Well, it’s probably no surprise that I had a Whataburger and a Dr. Pepper as soon as I got home.  As a special “Welcome Back to America” I had the privilege of filing my tax return.  Thanks Uncle Sam.

I’m going to break this update into two parts (Roatan and Campamento), so here it goes…

Roatan:  We had a chance to enjoy the lighter side of Honduras for a few days and it was very appreciated.  Roatan is an island about 40 miles off the coast of mainland Honduras.  We took a ferry from La Cieba to Roatan and didn’t much care for it.  Nausea set in and made the best of Aaron.  Aside from our transportation though, it was an incredible experience.  

It’s worth noting that I’m not particularly much of a beach goer.  I’d rather be in the mountains than on the beach.  That being said, I was blown away.  Aaron and I went Scuba diving and that literally opened my eyes to an entirely new aspect of God’s creation.  It took a few minutes to get used to breathing thru a regulator, but once I was comfortable I could really take it in.  Pictures don’t do justice.   I was only under water for a total of an hour and a half and must have seen 50 different types of fish. I can’t even begin to fathom that depth, variety, and beauty of what else God’s creation entails.

So on to Aaron’s birthday… 

We woke up at 5:30 to catch a cab to the ferry station.  Left Roatan at 7 and arrived in La Cieba around 8:30.  Caught a cab to the bus station and the driver threatened to call the cops on me.  He was trying to charge too much and I wouldn’t pay…  So then we caught a bus from La Cieba to San Pedro Sula, then caught a connecting bus to Tegucigalpa.  Wait.  The bus broke down in Siguatepeque and the driver told me that there was a problem with the “pelotas de hierro” (in English: “balls of iron.”)  Not sure about that one.  So we wait four hours for a new bus and finally arrive in Tegucigalpa at midnight.  Happy birthday Aaron.  We spend the night in Tegucigalpa and then headed out to Campamento…

Campamento:

Driving back into Campamento was refreshing.  That’s an odd thought to me because it’s a good place to get Malaria, there is no electricity and no hot water for bathing.  It was refreshing though because I was able to reconnect with the friends I had made the month before.  On top of that, the team from Texas & Florida arrived and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know and serve along side these guys. 

The days in Campamento were tough, but rewarding.  I’m grateful to have picked up more of the language as that certainly helped me connect with the Hondurans.  A few times I even helped translate.  Not that I’m a master of the language, but something is better than nothing.  

Through out my time in Honduras, I became increasingly aware of my shortcomings and God’s sovereignty.  I learned about my strengths and God reminded me that they were gifts from Him, and nothing of my own doing.  On the front end, that’s humbling.  After digesting that thought more though, it’s empowering.  I’d much rather be relying on his gifts than on anything of my own doing.

Three Weeks in Campamento

A few years back, as my departure to China was nearing, I received this advice from a number of concerned friends: “Don’t go off and fall in love with a Chinese woman.”  I received no such advice regarding my trip to Honduras.  But now, I have an announcement.   My heart now belongs to a Honduran girl.  Her name is Jenny and she is the cutest thing ever.  She also happens to be three years old.  So… no, I am not in love.  I’m just getting a sneak peak at unclehood.  As I said before, Aaron and I are Uncles In Training. 

The past three weeks have been quite a ride.  Aaron and I were joined by Alan, and Govani.  Alan is a native Honduran who has worked in the states for the last 14 years, and Govani is a Honduran who we also worked with in Tegucigalpa.  The four of us stayed in Campamento (read as: “In the middle of nowhere”), at a local church.

The people were incredibly hospitable.  They chose to show their hospitality by feeding us.  I’ve never had so many corn tortillas… One day they fed us five times.  We ate because we didn’t want to be rude, but politely asked them to tone it down.  In my broken Spanish, I told one of the ladies that if I continued to eat five meals a day, my mom would not recognize me when I returned home.  That may sound far fetched, but she didn’t recognize me after my first week in the Corps of Cadets so you never know…

So aside from eating, what have we been up to?  A lot.  In 18 days, we made two roofs, two sets of bunk beds, a door, two windows, 25 bridge sections (welded and painted), and 204 brackets for the railing.  We played soccer with the kids, swam in the river and visited several surrounding towns.  Danli, Chichi Caste, San Ramon, Paraiso, and San Diego what is about 15 minutes from the Nicaraguan border.

