Thoughts on Haiti

I can't help but imagine myself in the same situation as my MCC counterparts in Haiti. The thought that grips me is that the earthquake the struck Honduras last year was the same magnitude, yet Honduras was essentially left unharmed. Seeing the pictures of Port-au-Prince reminds me of Tegucigalpa: shacks perched precariously on hillsides, shoddy construction, flimsy infrastructure. This could have been Teguc.

Imagine. The earthquake rocked Haiti before 5 p.m. I would have still been at work on the other side of the city. Streets are blocked, traffic stopped. Night falls soon after. I can imagine myself sprinting through the dark to Flor del Campo, my mouth dry, eyes filled with concrete dust, unable to make phone contact with my pregnant wife. Four hours by bus from the MCC office. Hungry, thirsty, frightened. It's too much for my small brain to comprehend.

Yet this is the apocalyptic reality for the Haitian people living in Port-au-Prince. Women are giving birth on the streets. Children are weeping, homeless and hungry. People are contracting tropical diseases and have no comfortable place to lay down.

I have inserted links to the blogs of MCCers in Haiti on the right-hand side. Not all are updated, but I'm sure they will be soon. Consider donating to MCC's relief efforts. I can vouch for the organization: www.mcc.org.

2 lists

I, too, and a bit worried about elections. And so to turn my mind to other thoughts, I am compiling a list of Things That Are Ridiculous About the United States of America that I have thought of after 2 + years on the outside:

1. Zoning laws 1. Here, if you have a big pile of bricks and some sand, you got yourself an extra room, or maybe an apartment behind your house. Whatever works.

2. Zoning laws 2. Thanks to my friend Ben, I just found out that it is ILLEGAL to keep chickens in your yard in Goshen. Seriously! What are we afraid of? Fresh eggs, pleasant clucking sounds; I don't see a bad side. I don't think my neighbors here would understand the concept of chicken illegality.

3. Nursing homes. I have a new appreciation for inter-generational living. So much so that Andrew and I are going to give it a go for awhile when we get back.

4. Anxiety, sometimes even fear, of women breastfeeding in public. I think this might stem from our overall fear of anything that connects us with the animal kingdom. I have gotten completely nipple de-sensitized... breastfeeding is everywhere. It happens everyday. It's natural. I promise. Nobody gets hurt.

5. Lack of good, cheap, inter-state public transportation. We can get from San Pedro to Tegucigalpa, a five hour bus ride, for less than $5. Or you can spring for air-conditioning, really comfy seat, movies, and a white bread/mystery meat spread sandwich plus a coke for $15, with no stops along the way. Why can't we do this in the states? Greyhound is tired and sad and drooping and super-inconvenient, not to mention strangely expensive.

6. Disposable diapers. Seriously. If Honduran women can get up at 5am to wash their cloth diapers by hand, we can take the time to throw ours into a washing machine. And save the planet a little.

7. The Buffet. Luke-warm, bad tasting, sneezed upon and handled food in massive quantities. Although this does not apply to Indian buffets, which are pretty much awesome and should be encouraged.

8. Absolutely enormous houses for small families. The houses that have rooms that nobody really goes into most of the time, but are still furnished, and of course, heated and cooled depending on the outside temperature. This particular beef relates to ridiculous thing number 3.

9. Lawns. Grass? Unless you're playing soccer or frisbee on it I'm really not sure what it's for. We should have gardens, and eat stuff from them. Or more trees. Shrubs at least.

10. Dryers. Sun, anyone? This also relates to beef numbers 1 & 2, as Ben also told me that in some places it is ILLEGAL to hang your laundry outside.

Wait! Just in case you are thinking that I have no love for my homeland, here is a quick list of things I totally love and miss and can't wait to get back to:

1. Sidewalks.

2. Bike paths.

3. Pedestrian right-of-way.

4. Diversity.

5. My bike.

6. Swimming pool access.

7. Gender equality.

8. Our constitution, which is old and easy to understand. I'm pretty sure a military coup would not fly under our constitution.

9. Trees in the cities. And birds.

10. Amazing variety of food.

Elections

This Sunday's elections have been hailed by the United States and the de facto Honduran government as the only exit to the political crisis that has further impoverished this already struggling country. The United States has been clear that they will recognize the results of the elections, despite the fact that Zelaya was not returned to the presidency. Most Latin American countries say they will not recognize the new government, but only time will tell whether the elections will put the situation to rest.

Some fear violence on election day. Many (most?) are apathetic. I have not talked to one person who will be voting on Sunday. My sense is that Hondurans are so fed up with the political corruption and impunity that to vote on Sunday is to legitimize a system that is deeply broken.

If you are interested, here is a blog entry that summarizes the militarization surrounding these "free" elections. The most troubling reality to me is that the military has sent a letter to all mayors asking them to provide names and telephone numbers of all of the people in their communities who belong to the resistance movement. The fact that the armed forces can so openly root out people it considers to be political dissidents proves to me that this was, indeed, a military coup.

