Reverenda Heidi

Tegucigalpa, Honduras

It feels odd to be back home in Connecticut.  The differences are just so great between the Honduran city life and the upstate Connecticut rural life.  My last day I made the rounds saying goodbye to Ephraim the newspaper man on the street, to Maria the lady who sells breakfast and lunch, Lizandro the taxi driver, and then all my good friends at school and at church.  Everyone gave me lovely little gifts and heartfelt hugs.

It’s always hard to say goodbye.  My hope is that I will be able to continue to travel to Honduras for visits, with or without a brigada (work group).  Now that I have made these new friends and new connections, I know that I want to stay in touch always.

Sharon, Connecticut

Another storm arrives

A gift from the congregation

It is now the rainy season.  Every afternoon we have violent thunderstorms, and it rains for several hours.  I now see why the four international flights in and out of Tegucigalpa each day all arrive mid-morning and are on their way back out by 12:30 or so.   The rivers are filling up.  There are articles in the newspaper about making necessary repairs and preparations quickly before the rains get heavier, and before the Hurricane season gets underway.  Blocked storm drains need to be cleared of trash that flows down the streets, and the river beds need to be dredged to make room for a larger volume of water. I’m not sure how much of that will actually happen.

I have already given my “final exams” to the children in first through 6^th grade at St. Mary’s School.  I wanted to have the tests over with so that this week we could work on a last project together.  Each student is putting together a book about the Gospel of Mark with our readings and our artwork. 

Lush and wet

Lots of bananas.

 My mission here in Honduras is drawing to a close.  Philip has just left today with Jupiter in the big pick-up.  They are planning to drive through Guatemala, Belize, and, of course, Mexico.  Philip intends to take his time so that he can stop and see Mayan Ruins at Chichen Itza and Tulum.  

Meanwhile, I will be here in Tegucigalpa until the end of May.  That’s when classes end for the year at St. Mary’s School.  We had hoped to stay here for a full year, but as it is this looks like a good time to come home.  Philip has no more work to do with the project he was working on, and there will be no school after the end of May until September.

So, I’ll take these last 10 days or so to talk about some of the things I have not yet mentioned in my posts.  Of first importance is food.  It took a while for our stomachs to adjust to the differences, but by and large we can eat everything now. 

Limes

The food here in Honduras is quite good, and very fresh.  It has to be fresh since there is little refrigeration available.  We eat as the Hondurans do; plato típico (typical dish) is the most common meal.  It consists of marinated and grilled beef (or pork or chicken), rice, beans, cheese and warm corn tortillas.  They make an excellent fresh salsa called chismol that is served with the meal. 

Here is a place where you eat “in season”.   The variety of fruits and vegetables is not like it is in the US but when something is in season, it is really good.  When it’s mango season, everyone eats mangos.  When it’s tangerine season everyone eats tangerines. 

We have also eaten at Chinese and Japanese restaurants, and they’re quite good.  And if one is desperate for a fast food fix there’s always a MacDonald’s, Pizza Hut, KFC, Dunkin Donuts, or Ruby Tuesday’s somewhere in the city.  We try to stay away from them, but every once in a while, a good old fashioned hamburger or pizza sounds good. 

Karyn and Jose sell fruit and bread in the street.

I will really miss the wonderful dairy products here.  The cheese, milk and ice cream are excellent.  Here’s an interesting thing I found with Honduran butter.  In the US I’ve always had to put a piece of plastic wrap over butter when melting it in the microwave.  The water in the butter causes little explosions.  Here in Honduras no plastic wrap is needed.  There is no water in the butter.  It tastes very good.

Favorite dairy products.

Mother’s Day in Honduras is quite a day!  The church here makes a big deal of honoring mothers, and they don’t seem self conscious as we do in the US about those who might be a bit queasy, or downright offended, by the holiday.  They handed out red carnations and the church school classes presented poetry and artwork.  There is a well known song here about mothers that the whole congregation sang together.  It’s so well known that they didn’t bother to print out the words to it.  So I think I was the only one in the church who couldn’t sing along, but I got the gist of it.  We owe our mothers everything.

