I Say Banano, You Say Minimo - A Day in the Life at Honduran Youth Camp (part 2)

When everyone had arrived at camp, we had an orientation in the meeting hall, then on to dinner. For some reason that is still beyond my grasp, the two lines that the cooks had set up ended up being one line for guys and one line for girls, even though everyone was getting the same food, and there was no rule that it had to be gender separate, it was like all the campers automatically felt that that was how it should be… I still don’t get it…

Next was the culto, or chapel service. We had a funny skit, then worship led by Los Robles, then El Redentor skit by Germania. At this point, my brain was so overworked with Spanish, that I honestly don’t remember much about the sermon – sad, I know. But I remember it was good, I think it was Jeffry Gomez that night who was the speaker.

Later, like maybe 9:30ish, it was time for the big all-camp game event. All the camp leaders (13 of us) hid outside in the dark in the forest or around camp. Whoever got found would get a “penetencia” in front of all the campers. I didn’t know if it was just me, or if it really was kind of spooky to think about hiding in the pitch blackness of a cloudy night in the ponderosa forest behind the camp. Well, it wasn’t just me – Katy had the same thought about spookiness. So we decided to hide together.

We found a rock wall in the midst of some super-tall grass, out of view of any of the camp buildings. So we squatted down beside the wall, with the grass taller than our heads. We heard lots of campers yelling, laughing, and running around with flashlights. After several minutes, two guys walked our way and were shining their flashlights around. We thought for sure they’d seen us, so Katy whispered to me, “We should jump out and yell. It would freak them out.” So I quietly counted to three, and we jumped up and screamed. It did freak the guys out, then they explained that they hadn’t seen us! So we had to go get penetecias.

After about 15 or 20 minutes, all the campers and leaders came back to the meeting hall. Five gringas had been caught – all of us but Teagen – plus Luisa, Yvonne, Belinda, and Ingrid. Samuel, Nestor and Maresa hid well enough to not be found!

The penetencia was this: the leaders had thought up some crazy concoctions to do as a penetencia (punishment). The campers got to choose a number and we would get the corresponding penetencia to that number. Michelle went first. She got a baleada made on her head. For some reason, when I pictured making food items on someone’s head, I imagined people simply dumping the cheese, butter, and beans on the head, and cracking the egg over it. No. Cheese, butter, beans, and egg, all smeared in her long blonde hair and smooshed into her scalp. I think the perpetrators (Vivi and Zenia) took all Michelle’s hair and got every ingredient on everything that was sticking out of the garbage sack! What a sight! We got to wear garbage sacks and goggles though, so that was good.

I was next. They picked “banano liquado” for me. I was relieved, as I knew what all the penetencias were, and that one wasn’t too bad in comparison. Danny and Mario smeared the banana – yes, it was squished into every hair follicle on my head, or so it felt – on my head, then poured milk on me – which successfully made its way inside the garbage sack, through my shirt and into my pants. Sugar was next, and let me tell you, it was sticky running through my clothing! Ice was last. It made the same trail down me as the milk, but went down the front too!

Next came Katy. She got Guacamole’d. Avocado, onion, and butter all over. Luisa got the cake, which was the one I really didn’t want – egg, flour, water and sugar made a stinky kindergarten paste that successfully glued Luisa’s hair into a matted mess on her head. Marlia got “pelucaria” – an entire extra-grande jar of hair gel, and a can of hair spray. Her hair was molded into a nice sculpture. Jess got “chicken lays an egg” – she had to bok like a chicken and sit on an egg. Then David and Emil, who were running the show, threw an egg at her head, making sure it dribbled all into her hair. Ingrid was last, with the tied-for-worst-penetencia-in-my-opinion – the hamburger. No meat, just ketchup, mayonnaise and mustard in every hair. Yuck. And we didn’t have time to nail Belinda and Yvonne, but they were glad.