Mormons, Jehova's Witnesses and Thieves...O My

Sometimes interesting people come to the door. Today it was the mormons. I was snapping beans in the kitchen when they arrived... Andrew was up the stairs buying eggs at the pulperia. I saw them, three of them, in their white shirts and black ties and metal name tags, through the window, and I nervously took a handful of beans with me to the door. In normal Flor del Campo fashion I talked to them through the narrow bars of our porch door for a bit until I felt too ridiculous and unlatched the door, exposing myself to their full-on mormon eye contact. They must teach the eye contact thing in missionary training because they are all very good at it. It is hard to maintain constant eye contact with three clean-cut men at the same time, but not to be intimidated, I did my best.

The tall, blond, blue-eyed mormon on the left was surprised and I think a little flustered to find this dirty-haired gringa at the door, socks jammed into flipflops coming up to meet capri pants, green beens in hand. His spanish came out too quickly and a little jumbled, and more than once I had to ask him to repeat himself as he asked me what state I was from and what I was doing here... turns out he's been in the neighborhood 3 months. Believe me, there is nothing more awkward than meeting someone from your own country in both of your second language... ask any expatriate. It is part challenge, part confusion, all awkward. Especially when they are evangelizing you.

I have nothing against mormons. Growing up in the Northwest, I was fascinated by their large families and backyard trampolines, and often wondered if all of them had a propensity for theater or if that was just a phenomena of my particular highschool.

Andrew is nervous and distrustful of mormons... he came back to the house, eggs in hand, eyed them and quickly entered the house after a short greeting. He grew up in the midwest, so mormons were a thing of legends and jokes to him... not the kids tripping next to him in gym class. He prefers to be evangelized by Jehova's Witnesses. It's true, they have more to give and less to ask of you... happy to leave the latest Watchtower pamphlet and the daily scripture, without asking to chat, come inside, or press any life-altering religious decisions. Last weekend it was the Jehova's Witnesses who came knocking. I am nervous and distrutful of Jehova's Witnesses so I hid in the bedroom while Andrew chatted them up. They left after a few minutes and after leafing through the Watchtower a bit he started wondering out loud about JW theology. What is it they believe? Why don't they celebrate birthdays? What is this magical number about anyway? I ignored him.

He popped out the door to see where they went. Only Andrew would ask a JW back to the house. They were just coming back up the stairs, so he flagged them down and politely asked them if they thought everyone but them and their fellow JW's were destined for hell. Now the nice lady with the shade umbrella was the one to be nervous and distrutful, and a little out of her element... she excused herself and went to have a quick conference with her co-horts at the top of the stairs. Two minutes later another nice lady brought the smaller, thicker, “¿Qué Enseña realmente LA BIBLIA?” and said maybe when they had more time they could come back to chat.

Not all of our visitors have a religious motive. Yesterday a young man brought a very blingy (there is no other word to describe it's rhinestone-encrusted amazingness), tech-y, over-the-top cell phone to the door. He held it out to us through the bars, asking if we could please switch the language setting to Spanish, since he couldn't understand any of the English settings. He said a friend had sent it to him. Uh huh. We couldn't figure it out right away so he left it with us, which we let him do because it all happened so fast... and now the blingy thing is sitting on the table two feet in front of me, blue light blinking. We never did figure it out, he never did come back to get it. I don't like having the expensive, clearly-stolen-at-some-point thing in the house, but what to do? We await his return. Maybe it's better to go away for the weekends.

Accord? Think again.

Yesterday's jubilant headlines suggest that the political standoff in Honduras has come to an end. If you simply read the headlines yesterday you may be led to believe that Zelaya is already back in power, and that the November elections would be recognized by all of the world's governments. But there is still once hitch: according to the agreement both sides would let the National Congress decide whether Zelaya would be reinstated. The Congress, however, seems to have no intention of calling the emergency session for the vote. Al Jazeera is reporting this morning that since Congress members are busy campaigning all over the country, there is no time to vote.

The National Congress, Roberto Micheletti, and the entire de facto government has continually insulted the Honduran people's intelligence throughout this political crisis. They seem to think that they can do whatever they want without consequence, despite the fact that most Hondurans favor Zelaya's return and dissaprove of the coup. After four months of constant protesting, despite the repeal of Constitutional guarantees and the crackdown on "dissidents," they can be assured the Resistance will not stay quiet.

It is hard to be over dramatic about Honduras's economic situation resulting from the coup and the global financial crisis. A slew of factors are coming together to form the perfect storm that could do as much economic damage as Hurricane Mitch, or knock it down to the level of Haiti or sub-Saharan Africa. Unemployment has skyrocketed; due to a non-existent rainy season most farmers lost their crops and the water reserves going into the dry season are essentially empty; due to lack of rain and high temperatures (the average high in October is 79 degrees; yesterday was 90, and it was as hot as most days this month) the coming wildfire season will devastate the forests; the de facto government has racked up huge internal debt for which the new government will be responsible to pay. The list goes on and on. An economist from the organization FOSDEH told me two nights ago that the percentage of the population living in poverty will increase from 59 percent to 70 percent this year alone. He said the statistics were enough to turn him into an alcoholic.

