Soy yo, el gringo

Two days ago I drove for the first time through the crazy streets of San Pedro. Amanda and I had to drop off our monton of clothes at Bubbles, the local laundromat. The drive went well; I even sneaked right across the insanely busy Avenida Junior during the beginning of rush hour. We dropped off the clothes, left my name -- Andres -- and returned to the truck to head home. Of course the truck wouldn't start and we didn´t really know what to do. The nice ladies at the laundromat said we were more than welcome to leave our truck in their narrow parking lot until we came up with a plan, but if we left it there overnight, they said, it would be gone by morning. So we helplessly walked back to the office to find help from our older and wiser MCC friend, Jeff. At about 9 p.m. all of the folks in the office who were here for Connecting Peoples meetings we´ve had this week walked down to Bubbles to push start the truck. It took some doing, and must have been a funny site to see a herd of gringos pushing a beat-up Nissan truck down the road with every dog in the neighborhood going nuts, but finally the truck started and we all hopped in the back.

It´s times like this, when I feel helpless, that I feel the most self conscious of the fact that I´m different. No matter how much I try to blend in by not wearing shorts, trying to speak Honduran Spanish, etc., strangers will always recognize me for what I am -- a gringo. But it´s endearing, and it gives me character, I think. I have never been more aware of that fact before yesterday, when Amanda and I returned to Bubbles to pick up our clothes. Oddly, the woman recognized us and didn´t even have to ask my name. She had the bag of clothes waiting for us at the window. While walking home, I noticed a piece of tape on the bottom of the trash bag that held our folded laundry. I assumed it said ¨Andres,¨ the name I gave to the woman when I left the clothes. But no, the the label was even more simple and descriptive -- ¨gringo.¨

Labor abuses in Honduras

Honduras is known for its cheap labor. If you look at the tag on your shirts, chances are many of them were manufactured right here in San Pedro Sula, where wages and operating costs are low. Most of the plants, however, are reported to be fairly well run, and the jobs are highly sought after as some of the best paying jobs in this economically depressed country.

But this report put out by the National Labor Committee on labor practices in one Honduran Alcoa auto parts processing plant is absolutely shocking. According to the report, workers were systematically abused and denied basic rights guaranteed by the UN and the International Labor Organization. Here is one of the more disturbing excerpts from the report:

At Alcoa, it is not uncommon for workers to have to urinate, or even defecate, in their clothing after repeatedly being denied permission to use the bathroom. The bathrooms are also dirty, lacking lights and toilet paper. Workers who take “too long” may be pulled from the toilet by guards. There have even been cases of women being made to disrobe and lower their underpants to prove they were having their period so they could use the bathroom more than twice a day. Workers arriving 15 minutes late can be punished with the loss of two-and-a-half or three days’ wages. With as little as ten minutes notice, workers on the night shift can be ordered to remain working for another six hours, keeping them at the factory from 4:15 p.m. to 6:00 a.m.—nearly 14 hours. All overtime is obligatory and those who object can be fired. Many lines work this mandatory 13 ¾ hour shift five nights a week, putting them at the factory 68 ¾ hours a week. Especially in Plant III, where the air conditioning has been broken for nearly a year, fainting is common as factory temperatures often reach 104 degrees. Supervisors yell at the workers, “Hey, Donkey, move!” or “Work, you prisoners!” Security guards patrol the shop floor and if they see someone resting for even a few seconds, they will poke that person with their baton and order them to keep moving. Especially at night, workers take strong caffeine pills to stay awake and race to meet their high production goals, as well as pills for muscle pain, and later sleeping pills in order to sleep during the day. Production speed-ups are routine and arbitrarily set by management. In June, workers were told they had to increase their production from nine harnesses a day to 12. This was a 33 percent increase in production, with no wage increase.

Fortunately, this report has attracted some international attention after Alcoa fired all employees who were recognizing their legally guaranteed right to unionize. My hope is that this international awareness will turn consumers´heads to the realities of cheap labor here in Central America, encouraged by so called ¨fair-trade¨agreements. I guess we need to ask ourselves a very difficult and complex question: Are these human rights abuses a fair trade-off for cheaper auto parts?

These are a few of my favorite things...

One activity we did during MCC orientation in July was the Meyers-Briggs personality test. I found out that my love of making lists pushes me over the edge into the "judging" category, and out of the "perceiving"category, which I was formally so fond of. So here we go...

The little things that can make any day exciting:

1.) Kissing. I love it when women I've just met give me a kiss on the cheek as a greeting or farewell. It's more of a cheek brush with a kiss to the air... it makes me feel accepted and even a little loved. It's even better when they kind of grab my elbows with both hands and hold on for a little bit. Why don't we do this in the states? Why all the awkward half-waves?

