Help!

Two SJBS drama clubbers searching for donors

Did you read my blog at any point last year? Did it make you laugh or cry? O.K. that might question  may be a bit presumptuous, but even if my posts didn’t elicit such a strong response from within, I think we can all agree that, at the least, you got a clear idea of what my experience was like.

In doing so you must have seen that volunteering as a teacher at San Jeronimo Bilingual School was the most important, challenging, and rewarding thing that I have done in my life. Whether you saw a video of the middle schoolers that I taught the integrated art class to singing renditions “Home” or “No Woman No Cry” or you were amazed that my  1^st-6^th grade drama club was able to pull off a complete musical production of the Jungle Book,  it is clear that despite the  obstacles that I faced (lack of hot water,  intestinal parasites, malaria etc…) it was a labor of love that was incredibly important to me.

I’m not going to beat around the bush. I am writing this post with a specific need.  BECA needs funds. The organization just opened another school in Vida Nueva, a community close to Cofradia. It is incredibly exciting to be expanding our model to another community in Honduras that has a large population of at-risk kids who are eager to learn. 

This expansion, however, has put pressure on BECA’s extremely limited budget (roughly $100,000 a year).  With this budget, funded almost solely by individual donations, BECA houses and feeds 16 volunteer teachers/yr,  (I was one of them, remember?), a feat that makes these students bilingual education affordable and possible. This budget also allows for 25% of our students to get scholarships to attend our low-cost school (by far the lowest-cost bilingual education offered in Honduras), provides two scholarships/yr to graduating students who are of financial need who want to attend bilingual high school, and provides a minimal salary to our one Program Head (a salary that should be much greater than it is). The program head is the only paid employee of BECA.

I can personally attest that your donation will be put into the most worthy of causes and used in an incredibly judicious fashion (BECA functions on very little overhead). Here are a few ideas of how far your $ could go in Honduras:

$18         You could feed a volunteer teacher for a week (Amazing, right? I can’t remember the last time I paid $18 for a dinner out!)

$120        You could fund a K-9 teacher classroom budget for one year.

$350        You could fund “Libros y Familias”, a family based literacy program that    ends with the  donation of a book to each family (sometimes the only book a family may own.

$650         you could pay for the internet service at SJBS for one year.

$2,100     you could sponsor a high school student to attend a bilingual school after graduation from SJBS.

$5           You could help us work toward any of the aforementioned objectives.

The point of all of this is that your donations truly go so far. Unlike donations to a large aid agency, there are minimal “administrative costs” to run this organization and you know your money will be put to good use.  To donate go to becaschools.org and click on the icon “directly donate to the school.”

Please help this organization to continue to do their oh so important work. The work that it does in Cofradia has transformed the lives of countless families, has unified a community provides incredible opportunities to at-risk youth (who are also incredible human beings,  who also happen to love music and drama  and art and sports and all things kids). Seriously, there is no donation too small.

Thank you for your help and thank you for following my blog. It was a truly transformative experience for me, one that I hope to enable for all of the volunteer teachers to come.

Signing off until I once again have a blog-worthy life circumstance…

-Nathan

* visit becaschools.org to donate!

Stuff That Happened This Year

"Pulapanzak" in  Honduras. It is 112 feet tall. I swam behind it!

     1.     I swam in 9 waterfalls.

     2.     I learned how to make pupusas, baleadas, and pastelitos by hand.    

     3.     I had two intestinal parasites, discovered I have an abnormality in my ear canals, and got malaria.

     4.     I sang and played guitar with 42 middle-schoolers in a performance with Honduran rock-band  Montuca Soundsystem.  

     5.    With the help of Miss Andrea and Miss Amy, I directed a musical with 18 1^st-6^th graders.                               

     6.   I watched a group of teachers get robbed at gunpoint at 645 am on our walking route to school.

     7.       I went to a Honduran funeral, 2 welcome parties, 6 birthdays, and 5 going-away parties.

     8.     I drank more Pepsi this year than I have every year of my whole life combined… and I never really enjoyed it.

     9.     Two SJBS students’ parents were murdered (this year). Prior to this year, I had never known a person whose family members were murdered. Now I know 4 of them: all students

     10.   I discovered how precious hot showers are to me and how I can survive without them.

     11.   I mastered the art of the bucket shower.  

     12.   I was punched in the kidney by a doctor, I peed in a baby food jar at a medical clinic and paid less for medical care for the whole year than my monthly health insurance payment in the states.

