So it's 3:00 am and I couldn't sleep... life here in post-coup Flor del Campo goes on... last week my friend Arely had her baby (giving me an eye-opening glimpse of the Honduran public health system), and yesterday my friend Tina's mom passed away. Daily life in Flor del Campo continues, despite the fact that kids haven't had regular classes since the beginning of this month. I haven't written on this blog for almost three weeks now. Why the silence? Quite honestly I just don't know what to say... I've run out of words. Honduras is no longer front page news around the world, but anxieties and tensions continue to rise; the economic ripple affects are being felt as tourism has come to a screaching halt and major road closures due to marches and demonstrations are crippling local businesses. Everyone is tired of this mess.
Yesterday was a hard day for many people in our community. The main food market in Comayaguela, where most people from our neighborhood go for weekly grocery shopping, burned to the ground. This is a market where hundreds of people made their living selling fresh meat and cheese, grains and veggies and non-food essentials like clothes and burned CDs and DVDs. I haven't been down to the market after the fire, so it's still hard to imagine the damage; much less the despair that all those people with small businesses are suffering after losing everything they had.
Yesterday also brought a teacher friend of mine, Yesenia, to the library... she was very distraught after spending the morning at a pro-Zelaya, anti-coup march on the outskirts of the city. My normally super-calm and warm friend was visibly shaken by the violence she'd seen, as a fellow teacher had been shot by the military during the demonstration. She said the police threw tear gas and there was lots of pushing and chaos - later on the radio I heard an interview of another teacher who'd been badly hurt during the march.
Yesterday also marked day 6 of a 24-hour "toque de queda", or curfew, for the people in the departments bordering Nicaragua. They are being forced to stay in their houses because they have the unfortunate position of living between an ousted president and a militarily imposed president. The curfew started before last weekend, meaning people living in these rural areas weren't able to make the customary trip to buy groceries and staples. So yes, the poor are suffering. Stuck in their homes without food and in some cases without water - under threat of arrest if they decide to take to the streets.
So here I am, sitting in my dark living room in the middle of the night, thinking about Tina and her mom, the people from the market, Yesenia and her fellow marchers who witnessed such violence today, and people under curfew near the border. The injustice is mind-numbing. And paralyzing - probably the reason I haven't written in weeks despite the need to write and share with you, friends and family and maybe a smattering of strangers, what's going on here and how we're feeling. Plus I don't like to be a downer. I'll share one happy thought before signing off: as I mentioned, classes have been canceled most days because teachers are striking, but despite that; one super-cool, super-dedicated teacher named Jorge Juan decided to hold his sixth grade class in the library for a few days so his kids wouldn't be so far behind when their graduation exams come up in a few months. There is hope for the world.
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2 comments:
thank you for writing about what's happening for us, even though you feel you don't know what to say. you're right: the injustice is mind-numbing.
I've been reading your articles and thank you for making the whole situation more understandable for me. I pray for you to remain safe.
I was so, so touched by Amanda's statement "The ones who will lose in this political clash, as always, already are and will continue to be the poor." Tragic and so true. Hugs & kisses to you both, dears.
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