Good Day

I write this with two-fold purpose, one, as an attempt to praise, and two, to share my joy with you.

Today, Saturday the twelfth of April, has been one of the better days spent here in Honduras. It was a full day of smiles and happiness, which, through prayer and spirituality night, brought me closer to God.

Going even further into last night where Tyler and I joined, Laura (Peace Corps Volunteer), and a dozen Honduran men in their 20s for 90 minutes of indoor soccer. It was not just rewarding because of the exercise, and because our team won the most (although that helps), but rather because of the camaraderie and welcome-ness I felt from the guys.

Today was even better and only after reflection had I realized this feeling at actually started last night. After going to bed exhausted and in a little bit of pain, I awoke after only six hours of sleep as the day was packed and time was looking to be at a premium. As anticipated the printer was not functioning so I headed off to the internet to print, and make copies of the invitations I would be delivering with Luis for tomorrow’s Men’s Group meeting. Running a bit behind, I raced back to find out Luis was still MIA. I didn’t mind as I had plenty of brainstorming to do for the upcoming Earth Day events. Eventually Luis arrived about an hour later, we discussed the distribution of the invitations and I reluctantly headed out with him to deliver about a dozen slips of paper.

I cannot place my finger on why it was so enjoyable. Certainly at first I was not thrilled to be doing the task, which could easily be accomplished by one person. Yet, as we went from house to house the enjoyment I received from the interaction of the community caused the corners of my mouth to point to the heavens and my dimples to display my feelings of happiness. What started as leaving the invitation to Alonzo’s wife, eventually became my, I Love Talanga Day. Luis and I dropped off the second note and kicked up dust as we headed to the third house, and a friendly encounter with the daughter who promised to pass on the note, we headed to house #4. Passing Gabriella (a girl in catechism class and #4’s daughter) at the corner store, we gave the invitation to his wife, and conversed for a little bit. #5’s wife was in passing and we left to speak with her. Another pleasant encounter brought us back towards the market where we picked up some watermelon, and after my invitations started to blow away, the nice man gave me a bag to place them.

The sixth, and seventh interactions were cordial, and the eighth and ninth brought strong interests to adding new members for whom we had not printed out invitations. Always a good feeling we continued onward and stopped at two more houses, the latter of a familiar face. After praising the work of the volunteers, and discussing the enjoyment his children gets out of the ‘plinc plinc’ of the guitar we left another note with a wife.

By this time I was radiant. People had been welcoming, accommodating and very happy to see us. There is a possibility that this was all brought upon by Luis, and if so, I will write him a thank you note. But the enjoyment I received from their reception was overwhelmingly positive. All of the conversations were joyous and fulfilling, meanwhile, our task at hand seemed to be quite successful as well.

After delivering the final note in the area, I inquired where one of the members of choir lived. Luis took it a step further and we went to the house to visit. Although not there, her family was extremely warm. I was laughing up a storm with the children for about five minutes when interrupted by beans, and later soup from the mom/aunt/grandma combination. What made it even more special was the little interaction I have had with this particular family. Because of the friendliness, and good conversation (food too) I will definitely be returning in the near future.

I did not mind one bit that I was going to be 20 minutes late to a meeting I had. So after a heartfelt thanks Luis and I separated ways, I busted tail kicking up my cloud of dust behind me, making two quick, but jovial pit-stops along the way to deliver the final invitations. And, by the grace of God, it turns out the one with whom I was meeting, would be late as well.

A good meeting, combined with good work during the afternoon, but me at arriving to a birthday party just as the majority of the people were leaving. However, the twenty-five minutes I was there, was more intimate than it would have been should I have spent the previous two hours in the house. For these types of blessings I am grateful.

The final straw to the greatness of the day was Spirituality Night, where through a modified version of Saint Ignatius’ spiritual exercises I had the opportunity to reflect and be aware of the goodness of the day and goodness of God.

A bit deeper look, would find this day bringing me joy because it combated my darkest demon: loneliness. And Dorothy Day’s prescription for this demon was community.