     13.   I read 9 books. Don’t judge… this is a big step for me.

     14.  I rode in the bed of a truck approximately 73 times (this is an estimate).

     15.    I almost spent the night in a Honduran jail for not carring my ID. Lesson learned.

     16.   I made dinner with a team once/week for 14 people with $11.

     17.   I discovered that pretty much anything could be sold in a little plastic baggy.

     18.  I taught a whole year of science about topics that I had never learned in school.

     19.   I ran a science fair.

     20.   I was amazed by the depth of middle schoolers in a discussion about the necessity of art in our society. They actually came up with the concept that art can be used as a healing technique. Wow.

     21.   I gave 9 falta menores (detentions) and 2 Falta Mayores (“major dententions”)
 22.    I taught in pants in a classroom without A/C on numerous days that weather.com marked the “feels-like” temperature at 113.

      23.   I met Dina. This one is special.

      24.   I paraglided  over Lago de Atitlan in Guatemala with Amy Marie.

      25.   I missed down comforters, leafy greens, farmers markets, my puppy, specialty beers, my friends, my family, and my bird. In the process, I came to appreciate them so much more. 

A Class of Orphans

It is the last full day of school today. We just finished our last Integrado class with the 7^th grade and the students presented their “Exploration of Self” projects. For this assignment, they could choose from a number of different project ideas (poems, songs, short stories, dances, bringing in objects that mean something special to them etc.).  The students just left the classroom and I am left here bawling.  Every student in class cried today. I cannot believe the depth of tragedy that so many of our students have experienced at only 12 yrs old. They presented teddy bears to the class, poems, jeans given to them, pictures…  all remnants of  a father that was murdered, a mother that died this year, or parents who have left them to work in the U.S.

So many of these stories, I didn’t even know… I spent an hour and a half with these kids every day and I didn’t even know these some of these hugely important things to them.  I didn’t know that half of my class (or more) was living without one or both parents. How awful. It is our goal to visit every student in their homes, to get to know their families and their homelife, but through this crazy year, I only got around to about half of them, and I didn't even know.

I am left feeling so many things:

- incredible admiration for the courage required of these kids to share these things (in a middle school class, no less, among kids who for whatever reason are in the meanest stage of their lives);

- Anger that that the universe allows for such suffering in such young ones

- helplessness that I can’t rewind the clock and give them all a different version of childhood

- anger toward the parents of these kids who left them behind to pursue a better life in the states (while I know that some of the main motivation that they left was to provide for them…. But kids need parents! They need that above all else).

-gratitude for the amazingly supportive home and community that I grew up in.

- Awe for the maturity of our students.

- A reminder of the terrifying fact that at any point this life that we have been given can be taken away from us and a reminder of the importance of cherishing it.

In writing my final reports and organizing my lesson plans for the next teacher that will take my place, I am seeing that I have taught them a great deal this year. They now know about the reactants and products of photosynthesis, they can spout off the function of villi in the small intestine, and can tell you the difference between renewable resources, nonrenewable resources and ways that we can individually work to slow global warming. In the process of teaching them these things that they might forget (well, probably will forget),  I have also taught them things  that they won’t forget, like the importance of honesty, communication, support, pride in themselves and their work,   responsibility to their work,  their families, their school, their community and most importantly to themselves. While I have been helping shape them, though, they have been shaping me.  They have taught me the importance of follow-through, that using negativity to respond to negativity never works, that students will come up to the standards that you set,  that 12 year-old minds are incredibly complex, that providing structure gives way to creativity, that even I can do whatever I put my heart into (if I want to be an art teacher, I can be an art teacher…. I guess I didn’t choose that role though, it kind of plopped into my lap). 

