Finding Hogwarts

Every year Father Dunnan gives a sermon to the school on the seven ways not to say goodbye. Slip away in the middle of the night. Burn bridges. Find new friends. Are just some of many.

But what is the right way to say goodbye?

This morning after making one last pile of cement and filing the wall, we went back to the hotel, to change, look beautiful, put on a sundress and go back to ProNino. One. Last. Time.

We put on a performance for the kids as they celebrated fathers day. Some of the kids spoke about about how the men who run ProNino are their fathers. They talked about how they put them to bed at night. The man who runs ProNino stood up and told the kids that one day, they too will be fathers. That they should kiss them goodnight, and take care of them. So that one day, no Nino’s would suffer.

I can only pray that he is true.

After the father’s day celebration, we went over to another ProNino building and danced the night away. Since we didn’t work that much this morning, I made up for it by dancing my heart out. Have you ever danced in over a hundred degree Honduran heat?

I didn’t think so.

Sweat was pouring down my dress, but I really could not have cared less. I danced with Little Oscar, Big Oscar, Solomon, Little David, Medium David, Elvis, and so many others. We danced to American Music, we danced to Honduran Music. I had at least one kid hanging onto me for the entire night. It didn’t matter to them that I was covered in sweat.

We all knew it was going to come to an end eventually, but none of us showed it as we danced and smiled.

When it finally slowed down and the music came to a stop, but heart sank. I wasn’t ready for this, I don’t think I ever would have been ready for it.

Words cannot describe how I felt, or how I am feeling now. How can I possibly say goodbye? As I was hugging Solomon, he refused to let me go. “Come back to Honduras” He kept saying over and over again.

He didn’t cry, but he kissed my cheek and buried his head into my neck. I said goodnight and goodbye to dozens of Nino’s going to bed. I hugged everyone I could reach.

The car ride back to the hotel was absolutely silent, except for the occasional sniffle. I found it difficult to cry. Emotions so strong, so profoundly upset, my body couldn’t react. I appreciated the silence and the darkness. I needed time to be with myself and just process.

How can I bring this back to the United States?

I have seen a child high on glue because he doesn’t want to fell his empty stomach.

I saw Richard run away from ProNino during the goodbye ceremony because he couldn’t handle another emotional goodbye.

I have seen children with stunted growth because of their glue addiction.

I have seen children covered in scars from where they have been hit and beaten.

As these children run around, I find it hard to imagine their back-story. These children had fathers, had mothers, who chose not to care, or died.

Part of me asks God why? Why do these children have to be raped? Addicted to drugs?

Its easy to say everything happens for a reason, but why children? Children are the first in the hands of God, and none of them deserve this. They shouldn’t be brainwashed to run away.

All I can do is pray that the director of ProNino is right, and that it will get better—that children will not be forced to live on the streets.

When we got back to the hotel, I took a shower and then I was finally able to cry. I cried for the children who never felt the love from their parents, who never were appreciated for anything.

They just want to be praised; they just want to be loved. It doesn’t seem like it is too much to ask.

I loved when they would show me the different tricks they could do. Some of them were amazing things that got them money on the streets, but some were just ridiculous scribbles. But I praised them both alike. They have never had anyone to put a picture up on the refrigerator and praise them for just being themselves.

Not to sound like the Beetles, but Love is all you need.

If this trip has taught me anything, it has taught me that. Though sometimes I struggle, I have food, I have water, I have shelter, I have more things than I know what to do with. These children have two sets of clothes, shoes that have holes, and experiences that I cannot imagine. Yet I saw their smiling faces everyday.

So that will keep me smiling.

For them I will continue to smile, for them I will continue to laugh, for them I will continue to work so that one day I can help them. Whatever path I chose, I want to remember the kids of ProNino.

Love to everyone at home, I cannot wait to see you.

Readers, please pray for the children of Honduras.

Pray that they are safe.

Pray that ProNino stays funded.

Pray that they have food.

Pray that they are loved. 

You can always tell in movies when something is about to happen. The characters get some what complacent, and the music starts to get intense. From your camera angle, you can see that a villan is lurking in the shadows. You can shout at the screen all you want because you know, you absolutely know that something is about to happen. 

But in real life there is no intense music.

There is no warning. 

Today we started off the day working with more cement… yay. I was completely thrilled. Though fortunately, it was not nearly as difficult as yesterday, I don’t think I could have handled another day like yesterday. 

After lunch at ProNino, we went with eight nino’s from the each of the four houses (with the best behavior and highest grades) went with us to the beach today. In the already full van, we packed more ninos in the car. Some where laying in our laps, some where squeezed in between seats in the doors. As Cara affectionately put it, “We are covered in FLESH” 

The car ride there was full of loud singing, in both english and spanish, yelling, squealing and just all around good fun. 

