The
perfect word to describe my trip to Honduras is “eye-opening.” From the time I
stepped out of the airport, I was gazing around me, drinking in with my eyes as
much as I could possibly see. I wasn’t exactly shocked by how different
Honduras was. I had been warned and expected some things, but it’s so much more
different and amazing to see it with my own eyes, instead of a description from
someone else. I was warned about the insane driving in Honduras. And I mean insane. On a two lane highway heading
one direction, our bus passed a vehicle on the right, and I didn’t notice until
a few moments later that we were then in between that vehicle and a motorcycle.
For a few moments on a two lane highway, three vehicles were driving
side-by-side together. That doesn’t happen in America. I can’t even describe
how strange the driving is there. All I can say is I was advised not to wear a seatbelt, because it’s
better to jump if anything happens. It’s insane. The craziest driving I’ve ever
seen, and never once did I wear a seatbelt after I initially buckled it. Don’t
worry, we’re safe enough. Dago is a good driver.
I guess
I can say I was shocked by the things lining the sides of the road. Tiny little
houses, about as big as my bedroom, sat clustered together as tightly as
possible, with only about three feet of buffer-zone between the side of the
house and the road. The houses, mostly made of sticks, mud and bits of plastic,
lined both sides of the road. Of course I was thinking, “How could anyone live
like this?” Apparently many can. On the way to the Children’s Home in
Azacualpa, I saw hundreds of those tiny little shacks that hold an entire
family. I am so blessed that I actually have my own room, a yard, and room to
move around in my house. When I got home, the first thing I thought was that my
house is so big, ten families could fit in it. And it’s true. I feel like I
have just a bunch of useless space, while a lot of people in Honduras struggle
through the elements with plastic and dried mud, trying to keep healthy when
the whole family is squished together. I just can’t believe how much I have and
much I take it for granted.
In the
neighborhood where we built the home for Victoria, the houses weren’t much
better, though they were a bit bigger. In that neighborhood, a nice house is
one made with cement blocks and has a tin roof. That is a nice house in
Honduras. Before I went to Honduras, I would think of that as more like a shed
or something, but nope. It’s actually a very nice house, and anyone who has one
like that is more “well-to-do” than other families. Victoria’s house was made
of these materials. It’s much better in comparison to the sticks and stuff she
had for her old house. We even built her a kitchen and a bathroom with
plumbing! Here, that stuff for a house is a no-brainer, and we don’t even think
about it, but there. . . Wow, you’re lucky if you have those things.
I guess
the way people live in Honduras, and their environment, was the most
eye-opening thing was for me. Like I wrote earlier, I have so much, but I take
it all for granted. I don’t feel blessed for all the things I have. Or I used
to be like that. Now I understand that I don’t need all these things to be
happy. The people in Honduras have next to nothing, and they are so happy, so
joyful. When I got home, I wanted to toss everything out of my room. I don’t
need it. But I am so blessed to have everything I do, like my own room, my own
bed, a TV, computer, etc. I hope what changed my viewpoint in Honduras will
stick with me. To be grateful for all that I have and don’t complain. I have it
so much better than many people in the world.
No comments:
Post a Comment