¿Y la tercera?

Sometimes I feel as if my landlady comes around just to find something to yell at me about, usually involving my inability to correctly lock the huge gate that guards our apartment.

Recently, when I was leaving in the middle of the day, she was parked right outside the door and watched me as I double locked the gate. I said hello, she she stared at me like I was an idiot and simply said, "Y la tercera?" And the third lock? So I stuck my key in and turned it once more for a good solid triply bolted lock.

Then, last evening, she was parked inside the gate talking to the young man who guards the apartment complex at night. We were helping some friends move their suitcases from their car to our house, and since she was standing right by the door with the guy who is responsible for locking up, I simply closed the gate without bothering to lock it. I figured she was about to leave. But, no; she beckoned me back.

"Do you know why you have to lock this door?" she asked.

"Ummm...yes. Because someone could get in."

"Right. So why didn't you lock it?"

"Because you were ready to leave and I figured David would lock up after me," I replied, though it probably sounded more like, "The locking might have taken place upon the departure you might have been making in the near future by the watchmen who has the name of David."

"He'll just forget," she said about poor David. And then, even more condescendingly, "Show me how you lock it."

I could hardly believe my ears. Is this third grade? I guess I do talk like a third grader around her, since she makes me so nervous. But seriously. Show her how I lock it?

Never mind the fact that in our same yard, in front of the apartments being built, anyone could hop over the fence in a matter of seconds.

Anyway, I was so mad I decided to complain for a while about the ceiling fan in our bedroom thatshe still hasn't fixed. She just told me she doesn't have time and doesn't want to buy one. At least I wasted twenty minutes of her time babbling.

So, I realized, my landlady makes me feel like a moron, and refuses to fix things: Is this just a glimpse of the life of a Latino renter in Goshen?

In and around the apartment

The sunset behind the Merendón mounatin range on the outskirts of San Pedro.

Amanda and my morning ritual...coffee straight from the mountain.

Two of the construction workers working on a building in our complex.

San Pedro Sula, 5 a.m.

This morning we said goodbye to Jen and Miriam, with only a small mishap. The taxi we had confirmed last night failed to show up, and when I called the dispatcher he was unable to locate any taxis. So we jumped in the car and raced to the terminal to catch their 6 a.m. bus. And in my haste to leave I didn't realize that the door was locked, stranding poor Amanda on the balcony. At least she had the hammock.

It's been a while since I'd been up this early, but it's well worth it. This is the east-facing view off of our balcony.

A few images

Miriam Miller, Peter Moyer, Amanda, and Jen Eberly in front of the waterfall at Pulhapanzak Falls.

A lizard, hanging out on a rock by the falls.

A restaurant in the food court at the bus terminal in San Pedro. My question is, What is that weird green thing with it's arm around the Mexican dude?

The ceiling in one of the city busses we take into the office. This refurbished school bus may have taken little Andrew to middle school once upon a time.

A nice mural

Jen Eberly, our vistior and friend from Goshen, in front of one of the murals in the cathedral in San Pedro Sula.

Fútbol (Soccer)

There really is no US equivalent to a Central American soccer game. Hondurans are nuts for their World Cup team -- La Selección -- which has the best chance of qualifying for the World Cup since the 80's. Last night I had the privilege of freezing my butt off watching the first qualifying match between Honduras and Puerto Rico. Fun, but miserable.

The rain began about 5:30, as I and two other men from the church were entering the stadium, and it didn't stop for the entire five hours we spent standing in the back of the bleachers. The game was supposed to begin at 7:30, but they waited until 8:30 to see if field conditions would improve. They didn't; the field was just an hour soggier, but they gave it a go anyway. It was ugly, with the players slipping and sliding all over the muddy pitch, but Honduras pressed on victorious, 4-0. The fans got what they wanted. All I wanted was for them to cancel the game.

What is it about people -- let's be honest -- about men that makes them sit out for hours in pelting rain to watch a bunch of other men kick around a ball for a while?

¡Viva la Selección!

Street kids and photos

Over the last few months I have become accustomed, and almost calloused, to the presence of very young children living in the streets. I was reminded of this when we were traveling around last week with some Mennonite church leaders from the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico. (You can see some photos of the trip here.) One of the participants, Nelly Rivera, commented on a little girl standing in the middle of a dirt road near Choloma. She said that if this were Puerto Rico, she would have called child protective services. I remember having those same thoughts about six months ago, when we passed a little boy in only a diaper playing with a hammer and nails that were left out on the front stoop of a house. I assume that boy's parents were around somewhere, but this little kid was in a dangerous situation, and no one took any notice.

Just yesterday we were walking to church when we caught up to a young boy -- probably 9 or 10 -- limping down the sidewalk. We stopped and asked him what happened to his foot, and he showed me where a piece of glass had imbedded itself in the middle of his foot. He had no shoes, and his ratty shorts and shirt were about falling off. Where did he come from? Where are his parents? Sadly, chances are he will look for a home, and will find it in one of the many street gangs.

I feel overwhelmed by poverty, and particularly when vulnerable small children are left on the streets to fend for themselves. I don't have any answers for this troubling reality of life in Central America. But I pray that I don't let these images of poverty harden me any more than they already have.

On a cheerier note, here are some more pictures of our trip with our most recent visitor, LaRita Craft. She just finished her master's in piano at University of Missouri at Kansas City, and celebrated with a trip around Honduras.