My own relationship with my mother hasn’t always been so great.  She died in February 2000.  She was quite ill the last few years of her life, and was very unhappy.  She wouldn’t go to church, or allow the priest to come visit her.  She wouldn’t let her friends visit either.  And when I told her in 1999 that I was discerning a call to the priesthood she flatly said she thought it was ridiculous.  “Why would you want to go through all that, Heidi?”

“Well, mom, you went through a process similar to that when you decided to enter Law School and become a lawyer,” I reminded her.  In the 1950’s that was quite a brave thing to do.

Recently, I wanted to find out what year my mother graduated from Law School.  She had told me that she was in the first graduating class from UCLA Law School so I thought I’d go to the UCLA website to see what I could find out.  I discovered that the school was founded in 1949 so she must have graduated in 1952.  I was looking around at the various pages and suddenly I found myself face to face with my mother!  They had posted the picture you see here as the header of the Alumni Reunions page.  What a surprise.  (She’s in the blond in the middle.)

As I looked at the picture closely, I saw, for the first time in a long time, a happy person.  She looks beautiful and hopeful in this picture with her classmates.  To my eyes, she’s looking forward expectantly to her graduation and her new career.  I have lots of pictures of my mother, but none has ever struck me as this does now.  Part of it surely is the fact that I never expected to see a picture of my mother on the Internet, and certainly not nine years after her death.

Today’s first reading for the Fifth Sunday of Easter is from the Acts of the Apostles.  I’ve heard it said that the book should really have been named the Acts of the Holy Spirit.  In the story today Philip is sent by an Angel to a wilderness road and meets the Ethiopian Eunuch.  There he speaks to, teaches, and then baptizes the man.  The Eunuch asks, “What is there to prevent me from being baptized?”  What indeed!  He was dark skinned, from a different culture and a different class than Philip, and a eunuch.  But the Holy Spirit wasn’t, and isn’t, worried about such things.  And Philip, guided by the Holy Spirit didn’t worry about it either.

Mom in Sun Valley

But as Philip discovered, so I have discovered, that the Holy Spirit cares little about things that we see as impossibilities.   I am thankful for the journeys that the Spirit has sent me on.  It reminds me again that we walk by faith and not by sight trusting in the Holy Spirit as our guide.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Had a great experience recently!   A group of Garífuna men and women went with me to one of the larger hospitals in Tegucigalpa.  It’s called Hospital Escuela (a teaching hospital). 

First let me explain about the Garífuna.  They are a tribe of Afro-Caribbean people who originated in the island of St. Vincent.  They are also called Black Caribs because of they are of both African and Carib Indian descent.  When British, French and Black Carib Indians were all fighting for control of St. Vincent Island in the Grenadines, the Black Caribs (or Garífuna) left, or were made to leave, and settled on the north coast of Central America, primarily in Belize and Honduras. 

Many of the Garífuna became associated with the Episcopal Church because of its early presence in Belize and its strong presence in Tela and the towns of the north coast of Honduras. 

Presently, the Diocese of Honduras and Episcopal Relief and Development support groups of Garífuna who have started a business of baking and selling pan de coco (coconut bread) in San Pedro Sula and Tegucigalpa. 

So, I have met and come to know a group of women and men who belong to St. Mary’s Church in Tegucigalpa who dress in native costume for special occasions, and sing and pray in the Garífuna language.

Today we visited Octavia in the hospital.  The hospital itself was something very different from my experience.  We had to get permission from the guard to get into the gated area surrounding the hospital.  Once inside, there were hundreds of people in the small, hot lobby waiting to be seen or waiting for relatives to be released.  We went upstairs to the top floor.