So I am thankful to the people of Talanga, who in their immediate presence, and daily interaction brought me happiness. A thanks also goes out to you, as without your presence of community I would have no desire to share my current state of bliss with you all. And finally, the ultimate thanks and praise, goes to the master planner who I constantly seek, and on days like these makes ‘alabando’ (praising) easy.

Do I dare try more?

ALELUYA!

Pictures!!!

Good Moon Rising

I saw a good moon rising for the first time ever during the Easter Vigil. As the first chapter of Genesis was being read I glanced off in the distance to what looked like amazing strong car headlights creating a glow at the apex of a large hill. With great confusion I speculated what would be up high on the hillside, and why it would need such a large amount of light. As my mind rattled off possibility after possibility, I noticed the light becoming larger and stronger, and as the first part of the moon peaked its beaming beacon into sight, it was then I marveled at what I was witnessing, the time for the fullish moon to take its place in the sky as light of the darkness.

 And after forty of the would be two hundred ten minutes we celebrated the Easter Vigil. I was not moved by hearing how God created the world in seven days, although the timing of night and day, and moon was spooky, but rather on accompanying the moon on its path across the night sky.

 We had already blessed the fire from the bonfire, created about five blocks north of the church, and as we processed by candlelight to the first altar where we read the creation story and sang a psalm I wondered what others of similar faith were doing to celebrate God’s Love. The second altar brought the story of Abraham and willingness to sacrifice Isaac, his only son. The third story reminded us of the plight of Moses and God’s involvement at the Red Sea. We walked to the fourth altar where marriage and unity were discussed, although I was more focused on blessing water, the fifth station, where I would be reading from Isaiah about God’s promises.

We finished the sixth and seventh reading on the way back to the church, and by that point I encountered my borrowed guitar, tuned it and caught up with Tyler and Luis.

 We entered the dark church and celebrated a beautiful liturgy. With guitars playing, voices singing, and people praising we shared the paschal mystery with Talanga. It was a lovely three and a half hours full of sanctity and grace, and a nice big moon. 

Oracion de Gracias

Aquí en tu gran presencia te alabamos, Señor

 

Te damos gracias por los alimentos que nos dan energía para hacer tu voluntad.

Te damos gracias por el sol que nos da calor para sembrar y que calentar nuestras almas

Te damos gracias por la lluvia que trae vida.

 

 

Te damos gracias por nuestros amigos, y por nuestras familias. Por el apoyo que nosotros recibimos para tratar nuevas cosas, y sabemos que si cuando fracasamos todavía ellos nos amaran.

 

Te damos gracias por su amor porque con amor tu nos hecho. Y sin este amor, somos nadas.

 

Te damos gracias por nos mandando su único hijo, Jesús. Quien nos enseña como amor nuestros vecinos y como actuar en tiempos difíciles.

 

Por el Espíritu Santo que nos da sabiduría cuando necesitamos hacer decisiones, consuelo cuando sentimos soledad, esperanza cuando sentimos desesperación, y gozo para disfrutar la vida que nos ha dado.

 

Gracias por la oportunidad para madurar y crecer; la oportunidad para desarrollar, aprender y enseñar. Gracias por la oportunidad para perdonar y recibir perdón.

 

Te damos gracias porque usted quita nuestros pecados.

 

Finalmente te damos gracia porque un día viviremos como un, como hijos de Dios en un mundo lleno de paz.

 

Oremos por todas las cosas en nuestros corazones con el amor Jesús nos mostró por su crucificacion.

 

Amen

 

 

Back to the Classroom

So after finding out February 11^th wasn’t the first day of school, just the beginning of the week of matriculation I set my mind forward to the excitement of February 18^th, the first day of school. Although the butterflies, which normally had accompanied me when I was a student, were noticeably absent, the excitement brought by something new was as real as ever. The first day was a joke, like in most schools, as it is brings a short day of introduction.