When we got to the beach, it was my mother’s worst nightmare as thirty two children rushed into the ocean without a thought if they could swim or not. Many could swim, but there was some who could not. Taking on the role of mother, I tried to watch as many kids as i could, but thirty two is such a large number. 

The beach was full of constant yelling and squealing into the waves and I don’t think I stopped laughing for the first twenty minutes. Multiple children clung to me as we went through the waves, and I jokingly said to another person on the trip, “I don’t need to live through this, they can just use my body as a raft” 

One of the kids I have become friends with is named is Richard. He knows some english like “It is beautiful” and “My friend”. He told me not to leave Honduras. I told him my mother would cry if I never came back. But he still clung on to me for a while, and since, once again, my spanish knowledge is almost non existent, we would talk in noises rather than words. 

Everything was perfect, everything was absolutely perfect. 

This is when the music started to play. 

More of the ninos ran up onto the beach where Ricardo had food. And suddenly, we realized we could not find Brian. Brian is not even four feet and cannot swim. Immediately, Jenn and I started scanning the water thinking that he had drowned. After saying a quick prayer, we walked up the beach. 

It turns out the Brian ran away. An hour car drive away from El Progresso, he ran down the beach without a thought. 

This little child, all of maaaybe four feet took off into the unknown. Everything was fine, he had fun on the car ride, he made friends with Don (a guy on our trip) who must have thrown him hundreds of times in the waves, just ran away. 

On some level, I am furious. How could he possibly do this? We loved him so much, and he he just split. And on another level, I am so upset. He is alone. With no food. No water. Nothing but the clothes on his back. 

Sorry for the expression, but this society down here is so fucked up. 

Brian felt totally capable of living by himself. I am scared to death of living by myself and I am twenty. 

But to the people who work at ProNino, this happens all the time. 

Fernando and the Boss Man are saints for constantly putting up with the children running away. My heart can barely take a week here, let alone a life time. 

Yet another day in paradise, and yet another day covered in my own sweat and dirt.

My name does not exist in Spanish. Not really surprising, considering it doesn’t really in English either. Ricardo (one of the teachers on the trip) told me not to get offended if the Hondurans could not pronounce my name. I told him not to worry about it, no one can say my name right at first. So the kids affectionately call me Cali, because that is much easier.

Today we were making cement. After digging holes in the early morning, we spent the rest of the full day mixing cement and pouring it into the trench we dug yesterday. We worked in two teams of six, and I was grateful for the break between rounds. It amazed me how the Honduran workers would just keep on trucking through as our group of gringos (white people in Spanish) were melting. Granted, if you brought them up to the ‘cold’ weather of North Carolina, they would complain—but it was amazing to see them work.

Today I made lots of new friends, not that I didn’t have American friends on the trip already—but I got to talk to more Niños today, which is always great. Oscar would cling onto me as I worked. Though usually both of us were hot and sweaty, we would hug until it was necessary for one of us to work. Joseluis (my spelling is questionable on that one) was also another friend I made today. Known for his ears that stick out, we talked about my water bottle.

Around the kids, I am so much more open about using Spanish. They are so patient with me as I try to explain what I am talking about with as little words as I know. Sometimes I will act stuff out, and they will say the word in Spanish. Other times I will use word association and eventually make my way to whatever I want to talk about. They are incredibly patient with all of us who don’t speak fluently, and the Spanish speaking people are awesome about translating five hundred different conversations at once.

Today I realized that I most likely will not be coming back to Honduras. Though I try to maneuver it back into my schedule (hopefully next spring?), I won’t be able to come back sooner or ever again. It is sad to know that I have met such life changing children and people, and we will never meet again. It is amazing how such a small group of people from a random city in Honduras can have such an effect on my entire life. These children will grow up one day and have children of their own. Will they tell them about the gringos that visited ProNino when they were young? Will the name Cali be mentioned? Probably not, but maybe.

These children are so incredibly awesome, so incredibly talented, so incredibly energetic. How could anyone not want these children? Why are they forced to go out onto the street when their parents no longer want them as a burden? These children have already taken over my heart, how can their parents leave them behind? It is difficult not to get angry. I don’t know their lives, or their circumstances. I know many of the kids come from homes with ten siblings. But I would fight for them, and I fight for them from now on. Little David, Brian, Oscar, JoseLouis, Rudolpho, Bigger David, Anthony and so many of the children. I want to see them grow up, I want to know their lives beyond ProNino, and it hurts my heart to know that I might never know.