 Two out of three elevators worked, but there was a sign painted on each elevator door – “NO GOLPEE LAS PUERTAS.”  (Do not hit the doors.)  There must be many times when the elevators don’t work too well. 

On the 6^th floor, the women’s ward, there were about 10 rooms, each with four beds each.  The beds were very close together with no dividing curtains.  Signs on the windows of the rooms said “NO BOTAR BASURA FUERA DE LAS VENTANAS”  (Don’t throw trash out of the windows).  People have a tendency to throw their trash everywhere except in a waste basket here.

 We found Octavia in one of the crowded rooms.   Some of her Garífuna sisters were already there in violet dresses and lovely hats.  They all make their own dresses and they wear matching colors for different occasions.   There were about 14 of us crowded around the little bed and taking up much of the room.  The families of the other occupied beds just had to put up with us.   We all prayed together in Spanish, we shared communion and the women prayed and sang in Garífuna.  We held hands and swayed to the music which calmed Octavia and she smiled a little.  

There was no air conditioning or fan in the room and so to cool Octavia a bit they sat her up and fanned her back.  Then one of the ladies began to braid her hair so that she’d be cooler and neater.

How wonderful it was to be included in the prayers and rituals of this tight-knit community whose traditions are passed from generation to generation.   I pray that they will keep these traditions strong for each other, and for all of us who see Christ in their midst. 

I’m now quite accustomed to seeing pistols, assault rifles and machetes in the hands of men who guard all manner of buildings, cars and people.  But still, sometimes I’m surprised by all the places I see guns.

Yesterday, one of the private drivers for a resident in our apartment building left his gun sitting on the chair.  When I was going out to walk the dog, I found it to be a bit unnerving to see that gun sitting there, unattended, on a chair in the parking garage. 

Then there’s the fellow who works at the Department of Defense (picured here in the orange vest), but often comes over to Iglesia Santa Maria to listen in on the services and the sermons.  Dressed in camo and carrying  his semi-automatic, he just seems a little out of place in the church, but he’s welcomed nonetheless. 

Some guards keep their pistols in their pants like Miguel here.  That seems a little unsafe to me, but no one here, except the police, have holsters.

After a couple of kidnappings of school girls recently there was talk of putting armed guards on the school buses, but even the Hondurans thought that was too much.  There’s got to be a limit to the places we will take our weapons. 

My camera was stolen out of my car yesterday.  Fortunately Philip has a spare that I can use.  But the armed vigilante just a couple hundred yards down the street didn’t help prevent that theft. 

This is a grocery store guard.

This crown of thorns has bloomed!

¡Es verdad!  El Señor ha resucitado.  ¡Aleluya! 

 

 

 In English we say:  The Lord is risen indeed.  Alleluia!  But there’s something very nice about the way it is said in Spanish.

  It is true!  The Lord is risen.  Alleluia!

It is true and once we open our eyes and look around us we can see the risen Christ in so much of our daily life and work.

The project I started with the schoolchildren, growing seedlings for Easter, has been completed and everyone took their plant home.  Now I have to teach them the word “transplant”.  They can’t stay in those little cups much longer!

Jose Jorge's plant.

New life is much too enthusiastic to be contained in a small space.  It needs room to grow.

The children all had Semana Santa (Holy Week) off for vacation.  Now during Easter week they are back.

The weather is very hot and with no air conditioning, and inefficient fans,  it is a new frontier in teaching for me. 

Good Friday is here.  The streets of Tegucigalpa are totally deserted.  I couldn’t find a bus, or a taxi to take me to church this morning so I walked.  It took forty minutes, but it was a very good walk.  I thought about Jesus and his crown of thorns.  And I thought about all the houses here that also have a crown of thorns.  The residents of this city are so worried that they will be the victims of a robbery, or worse, that they go to great lengths to protect themselves. 

Can a place that is known for so much violence ever change?  Will there ever come a time when people feel safe enough to take the razor wire off their walls? 