 

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL! Well, I arrived UN poquito tarde around 8:00; classes start at 7:00 and the director of the school was standing on the stage speaking to the parents, teachers, and some students. It was a great feeling however, as every kid who had came to the camp went out of their way to come and speak to me, including those who hadn’t came since the beginning of December. The majority of the kids were running around talking and playing while the director said what he needed to regarding matriculation and all that jazz. Then it was time for the kids to learn their teacher. It was exciting. Kids, as if being jerked by an imaginary leash immediately paused to convert all kinetic energy going in one direction into potential so they could be reeled in the direction of the stage. It was decided Prof Olma Carias would teach 6^th grade again (everyone already knew) AND she would be teaching in the MORNING! Roars erupted from the crowd in celebration of having the same teacher from whom they enjoy being taught. We only sat in class for about 30 minutes as the majority of the day was going to help those testing for recuperacion (summer school).

 

I left a bit perplexed as to why they hadn’t finished recooperacion earlier, but then I remembered the first day was merely an introduction at most schools.

 

I was told the night before I could arrive to class when I chose, so after running some errands I rolled in at about 8:00. I was graced with a fantastic song Llegas tarde tortuga otra vez. With choruses and verses I was told, “Again you’ve arrived late Turtle.”

 

Well that was more than enough for me; I vowed to be on time from then on.

 

So the next day I explained to the children one of the projects we would be undertaking this year. The three school pen-pal system between my Mom’s Kindergarten Class, Senora Cahn’s Spanish Class, and Prof Olma’s Sixth Grade Class. They all seemed very excited and are looking forward to the arrival of the mail from the States. I also took the opportunity to have the kids make index cards of whom they were, and things they liked. I then took their picture so I could learn their names…it was a very quick way, and by the nightfall I had 90% of the kids named.

 

We also started an introduction to the English language. With some idea of the alphabet and numbers to ten, we started to iron out any wrinkles. Phonetically spelling American letters in Spanish is very difficult, but with a little help all was well and they are enunciating like 30-year-old English Teachers. We also started a random vocabulary list, a few basic sentences regarding greetings and a list of pronouns to prepare for learning verbs.

 

I left that day with a real sense of belonging in the class. There is mutual respect between myself, and the teacher, and the same level of respect between the students and I. Moreover, they are extremely eager to learn English, and I think this will only enhance the pen pal program.

 

The following morning I was only in school for about 80 minutes, but it was their gym period so I started to lay the groundwork of Kickball. After daily prayers, I drew the diamond on the board, explained some basic rules and after 10 minutes the attentiveness started to wane and so we hit the courts. I really enjoy teaching those who have never played because it gives you the opportunity to teach them all the specifics of the game without them having any holes/biases from prior learning. Obviously one of the biggest things is base running, especially if a fly ball is caught, but poco a poco they will be fine.

 

So with all four aspects of my presence – Pen Pal Program, Teaching English, Physical Education, and Accompaniment/Mentor, I really have taking a liking to the kids. As with everywhere each one has unique gifts and the random seating assignments of each day allow a great opportunity to sit and meet knew people.

 

Here is a normal day of school.

 

I get up at 6:20, make oatmeal, change and am out the door with my backpack by 6:50.

 

Prof (who lives two blocks north of us) passes me in her taxi, as I in my bicycle make sure I will arrive before 7:00

 

I arrive to school a little before 7:00; thank God it is downhill J, in time to join the end of the boys line for the classroom.

 

At 7:05 Prof inspects appearance (I always fail, but for some reason am allowed to enter), nails, dirty clothes, appropriate uniform colors as the students file into the classroom.

 

7:07 – A few stragglers join, as we start to pray. With 95%(just a guess) people being Christians a student assigned to the day says a pray (echoed by the class) from the front. Prof adds a few words, or a prayer of her own, and the prayer ends in applauso.

 

The kids who had arrived during prayer respectfully wait until it is over, and arrive late to class after the applause.

 

Prof gives a small lesson on personal growth (my favorite) lasting no more than 10 minutes, normally shorter, and then class begins.

 

There is time sectioned off for Calligraphy (cursive), Math, Ciencias Naturales, Ciencias Sociales, Educacion Fisica, and a few other things (although I’m not sure what). Like any other classroom, she lectures, the students read, they participate doing problems on the dry erase board. Like any other school, they have recess, which begins at 10:00. Like most schools it is very difficult to get the kids focused after recess, and school ends at 12:00.