I have learned so much from this class.  When I say goodbye to Cofradia in 3 weeks, I will leave carrying pieces of all of these kids around with me for the rest of my life.   In the meantime, I have to go run to the cafeteria to get a baleada before the elementary schoolers buy them all… selfish little buggers!

The Feria is Leeching my Soul

The feria has been in the park for 23 days. I have fond memories of the fairs of my childhood... funnel cakes, ring tosses, cotton candy, farm animals, rides that mom wouldn't let me go on because she "didn't trust the crafstmenship of carnival workers".

This fair has none of those things. This fair has ten stands that all sell the same fried chicken, tejadas, and Tecate, a lot of drunk Honduran men, homemade fireworks lit in the midst of crowds, and the music... oh the music. There is a large stage that gets pulled in by a semi-truck on semi-weekly basis.  Performers of  Reggaeton, Ranchero, Bachata, and trance are a-plenty. This stage is about 50 yards from my window. The bass shakes my room into the wee hours of the morning and I scream into the abyss of sound.

This past Sunday was particularly bad. One stand in the park had karaoke. Hondurans LOVE karaoke. I used to love it. Now I hate it. I want to cut karaoke. Here is a little window into my experience with karaoke last night. 26 days and counting.

Meet the Cast

*Photos taken by Norah Tahiri

 Grecia is the only first-grader who was allowed to be in the production. This is no ordinary first-grader. She speaks better English than most of our 9th graders. She is also a doll. She knew everyone's lines and performed with her whole self. She is also known for her great hugs and valley-girl priss.

Tania is a precocious youngster who breaths drama club. One day I was sick and had to cancel drama club. I heard about it for weeks. As "Old Monkey" Tania gave her line with gusto: "Presenting King Louie, king of the Monkeys!"

 Irma is our 6th grade rock. She played Bagheera #1 and wowed the crowd with her awesome voice and dancing skills. She's super positive and a born leader.

 Fabiola grew leaps and bounds in this role. Initially bummed that she couldn't play something girly, she had her hesistation about the role. We turned Shere Khan into a wicked-witch sort of character, gave her some gloves with nails and the tranformation occured!

 Giselle saved the show. She played Mama Wolf, Kaa 1, Elephant Soldier and Monkey. In every number all children looked to her for the next line or dance move. She is Grecia's (little wolf at the top) sister. They were always ready for drama club.

 Lucia has tons of energy. We ran into trouble at the beginning of the year channeling that energy, but she grew hugely! She shined as a part of the snake body.

Johny is featured here in his Papa Wolf costume, but is better known as Colonel Hathi, the elephant. He has a fierce march  and I will forever remember his line delivered in deadpan yell (think Austin Powers unable to control the tone of his voice) "A MANCUB IN THE JUNGLE? THIS IS TREASON! SABOTAGE!"

 Alex shared the role of Mowgli with Erick. Both were equally awesome so we had them trade off. Every time they switched, we had them tag one another out. We tried to place the tag-outs at super awkward moments (ie-mid-line) so we could accentuate the awkwardness that two boys are playing one character.

 Anahi played Shanti (the girl who lures Mowgli away in the end... kind of suggestive, right? a little weird). But nonetheless she did an awesome job! She was among 5 girls who made up Kaa the snake with huluhoops.

 Angie is a born-performer. She's got the magic. We gave her every solo mid-process that we possibly could.

Eduardo played King Louie with gusto. This kid has mad energy and we put it to use. He flipped over the back of Karen (Baloo) in "I Wanna Be Like You" and walked on his hands!

 Erick played the other Mowgli and did an awesome job. My favorite moment was in Mowgli Runs when Mowgli has a montage running through the jungle. Erick thought it a good idea to have Mowgli run in slow-mo. He did it as a joke in rehearsal and it was the best idea anybody had in the whole process. He is hilarious.

 Karen played Baloo and she stole the show! Another born performer, she was fearless in playing a role that she initially wasn't too excited about. Girls want to be girls, right? This girl rocked it. I am so proud/

 Josselin is in 2nd grade. I don't think she ever learned any lyrics. But she sure looked cute.

