an introvert who would rather be the brains behind a message rather than the messenger and having little experience actually delivering health educational tutorials, I was delighted to discover that I am quite capable of teaching a diverse group and very much enjoy it. Plus, it was all in Spanish! In only a few instances did I refer back to my teachers for help in coming up with a response to a question or a detailed explanation.

In addition to having uncovered a new skill set and improving my Spanish, it was incredible to watch these young minds develop over the few hours we were with them. The evaluations indicated new knowledge had been passed onto these students; whether or not they actually use this information to protect themselves in the future is a different question in itself. Regardless, all of the students who participated now know how HIV can be transmitted, methods of prevention, and how to correctly use a condom - information that many adolescents in the U.S. do not have access to through their high schools.

In case any of you are keeping track, I have managed to NOT get malaria yet; although one of the other health volunteers did get dengue in her first week in Honduras. For those of you who have never heard of dengue, it’s similar to malaria in its mode of transmission (mosquitoes) and its symptoms. Ironically, ] all of the hospital visits thus far have occurred among the health team – a total of 5 hospital trips. I guess the one thing our team needs to improve on is our health. I have faith that during my two years here, the two other project teams will catch up to us. Especially the Water and Sanitation project; apparently at least half of them will get dengue. And, immediately after posting this blog, I will probably be bit by a mosquito and contract dengue.

Here are a few of my highs and lows so far experienced in Honduras:
Highs -
· I have a cell phone that works most of the time
· I’ve had great host families
· I’ve met a lot of interesting and passionate people (both volunteers and Hondurans)
· The children in Honduras are amazing and so easily entertained (plus they’re the easiest to talk to in Spanish)

Lows -
· I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had a normal bowel movement
· Many of the men here have little to no respect for women, especially for us gringas, and are a constant source of harassment for volunteers (both on the street and in the workplace)
· It’s HOT
· Rules, Rules, and more RULES

To give you a taste of a typical Honduran diet, I discovered a new song that goes to the tune of “On Top of Spaghetti” and it goes a little something like this:
On top of tortillas
All covered with beans
Please no more mantequilla
It’s not what it seems

Mantequilla is a mix between mayonnaise and sour cream. No one has figured out quite what it is, but we have found that Hondurans love it and put it on any- and everything. I for one have NOT grown to love it, but who knows…ask me in two years!

"DUST IN THE WIND?"

This is the unfolding story about an unconventional girl from Kansas and her quest for adventure in Latin America. Or…How will a light-skinned, green eyed “half-Latina”, non-domesticated, a twenty-something with no strings attached brave the wilds of Honduras? Read on, and find out with me.

I’m Tara. (That’s Tar-ah. Like Scarlet O’s home place. Please don’t confuse it with Tear-ah. It’s a little tricky, but with practice you’ll eventually get it.) And like that other over-quoted movie says, “there’s no place like home,” especially when you’re from Kansas. If you’ve never been to Kansas, you should give it try. Although desolate and isolated in many places you’ll either fall in love with the wide open sky and golden expanses of the rolling prairie…or it’ll make you appreciate your own home even more!

When I think of Kansas, though, I can't help but think of the wind. Except for those giant alien-like wind farms overlooking I-70, the wind has nowhere to go but faster. For a place whose eastern and western halves are often separated by geography, politics, and economy, the wind is one thing that we all share in common. With few trees to block the wind, it’s very easy to be swept away.

Growing up, that Kansas wind was a constant compass, always leading me to my next adventure. My family moved around the state at a breezy rate. From the Southwest to the Northeast corners and many towns in between, I was moved. Although uprooted each time, every new city, new neighborhood, new school brought new people with interesting things to say, thoughts to share, and needs to be met.

Eventually, that Kansas wind carried me up and out of my home state. I moved away to grad school not only for the education but also to satisfy my curiosity to explore different communities and cultures.

The more I experienced, the more I loved the diversity of people. But along with the diversity came so much competition, need, and rival perspectives. I had to wonder, do we all just cancel each other out? If not all of it can be true, is any of it true? Does any of it matter if not all of it can matter? And at some point, I had to ask myself the question posed by Kansas itself: “Is all we are just dust in the wind?”

I’m still looking for an answer but there’s something inside of me that wants to believe that’s not all there is – that there’s more.

I’m Tara. I’m from Kansas. And I want to help.

So, I’ve joined the Peace Corps and I will soon leave for training and assignment in Honduras. I know very little of what I’ll be doing, where I’ll live, or how this will all work out, but I know this adventure will let me help. And that act of helping, of contributing my part - that will bring me closer to knowing what the wind holds.

So that’s me and that’s my angle. Stick with me for the next two years as I escape the US to explore how other American communities manage to survive. I suspect that along the way I’ll discover a thing or two about personal survival as well.

Just for kicks, these are a few of my personal goals heading into the experience:

1. Don’t get malaria.

2. Don’t create an international incident.

3. Don’t end up on the show Locked Up Abroad.

4. Represent my family, friends, and country with dignity and compassion.

5. Leave those whom I encounter with an improved impression and better understanding of the United States.

6. Come back to the US motivated to continue educating others about how to develop trusting and rewarding relationships among strangers.

Because, in the end, even if we are just “dust in the wind” aren’t we all dust in the wind together? I don’t know, but I’m about to find out…

Much props to my friend Mandy C. who turned my idea for a metaphor into a captivating introduction to my story! Thank you