WALK THE WALK
After 6 weeks in hibernation, licking my financial wounds, Chemo and I ventured out on a new round of visits. I almost had to make the trip alone. Chemo was scared to go back to Morazan, the first stop on our itinerary. “Fermin is still mad at me,” recalling the scolding he got for staying out late with Eduard, Fermin’s son, and neighbor Hansel last time we were there. I had already talked to Fermin at least 3 times, and he had no problem with Chemo’s return, “as long as he respects our curfew.” The 5:00 a.m. bus was already blowing its horn, I was locking the front door behind me, when Chemo finally bounced out of bed (“All right, I’ll go!”), threw a few things together, and scrambled ahead of me to hold the bus as it was about to leave.
Of course, Chemo and Fermin immediately reconciled, and there would be no problem with late nights since Eduard was actually teaching classes at Fermin’s school, subbing for a teacher who just had a baby. Meanwhile, we learned that Maria, Fermin’s wife, would be needing a sub herself at the little school across the river where she teaches. She was scheduled for an operation in Yoro Monday, April 28. I took her to the supermarket to stock up on things, and I assured her we would return to help with her recuperation, at least paying for a ‘trabajadora’ to cook and clean and do the wash. It would be fun to try to cook for Maria instead of just sitting down to one of her magical meals that she seems to produce out of thin air. I guess! (The wonderful writer Gabriel Garcia Marquez just died, famed for his “magical realism”; Maria is the Garcia Marquez of menus!)
Hansel shared the “secret” that he’s going to the United States, along with his mother and two little sisters and a brother. They were leaving in a couple days and he figured they’d be in Orlando, Florida, where they have relatives waiting for them, by the end of the week. I thought about trying to describe the relative distances of Honduras and Orlando, but I just wished him well, shivering with the fear inside that I would never see him alive again. His 17-year-old cousin Jefry across the street, after two attempts, is already in Houston, happy as a lark and working in “construction,” so Hansel sees no reason for concern. We’ll stay in touch on FACEBOOK, you see (“Hansel Aquino Moti”). Hansel is the one who was supposed to study with Chemo when Chemo was going to attempt Maestro en Casa in Morazan. Now he’ll be in Disney World.
Fermin is staying in the fight right here. Along with some activist lawyers and other associates, he is leading the “opposition” to the government’s attempt to squelch the pensions of teacher retirees. They have fashioned a bill now before Congress, and the trick will be to unite at least three of the minority political parties to get it passed. Fermin was on TV two nights in a row while we were there, with interviews to explain the plan. No one does this better than Fermin! He knows exactly what to say in favor of the legislation to motivate his side and what NOT to say, lest you alienate the other side. It was a little weird, too, because both interviews were taped, so Fermin’s sitting right there with us eating supper while we’re watching him on TV. He didn’t even look up.
Since everybody leaves the house by 7:00 a.m., Chemo and I took an early bus to El Progreso, and lo and behold, just before it pulls out, Hansel and his family climb aboard. So I guess they meant it! They would be taking the bus to San Pedro Sula, and then, well, you know, on to “America.” By the time Chemo and I got off in Progreso, Chemo’s mom was dead asleep, her mouth wide open, her babes draped about her. We exchanged one last good-bye with Hansel and that was that.
We hadn’t visited Santa and the family in El Progreso since January, but the most recent birthday was her daughter Karla’s just a week before. So we got a cake, Santa fixed lunch, and then we had a pizza party that night. But the funnest (I hate that word!) part was watching the kids jump over an electric cord stretched between them; they jumped a couple dozen times till I finally got their grandmother Tina to try it. I thought, if she trips we’re going to the hospital, but she did it!
Another early morning and we were off to Tegucigalpa. I had promised Chemo a huge, glorious MegaBus type transportation, but I guess the Ulua bus company is cutting back, so it was a van. But still comfortable enough that I could finally start reading John Green’s “The Fault in Our Stars,” the book everyone was talking about when former student James Weske mentioned it on FACEBOOK, and he sent me copy! A digital copy, so I was reading it on the iPad former colleague Kathy Blundon gave me in St. Louis last time I was there. Amazing, on all counts--the iPad, Kathy, James, and the novel!
Actually, I was going to read the book for Lent, but some kid stole the iPad right out of my house! Not just any kid, mind you, Doenis, the one who so humbly joined me at Alcoholics Anonymous a while ago. I guess it takes more than one meeting to get on the right path. I was sort of afraid to pursue the matter, but Chemo immediately went to Doenis’ uncle Felix, a guy I’ve known since 1982 when he was 7 years old; he was the first kid to figure out how to put a jigsaw puzzle together (first, you turn all the pieces face up). Felix is now a big guy, huge, a Hulk, so he jumped on his motorcycle and headed up to Panal in the mountains where Doenis had taken refuge. Like Arnold famously said, “I’ll be back.” I would have loved to have seen their “conversation,” which Felix assured me was nonviolent, but he gave me no details. I had been trying to keep the iPad a secret, you know, for security reasons. Now the whole world knows. But they know, too, that they’ll have to deal with Felix if they mess with me!