 Viviana was an incredible little bee. She is now a drama kid, for life.

Michelle played  a monkey!

Moises.... Ah Moises. You can see the mischief in his eyes. We put that mischief to good use though. As a monkey and an elephant he lit up when that performance came around!

Reina was born for the stage! With the best work ethic and great attitude she was one of my sh..... favorites. She is an excellent dancer and a great singer too!

Directors Miss Andrea, Mr. Greene, and Miss Amy!

Healthy Living: Honduras Took My "M" Card

I am gradually approaching the end of my year term here and I realized that I forgot to write about 2 of my most fantastical stories from my experience here in the Hondu. So here goes one.

In October, I woke up one morning feeling like a train had hit me. My body ached and I felt exhausted and there was a grumble in my tummy. Thinking it was probably another instance of Honduran fury (see past post for an explanation…) I decided to go to school and wait it out (it is really hard to miss days at school; we don’t have substitutes). I made it through the day, but by the end of the day, I had this headache behind my eyes that felt like my brain was going to pop out through my eyeballs, and my joints ached something fierce.

I went straight to bed when I got home in hopes that I could sleep it off. The next morning I woke up and I felt even worse.  I had diarrhea all night,  and serious chills. I decided it was time to go see the doctor that lives across the street (he gives us free consults). I called him up and he said, come outside. I slowly moved myself downstairs and met him in the parking lot. He asked my symptoms, looked at my throat, checked my glands, touched my back and then he punched me in the kidneys.  I screamed in agony, felt so dizzy that I was going to fall over and instantly vomited. He replied, “yep, you have malaria.”

MALARIA?!! Images raced through my mind of refugee camps in Africa, and the ebola virus, and flesh-eating bacteria. I knew nothing about malaria, except  that mosquitos gave it to me, that it was bad news, and that  there wasn’t supposed to be malaria in Honduras. I sat down on the steps with my head in my hands trying to stop the world from spinning in my intense fit of nausea, and then I asked, “what do I do? Is it treatable? Etc.” The doctor didn’t seem too worried. He said it wasn’t a problem and I just needed to take some pills. This is the same doctor who had just punched me in the kidneys and made me vomit, though, so I felt my trust in him waning a bit.

He sent me to his “clinic” across the street to get a blood test from the nurse to confirm, but he was pretty sure. She drew my blood and I peed in a small recycled baby-food jar… sterile of course. He wanted to rule out a kidney infection. Then I hobbled back across the street to our apartments. I started walking up the stairs, but my strength left me completely. Malaria is marked by these episodes when the parasites get super active breeding and it freaks your body out, giving you really intense chills and fevers. As I was walking up the stairs it overtook me and I felt like I was going to pass out. I laid down on the stairs to regain my strength and was wishing that someone was around, but all of the other gringos were at school. I waited it out and laid down for 5 minutes and got back up and tried again. My legs felt like jelly, but I made it up to the metal gate and fumbled with my keys, needing to lay down one more time.

On attempt #3, I got into our apartment and laid on the couch and called the director, to see if she could go across the street to get my test results. She came home from school and brought the nurse over. The nurse gave me a really painful shot in my booty and some anti-nausea meds and I slept for 2 hours. When I woke up, I felt a bit better (the pain meds from the shot kicked in) and I started doing internet research, to try and figure out what the hell was going on. It turned out that the doctor was correct, that the type of malaria I had was totally treatable and not life-threatening. In my search, though, I was looking up the medication that he gave me, and I discovered that the medication is banned in the US for causing inner ear damage and kidney damage. Shit.

