Honduras - Day 5 - Today was a long day...

Wednesday morning started just as the previous two had. I woke up too early, David woke up early to milk cows with three more of the youth, and Tara was probably awake but was quiet enough that I couldn't tell. Having been up later than we had wanted to the previous night making sure our one sick youth was okay, we had all hoped to sleep in a little longer, but unfortunately this did not happen.

While milking the cows this morning, David got pooped on. While helping out the previous two mornings, he had stepped in poop and been almost hit, but this morning he walked back into our room with poop on his back. He went immediately into the shower and I followed him to brush my teeth, both of us laughing at how gross this situation was.

Side note for my grandma and mom: I shaved clean this morning for the first time since Easter. I hadn't brought a razor or trimmer with me thinking I would just grow a mission trip beard, but I quickly realized that it would be too hot in the Honduran sun. David let me borrow his razor and I was clean for the first time in months. You're welcome.

After we all changed into our work clothes, most of us wearing the same pants we had worn the previous two days, we headed over to eat breakfast. On our way, we stopped in the girls dorm to make sure everyone was okay after the previous night's happenings. Thankfully, everyone felt fine and we were back to 100% health in our group of 15 Americans in Central America.

After breakfast, we loaded into our vans and, for a change, headed to the nearby schools for a quick visit before our workday began. We first stopped at the elementary school and got a brief introduction and welcome from the principle. The other two groups that were at the ranch with us joined us on these visits.

We were then taken on a tour of the school, which consisted of nothing more than two bathrooms with showers, the principles office, an open-air classroom for each grade (1st-6th), and a large courtyard that the classrooms surrounded. As we walked pass each room, the children waved t at us and smiled. They see groups of American mission works walk by their doors once a week, but they acted like we were the first group they had seen in months. This was a great way to start the morning.

After we were finished at the elementary school, we crossed the street onto the campus of the junior high and high school. The school was set up in very much the same fashion, with the classrooms held in a C-shaped building that surrounded a courtyard. In the middle of the courtyard was a large pavilion with benches inside. We all sat on the benches and the principle of this school spoke to us.

He spoke English very well, with almost no accent on most of the words he slowly spoke. He thanked us for coming and told us about the school. This particular school year, they were forced to cancel their 10th grade class due to a lack of funding. The 10th graders were split up between 9th and 11th grade, which resulted in one classroom having 52 students.

After he told us about this problem, he went on to tell us about how much it costs for each student to attend school for a year. For students that live in nearby villages and can commute daily for the five hour school day (7am-12pm), the cost is only $300. For students who live further away or have no method of transportation, the cost for schooling and room and board is just $600.

My first thought was how much the private schools in Nashville cost. I mean no disrespect, but my entire college education (minus housing and food) cost less than one year at some private schools in Nashville. My books for one semester in college could have paid for an entire year for one of these students to live on campus and study. These numbers baffled me, but this is the world we live in.

Note: students at these schools can be sponsored. Check the HOI website for more information.

After we walked around to see the classrooms, the computer lab, and the art room, we were taken to a the new library. It was a magnificent building with windows covering almost every wall. Bookshelves surrounded the room and were full of books. Other than the hotels we stayed in on our trip, this was the nicest building we saw in all of Honduras.

The library was built in honor of three American HOI missionaries who were killed during their trip. They had rented a car and were tragically killed when the roads of Honduras overwhelmed them. After two long days on the roads in our bus, I was already nervous about the thought of being a driver here, but now I was extremely nervous. Thank you to all of our drivers for keeping us safe.

We left the library and walked back to our vans, ready to head to El Rodeo for another day of work. After the 45 minute drive, which had started flying by once we knew the route and had started getting used to the bumpy road, we started to pile out of the vans next to the soccer field just like the days prior.

As I got out of the van, my new friend Alex was standing with the group that surrounded us. He extended his hand and I gave him a firm handshake. He said, "Hola, Brian," and patted me on the shoulder. I said, "Buenos dias, Alex," with a huge grin on my face and we stood next to one another as the rest of the group unloaded.