When I worked at Saint James sports camp, we were not allowed to hug, or pick up the children. But here, I am always touching or hugging someone. I have never been one to show love through touch, but with language gone it is my only option.

I wish I could pack them up in my suitcase and bring them back with me. Having another person to feed seems so much less of an issue now that I have seen their daily lives. I could easily take care of one of them, right? They would eventually learn English, I would eventually learn more Spanish. We could meet half way and then I could raise him in the states and he would grow up to be more than a Honduran street kid. 

It is amazing how many realizations you can have about yourself as you dig a trench.
It may have been over 100 degrees here today, but honestly I don’t really want to know.
We built a trench for a wall foundation, which we will concrete tomorrow. I found myself giving out lessons on how to shovel and swing a pick axe, just because I have more experience than most people. Granted not as much as my father, but a decent amount. It really is all in the legs, just so you don’t wear yourself out.
We had two people about to vom from heat exhaustion and working hard. Yum.
I also learned it is easier to make hot things hotter in hot weather. For lunch we had hot rice, just what I was craving after a long hot day in the sun. And don’t worry, I have been applying reapplying and reapplying sunscreen. No burns YET!!!
I love playing with the niños they are always do willing to work next to us as long as they can be next to us. Nelson built half the trench as we sluggishly tried to beat the heat.
After this we went to explore San Pedro, which had a market. While making trying to decide whether to go to San Pedro or not, I found myself saying make an executive decision- too much ROTC? San Pedro was a slight disappointment because the market was closed.
After coming back to the hotel, I am exhausted. It was a long hard day. But I’m ready for another one. I sang Disney tunes as I dug through the ditch, so I am sure that will help me tomorrow!
I want all my readers, if you can, to take a few minutes to yourself tomorrow (or today depending on when you are reading). Take a deep breath. You have a constant food source that differs from just rice, you have air conditioning, a home that is more than a roof and screen. You have housing that is not built by naive college kids. In the grand scheme of things, your troubles will work themselves out. You have enough resources. These kids will have their troubles following them for the rest of their life. Their drug addictions, their gang life, their abuse, their food source, where they will live will be a constant struggle.
I’m not trying to undermine your problems, but liberate you from them. Whatever they are, they aren’t Honduras.

Another day has come and past at ProNino. Luckily it was not nearly as taxing as scaling a mountain, because honestly I couldn’t do another day like yesterday—not two days in a row anyway. This morning we arrived at ProNino at 8 and was ready to do work. Unfortunately and fortunately we didn’t really start working until 9:30. We have a phrase here in Honduras, its “its Honduras time”. We will get stuff done if we get stuff done.

For people of American culture, we are so oriented around tasks and lists. I too find pride in myself when I look at a list and see a number of things accomplished. But here it is not the same. If you get something done, that’s great, if you hang out all day, that’s great too. Here it is not important what lists you get accomplished and what you gain or lose today, it is about being in the moment and being present with those around you. It is all about loving the people around you. But when you look back on your life, do you really take pride in that day you accomplished your list? Ah, that Monday when I accomplished all my tasks……

That has never happened to me. I tell stories about good times with friends and people, because that is what matters to me, and that is what should matter.

So we worked today, we might not have done a lot except for build concrete molds that would take my father an hour to do by himself (granted he would have much better wire cutters than the dull ones here), but we got something accomplished. The kids were more than willing to help us out, cutting wires along with us just so they could be near. As we drove around El Progresso today, I just found myself wondering where the nice houses are. When they see suburb houses on the tv, do they think that is made up? Everything here looks dilapidated and misshapen. Trucks that American’s would casually toss aside to the dump, people are driving around.

I brought old running shoes to use in case I ruin them, but the boys here have shows that are broken with their toes sticking out, and some even then don’t have shoes. I think of how many times I had learned in a classroom about kids without these things, but to actually see it. These kids have been sexually abused and left behind by their own parents to make do in the streets of a broken down city. I can’t imagine leaving my brothers here alone for five minutes let alone to make do. Even thinking about leaving them here makes me hyperventilate. No child should ever have to go through half the things these children survive through daily.

As we came out of dinner, we gathered up all our extra food and gave it out to kids on the streets that were hungry. We passed by one kid who wouldn’t look at our faces, and though two people on our trip tried to talk to him, he looked down at the ground and mumbled replies. No kid should ever look that tired, that exhausted and in need of a bed.

If the town of El Progresso was moved to the United States, it would be on the cover of all the newspapers. No one would stand for it. But now because it is too far away, no one cares. I am glad I have decided to care about the kids at ProNino because if I don’t, no one will.