I decided that I was freaked out by this doctor experience and I wanted to go to a real hospital in San P.  Andrea, our program administrator said, lets go for it. I hobbled down to the bus-station and waited for a chicken bus. We rode into town, on the sweaty bus and got to a beautiful hospital! I went into the ER, told them the sitch and they sent me to the lab to get tests. The lab peeps were super nice, very efficient, I got my results in an hour and they confirmed that I had malaria. They told me the meds I needed to take (no prescription needed), and they sent me to the pharmacy across the street. They didn’t charge me an intake fee, a consult fee, the only thing that they charged me was $20 for the blood test! In and out in 2 hours.  Can you imagine what my experience would be like in the states? I have never been in an ED for less than 6 hours at a time. And the price for uninsured care? I don’t even want to think about it.

Feeling happy about our efficient and positive experience at the hospital, we hailed a cab to go back to the Cof. We found one and were halfway home (it was now 6pm) when we came upon a line of cars that was stopped for as far as we could see ahead. Apparently there was a huge accident ahead of us. On the tail end of the longest day of my life, one in which I got punched in the kidneys, vomited in a parking lot and collapsed on my stairs, this traffic was the LAST GODDAMNED STRAW. We waited in it as it stopped as Honduran assholes maneuvered around eachother going nowhere. People were creating lanes on hillsides and there were three cars across going in one direction on a one-lane highway.

Soon we discovered the problem. Cars, in their attempts to maneuver around one another had gotten stopped on the wrong side of the highway, and were facing one another 3 lanes across on both sides of the crash, boxing one another in with literally nowhere for any car to move for miles.  Cars facing one another, for miles. Only in Honduras… We were now trapped and couldn’t even turn around. We sat stopped for  3 hours, getting nervous as it was getting very late and people were all out of their cars walking toward their destinations. Our car was surrounded with people on foot

Knowing that we aren’t supposed to be out after dark,  feeling like sitting ducks for robbery, we slinked down in our seats, trying to remain low-profile. It felt like I was in a zombie movie. After a full 5 hours in that taxi, some geniuses finally figured out how to untangle the jigsaw a bit to at least get cars moving in some direction, but our taxi driver had had it. He said he was turning around to go back to San Pedro. Without any other option, we headed back to San Pedro and found a hotel. A day that started with a punch in the kidney that provoked spontaneous vomiting and ended at 1130 with me resting my achey malaria ridden body on the comfiest sheets I had ever felt.

I slept for 10 hours that night and made my way back to Cof for 5 days of recuperation and then back at ‘em at school. I should have taken 2 weeks… But there are a lot of decisions that could have been made that would be more healthier choices than living in Cofradia. 

I can say with pride that, after 3 months of intermittent rounds of medication, I am finally malaria-free. Honduras, you took my M card. You bastard.

"But Mister, I'm Honduran": Stories from the Pila

This is a pila. It is a large deep tub that is a staple in every Honduran home. It stores water and is a place where many a Honduran woman spends a great deal of her day, scrubbing clothing, washing dishes and occasionally dunking a child for a dip. It has many purposes. Like a spork.

Our pila at school is gross. Our children wash their grubby hands in it everyday and when I have been using it to clean my beakers and testtubes for science class I have often noticed that there are some sort of unidentified crustaceous- phytoplankton like organisms swimming in it.

Last week, I was sitting next to the pila, holding post for my recess duty of ensuring that a child doesn’t do something that would overtly endanger himself or others (in reality my main job is to serve as a mediator of disputes between children over whose turn it is to use a ball or a soccer field…. Really fun stuff). So I was sitting next to the pila, when one of my 7^th grade girls came to use the pila. She is one of the stylistas of the class and is generally a sassy girly girl. While we were talking, she scouped up some of the pila water and filled her mouth with it, swished it around a bit and spit it out on the ground.

A chill went down my spine and I almost threw up a bit in the back of my mouth. My head was filled with the image of what I had seen in that water and also the image of Astrid, the 5 yr old daughter of our lunchlady who peed her pants and was dunked in the pila just one months prior. I asked Francis, are you SURE you want to clean your mouth with that water, there is some nasty stuff in there…

Francis looked at the stuck up gringo in front of her, shrugged her shoulders and said, “Mister, you don’t understand. I’m Honduran.” BOMBA! She got me. In a massive role reversal, I was left feeling like the prissy 7^th grade girl. But let's get real, I will take stomach health over pride any day.