 

A few differences... There is a lot of interaction between siblings during the day. The younger siblings will come to their older brothers or sisters and beckon them to the door. Normally without stride the older sibling tends to the younger one without a problem. Recess is my favorite as there is an overlap between the younger kids and the older kids, and the families really seem to hang out together. Sibling Rivalry…Where?

 

The kids do not have their own books, as they are left in the classroom, to be used during the classroom hours only, presumably because the afternoon session uses them as well. There is some copying, but the majority of the education from what I have seen thus far as been interactive enough to stimulate growth and deter stagnant boredom.

 

From what I have heard, it should be a credit to the teacher, as it is not the norm in the country. But as with most things, it comes down to the individual to help stimulate motivation in others.

 

I like sixth grade. It’s the first time I ever have been a part of the first three weeks in sixth grade. I don’t know what I missed when I was out with my ruptured spleen, but I feel if it was as good as this class, the baseball cards from Auntie Yaya although appreciated, weren’t worth it. The kids are engaging, and just like any other school I have stepped into, can be guided to learn, or left abandoned to flounder.

 

With anything it comes down to the ternura (tenderness) they feel from the one guiding them. With a firm enough grip so they know they won’t drown, but enough slack to experience new things on their own.

Pictures

Kids at Camp in Duarte

Bamboo Forest in Corralitos

Death

*Ring Ring Ring*

Me – “Tie lair (Spanish pronunciation of Tyler) what’s up” as I walk to the garbage to throw the empty bag of what proved to be a delicious bag of Ranchitas. 

Tyler – Dailia passed away this morning…

And there I was, stopped.

It isn’t the first time someone has died since we’ve been here, Efemia’s sister suddenly passed away in mid September (I was new here and hadn’t even met her), another intern Trudy passed away in the end of December (but I am not sure if I had ever met her), Olma’s (teacher I help) mother passed away in January, but none of those instances moved me.

But there I was stopped, but moved. So the day progressed with the other three returning from a visit cut short in Terrero Colorado. My typing of choir songs and slew of other time consuming lame errands was put on hold, as I changed and ate a quick lunch. Gloomed by the nature of the beast silence was the main companion for most of the remainder of the afternoon as no one dared to test other people’s boundaries or reactions to the situation (which in hindsight is lame and frustrating).

So we headed off to the Casa Pasionista as Dailia was going to be laid to rest today because of her condition due to lack of eating the past few days. We arrived to El Rancho at about 2:30 and after saying hello to the residents of the Casa and a few strangers Alex beckoned Tyler and I to the car. I didn’t really think anything of it until we pulled into a part of the ranch I hadn’t been to, and then I guessed they were making the casket for the burial. Sure enough we stepped into the woodshop and there was a long narrow box with a silken fabric glued around the borders. For the next 30 minutes we watched as the boys in the shop sanded (we helped), stained the base, girls game in with a foam bottom to which the same silken fabric had been stitched, and a matching silken pillow, all which I assume was made at the sewing workshop. As the boys started working on the cover of the casket, Alex the director’s nephew, Tyler, Don Carino, and I headed off to a local pulperia to buy some rope to tie the casket to the truck.

When we had returned they had hinged the top of the casket to the base and were nailing the bands to stop the top of the casket at a 90-degree angle when opened. After allowing the top to dry from the quick stain we carried the casket to the bed of the truck and drove back to the Casa. It was when we placed the casket next to Dailia who was resting peacefully on a bed in the small Casa Chapel I was finally able to sit and say goodbye.

Dailia came to the Casa sometime in November and she weighed about 75 pounds. She was very frail but very friendly. By the end of December she probably would have touched 110 on the scale and had a little potbelly. She had the most warming smile and is the only person to actually give you a full-flush kiss on the cheek as a salutation, as opposed to the cheek-to-cheek smooching sound the rest of Honduras does. I liked being in her presence; it was always a positive environment.

Alex told me today she had cried every day since Trudy had passed away and hadn’t eaten in the last three days. Someone mentioned how food had been causing her a lot of pain, but Don Puri said at the end, everything was too much and she conceded her fight.