Can we imagine that it might have been possible for someone to remove the crown of thorns from Jesus’ head?  I don’t think so.  Once the crown was in place, it stayed there so that all who passed by saw kingship mocked.  No human could change the course of events that awful Friday long ago; not Judas, not Peter, not Pilate, and certainly not the crowds. 

So, how can change ever come about once we have put the crowns of thorns on Jesus’ head, and crowns of razor wire on our houses?

 Only God can change it.  God has changed it.  God raised Jesus from the dead, and we can be raised too through the power of the Holy Spirit.  We do have the ability to change. 

I don’t know when it will be, but I pray that in this very religious country, that fear will not have the last word.  I pray that one day the vigilantes (private guards in every neighborhood) will put down their guns and machetes.  I pray that the razor wire, broken glass and metal spikes will be cut off of the walls of the houses one day.  I look forward to the Day of Resurrection, and the Day of God’s triumph in Christ.

I have been working at St. Mary’s Episcopal Bilingual School this year, and it has been a truly wonderful experience.  I want to pass along information for anyone who has considered teaching in a foreign country.  This is a great opportunity.  St. Mary’s is looking for teachers at all grade levels for the 2009-2010 school year.

St. Mary’s Mission Statement:

St. Mary’s Episcopal School is a 100% bilingual school that combines intellectual education of the highest level with instruction and teaching of Christian values and principles, providing the best conditions for formation of students in a way that strengthens the family in the first place and Honduran society in general. 

General Information:

Our school has approximately 200 students in grades Pre-K through 11^th and is located in Tegucigalpa, Honduras.  The average class size is 20 and the teachers are responsible for teaching all English curriculum subjects (English, Reading, Math, Science, Social Studies and Christian Education) at the appropriate grade level.  All English language texts used are published in the US and are fairly current.  Daily hours are 7:10 AM to 2:30 PM Monday through Friday.  Daily class preparation is essential. 

We are on the “American calendar” and our school year begins at the end of August and runs through mid-June.  We honor Honduran Federal holidays for which teachers receive paid leave.  Teachers also receive two weeks paid Christmas vacation and one week for Holy Week.  We provide housing, a $300 US monthly stipend, visa assistance and reimbursement of 50% airfare assuming successful completion of service for the school year. 

Qualifications:

Four year college degree is a must.  Teaching certificate is not required, but a plus.  Excellent English required but Spanish is not required.  Flexibility and adaptability are essential.  A willingness to work with limited resources, and a desire to inspire and make a difference in the lives of children is crucial.  We expect that you will have prior experience working with children and adolescents.

Application Process:

Send an email expressing interest to SMESTGU@aol.com and an application will be sent for completion.  After submission via email of the application and two letters of reference, a telephone interview will be scheduled. 

…it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.  This verse is from the Gospel of John (12:24) which we will hear in many churches on Sunday, March 29th.  There is no better way to understand this verse than to plant “dead” seeds and see what happens.

 It is not the custom in Honduras for schoolchildren to plant seeds during Lent.  So, when I suggested to my classes that they could plant either a flower seed (zinnia) or a vegetable seed (squash), they were very curious, but enthusiastic.  One hundred and thirty nine little cups later, we are all watching eagerly for the first green leaves. 

Some of the children didn’t understand why we put holes in the bottom of the cups.  Some of the children didn’t understand that you can’t put the seed at the bottom of the cup (under three inches of soil) and still expect it to come up.  Stirring the dampened soil became an issue too.  Potting mix here in Honduras is not like potting mix in the U.S.  If you stir it, you get mud. 

This little boy is named Franklin.  He asked me very solemnly today, “¿Cómo crecen las plantas?” Well, Franklin, that is a very good question. How do plants grow?  Although there are good, scientific answers to this, it’s really quite a miracle of God.

What a good question for all of us to think about in this Lenten season.  How do plants grow?  Thanks be to Jesus who, two thousand years ago, gave us the example of the seed to teach us about new life here and now.