Third Goal

The title of this blog refers to the third goal of the Peace Corps; that us volunteers can educate the people in the US about the people of the country in which we serve. Today, you’ll get a little more insight to Honduran life through the eyes of a foreigner living within her borders.
Let’s start with a list. There are a few things that Hondurans ask me about/find out I can do and are amazed/awed/shocked/surprised/flabbergasted (you get the point). They are:
- Swimming – For a country that gets ridiculously hot, there aren’t many pools and therefore a lot of people never learn to swim. They just know how to wade in their local river, if they’re lucky to live close enough.
- Shuffle a deck of cards – By shuffling, I mean closer to the casino dealer style. Most Hondurans I’ve played cards with do the two hand loose shuffle, there’s no adequate way to explain this, sadly. Anywho, when I shuffle cards and then do the bridge to close the deck again, it’s like I just did an amazing card trick. Yes, I’m that talented down here!
- Driving – Also in a country where most people don’t have cars, a woman who can drive is slightly astonishing.
- Riding a bike – I don’t think this is up there on the list, but I’m asked a lot about my ability to ride a bike. Don’t we just assume in the US that everyone can ride a bike?
Now, this list has an opposite too. These are things I’m asked if I can do/like to do. They are:
- Washing clothes by hand – Yes, I hand wash my own clothes here. Am I good at it? Not so much. I’ve learned the trick is to use less soap, so it’s easier to get a clean rinse. I just hope that the sloshing I make in my 5 gallon bucket of cold water and detergent does the job almost as well as my washing machine back in the US. I’ve become quite the optimist. (Dry sarcasm, in case I didn’t convey that well enough.)
- Cooking – I’m asked this only by my women friends/counterparts. Every Honduran woman knows how to cook. When I explain that I don’t really cook either because: a)I’ve never really had to, b) I don’t really like to, or c) I’m just kinda lazy, it’s quite a shock. I explain that I serve a killer bowl of Corn Flakes (pretty much the national cereal of Honduras), fry a mean egg and make an even better sandwich, but they fail to see the humor in this. Heaven forbid I can’t make a tortilla or refried beans. I know they’re worried I’ll be a horrible wife someday.
Which leads me to some other things, which don’t pertain to skills or lack thereof, rather things that are other FAQs.
- Are you married/Do you have a boyfriend? – No/No. I often follow this response with “and I’m ok with that.” Mainly because people feel it is then their right to find someone for me to marry. And for which I have another response of, “I don’t want to get married.” Which is partly true, but 100% true in the terms of marrying a Honduran. The old school gender roles in this culture make me sick. I really wish that the women here would stand up for themselves, but I don’t see that happening.
- Do you ever wear skirts/dresses/heels? – Sometimes, but there is absolutely no need for that here. I already get enough attention and highly annoying cat calls for being a white woman here wearing gender neutral clothes (jeans, polo, tennis shoes). Am I really gonna dress up and make it a million times worse?
- You are Christian, right? – Luckily for me, this isn’t an awkward question. I am and the people love it. I even tell them I’m Adventist and most of the time they know what I’m talking about. They then proceed to invite me to their church, which here there are more than just Catholic churches. Lucky for me, because I got over the whole Catholic experience with my first two host families (no offense to my Catholic friends, but it’s just not my preferred church experience). So far, I’ve taken one friend up on her invite (declining invites is a tricky situation here), but I’ve also found the small (about a dozen people) Adventist group, so I’m a happy camper.
- You like chili? – AKA hot sauce. Every Honduran dining room table has a bottle of hot sauce on it. I’m not sure why, because I’ve rarely seen any Honduran use it. However, when I proceed to put a generous amount on my food, you wouldn’t believe the shock this causes. I explain it to them by the fact that I’m from California. Much of our cuisine is influenced by Mexican food and I tell them, “I’m pretty much Mexican.” Not true at all, but it gets the point across to them, that yes, I can handle my food spicy because they know that Mexicans like spicy food. And this reminds me of another thing about food. So many Hondurans are amazed that I eat their beans at most meals. Either refried beans or just normal beans, not yet refried. I again use the Mexican reference. I eat lots of Mexican food back home and they too, eat beans. They like that explanation.
Aside from the FAQs, most Hondurans are pretty blunt in what they ask. Today, a teacher of one of the groups I’m giving the business charlas to invited me to the school because they were having a soccer tournament. I quite enjoy hanging out at the school when I’m not teaching. It gives me a chance to get to know the kids better, so I’m not as nervous when I’m up front fudging my Spanish and praying they learn something from me. The staff at the school is great too. Anyway, the teacher (a woman) says as we’re walking along, “Emily, you’re taller than me?” Um, well…I guess I am. “Emily, you’re also more gordita than me.” Hmm, trying to not take offense to that I said, well yes, that’s obvious. And she finishes off this string of randomness by saying, “Emily, I’m also more triguena than you.” (Meaning her complexion is darker.) Now, all of that is kinda insulting to your average American woman. Minus the height thing. (Hondurans are pretty short. I’m certainly taller than most women and am eye level with many men. I’m 5’4” for those who don’t know.) Anyway, no American woman likes to be told she is pale and chubby. I’m certainly aware of these things, but sheesh. You just gotta roll with it down here though. And yes, this teacher phrases many of her questions/statements with my name at the beginning even in the middle of a conversation. It makes me slightly uncomfortable, yet I’m not sure why. I guess it’s just weird to hear my name so much.