To me I am happy I was able to see her go from a frail 75lb patient to a vibrant 110 lb living human. I am upset I didn’t see her struggles, but as so many of us do, with how many people do we show our struggles? I hope she didn’t feel too much pain, and passed on accepting this was her time.

Two members of her family removed the white cloth, and placed Dailia (jeans, t-shirt and white socks) into the 10-minute-old coffin. Once her mother had given the okay, we carried the casket to the truck and drove about 15 minutes on rough terrain back into the mountains. After we crested the top of a hill we started carving into the side of the mountain and up a head you could see about a four-foot high wall of stones creating a square boundary for the graveyard, which was about 50 yards by 50 yards. We pulled up next to the freshly dug site and after laying placed the casket next to the hole. A small prayer was said, and words by the prayer giver, Don Puri, and the mother of Dailia. With her three kids on site, ranging from 7 to 13, her mother said her final goodbyes behind a combination of tears and sniffles and we lowered the coffin by rope. The males of the family replaced the earth and all dissipated.

The 10 minute service at the site was nice, but only the placing of the cross at her feet, saved watching people pile dirt on her casket from being the last thing people did in the presence of her body. Only one person stayed and said something once the dirt had been replaced…I’m glad one person did.

And now to my feelings, I hate how people on this continent deal with death. Death is beautiful, but I can only say that because I believe it corresponds with an immediate interaction with God. The only time three tears rolled down my cheeks and moisturized the dusty terrain below was when the youngest son buried his tear stained cheeks into the leg of an aunt, and I thought how this seven year old will never feel motherly love for the rest of his life. For him I mourned to the point of tears, and I ached for the mom, I don’t think any parents would prepare themselves to bury their children. Not Fair.

Back to my point, death completes the circle of life. And unfortunately, we get so wrapped up in the final stage of the journey, we let it consume us and we fail to see the big picture (doesn’t that apply to most parts of the American lifestyles). I know my faith plays a big role in why I want to celebrate death, but I think people miss a great opportunity to celebrate the accomplishments of the life and give a happy send off.

I am not saying people shouldn’t be upset, and they shouldn’t miss the person and cry. But how beautiful is it to meet with people who have the love for this one individual. And how beautiful would it be to get to know other people who loved this same person as you.

If people were to get together and celebrate my life when God calls me, I’d be moved. 

Guitar

Typical Saturday Night

Matt: Yeah, I think I’ll get up and go to 7 o’clock mass tomorrow morning.

Tyler: Yeah good idea

Sunday Morning – Alarm going off at 6:20

Matt turns off alarm, goes to the bathroom, and resets alarm for an hour later, pledging to go next week…Tyler laughs

 

Last Night

 

Matt: Luis (choir director) Piensa que estoy listo, Me gustaria tocar la guitarra a la misa a las siete manana por la mana, usted me dijo que sea mejor para aprender tocando durante la misa? (Do you think I’m ready, I would like to play guitar tomorrow morning, you said the best way to learn is to play during mass?)

Luis: Si, claro

Today – Alarm going off at 6:20

Matt goes to mass after a bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar, cinnamon and a glass of apple juice.

I arrived at the church about fifteen minutes before mass, I knew I was in over my head, but I was somewhat at peace with my position. Having only owned a guitar for about 2 months, and with the past Saturday spent practicing playing the keyboard (And So It Goes, anybody?) no one had any expectations other than patience. So as I grabbed the songbook for sick visits after mass, Tyler’s tuner, and my hat (it was chilly this morning) I took a peaceful 6:45 stroll three dusty blocks arriba to the church. I was surprised to see only tenish people and as I arrived to the front of the church I began to tune the guitar. Morning greeting to Luis brought information of a missing cable, nothing I was occupied with as I wanted to tune-up and throw a few chord combinations together to loosen up my fingers. At 6:53, I inquired further into what was missing as my guitar was prepped, and needed something to distract my upcoming performance. Luis told me there was a cable in Tyler’s back, I offered to go home and get it, and to bring the forgotten music sheets I had made for the mass the previous Wednesday at the Basilica for the Virgen of Suyapa. I took Luis’ bike and brought the cable and folder in hand back to the church. Well the chian fell off, and the papers started to fall…as I started trotting to church I wondered if they’d start mass w/out me. I literally dragged the bike up the seven steps and noticed people were still preparing for the mass. Phew.

