Part III: The Ugly

---

You’re probably wondering why this blog update took such a long time in the making. One reason is because I have a tendency to write novels, if that wasn’t already apparent. This entry is about a week-long process, but my self-diagnosed ADD probably has a bit to do with that as well. However, the main reason this update has taken so long is because I needed some time to cool down and reflect on a very unfortunate encounter I experienced last week.

Since arriving on the island, I have made a number of contacts with scientists, conservationists, and locals who just want to help rescue turtles from fishermen looking to make some money off hungry people’s next meal. Unfortunately, turtle happens to be a meat of choice for many islanders. Some people on the island started buying live turtles off the fishermen, temporarily keeping them in pens, then releasing them when high seas prevent fishing boats from going out to recapture the animals. One person who buys the turtles is Jimmy, owner of the Asylum bar/restaurant in Camp Bay, and his wife Selina. Jimmy and Selina contacted a friend of mine who works with island conservation and let him know that there were several turtle nests close to hatching on Camp Bay beach. My friend encouraged me to get out there and try to collect some data and photos of the hatchlings. Last week’s full moon was predicted to be the time of hatching, so after speaking with Jimmy, I decided to head out to the beach.

My friend Chloe and her husband Terry own a van and tour service, and agreed to drive me out to Camp Bay, which is located on the far east side of the island, and area that is not frequented by anyone but locals. After a bumpy, hour long drive on a dirt road, we arrived at the Asylum around 7:30 PM. It was dark, rainy, and buggy, and I was ravenous. Selina served me some incredible seafood soup for dinner, and could barely contain herself as she waited for me to finish so we could get out to the beach to see the turtles. After stopping by the Camp Bay Adventure Lodge and hostel, where I would sleep that night, we headed out to the beach. Thankfully the rains were sporadic, so we weren’t soaked the entire time. In fact, the clouds even cleared after a few hours, revealing a brilliant full moon and countless stars. We walked the beach several times, but mainly sat close to the nest that was supposed to hatch.

Around midnight, after being thoroughly devoured by mosquitoes, we decided to check to see whether the eggs were even in tact anymore. Sure enough, we discovered all of the shells had already hatched and the turtles were long gone. We were both very disappointed, but also relieved that the turtles had apparently made it safely out to sea. Since genetic data can be collected from egg shells, we collected the remains and Selina took them back to the restaurant to count and process the following morning.

After a great night’s sleep at the hostel, I awoke to a beautiful sunny day, and the sound of the ocean 15 meters from my room. I stepped out to the beach and was awestruck by the quiet, beautiful stretch of sand and crystal clear waters before my eyes. I felt wonderful and refreshed, eager to start my day, and for the weekend when I could return to Camp Bay and explore the area on my own time. However, after running into the national park employees who informed us where the nest was, I wanted to make sure the second nest on the beach had not already hatched as well, so they did not have to spend each morning looking for tracks if the turtles had already hatched. The employees said they would need to contact their boss to make sure it was okay, and walked off. After a leisurely breakfast and nice chat with Mike, the owner of the hostel, he told me he had the number of the woman who works in the organization (which will remain nameless for the time being) that oversees the national park. I dialed the number, clueless as to what was about to happen.

As soon as I got out my first sentence, the woman was already screaming at me for disobeying protocol, authority, and respect for “her” turtle project on the island. Huh? I had no clue this organization even existed on Roatan anymore, and had no idea what she was talking about with the authority. She proceeded to scream at me for about 15 minutes, demanding to know who told me about the nest (her employees), who authorized me to go there (um, no one, the beach is public property), and how foreigners are always coming in, ruining her work and screwing up the island (she’s married to an American, and had all of her kids in the US).

I was honestly in shock as to what was happening, and couldn’t get more than two words into the conversation. Finally, when I thought I was about to burst into tears, Digicel did me a massive favor and cut off the call. With phone providers here, calling another network (i.e. Sprint to Verizon) costs more than calling internationally, and eats up minutes. I was unaware of this, so my newly purchased 100 Lps. Phone card lasted a whole 13 minutes before disconnecting. I had to buy another card off the hostel owner, but when I tried calling the woman (who from now on will be referred to as the "HW"), the line was busy so I figured she was lashing out on everyone else on the island. I called me friend, the one who suggested I come in the first place, to warn him that he might be getting chewed out in the near future, but it didn’t seem to faze him in the least. Apparently he had dealt with the wench on numerous occasions, and this was typical of her behavior. This made me a bit more relieved, but I was still shocked an upset that this woman thought so lowly of me, especially because I chose to work in Honduras out of my love for the country.

I said some unfortunate goodbyes to the hostel owners, and walked back to the Asulym to speak with Jimmy and Serina. Since arriving in Roatan, I can honestly say I have not felt as low or discouraged as I did during that walk. The irony of my conversation with Mike earlier in the morning was not lost on me. Before any of this happened, he was sharing many of his difficulties and struggles since arriving to the island. He laughed as he told me a neighbor described the island as “Hell, with a nice view” and I couldn’t help but disagree. Now, just a few moments later, I fully understood what he meant. Before I left, we chuckled as he told me I just got “Roatanned”, their phrase for so many of the idiotic policies, regulations, and encounters on the island.

When I got back to the restaurant, Jimmy and Serina were there waiting, as I enlightened them to the morning’s events. Jimmy was more upset than I, as he said I was the first person to actually come out there in years with the intent to help, and he worried that now I would be scared off because of the HW. I assured him this wasn’t the case, and I still wanted to help him as much as possible. After more chatting, and a cool down period, I really just wanted to get back to my home base, so we set off on the journey back. On the way, we stopped at a cute little farm for a drink and lunch, and waited for Chloe to pick me up. I was still worried about how my advisor was going to react, especially since I thought I might have compromised a good relationship with the wench’s organization, however, Jimmy called him and from the side of the conversation I heard, it sounds like his experience was not unlike my own.

When I got back to Coco View, I had to explain what happened to everyone who had been so excited for me to see the hatchlings. To my surprise, I got similar responses to those of my friend. Apparently everyone who has dealt with this woman and her organization wound up in the same place as me. And to anger me even more, I learned more about the organization and its questionable past. The HW obtained and maintains her leadership position without any voting by a board of directors or system of check and balances. There have also been many situations of grant money going to the organization and no reasonable use of funds, though people reported a nice addition to her home shortly after receiving one grant. She fights with all other conservation agencies on the island because she worries they will compete for grant money. This is both true and warranted to see that SOME conservation efforts are made on the island.

Anyway, I could go on for several more hours about this situation, but it’s pointless to waste any more time or energy on people of her caliber. Thankfully, my mood recovered (misery loves company, right?) and things are back to normal here. I am still frustrated with how the situation turned out, but welcome to Honduras.

However, despite my setbacks and challenges, I am reminded every day why I am here, and why my heart led me to this place to do my work. Standing on the dock, looking at the eager guests and hardworking employees, I realize this work must be done to preserve the unique ecosystem surrounding this beautiful island that so many people call home. Although I know I will run into many more roadblocks, reflecting on last week’s events helps me realize how many more people truly care about the animals and the ocean. I am working for THOSE people, not for the corrupt few who think they are in power. I will do all I can to help the islanders, and to ensure the ocean and its incredible coral reefs remain healthy for generations to come. Perhaps I am fighting a losing battle, but it is a battle I stand by until the end. The ocean is simply too beautiful to give up.

---