With this in mind, consider that my organization, ASJ, has asked each presidential candidate for their plan on how they intend to confront these problems. Less than a month before the elections no one has anything. Unbelievable.

Would you like to take a survey?

This week I had the interesting opportunity of helping to administer a survey in our colonia, Flor del Campo, regarding the situation of land ownership in the community. They survey was part of the Asociación para una Sociedad más Justa's land rights project, whose lawyers and community organizers accompany neighborhoods in Tegucigalpa and San Pedro Sula who are fighting for land titles. First, a little context.

Flor del Campo, like many communities in Tegucigalpa, originally formed more than twenty years ago as a land invasion. This is common, and still happening, as more and more people migrate from the country to the city to look for work. This phenomenon has caused many land ownership conflicts, in which members of wealthy families claim to own large tracks of land that encompass these land invasions, and take advantage of the situation to charge rent upon threat of burning down houses, or worse. Often more than one rich land owner lays claim to the same land, and community members find themselves paying rent periodically to five or six people. This instability has been responsible for countless murders of community leaders fighting for land titles. About five years ago ASJ successfully lobbied the government to implement a new law to clear up these problems. Essentially, if an occupied piece of land is in dispute, the government can expropriate the land, place a value on it, and charge the community members an amount pay for the amount of land they own. Once each homeowner pays this amount, he or she receives an official land title, proving he or she owns the land. This money is held in a bank account. Meanwhile, the people who claim to own the land fight in court. Whoever is ruled to be the proper owner gets the money in the bank account. Win, win, win.

Flor del Campo was the first neighborhood to go through this process. The goal of this survey was to find out how many people have received their land titles, and, if they have, whether they have used them to get loans for home improvement.

In a morning of surveying I encountered some eye-opening realities. A few observations:

1.) The hardest question for people to answer was, "How many people live in this household?" Some people had to count and recount after running out of fingers, others argued about whether a family member lived in the house or not, others simply said they did not know. Wow.

2.) With the surveys I did, the average number of people living in a household was between 9 and10. There was not one house with fewer than 8. These aren't 2,500 square foot suburban mcmansions, either.

3.) In all of the households but one, the highest number of family members employed was two. That means in the best case scenario, two people were supporting households of 10, 11, or 12 people.

4.) Only one household reported a monthly income of more than $250.

5.) At one house, a woman busy grinding corn for tortillas did not seem to know who owned the house, how many people lived there, or whether she even had a tortilla business. This is not a reflection on her intelligence...I think having a gringo in her humble living room/bedroom/kitchen was just too embarrassing for words.

Rainy season? Not yet.

The quick political update: talks between Zelaya and Micheletti have so far failed to bring any kind of resolution. Zelaya is still running his government and emitting decrees from the Brazilian embassy (this will be five weeks tomorrow) - which, sidenote, always has me wondering, what kind of bed situation is going on in there? Micheletti seems to be holding out for the elections and trying to get Zelaya and supporters to sign a document stating that his government is legitimate. I have no idea what November elections will bring, but there has been talk both of voting boycotts, and the government forcing people to vote.

One unfortunate bi-product of this mess is the early and sad ending of the public education school-year, after days and weeks and added-up-to months of missed classes. One of my English students, Dayro, stopped by yesterday... he is a senior and will be graduating this coming Saturday, but his highschool isn't holding a graduating ceremony or party or anything. He wasn't even given end-of-the-year exams. Nobody was this year - all students are being automatically passed through to the next grade.

On a more personal note - Andrew and I have been pretty busy lately. Andrew's work continues to step it up another notch every time he seems to get comfortable with something, making him seriously doubt any cultural stereotypes of a more laid-back work environment.

I started another round of English classes, this time adding an intermediate class for about 12 of my past students, which has been really fun. We've graduated to the past tense!!! We can talk about how we felt yesterday! I am trying to be a little more zen-like about my work environment, and not let the interpersonal weirdness and dynamics come home with me - now both of my initial co-workers have been fired, which was a sad and frustrating experience for all of us since there was little to no communication from the board of directors about that decision. My new co-worker is a former board member, very quiet, very male, very... quiet. We are very polite to each other.

The neighborhood news is that firecrackers are IN. Everybody has them. They could go off at any moment.

Our new country representatives (our bosses) arrived a few weeks ago and they are great!!!! And yes, they are probably reading this. But really, they are great. We had a team meeting last weekend at Valle de Angeles which was an absolutely fabulous break from work and the city, complete with a hike, good singing, food that we didn't have to cook, and an espresso machine.

What else is new.... hmmm.... well, I'm pregnant. That's pretty new. Bonus prize for those of you who read all the way to the end! Primero dios, we'll be bringing a little catracho home with us. Please, no curfew jokes.