 

Phew, except it was almost show time. However, relief, both Luis and Don Raphael were plugging into electrical devices meaning their sound would be amplified while mine would be the sweet sound of beginner.

 

Padre, being quite ill, strolled in at about 7:10 after seating assignments had been arranged (so I could see Luis’ fingers), songs were handed out, and tuning sessions were matched. And then it came…Virgen de Suyapa !Oh Reina de Honduras!....E, B7, E B7, E, A….BAR CHORDS!!!

I tell you, I knew some of the words to the song but they could have been singing in Chinese, and sound completed awful, or equally fluent and I wouldn’t have noticed. I have not concentrated, and put so much focus into something in quite a while, and I LOVED IT! No way could I follow Luis’ magic hand, put mine where his was going, play the chord, and SING how ridiculous. I was looking for patterns, tells, hints of what was next. No way could I play everything he was playing, but I sure tried.

Random Insert: The opening song has 16^th notes in it, meaning when I do have the words in front of me, there is such a cluster of words in such a short time frame, I can not even sing it anyhow.

Well, until the bar chords. Then it was time sit back, relax, prepare myself for the next E (which always came after the string of B minors, F and other chords further down the neck I didn’t even recognize). But when he was done, I was there ready for the E, B7, E, B7, E, A combo. It was cool.

And that was the first song. I believe the next song was the Gloria, which I really like. And it was some what easy to play, a few chords, constant strumming, hey I can do this, and then BOOM the song explodes and Luis is off, and me well, I still like singing the song. Playing it at one point was almost a joke, but I did my best to recognize patterns and started to realize how Eminors tended to fade in to A7.

The mass continued with times of sitting while the rest of the congregation was standing or kneeling. It was if my existence in mass had taken a complete other focus. No longer was I there to reflect, or strengthen my faith. My was consumed by the guitar, and I liked it. Alleluya, Offeratory, Hosanna, Paz, Comunion, Closing Hymns all came and went with amazement at what I could not do.

And I think it is in that where my happiness lies. The challenge presented in front of me. But not just a challenge, but one that is attainable, and through the achieved goal an avenue opens for me to share more with others AND THAT is why I love learning the guitar. Typical, not for this guy.

Motivation....or started that way

Here is a blog entry for the New Year. For me it probably weighs on my mind, directly or indirectly more than almost anything. To use one word it would be Motivation, but as simple as it is to string those 7 letters as 10 characters together, it is inversely difficult to comprehend, define and place a finger on the complexities of M O T I V A T I O N.

 

Preface: I wish my fingers could type as fast as my mind moves and jumps from one thought to another.

 

 

Some people are motivated by completing goals, some by money, some by pleasing God, some by being cool, some by helping others, some by getting their next fix, yet others by survival, finding their next meal, some by the lives of their children, some by being accepted, others by not failing, others by the stars, some happiness, and still many, many others. I do not know what is right, I have a better idea of what isn’t, but I think the bottom line is decided for each individual at the present time. People change their motivations depending on the parameters of the situation. Hopefully falling in the realm of consistency (if that is important to them) but sometimes so far astray they regroup and determine for what they are doing.

 

I’m sure at some point I have fallen under all those categories (minus the children and stars), however, now I have a hard time placing a finger on it. Yeah, God is good he’s hooked me up with whatever I needed. I would probably place myself in the 90^th percentile for most blessed people for the way my life has turned out. But as great as God is, the abstract concept is too much for my meager mind to manipulate motivation.

 

Right now what motivates me is finding an avenue where I can make a global contribution to awareness and acceptance. However, the search is exhausting and provides little day-day comforts. I guess when spending most of one’s time in the world of ideas instead of events or people it can be easy to lose daily stimulants. Breaking people’s chains of comfort, for the sake of growth, also motivates me; those who limit themselves for protection and do not challenge and search for what is in their hearts. For when there is internal peace and acceptance, it is broadcasted to the world. However, I find it ironic my inability to do so for my own accord.