Ali told us what projects we would be working on this morning and we divided into our groups. I was in a group with two of our girls and I was thrilled that we would be working alongside Alex and Carlos again. We were headed to a home that sat on top of a high hill near the back of the village to help them finish their new latrine.

The huge hole had already been dug and the cement blocks had been placed perfectly around the edges of the hole. Our first job for the morning would be to fill the seam between the ground and the bricks with dirt.

We grabbed our shovels and started working, thinking that this two inch gap would be filled quickly. After working for non-stop for 15 minutes, we took a break to look in the hole and see how much further we had to go. To our surprise, we couldn't see the bottom. I had thrown hundreds of shovels of dirt into this crack and they didn't seem to make the least bit of progress.

We kept shoveling, figuring out small ways to make the work more efficient as we worked, while Alex, Carlos, and David, our security guard and fellow worker, found boards to cover the latrine. I should have been more nervous working next to a huge hole, but I wasn't. The past two days had taught me to trust myself and the work I was capable of. If I fell in, I fell in (how tough do I sound?).

Our deep seams finally filled with dirt and we packed the soil with the end of our shovels. The men were still finding boards that would cover the top of the latrine, most of them being pulled from the chicken coop that stood behind the house. If a board was too long, they would carefully cut it to size using a machete. If a board had nails in it from its previous application, they would either ignore them or bend them back into the wood.

Once they had found enough boards and were happy with the way the latrine would be covered, we had to retrieve the make-shift scaffolding from inside the deep latrine that had been used as they were laying the cement blocks. The men spoke quickly to one another and I suddenly started to hear my name several times; they all laughed every time my name was said and they looked at me.

Though I didn't know the words they were saying, I knew what they were talking about. They were joking about lowering me into the latrine to fetch the boards and trees that had been clumsily nailed together as they worked. They realized I knew what they were saying and we all laughed for a minute, but thankfully they knew it was against HOI rules for our group to climb on roofs or climb into latrines.

They lowered one of the teenage girls into the hole and she tied a rope around a few of the boards. They pulled her back out and I went back over to the latrine to help them pull the boards and logs from the hole. Once they were out, they put the boards they had cut on top of the latrine.

With a few gaps in the boards, we search for a solution to fill them so the cement we would later pour on top did not fall into the latrine. Carlos began taking the old cement bags and soaking them in water, making a paper-mache type material to be used as filler. David and Carlos worked quickly to fill in the gaps with two or three bags.

Once this was finished, they realized they did not have any cement mix on site. Alex hopped in the red truck that sat behind the house and drove down the hill to fetch some supplies. We also needed a hacksaw since the small hacksaw blade we had was not working to cut the rebar that would support the cement.

While Alex was gone, we all sat down for a welcomed break and enjoyed the shade under the trees and the magnificent view from our home for the morning. Alex returned shortly with concrete mix, more rebar, a hacksaw, and a 3-liter bottle of Coke.

The same girl who had been lowered into the latrine went into the house and came back with several wet glasses. She poured the cold Coke into each glass and started passing them out to everyone. Even though I knew the Coke was safe, I wouldn't let my girls drink any since I wasn't sure what the glasses were washed in. We all said no thank you and were pleased when they weren't offended after we had turned down their generous offer.

Now that we had the proper tools to proceed in the job, Carlos and I began cutting rebar together while the girls sat patiently waiting for another project. Carlos had measured the first piece several times, making sure it would the proper size, and when he was convinced it was okay, he started cutting.

I grabbed onto the rebar on one end and held it from wobbling under the pressure of the saw's strokes. He held the other side, but the bar still shook a little too much. He grabbed a large rock from behind him and put it under the saw to use as a work bench. He started to cut the bar again, moving the saw slowly so he would not fall out of the grove he had made with the first two cuts. As the saw moved, so did the rock.

I put my hand closer to the saw, close enough that I could hold onto the bar and steady the rock at the same time. As I did this, Carlos looked at me and I looked back, giving him a trusting nod that my hand, which sat less than two inches from the saw, would be fine. This is one of the moments in our trip which I'll never forget.

As we were cutting rebar, the girls had begun cutting smaller wire that would be used to tie the criss-crossed pieces of rebar together. They were working with the teenage girl and seemed to be having fun.