Life in Campamento is a little different.  It’s a rural, agricultural community.  The pastor told us that Campamento produces a lot of beans, coffee, corn, and babies.  We usually went to bed around 8, sometimes earlier.  When you don’t have electricity, you don’t have light.  When you don’t have light, you sleep. This probably has something to do with the high baby count as well.  Anywho…

Whenever I tossed or turned in the night, my bed would creek eerily.  Consequently, my roommates affectingly nicknamed my bed, “The Black Pearl.”  A Pirates of the Caribbean reference.  I consider myself to be fairly low maintenance, but I was not very fond of the bed and it’s lumpy 2x4 supports.  I never grew fully accustomed to the mosquito net either, though I was glad to have it when I found a tarantula on the outside of my net.  See my pictures for photographic evidence.  We began referring to our nets as our “fortresses.” A fitting name.

Going to bed early also means waking up early.  Around 4 AM, the symphony began.  This symphony had no cellos, violins, or conductor.  It was comprised of roosters, geese, dogs, and some corn machine that I still don’t fully understand.  Some mornings, I felt like it must be some sort of twisted prank.

All that being said, I think we had it pretty good.  Now, I certainly would have enjoyed a hot shower or the ability to check my e-mail, but follow me here for a second…

First of all, these people are poor.  Dirt poor.  Chances are, the computer you are reading this on is worth as much as a house the these people call ‘home.’   A typical wage for a Honduran man would be the equivalent of $7 a day. I like numbers, so I pushed a few buttons on the calculator to help put things into perspective. My iPod would cost more than a month’s wages.   Going a step further… let’s say that Joe American makes $50,000 a year.  At $7 a day, Jose Honduran would have to work 365 days a year for 19.5 years to make the same amount.  Six figures?  Getting close to a lifetime worth of work for a Honduran.

The numbers have some shock value, and that got me thinking.  My perspective began to change.  Any house I have ever lived in would be unimaginable luxury to the people of Campamento.  I supposedly “sacrifice” by spending a few weeks on a lousy bed, with cold showers and no access to my beloved electronic devices.  In exchange, two families now have roofs.  Four little boys, who have never slept on a real bed, now have beds.  Hundreds of people are a huge step closer to having a bridge that enables them to continue to go to work and church during the five months of the rainy season.  If the people of Campamento grow closer to God, or they see His love in these actions, then I would argue that it isn’t really a sacrifice at all.  It’s a bargain.

I can say with confidence that I have received much more than I have given. This seems to be a reoccurring pattern with God.  I feel like I can relate with Paul’s writings a little more.   I’m humbled by stories of missionaries that I have given everything and haven’t thought twice.  They understand that the very best this life has to offer does not hold a candle to what is to come.  Furthermore, they live like it.

“If you read history you will find that the Christians who did the most for this present world were precisely those who thought the most of the next.  It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this.”  - C. S. Lewis

 

 

The Great Migration

Since my last update, I've been in Siguatepeque, San Pedro Sula, and Tegucigalpa. Tomorrow, Campamento. When I tell my mom where I'm headed next, she usually sends back an e-mail of what I presume is a synopsis of the city's Wikipedia entry. I'm not really sure why, but she always includes the percentage of the population with HIV. Mom, I appreciate your concern but I really don't think you should worry about that. :)

Here's a run down of my adventures in the various cities...

Siguatepeque: We put the finishing touches on the Bloqueria it's now officially up and running. There are two guys manning the machine and they churn out 400 blocks a day.

San Pedro Sula: We had a vacation day and went to a water park. I say water park... think of a 1970s version of Schiltterbaugn. I think the one day pass was about $4. All in all, it was a lot of fun. Several of the missionary families were there and Aaron and I had some uncle training (that's right, if you haven't heard yet, we're going to be uncles). I went on three different watersides and sustained injuries on two of them. I've deiced that safety standards in Honduras are a little different than back home...

Tegucigalpa: This past week we worked at a church in Tegucigalpa. The church, Iglesia Betel, is in one of the poorest areas in town. I'm only writing about this now because I didn't want my mom to be worrying all week (or informing me of the HIV rate). We worked with the pastor, Pablo, and his brother, Giovanni. Monday through Wednesday we worked on installing the electrical system in a new church building. Thursday and Friday we switched over to masonry and built a block wall for security. Like I said, it's a rough part of town.

We stayed in a hotel and worked a deal with a cab driver, Victor, for round trips every day. We learned a little bit more about him every day, which proved to be very entertaining. Here are some of the fun tidbits... His family lives next door to the church. His car is a 1982 Datsun... I'm surprised it runs. He was a cab driver in L.A. for five years and worked "sin papeles", "without papers" (he was an illegal). When the authorities hassled him, he just gave them a little money. His dad is one of the larger drug runners in the area (almost certain of this). So... good times with Victor.