After taking pictures and running around the meeting hall getting as much stickiness and grodiness as possible on David, Nestor, and Emil, we hit the showers. Luisa and I were in adjoining, no-sirve-el-calentador, showers. We were laughing so hard trying to get the banana/sugar/milk, and flour/egg out of our hair. We both found ingredients in our hair even Sunday, after the camp

I slept well that Friday night!!

Written 15 August 2005, about 27 June 2003

I Say Banano, You Say Minimo - A Day in the Life at Honduran Youth Camp (part 1)

Friday, June 27, 2003

“Jessi!! Hey, we’re here!” I hear Marlia and Teagen call to me from the living room.

“I’m in the back!” I yell as I finish putting the last of the clothes on the clothes line.

As I enter the living room, Katy and Jessica come through the front door.

After spending the morning making a banner for the youth camp, watching TV, and eating Abuela’s little beef patties, Michelle shows up at my house after lunch to hurry us off to Betel. We load all our stuff into the truck and pile on as many camp supplies as will fit with the backpacks and band instruments. Since it looks like it may rain, we go back to Michelle’s house to get a big tarp, then Marlia sits in the back for the 45 minute drive to hold the tarp in place.

As we arrive in the wooded campground that is Betel, we are greeted by a rather large group of young people from Comayagua. They had been there for quite a while already. Michelle talked with the camp owner, handed me a wad of keys and left for Tegus once again. Marlia handled the money and I did name tags and sign-ups for workshops the next day for the Comayagua group. Katy worked on finishing the banner, and Jessica and Teagen showed the girls to their room. I took the boys to theirs.

Soon, people from Copan and La Esperanza showed up. About the time we got them checked in and their bags dropped off in their rooms, a girl from Comayagua comes up to me with a worried look on her face, telling me that her friend broke her ankle. I look around to tell “the person in charge” so they can take care of it. Hmm, I guess that would be me… So I went to the room where broken-ankle-girl was laying down, fully expecting to see her foot bent in some weird position, attached to the leg only by skin, or something awful like that… Worst-case-scenario goes through my head as we approach the room – I’ll need to keep her still until I can find the person who owns the truck that I saw parked at camp, if they aren’t there, I’ll have to drive, and I’m sure it’s a stick-shift, so this will be bad; but hopefully she can endure the pain until Michelle gets back and can take her to the hospital…

So I see the girl lying on a bed, dried tears on her face, and another girl looking at the bare foot… a foot that is not discolored, nor is it in any kind of contorted position. I looked at the ankle, and, although I’m not a doctor, I’m pretty sure that what happened is that when she was playing basketball, she got one of those all-of-a-sudden twists in her ankle – the kind that feels fine in one minute if you just keep walking on it. I gave her one Ibuprofen and a bag of ice from the kitchen, hoping she wouldn’t know that I thought it was lame to have to lie down because of that kind of ankle twist. (I think from now on, I will take “smarties” candy unwrapped and stored in a pill bottle to Honduran youth events, as this was only the first of many times that I was asked for pain relievers by people who really didn’t need them… I’m all about placebos)

After quite a while, the youth group from Guanaja showed up. In getting name tags and workshop assignments ready for them, I realized that not everyone could read and write, which wouldn’t have been too bad as far as the workshops were concerned – I was easily able to just tell them the names of the workshops and they would pick which one they wanted to go to, but me writing their names was a whole different story. Many had names which I was not familiar with, so I felt dumb not knowing how to write the names, and I think they felt weird that I didn’t know how to spell or say their names…

Just at that point of sad frustration, TWO buses from Tegus showed up. Luisa hopped off one bus, came over to me, and immediately saw my dilemma, coming to me rescue. Marlia was pretty backed up in the payment area, and there were a bajillion people trying to get name tags, and all the people from one church wanted to go to the same taller… It was a bit hectic for a while as two gringas were trying to figure out finances, teams, and talleres in a foreign language. God bless Luisa and Ingrid who came to the rescue.

On to sleeping arrangements for the entire population of Baptist young people from Tegucigalpa… I had set my sheet and backpack on a bed in the largest girls’ room. It had gotten moved around a bit in the shuffle of things, and ended up in the small back room with all the other gringas’ things. I had wanted to stay by other girls so I could get to know them, but oh well.

