Deflating: After Thoughts

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From Honduras I zoomed back to my home in Aztec, New Mexico in a matter of hours. I felt ripped away from the comfortable life I had lived for the past few weeks. My routine was predictable: Breakfast at 7:30 with Orphilia, Spanish tutoring from 8:00 to noon at Ixbalanque School right around the corner. My Spanish teacher and I talked about everything, from fruit to our experiences of giving birth to our children, relationships, marriage, dreams (I offered my amateur services as a dream therapist), "unacceptable" (dirty) words, travels, financial difficulties, hopes for the future. All of this in Spanish and sign language. I had the most fun when I described my experience of traveling on a boat 25 years ago from Singapore to Sumatra when the boat sank in the middle of the night. I did not know all the Spanish words to convey everything such as "sank", "rescue", and "dock", but I was on my feet gesturing and making noises and using much energy to give the story the drama it deserved.

I roamed the nearby environs in the afternoons, looking for diversion or something new. Sometimes I found something amazing, like the humongous ceiba tree at Copan Ruins. I found it on a nature trail during a light drizzle. If I stopped walking for more than a few seconds, mosquitos repeatedly pierced my bare ankles. This tree was really big, and I lingered as long as I could to marvel at the giant fin like roots that anchored this monolith. Other times I wandered off to chat with some friends, like at Hacienda San Lucas where I spent a delightful late afternoon, sipping hibiscus tea. Or I would find a small cafe and enjoy a liquado with fruit and milk. Watermelon was my favorite. Then I usually went to the internet place for an hour or two right before dinner, or chatted with young Dayana in the afternoon, maybe did a little Spanish study or my assigned homework, then dinner at 6:30, maybe a walk to the plaza in the evening.

What have I learned? Things are still settling in as I go about my daily life back in New Mexico. I think of sweet Dayana, who became my best buddy and companion. I helped her rehearse for a school play in which she was to perform the day I was to leave. I read the parts of five other people, giving them each a distinctive and silly voice. She was so busy laughing and imitating what I was doing that she forgot her lines. Twenty minutes later she was sobbing because we were saying goodbye. Orphilia told me she cried herself to sleep as she hugged her teddy bear that night. I learned that I could make a really big impact on a child, even though I had known her for just a few weeks.

I think of Suyapa, the schoolteacher, who led me and 25 kids up the coffee covered hill and through the sea of cow muck. She insisted on taking me to the bus station for my final journey to San Pedro Sula. Her hug and goodbyes were warm, and she assured me that she was awaiting my return. Our time together was brief, but it was totally genuine.

I think of Orphilia, the person who seems to be the anchor for the family that held me in their lives for three weeks. Orphilia sings and works from dawn to late in the evening, making sure everyone is fed and has everything they need. One day I found her standing motionless, staring off into nothing. I asked her what she was thinking. Oh, just ghosts from the past, she said. She commented to me right before I left that her shoulders were tense. I made her sit down and tried to give her a shoulder massage. The muscles were as tight as watermelon rinds and would not budge. She's had many students stay with her, and she must be used to their fleeting visits. We surprised each other when I left, as we each said tearful goodbyes.

June 27, 2011--over a year later, I read this last entry that I never finished, nor published. Maybe I forgot, but more likely, I just didn't want the Honduras experience to end, and really did not know what to say. I went there for a few weeks, drifted into people's very personal lives, and drifted out again, like a wave of water. Maybe I'll return to reconnect, maybe not. But something is twanging my heart strings--I miss those connections deeply--want to hug little Dayana again and be silly, talk about life and love with Orphilia and Suyapa and others, breathe the ancients at the ruins, walk the streets of the little town of Copan Ruinas and feel myself just existing....

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