Carlos and I grabbed another long piece of rebar and got back to work. As we were working, I saw Alex come and get the girls to start working on something else. They walked to the side of the house and began making a dirt pile for cement.

I turned back to keep working with Carlos and before I knew it, Alex was standing behind me with two shovels in his hand. He stuck them in the ground and motioned that one of them was for me. I smiled at him, hoping he knew that this meant my back was tired and I was fine to continue my easy task of holding rebar for Carlos. Alex spoke something in Spanish, but I wasn't sure what he said.

Ali had walked up to our house at this point and was visiting with the family. From her chair 10 feet away from us, Ali told me that Alex had said he wanted to work with me and he liked the way I worked. I was blown away by this compliment. I stood up, took the shovel, and we walked over to where the girls were standing next to the large pile of dirt.

We started mixing the cement as we had the previous two days, but this time the work went a little slower. This was the first time I saw the men of El Rodeo slow down as they worked. I was relieved to see that they were as tired as I was.

Alex and I took a few breaks as we mixed the heavy pile of cement. I'm thankful that we had Emily and Merritt there to help the work continue. With each break Alex took, he would say my name and grab his back, implying that his back was sore from the work. I agreed and laughed with him.

He then asked me how old I was in Spanish. Thankfully, this was one of the few phrases I understood and could respond to. I answered, "veinti-ocho," as proudly as I could and he said that he was 28 as well. He then guessed on the girls ages, missing them both by a couple years. Those two minutes of standing around our half-finished pile of cement and talking to one another were amazing.

We soon got back to work and finished mixing the cement. Carlos and David were still working to prepare the rebar for the latrine, so we started to prepare the base for the toilet basin instead. This was just a small 3' x 3' square, so it only took four or five buckets of cement to fill.

Once this work was done, lunch time had arrived. Along with Ali, we walked back down the hill to the house where lunch would be waiting on us. Ali is so funny and full of joy. Knowing we were all tired from the long morning of work, she joked that we should race up the large hill we were climbing. Her infectious laugh made us all smile.

We enjoyed a great lunch of well-seasoned beef, which was incredibly tough, but so good, rice, raw veggies, and tortillas. You could see how tired everyone was today. We had an hour for lunch and on this day, we used the second half of our break to rest. We chatted with one another, but most people sat on the floor or in their chairs quietly knowing that the afternoon's work would be tough.

Once we had refilled our water bottles, used the bathroom, and been told what our projects for the afternoon would be, we began to split ourselves into groups. One group would continue building chimneys in a few of the homes, one large group would build a mud wall at one of the houses, two groups would help put roofs on homes, and one group was going to visit shut-ins with the village chaplain.

I was assigned to work on the roof at the house we ate lunch in with one of the youth. The rest of the groups went on their way and we sat on the porch to wait for instructions. After we had sat for 20 minutes, we still had no word on what our task would be. Finally, the man who lived in the home came and told us we were fine to wait and that he was trying to find someone to help him climb on the roof.

We laid down on the porch using our backpacks as pillows and watched the huge white clouds pass by. The sky in Honduras is bigger than anywhere I've ever seen. I've been to the western United States, to Montana, North Dakota, and Colorado, and I can firmly say that the Honduran sky humbles any American sky.

After an hour of relaxing on the porch, we were finally summoned to the back of the house to help lift large tin panels to the men for the roof. They climbed up onto the supports and began to prepare the beams to be covered. Unfortunately though, they weren't as prepared as they needed to be. Line had to be strung from one end to the other to ensure that the tin panels would all create an even ledge on the low end of the structure.

As they started to stretch the fishing line from one nail to another, they realized that it as about three feet short. One of the men called to his daughter, who was maybe nine or ten, and had her run to the house I had been working at in the morning. During the 30 minutes she was gone, David and I had nothing to do but sit and relax.

While I didn't mind the rest, I did mind that I wasn't being useful. There were a few times where I almost got up and left without telling the men we were leaving. But my better judgement knew that I would soon be needed here and should stay where I was.

