man i got the swamp-ass on my throat

Henri, my second-best pitcher.

Enner, my first-best pitcher.

Las Panteras de Alubaren!

On the bus ride over (before their souls were crushed by defeat)

well if that aint a rooster in a windowsill

mouth-themed art.

little guys coloring their mouths.

view from the path on the way to the school...alubaren is waaaay down there in the valley.

the third grade penpals! with their charming yet grossly incompetent teacher.

Igor and Kaiser, sopping wet after a trip to the swimmin hole.

leapin in!! dont break your face!

noel and his nature-made waterslide.

is douglas peering at us over those shades because he's cool...or because they're super-perscription and his eyes are aching?? child torture for photo ops is a large part of what peace corps volunteers do in the field.

three generations of amazing women (dona anita, chepa, and maricela). all great friends of mine.

27 March 2010

Hey, chochachos! So my buddy Patrick got this awesome purple-camouflage t-shirt, which, being too small for him, was bequeathed to me. It reads “BUTT SWEAT AND TEARS,” which is 1) hilarious and 2) entirely accurate of my current situation. I’m not actually crying (though I did weep slightly last night watching “Milk” on ‘ol laptoppy) but I got swamp-ass like you wouldn’t even BELIEVE. Seriously. Honduras is all like “oo, you likes the heet, si? I geef you MORE!!” and totally throwing the lever to the “Butt Sweat 24-7” level of solar radiation. Anyway. I just thought you guys might like to hear about that.

I also have swamp ass on my throat. Little weird blisters that pop and sting—right in the creases of my neck fat, formed from the slight inclination of the head as a result from reading in the hammock. March and April are the hottest time of year in the south of Honduras, as everyone gazes ruefully at hazy blue horizon, waiting for the rain clouds that won’t appear until mid-May (save for a freak rain shower that fell a couple weeks ago and rained out baseball practice! Delicious). All the plants have transformed into brittle, leafless skeletons and the dust is everywhere, coating all surfaces in a nice gritty filth. The cicadas drone incessantly and the toads hide in my latrine, looking for the Moist. Poor Igor just lies on the floor and pants frantically, though he is a warm-weather dog through and through and does much better here than I’m sure he’ll do in the states (the dope shivers with cold whenever we go to Tegucigalpa). The water shortage continues, though I really can’t complain because I have my whole pila to myself and most people have to share it with mom, dad, grandpa, grandma, kids, aunts, uncles…everyone in the house. So I let Nely come over and wash clothes and take baths all the time. Sometimes, I just lie down in my underpants and let Igor lick me clean…dog saliva is antibacterial, you know. The only good thing about the dry season here is the mangos are beginning to ripen, so I can switch from crunching on sour green ones (still tasty) to slurping down delicious sticky orange awesomeness. Also, “jocotes” are in season now, also known as “plums,” (ciruelas) though they do not resemble North American plums in any way (they’re like little round balls of sweetish flesh, about the size of a walnut, with a huge pit). Maranones are ripe now, which I have plenty of in my backyard. They taste like 100 gallons of butt sweat, though, so I give them all away. Fun fact—the nut on top of the fruit is where cashews come from! SCIENCE. Anyway, bitch bitch moan moan I’m hot and such, but it ain’t so bad cause 1) I borrowed the fan from the library, which has no electricity anyway, and 2) the swimmin’ holes still have water, so goin’ on adventures is always fun. Last week, Nely and the kids and I (plus Igor) hiked for about an hour and a half to get to these amazing pools that are SO deep…you can jump off rocky boulders above and never touch the bottom. Plus, there is a shallow pool where the kids can splash around. We brought little bean tamales and it was delightful.

Work is goin’ awesome. The little penpal project I started up with the third-graders is adorable—they sent letters back and forth with an incredibly smart first grade bilingual classroom in Minnesota, taught by a former Honduran Peace Corps volunteer, Anne. It’s kind of sad, because the kids in Minnesota are a) 6 and 7 years old and b) learning Spanish for the first time, and their letters are still better written than my third graders. But the kids get a kick out of it, and draw great pictures to accompany their letters (which I send off in a manila envelope). So far we’re only written twice, once introducing ourselves and talking about favorites and hobbies, and this past week, where the kids wrote about Semana Santa (Holy Week), which is exactly like American spring break, except instead of teenagers making bad decisions, it’s chock-full of Jesus, excursions to the nearest water source for swimming, and the consumption of fish-cake soup. The little letters explained as such. It’s funny, though, because the third-graders all write little adult-ish phrases in the letters, like beginning with a “Hello, dear friend, allow me to hope that you are currently blessed with fine health and your family as well” (though totally botched spelling-wise) and “may the tiny baby-God bless you today and always.” Those Spanish-immersion blondies in Minnesota are gonna be like “que????” Their letters are pretty funny too, though damn impressive—they throw the “le” and “se” around like it’s their job and their spelling is excellent. My favorite one was from a kid who wrote (in Spanish) “I’m so happy you are my new friend. I used to not have any friends, but now I have exactly 101 and you are one of them. You are my best friend in the whole world and I love you so much.” I want to meet this 6-year-old with so much love.