We went to Tegucigalpa to celebrate Chemo’s brother Marcos’ 17th birthday. As soon as we arrived, we took Marcos and his girlfriend Jessica to Pizza Hut, where I told our server it was Marcos’ birthday, so the staff performed for him, unfazed by the hoopla. His actual birthday was the next day, Saturday, April 26; an invitation had shown up on the FACEBOOK page of “Helping Hands for Honduras” to a “Dia Benefico” to raise funds for the brigadas that come every 3 months to do open-heart operations on little boys and girls, the same folks that saved Chemo’s life back in 2008. The restaurant COCO BALEADAS would contribute proceeds from their sales all day Saturday to Helping Hands. Alba and Ron Roll, who head the foundation, said they and the family would be there around 4:00 p.m., so that’s when we had Marcos’ “official” birthday party. A typical baleada is the size of a crepe, but these “COCO” baleadas (a flour tortilla stuffed with any variety of cheeses, meats, veggies, sauces, etc.) are as big as Yule logs, so even one is a meal. But, for a good cause, we ate as much as we could! We made another donation to get Chemo a shirt, and take his picture with Alba and Ron’s daughter Cynthia, who organized the event.
Meanwhile, the report on the most recent Brigada in March features a little piece on Chemo. I have attached it, just scroll down to see the story. (I’ll try to send the whole report in a separate mailing, if I can figure out how!)
On Sunday, we went to church! Marcos and Jessica live within about 3 blocks, but this was their first visit since they’ve been living in the area. It’s a huge church, but with a hometown feel. There are Masses all morning, and you can tell the priests know most of the people personally. Folks bring their newborns for a blessing, the choir sings favorites, the sermons are informal, families sit together, and the schedule is flexible. In our case, the 11:00 Mass started about 11:35, as the 10:00 service lingered on. It’s the most dangerous barrio in the city, so I carried almost nothing with me, just a little cash, and my camera, though Marcos says things are better now that the place is crawling with military, the latest effort to lower the crime rate. We had no problem, except when Chemo gave a couple tiny kids 20 Lempiras to share and the smaller one almost immediately returned in tears to say the other guy kept it all. But this was staged, as you could tell when they started running around laughing and pulling the same trick on other tourists. You know, you hate to see kids begging, especially when they’re “liars,” but I do love to see the human spirit undefeated!
Back home in Las Vegas, Holy Week began with Palm Sunday, recreating Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem with a teen riding a friendly burro up to the church. But the real highlight was Holy Thursday, when Padre Chicho returned for a visit. He had been pastor here for 10 years, and he could hardly contain himself. “I’m so happy to see you all again!” And I realized how much I missed his sermons when he spoke from the heart of the love of Jesus. “That’s the whole story, right there,” as Jesus washed the feet of his apostles. In fact, members of the congregation spontaneously washed each other’s feet with extra bowls of water and towels. Good Friday was solemn enough, with a three-hour Way of the Cross circling through town to houses we had never visited before. Easter Sunday Mass was followed by games for the kids, sack races and popping balloons while running (and jumping) full tilt, each balloon with a little prize inside.
But the big news is Chemo’s littlest cousin Nelson (“Necho”) taking his first steps at almost 2 years of age. The poor little guy has been scooting on his often naked butt all this time, scooping up dirt and mud and God knows what (parasites love anal entrances). With a little help from his friends, we finally got Necho on his feet.
I really can’t fault the family for Necho’s late development, since I’m usually stumbling around myself, and I can’t blame that just on my awful shoes. When I bought them less than 2 months ago, they looked so “solid,” but soon enough holes opened up in what were after all mostly hollow heels. Rocks would lodge in the holes and I’d leave them there, they were the only “support” I had! When one perfectly shaped oblong stone finally fell out, a tree burr took its place. Then the shoe tops started separating from the soles, and I thought I gotta get some new shoes before I’m walking around in flip-flops! I finally found something solid, but these dirt streets and mountain paths are murder on any shodding, so we’ll see.
But it’s you who steady my walk, and make it possible to fulfill my “mission.” Whenever you offer a prayer or encouragement or a dollar, it’s a gift.
Update on Maria as we go to print: the operation was a success, Maria resting comfortably back at home, the recuperation on schedule.
Love, Miguel
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