 

Granted there is something to be said about everything being a journey as opposed to a destination, but on a minute-to-minute basis, that theory can be draining and offers little reassurance or change. And prayer provides the same consolation of the long run, I guess my biggest problem is patience. I do not think I will ever accept no matter how hard I press, the decisions of mine rarely present change elements. For if not me, than who?

Be a Change Element!

 

Gift Giving ...who knew?

We piled our almost 200 wrapped (thanks Alice) gifts into the back of the pickup and we headed off to the four corners of Talanga.

 

Our first destination was in the northeast near the highschool of Brassavola, we turned down a street of about nine houses and started our giving. Some more thankful than others, and some kids who were just afraid of us, made the initial giving a bit uneasy. A bittersweet feeling passed through as one of the older kids 11ish seemed to be disappointed because he didn’t get as big of a car as an 8 year old. Now I’m not sure if I should be enjoying this, but a little blow to his high horse was almost made it easy to overlook his greedy desire for a bigger car. We left the street and headed to Nuevo San Diego, probably the most visibly poor section of Talanga, and new terrain for me. We drove, and drove, and as I maneuvered the car to the best of my ability with Chico’s less than concise directions, we wound up at the foothill of the mountain. Alice dismounted and ascended to the first house were a little girl lived. As I met her halfway up the hill with a doll, the others followed suit. It was then, the gift giving became more of an eye/mind opener than a simple brightening of people’s day.

 

Once people saw what we were doing they came darting out of houses, to get in on the action. At first this made our job extremely easy as we would speak to the people as they came. However as the word spread, so did the amount of people. It became overwhelming and we spent more time figuring out if we had already given the kids gifts than getting to know them. I had to resort to mind games in order to have kids confess whether or not they had received a gift. If I asked them if they had received a gift, of course they would say no. But if I asked them if they wanted another gift, they of course would say yes, but I would tell them we have to share. Instead of wishing individuals a Merry Christmas with a friendly message and smile, we resorted to frustrated mass givings. It was when mothers went back into their homes to retrieve their 1 & 2 year old sleeping babies, I knew it was a feeling beyond greed which caused these people to behave the way they did.

 

I guess when one has so little, any attempt to attain something must be done. The worse thing we, as givers, can say is no, and I’m sure these people have lived with more No’s than you and I could possibly imagine. So when they say Dame or Give Me!, it isn’t because they are rude or discourteous, that is something we have created to separate ourselves from them and make ourselves feel more privledged. Can we really put the blame on them for the environment they have grown up in? Without please and thank you as a regular part of their surroundings how can we expect them to use it?

 

With all of these being afterthoughts, I was become frustrated and I wanted to leave. The only exit to the foothill of the mountain was the same entrance, and having no reason to anticipate a quick escape the car/no idea where we were going, the car was pulled forward. Tyler and I had already switched duties/driving & giving. So it was up to Tyler to reverse out without hitting anyone. With Alice and I pinned into the bed of the truck asking kids to move, and telling them we were moving on, Tyler carefully maneuvered the vehicle out of the deadend. It was a combination of frustration and entertainment that took over as we rode from the Northwest Corner of Talanga to the Southwest. Alice was in charge of girls, and I, boys. If there was a kid on the street who qualified for our gift giving, we would either hand or launch gifts in their general direction. Feeling as if I was in a float throwing candy, I hopefully brightened kids days as a tightly wound jumprope fell into their unexpecting arms.

 

We arrived up the hill and almost the same situation took place. The first group of kids were great, and thankful…flattered we had chosen their homes to give gifts. But as the masses grew, people started asking for their siblings at home. The worst part for me, was Chico wanted to stop at a friends and visit, thus hanging Alicia and I to defend for ourselves in the back of the truck trying to save gifts for the last place.

 

Our final destination went the most smoothly as we gave out gifts to the thankful kids, none of whom wanted more than one. We left the deadend as our supplies were dwindling, so as to not upset any kids if they were too late. We tossed the remaining gifts as we drove on out.

 

It was a very special day and a new level of awareness was born.