Aside from that, I’m hiking up mountains twice a week to visit two aldea schools for my oral hygiene project, totally yellin’ at ‘em about cavities and such. The kids are little angels and always so eager to participate—it’s adorable. This week, we colored pictures of the mouth and learned to identify all the different components. It’s a damn good thing I’m a Scientist. In my village journeys, I’ve been able to form a closer friendship with a woman named Aida and her family, including little baby Geyly, who is now four-months old. Every Wednesday, on my way down the mountain after Colgate, I stop at their bright-green, open-air house and have lunch with her. Or rather, she puts a huge plate of beans and rice and tortillas in front of me and watches me eat it, concerned with my “tiny waist” and lack of boobs (seriously!). In addition to little “Hayley,” she has a four-year-old son named Esteven who has the raddest bowl-cut ever. He likes to show me his blocks that his dad made for him, and is also a fan of watching me stuff my face with food. I’m also friends with Aida’s sister, Xiomara, and her husband, Marlon. They’re newlyweds and have decided to stay childless for the first couple years, which is very rare in Honduran culture. They’re in the middle of building a house (made of mud-and-straw bricks), and are sleeping in the half of it that has a roof while they finish the rest. They’re all really wonderful people and I’m delighted to have some real friends outside of Alubarén proper. It’s like Burrito Tuesday all over again (this thing my friends and I did in high school than involved eating burritos on Tuesday), only instead of burritos it’s beans and rice and tortillas, and instead of Tuesday it’s Wednesday.

Baseball season is, thank tiny-baby-God, finally almost nearing an end. We had our last “friendly scrimmage” today, in Reitoca. I’ve spent the past month convincing parents to let their kids play, despite the fact that no one wants their kid to be on a losing team, and did much damage to my “we’re improving everyday!” argument when Reitoca took us to school in the mini-van of Pain today, beating us 4-0 (our most painful loss yet). We took the bus over early this morning, all sweaty-eyed and bushy-tailed, dressed to the nines in our sassy golden get-up. The game started out all right, and we came very close to scoring runs several times (bases loaded, with my best batters at the plate…) but never managed to get a point. Meanwhile, Reitoca was playing just as crappily, with just one point to our zero. Then, in the fourth inning, with two kids on base, their best batter slammed a ball into outer-space and won them three additional points with his fancy homerun. After we lost, my kids didn’t seem too disappointed—we’re used to being losers now—and instead ran around giggling and hamming it up for the camera, while I took individual shots of them posing in front out our team flag, one knee up and one knee down, with their hand on a bat, just like the cheesy pictures we take in American little league. The parents were pissed, though, and much berating was going on until I finally lost it and yelled at them (the parents) that if they couldn’t support the kids positively then they shouldn’t come to the games (a message that needed to be said, but I shouldn’t have lost my temper, because know they’ll all talk smack about me behind my back). Anyway. We bused it home, I laid in the hammock and stuffed my face with avocado, tomatoes and basil salad (all local grown, chumps) and drank chai iced tea (thanks mom and dad!) with my new best friend, Fanny the Fan (I’m all like, Hey, Fanny, do you like tarantulas? And she’s all “Noo-oo-oo” while shaking her head slowly to-and-fro). Anyway, just three more weeks until the “championship” on April 17 (though it will be essentially the same thing as a scrimmage since Peace Corps has no money in the baseball program for trophies, trips to Tegus, or anything of that sort) and baseball will have ended until next year, at which point the next sucker volunteer can have ‘em. I should have formed a “hangin’ out in the swimmin’ hole” team.

Hella bedtimes, folks…I gotta rest up for my Semana Santa adventures, which are beginning soon and involve salt water and hammocks. MYSTERIOUS!!

Love,

Hayley

birth birth birth birth

muddy fingahs!!!!!
birthday partyyyyyy
mud cake and a mud heart!!
FELIZ CUMPLEANOS JILI SORPRESA
me and igor on the kitchen floor
douglas, the great chicken wrangler.
thankfully the toy is covering his business this time


11 March 2010
Hey, chochachos! If my writing seems more sage and geriatric today, that is because ya’ll are accustomed to reading the words of a 23-year-old, and this chochacha is now 24. So, please attribute any sudden leaps in wisdom and/or insight to my advancing age and the gifts—and burdens, yes, there are burdens as well—that come with it.

