In April of this year I spent two weeks in Honduras, in the Santa Barbara Mountains, building a house for a family in the small town of El Playon. I was traveling with a group from southern Maine through an organization call the Maine Honduras Partnership.
The trip was amazing. We spent our days building the house out of cement blocks, visiting the people of the town, and playing with the children. We attended church multiple times, and ate meals with the pastor’s family. One day, we were able to take a break from the hard work and visit a hot spring and swim in the nearby river. It was such a surprise to be able to go swimming! There were rocks for jumping and little rapids for floating and many swimming holes.
The most frustrating aspect of the trip was the language barrier. I know zero Spanish, and the people of El Playon know no English. Even so, we were able to communicate through sign language and facial expressions, and it did help that one of the people traveling with us speaks fluent Spanish. By the end of my time there, I was able to understand much, much more than I could speak, and it was so rewarding to be able to listen to a conversation and actually know what was being said. Once I started understanding, I wanted to respond, and so I'd start speaking the only foreign language I know, which is French. I'd usually get about halfway through a sentence before I would realize that even though I wasn't speaking English, French wasn't any better -- people still couldn't understand me.
The absolute best part of the whole experience however, was watching the children, and even adults, open up to us as the week progressed. As I got to know the people of El Playon better and better, I started to realize that these people, even though they have very little, have some of the biggest hearts of anyone I have ever met. They allow us to infiltrate their lives and their homes and schools. They want to spend time with us, to teach us their language, and to learn ours. They have so little, and yet, the smiles on the children of the village are some of the most open and sunny to ever be smiled.
The last night we were in El Playon, we threw little fiesta with a fire and music, and that night, a mother and a girl named Feby each gave me a ring. These gifts mean so much – in both cases, the ring was a prized possession, and to be honest, I don’t feel I deserved such an honor. The point is, these people have so little, and yet they appreciate what we do so much that they feel we deserve to wear their jewelry. Receiving the rings was incredibly humbling, and I felt so honored and blessed to be deemed worthy of such a gift from such wonderful, open, loving people.
Abby, Thank you for inviting me to follow your adventures. I will. It is amazing how beautiful people are around the world as soon as you get away from their political institutions. Are politicians the same everywhere?
ReplyDeleteThe first thing I did notice about your blog is that it is painfully absent of any photos of you. I feel it is important for the people who love you and want to see your face but even more important is for all of us to see the physical changes you will go through in the next year. A photo is worth a thousand words. Will there be dreadlocks, tattoo's, sun burn, rash, weight gain or loss, fashion preference changes, a smile or a tear? And more deeply how will the expression in your eyes change? Please let us see how the world is going to change you. You may find much further down the road that it my become important to you as well. Travel same and be well.
Love, Paul