After the little girl got back with a new spool of line, they ran it across the base of the roof and began to discuss where the first sheet of tin should go. Soon enough, they motioned towards me to grab a sheet a tin. David and I jumped up, put our gloves on, and were glad to finally be doing something. Unfortunately though, this was one third of the work we would do on that afternoon.

It took the men about ten minutes to nail down the panel, so all we could do was continue to sit in the chairs they had brought us and watch them work. Before they called for another panel, we saw Tara and the two youth who had gone on home visits with her approaching our house.

They came around back and sat with us and we all watched the men work. They told us about the people they had met with, the prayers they had shared together, and the funny things that had happened during their afternoon.

One woman who was not religious asked Tara if her prayers for her husband would work even if the husband was not in the house. Another wasn't sure if the prayers would work if they prayed on the porch instead of the living room. It's questions like this that we laugh at, but those women took so seriously.

After a few minutes discussing music, and one of the youth being shocked to find out I listen to a vast array of hip-hop, we were summoned to hand another piece of tin to the men. It only took us 30 seconds to grab a sheet from the pile that leaned against the fence and hand it up to the men who were perched eight or nine feet off the ground. We repeated this process one more time and it was time for us to leave for the afternoon.

As we walked back to the shade trees by the soccer field, the group who was working on the mud wall were already seated on the ground waiting for us. They looked exhausted. Their work had not been terribly hard, but they were standing in an open field with no shade cover. Thankfully, we had designated six youth to work on this process so they could take shifts between packing rocks and mud into a hand-woven stick lattice wall and sitting on the shaded porch behind the house.

Making sure they were all okay and had enough water, we got in our vans and drove back to the ranch. This afternoon's ride was great. The bumps in the road had disappeared after three days getting used to them, but the scenary had not lost any of its majesty.

There was a stretch of road during our drive where you could see for endless miles on either side of the road. Nearest the road were open fields of low-cut grass where cattle had grazed. Beyond the fields were scattered trees and beyond the trees were magnificent mountains. Above the mountains was the open, blue sky of Honduras, filled with clouds of all shapes and sizes. The rides back to the ranch were some of my favorite parts of our trip.

Knowing we only had a couple days left at the ranch, I asked a few of the youth to throw the frisbee with me on the soccer field after we got back. Three of them obliged and we threw the disc for about 45 minutes. Some of the children who live on the ranch had been playing soccer on the field before we arrived, so we threw over and around them, being careful not to bother their game. But as soon as we started playing, they were more attracted to the frisbee than they were the futbol they knew so well.

A few of them started asking for the disc and began playing with us. Several of them left once half of their soccer team had been broken up, but the ones who stayed were having a ball. We threw back and forth for about minutes with them. Some of them would try to imitate the things we did, first in what seemed like slow motion and then at a more normal pace when they figured out what to do. It was amazing to see how quickly these kids picked up something they might have never done before, just as the kids in the village had two days before.

It was almost dinner time, so I asked for the frisbee back, which they threw to me regretably, and I went back for a shower. I showered, changed my clothes, and headed to the dining hall where most of our group was playing games. For dinner, we had spaghetti with chicken marinara and rolls.

I don't like pasta. I think it's bland and has an odd texture. The youth had already been getting on me about not liking beans because of their texture, but they were even more shocked to find out that I didn't like pasta. I'll eat lasagna or spaghetti when I know there are no other options, but I would never choose to eat anything with pasta.

Knowing this would be my only chance for a meal, I got a plate of spaghetti and made sure to get an extra roll to fill me up. As I started to eat, I cut the spaghetti into small pieces and tried to pick it up with my fork. This didn't work. I tried sticking my fork into the pasta and raising it to my mouth, hoping the pasta would come up neatly.

Laughing to myself and having not eaten more than a few bites of spaghetti for at least 20 years, I had to ask the group how to eat spaghetti. They told me how to twirl it on my fork, which is something I should have thought of but didn't, and don't worry about getting messy. After fumbling with a few mouthfuls while everyone watched, I gave up and ate the chicken from my sauce and the two rolls. I hope I don't see spaghetti again for 20 years.