As the Hondurans say, I was “a little baby once again” this past Tuesday, March 9th. My second birthday in Honduras, this time fortunately bereft of extremely tiny panties, which were given to me in great numbers last year by various individuals. I woke up early because I had to get out to a village (Alto de las Mesas) to start a Colgate project with the school there, in which the kiddies brush their teeth with hopeless abandon every day after snack-time and receive weekly lectures regarding oral hygiene and the toothly sciences. This week, the lecture was just on how to brush your teeth correctly, though, which was nice and easy. Unfortunately, it meant brushing my teeth six times in 30 minutes, as I chose to do a demonstration with each grade, even though it’s a one-room school with one teacher for the whole lot (60 kids total). Let’s face it; I just love brushing my teeth. It’s so awesome. Anyway, I stayed the whole day, and clamored down the mountain (to get to the school from the dirt road, you have to walk up a mega-steep dusty narrow path that edges along the rim of a steep mountain, banked by corn and sugar cane plants) with the teacher, Maricela (who is also in my English class). As we approached the main road, we heard a truck coming (free jalon!) so I started to race down the hill like a dang goat, which was stupid because goat I am not. About 8 feet from the road, in plain site of the driver of the truck and several people standing around outside a house, I totally ate it and slid down face-first, my skirt all sliding around to suggestive leg-levels and my glasses all goin’ askew. I wasn’t hurt, except for a skinned leg and arm, but jesus in a juice box was I embarrassed. Everyone rushed over and was hella concerned, tryin’ to clean me up…meanwhile I’m covered in red dirt and laughing like crazy. Awesome. The driver of the truck did give us a jalon back to Alubarén, though, so that was rad. Then I went home for a quick shower and lunch before my 4pm English class. As I approached my house, the neighbor kids came streaming out yelling my name like they always do, trying to drag me into their house to see the surprise they had for me. Unfortunately, I had to pry their feeble little baby hands off my skirt and make them wait until that evening, because I was all kinds of rushin’.

Off I dashed to English class, where I told my class of teachers that I had prepared a special surprise for them, in honor of my birthday. Murmurs of joy spread throughout the class, which were abruptly extinguished when, cackling madly, I whipped out the manila envelope filled with pre-tests they all had to take (which I should have given to them on Day 1, whoopsies). The test was hellsa chunkity, like 5 pages, so I just sat and dangled my legs from the desk while they grumbled their way through it. As they finished about 50 minutes later, they wandered outside and waited on the little soccer-playin’-concrete-slab (or so I though). When the last teacher handed me her test, I stepped outside to call the others in, only to find them GONE. I was like AW HELL NO YOU CHEATIN’ DESERTERS and such, full of Anger, until I saw one of them heading back into the school with a huge bottle of soda in her arms. Yay! Birthday Soda! I ducked back in so she wouldn’t see that I saw her coming, and busied myself writing on the board while they whispered and giggled outside. Suddenly, all 15 of them burst back into the room, grinning like little kids, bearing a little sugary-bread thing they’d bought at the pulperia and covered with 24 matches. They began to sing “Happy Birthday” (in English!) and took pictures of me with their camera phones while I blew out the “candles.” Then they doused me with bags of water (it’s typical to attack the birthday girl or boy with eggs and other crap, so I guess I got off lucky), handed out bags of chips and lolly-pops and cups of soda, and we participated in the great age-old tradition of forfeiting school time for consuming delicious treats. By the time we finished it was 5:30, so I just let everyone go home half an hour early. I walked up the road to my house, where Alison, Noel, Douglas, Cristina, and Yesica were waiting for me. They made me close my eyes and lead me through the house into the backyard, before finally arriving at the base of a big orange tree. “SORPRESA!!” they all screamed, and I opened my eyes to find a succulent mud birthday cake waiting for me at the base of the tree, complete with 24 little sticks, masquerading as candles. They’d also made a giant mud heart with my name inside, and with cinders from the fire had carefully written “FELIZ CUMPLEANOS JILI SORPRESA!!” on the concrete. Then they made me sit down and each presented me with a little hand-made envelope, covering in drawings, with sweet little birthday letters inside. My eyeballs, they did sweat a little, I must say…those kids have a vice grip on my soul. Then we trooped inside and made chocolate-banana smoothies, like we did last year, and sliced open a big juicy watermelon. My landlords gave me a huge sleeveless muscle-tee that I can never wear in public, with a picture of a Honduran beach on the front. Maybe I’ll wear it to baseball practice one day and freak out off the adolescent boys. Tina gave me an apple and a chocolate bar, and Lisbeth gave me a pencil, an eraser, a pencil sharpener, and a pen (her pencil case seems to have gone on a diet recently, I wonder why that might be?). But the best was that mud cake, which is now dry and sitting on a paper plate on my shelf in my room. Though I will admit I snuck a tiny bite before I put it up for display…god, those kids know how to mix dirt and water. Like imported Swiss fudge on ‘roids.

That’s about it for the Birthday Special…baseball is goin’ great, my little misfits are having a wonderful time, and getting excited for our up-coming scrimmage in Reitoca on the 27th of this month. Colgate, Joven a Joven and TEAM are all cominn’ along beautifully, and I’m gettin’ ready to start a Nature Club in the school. Finally, I get to start the pinecone-art sweatshop I’ve always dreamed of (though pinecones don’t exist in Alubarén, I have a huge bag of them I collected when I lived in Santa Rita).

My bed just texted me “haylz come on man it’s so l8t, come put on yr shortz and loser mouth-guard and get yr slumberz on”…so I guess I’d better go.
Looooove
Hayley

P.S. Birthday Update: I got a sweet ride to Tegus on Friday afternoon and met up with some friends, who treated me to surprise party with cold beers and an incredible smorgesborge of fancy cakes (chocolate caramel, cheesecake with raspberries, and carrot cake ) and ice cream. And they sang so beautifully!! You guys is the best.