And as if one awkward conversation wasn’t enough, there was one that got me heated and I had to keep my cool. Sitting in the office having a conversation with two male staff members we somehow got on the subject of the difference between Honduran and American relationships. One of these guys has spent time in the US, so he feels he is an expert on both cultures. Anyway, he was sitting here, telling me, an American woman, that Honduran women love their husbands more because they take care of the home and children. American women can’t love their husbands that much if they go out on their own each day and leave the household. He was trying to be somewhat tactful about it, but I knew what he was getting at. He had started with the bit about American women and then as he was explaining why Honduran women were better he was kinda beating around the bush, so I jump in and say, “You think Honduran women are better because they don’t do anything all day but cook, clean and care for the kids?” He and the other guy both had to agree that’s what they meant. My response? “And that is exactly why I won’t have a boyfriend here for the next two years.” The sick part is, they don’t even realize how insulting that was. Now, it’s not to be said that there aren’t Honduran women in the workforce. However, if they are they just work on top of still having to do all the work in the home. My friend invited me to her house for dinner last night. After she cooked dinner for us, she had to fold the clothes she had hand washed that morning before leaving for work, chase around her 2 year old son and then when “the father of her son” (that’s how she introduced him to me) got home she had to go cook him dinner as he sat on the couch and watched TV. This was all after she worked 8-5. Like I said earlier, I really wish these women would put their foot down and demand some equality.

Yet, Honduran women are really generous, even if they have very little. It’s part of the culture, that whoever throws out the idea of getting ice cream, coffee, whatever has to pay. (This is a really hard thing for me to adapt to, because on my income here I can’t invite to do much and anyone who knows me, knows I love to get out and do things.) Anyway, there’s one girl in the mayor’s office that I walk home with because we live in the same barrio and she’ll buy sodas, ice creams, paletas, churros, whatever on the way home. Then yesterday, I mentioned I was craving something sweet, so another girl in the office says, “Let’s go to the corner store.” As, I’m digging through my backpack for money, she’s like, “No, I invited you.” It’s pretty awesome, but I miss the days of going dutch and not feeling like I owe something to someone.

I hope you feel enlightened now! It really is a different culture down here and I’m trying to deal with it the best I can. They say we’re supposed to adapt, but quite honestly, I only want to adapt so much. It’s certainly possible to live here and still be respectful while holding on to my beliefs/views. Anywho…

Hasta la proxima vez…