After dinner, one of the youth had told us she wasn't feel very good, which we attributed to a long day in the sun and her not eating much for dinner. We told her to keep drinking water and relax for the evening.

We all headed back to our dorm to have an early devotion. We were all so tired from the work day that we wanted to get to bed early.

Three of the boys in the group led the devotion this evening. They had us, once again, go around the circle and list our highs and lows for the day. My high today was being able to work with Carlos and Alex again and my low was not feeling useful in the afternoon.

During the devotional this night, a large bettle flew into the bill of my hat and jarred it sideways on my head. I had tollerated the bugs and frogs until now, but if something is big enough to knock my hat sideways, I'm done. The same bettle then flew into the side of my head, flew around me, and landed on my leg. I gently brushed him off, but I was done with the bugs. I almost emptied a can of bug spray on my legs in the next two minutes.

We then passed out more letters from members of the Session and began discussing what we were going to do for the people of El Rodeo at tomorrow's fiesta. The group would work our final projects in the morning, eat lunch, and then celebrate with the people of the village all afternoon. We decided that anyone in the group who wanted to could speak to the village and Tara would translate. We also decided we would sing something for them.

I had brought a guitar with me, so I went to get it and the group started to discuss what they should sing. "Light the Fire" was quickly decided upon, which I was glad about because it is an easy song to play and the one song that my youth group seems to enjoy singing.

We fumbled through figuring out who would start the singing and how many times we would sing each verse and chorus, but we quickly figured it out. We ran through the song twice and it sounded pretty good. I was glad the kids had been so willing to step out of their comfort zone. I was looking forward to the fiesta very much.

After we sang, I joked to one of the girls in the group that she should play a concert for us. She has recently become very passionate about music, specifically playing guitar and singing, but she is still very shy about it. To everyone's surprise, she took the guitar and began playing and singing for us. It was a very cool moment for all of us to hear her perform. When she was done, we all appluaded and yelled for her.

We all continued to sit on the porch for awhile, chatting and playing Bananagrams. One by one, the kids started to go to bed. David, Tara, and I were some of the last ones to go to our rooms tonight.

After we had all brushed our teeth and gotten in to bed, there was a knock on our door. The girl who hadn't felt good at dinner had gotten sick. We all three jumped up to make sure she was okay. It was about 10:30 by this time, so we were all fairly tired.

We sat outside of her bedroom with her and four girls who had gotten up to comfort her, hoping that some Gatorade and cool air would help her feel better. By about 11:30, she hadn't gotten sick anymore so we all went to bed.

Half an hour later, David was waking me up to tell me she was sick again. Knowing Tara very well, I knew that she startled when she was woken up in the night. As David walked over to wake her up, I knew she would wake up immediately and yell, which she did. It scared David. I couldn't help but laugh.

We went back to the girls room where the same four girls sat still. Our sick girl was in the bathroom. David decided we needed to get the nurse, so him and Tara took a couple flashlights and headed across the ranch to the staff houses.

While they were gone, the girls were discussing scary movies for some reason. They talked about Paranormal Activity and several other movies I had not seen. But then someone brought up The Blair Witch Project, which I had seen. We all agreed that the movie wasn't scary until the very last scene when you see the kid standing in the corner as the camera drops. Being in the middle of rural Honduras on a ranch we didn't know very well at night, this put us all on edge. Thankfully, our conversation soon shifted to other things like Helen Keller and Anne Frank.

Soon, David and Tara's lights approached our view. They were with a security guard who had a handgun on his belt and his dog by his side. They had woken the nurse and she was on her way with Ali. Before they arrived, a second security walked up with two AK-47s. The two men then circled our dorms for the entire time we were up that night, which turned out to be until about 3am. I wasn't sure whether I should feel secure or scared of what could happen. Thankfully, nothing happened.

Ali and the nurse walked up a few minutes later. They checked on our sick girl and told her to start taking antibiotics and to keep drinking as much as possible. They stayed with us for about half an hour until everything had calmed down. She continued to be sick, but there was nothing more we could do for the night. By about 2:45am, she had calmed herself enough to try to get some rest. We all headed back to our beds knowing that tomorrow would be a very long day on such short rest.