Several times through out the week, I could smell that someone near by was smoking pot. This morning, like most mornings, there were several man standing outside the gate of the church. These men live nearby, don't work, and are usually drunk. I'm always cordial and asked how they are doing. This morning, they were smoking and I again asked them how they were doing. The response I got was, "todo tranquilo." Meaning, "all is calm." I'll bet.

Throughout the week, I've enjoyed getting to see and experience new things. The streets in this neighborhood resemble the scenes from the informercials that try to guilt you into paying "less than a dollar a day to feed these helpless children." Kids are playing soccer. There are lots of skinny dogs and rusty cars. Women cary baskets on top of their heads and there's lots of exposed midriff that really does't need to be exposed. Ever. One day we almost ran over a man who was passed out in the street. I thought he was dead. I don't care for the infomercials, but these people truly are poor. They make about $7 a day. I spend that much in one day for the cab rides alone. I'm constantly reminded of how blessed we are in the United States.

Up next is Campamento. As usual, I have no idea what to expect. The agenda includes... putting a roof on a house, building bunk beds for a widow with four little boys, and welding up the members of the bridge deck. I hear Tilapia is a staple of the area and they fry the entire fish. Not being a fish/seafood eater, I'll be honest, I'm dreading that aspect. I really don't like the idea of my dinner staring back at me.

Thanks for reading! Please keep us in your prayers.

La Bloqueria

For the last two weeks, Aaron and I have been

 working on getting a concrete block operation up and running.  Once operational, the idea is that the “Bloqueria” will generate revenue for the seminary.  A big step toward being

 self-sufficient.

I’ll spare you the details, but so far we have:

Set forms, placed rebar, placed concrete, set the machine, and made 200 pads for the machine.  No worries.

We went through about 20 cheap drill bits and sunk a total of 2,000+ screws.  

I made up a little custom jig to help speed the process along.

And don’t worry, we took care of the necessities.  Like music.  See my Honduran version of an iPod dock below:

Hopefully we will be 100% operational in the next day or two… Stay tuned.

I’ve also managed to find some chiggers.  Right now, my legs are pretty itchy.  I think that I can sort of make out the Little Dipper on my right calf.

I continue to work on my Spanish.  I’m sure it’s not pretty, but I can usually get the point across.  I’m finding that it’s easier to speak than it is to comprehend.  You see, I know all of the words that I’m saying, but when someone starts using words beyond my vocabulary, it’s easy to get lost.  This bothers me a little bit, because I’m reminded of a clever saying:  “God gave you two ears and one mouth, think about that.”

I enjoy talking to little kids because they have a more limited vocabulary and speak more slowly.  Just like me.  I have lots of new, little 

friends.

Going Strong.

So… we’re just about two weeks into this gig and going strong.  Aaron and I spent a few days in Tegucigalpa, and then a few more in Siguatepeque, then back to Teguc, and now back in Siguat. 

Before the trip started, I was a little bit worried about food.  I had images in my mind of a dinner plate with a fish staring back at me.  We’ve actually had it good though.  Really good.  Tim, one of the other missionaries, frequently reminds us how we’re “suffering for Jesus.”  This is usually when we’re about to dive into some fine cuisine.

On our last drive from Teguc to Siguat, we had the honor and privilege of riding in the cab of a delivery truck.  A good ol’ American made GMC.  We chugged along at about 45 km/hr.  About 28 mph.  What usually has been a two-hour drive was now about… double that.  I was able to practice my Spanish.  I didn’t really have much choice in the matter though as the driver and his friend didn’t speak English. 

We made one stop along and I asked if we were stopping for lunch.  I didn’t understand much of the reply, but told Aaron, “he said something about corn.”  We were in for a treat… the men offered us some sort of hot, corn, milk, sugar beverage.  I was appreciative that the two wanted to share something that they enjoyed with us.  I mean, this would be like me buying a Dr. Pepper for someone who had never had it before.  Truly a special treat…

I hope to never drink that concoction ever again!  I managed to put it all down thanks to training I received as a young child.  “Son, you’re going to finish everything on your plate, whether you liked it or not.”  Or perhaps it was because my time in the Corps and the wonderful food in Duncan Dining Hall.   Aaron on the other hand… had a little bit tougher time with it.  It appeared painful for him.  I looked over to him and said, “Now, you’re suffering for Jesus.”

That being said, the corn ‘stuff’ has probably been the lowlight thus far.  So I’d say we’re doing pretty well.  And SPEAKING OF DR. PEPPER, don’t you worry, I found some here in Siguatepeque.  Eleven lempiras (± 58 cents) well spent.  I told the lady at the counter, “This is made in Texas.  I’m from Texas.”