2.) Fruit juices. One can purchase an amazing assortment of fruits for just a few lempiras (18 lempiras = $1), so it is possible to experiment with a blender and any number of combinations of fruits. There are also many, many fruit juice mini-restaurants around, which will juice fruit for you, blend it with ice and lots and lots of sugar for around a dollar. We've discovered that it's worth it to ask for a little less sugar than normal.

3.) Walking. I am definitely a little nervous about the city buses; traffic is intense and so biking isn't a good option, so I'm thankful that I enjoy walking.

4.) Snack food. Specifically, baleadas (flour tortilla with refried beans, cream, and cheese, folded in half with pickled spicy veggies to put on top), and pasteles de pollo, otherwise known as empenadas. Very tasty.

5.) Amiga. The special Friday section of the La Prensa, San Pedro's daily paper, which is just for women.

6.) TV. I feel guilty for including this, but I have watched more t.v. here in 5 weeks than I did probably all of last year; mainly when we've been staying with host families. I think it's helping me with my spanish.

7.) Cool, breezy evenings.

8.) Rain.

9.) My spanish teachers, who are usually fairly patient with me.

10.) Two potential new friends, who also happen to speak pretty good english, but seem patient with spanish-learners (PTL).

To be fair, I'll include an abbreviated list of some things that can make a day in Honduras not quite so exciting:

1.) Exhaust, and traffic in general.
2.) Fried food, every day, every meal, everything fried, then fried some more.
3.) The practiced "come hither" look that so many men seem to have down, that has caused me to start being a sidewalk-starer.
4.) Sad, sick, and miserable-looking street animals.
5.) The big things: poverty, homeless children, unemployment, environmental degradation... all things that shouldn't be tritely tacked on to the end of an abbreviated list. All things that I'd like to write more about in the future when I'm not tired from a 4 hour bus ride and ready for bed.

Goodnight from San Pedro...

La Ceiba -- Honduras's girlfriend

After a brief stay in San Pedro Sula, we headed to the north coast last Thursday to explore Tocoa, Trujillo, and La Ceiba. La Ceiba, the third largest city in Honduras with 100,000 inhabitants, is affectionately known as Honduras's girlfriend. I don't quite know what that means, but the guidebook explains Honduras's three largest cities this way: in San Pedro Sula, you work; in Tegucigalpa you think; in La Ceiba, you party. We haven't partied yet, just like we haven't really worked while in San Pedro Sula, but I can easily say that the North Coast is my favorite part of Honduras so far. To be fair, I have yet to see Tegucigalpa, but we'll had there this weekend. On Thursday we explored the old colonial town of Trujillo, and ate ceviche in a restaurant right on the edge of the ocean. It was so close to the water that I would expect that during high tide the water comes right up to the first row of tables. It was painful to not be able to swim, as we caught only a quick lunch before heading back to Tocoa but at least have some good itineraries in mind for visitors. The rest of the weekend was spent attending the Honduran Mennonite Church's National Assembly. Most of the pastors from Honduras were there, so it was a good chance to get to know some of Honduras's Mennonite big-wigs.

Since then, we've been in La Ceiba taking classes at the Central American Spanish School. Classes are four hours in the morning, leaving the rest of the day for study, relaxation, and exploration. Today's afternoon activity was one of the most unexpected surprises so far. We had previously been told to hit La Ceiba's Butterfly and Insect Museum, as it houses one of the best collections of Honduran butterflies, moths and insects, so we decided to spend our afternoon there. Upon entering we were greeted by a gringo named Robert Lehman, who graduated from Goshen College -- Amanda's and my alma mater -- in the 60's. After graduating from Goshen, he worked as an elementary school teacher for one of the American schools owned by the Standard Fruit Corporation (now Dole) and ended up staying. Throughout his thirty plus years here he has amassed an amazing collection of more than 14,000 specimens from 101 countries. He spent many of his nights out in the mountain jungles with a black light and white sheet, collecting moths, beetles, butterflies, dangerous moths, and other creepy crawlers. I got the sense that he no longer collects in the mountains, but is now an avid trader of insects throughout the world. He is currently awaiting a shipment of 700 butterflies from Poland.

You never know where you'll find a Maple Leaf.

As for the rest of this week, we'll have two more days of classes at the Central American Spanish School, and head back to San Pedro Sula on Friday. A Learning Tour from MCC in Akron will be meeting us in Tegucigalpa on Sunday, before which we plan to go to the Honduras National team game against Panama. It's a tough life.