Life in Olancho, Honduras–3 poems

THE BOYS  

I look at you

your dirty face and

dusty, blackened, toe-nailed, shoeless feet,

tattered-and-torn T-shirt hanging from your

heavily burdened shoulders,

hand slapping at the orange pumpkin

and I see humanity

 

I look at you

like your father and his before him,

you are a cultivation of beans and corn and coffee

and I see perseverance

 

 

I look at you

your big, bright smile,

sun-deepened, dark-skinned,

extended little hand, offering me a shake of greeting

and I see innocence  

 

These are the thoughts I had while watching the boys play basketball in the town park. We play every afternoon around 4 p.m., as the sun begins to go down and it cools off a little. Trying to teach them how to play basketball in a country where soccer is practically a birth-rite is an amusing task. A lot of laughter is shared, partly coming from me watching their unskilled shots and they at me trying to explain basketball in Spanish. 

 

  

 

THE BUS STATION   

Old, yellow school buses waiting departure

the people are boarding street vendors hording,

hot and dusty, littered and dirty  

 

 “Juice, juice–who wants juice”   

 

Manto, Catacamas, La Union, Gualaco

Olancho is pulsating, breathing

chairs and cushions being tied to the roof

beans and corn being thrown in the back 

 

 

 “Watches, watches-you need a watch”  

 

  

Smells of sewage and sweaty bodies hanging in the air,

hustle, bustle, chaotic, yet orderly

mothers breast-feeding, children crying   

 

“Taxi, taxi-who needs a taxi”   

 

Dogs eating trash, friends greeting, market sitting closely–  

fruits and vegetables

awaiting the last second buy

engines starting, horns honking  

 

Time to go  

 

 

These are the sights and sounds of the local bus station in Juticalpa, Olancho. Buses are the main Source of transportation in Honduras, especially in the rural areas. The buses are old school buses from the 1970s and 80s brought down from the States. Every time I am at the bus station I get a reminder of home. One of the buses is an old Harrisburg City Schools bus! To get an idea of what a bus ride is like–from Juticalpa (the main station in eastern Olancho) to Manto (my site) is about 32 miles. How long does it take? About two-and-a-half hours. 

 

 

 ALARM CLOCK  

 

 roosters, pigs, dogs and donkeys,

do you know how early it is

stereos, truck horns, kids and adults

why do you have to be so loud    

 

 

I never have to worry about missing a morning meeting, as oversleeping is impossible here. I have yet to figure out why animals are awake at two in the morning. Also, Hondurans like to play their music loud, often times competing with their neighbors.

Such is life!