Enter the girls from Germania (my church). “There’s no more beds left!” “I don’t want to stay with people I don’t know!” “We’re going to have to sleep on the floor!” “I’d rather just stand up all night than that!” “Yessica! No one left any beds for us!”

“Well, that’s what those mattresses in the other room are for – we don’t have enough beds, but there are enough mattresses for everyone to have one,” I said.

“We don’t want to sleep on the floor though!”

“Really? I’m going to be staying out here on a mattress, and I’m pretty sure Luisa is too…” I shot Luisa a pleading look. “Yes, I’m staying here too,” she piped in.

“Oh. So all the girls from Germania can stay in this room on the mattresses. We can have like a slumber party!!” An optimistic Germaniana piped in. Wow, I was a bit surprised that all that worked out into a good thing. A slumber party it would be.

The Germanianas slumber party

More to come tomorrow... or later!

Parents, Pressures, Parties and Presents - A Teenage Boy's First Birthday

Our team of about 20+ high school students were staying in Candelaria Cuscatlán El Salvador in a house that is substantially smaller than mine. A family of four lived there, with three foster boys who they had taken in as well. One of those boys was 16-year old Mauricio.

We somehow found out one morning that that day was Mauricio’s 17th birthday. We had celebrated two gringo birthdays with cake and ice cream, and we didn’t want to leave Mauricio out! However, it was too late to run to Cojutepeque for ice cream. So we decided that during dinner, we’d sing to him, and the guys would toss him up in the air. That seems to be a common occurrence for birthdays in El Salvador!

No one said anything to Mauricio about his birthday. So when we’d all sat down for dinner, we called him in. As soon as he walked through the door, we all started singing and Michael and Dustin lifted him into the air. Other guys helped keep him going up and down in the air while we were singing – both the happy birthday song, and the sapo verde song!

The look on Mauricio’s face was priceless. He was totally shocked that we would care about his birthday, and he enjoyed the attention. Soon, we went to out to the church for the culto, only then remembering that we wanted to present him with a team t-shirt as a small birthday present.

After the service, the church members started to leave, but our team stayed. We gave wished him happy birthday again, and gave him a t-shirt. He thanked us with tears in his eyes, and said that this was his first birthday present!

When most of the team went inside, Mauricio started crying. Morgan, Emily, and I were out there with him still. He proceeded to tell us why he was so touched (I honestly don’t remember translating this, but I know that Morgan and Emily know the whole story too, so I’m not sure how that worked…).

Mauricio had lived in San Salvador all his life. His parents didn’t care about him – by the time he was about 12, they wanted him to stay the nights on the street so they wouldn’t have to feed him or care for him. He got involved in a gang at an early age. And made some bad choices.

One day, shortly after he turned 16, he came home from school to an empty house. His parents had moved out while he was at school. Somehow, Mauricio got in contact with his grandpa in Candelaria. He moved there to live with his caring, Christian grandpa in October 2000. Grandpa made him go to church, although Mauricio didn’t want to. He wanted to rebel against his grandpa, but didn’t want his grandpa to leave him. So he went to church reluctantly for about 3 months.

In February of 2001, the massive earthquake hit Cuscatlán. Mauricio’s grandpa – the only family member who had ever cared about him – was killed when the roof of their home fell in.
Pastor Jorge and Nessie took him into their home. Mauricio was so grateful to have a home where adults cared about him. He also learned of a Father who loved him all the time, even when everyone else was frustrated with him. He accepted the Lord shortly after the earthquake. He’s been living with Jorge, Nessie and family since February, 4 months before we came.
Mauricio told us that not only was this his best birthday yet, it was the ONLY birthday that anyone had ever celebrated! I trust that it wasn’t the last!




Originally written by Jessica – 6 August 2005

Catracho Culture Shock "En Mi Propio Pais!"

It’s 1pm on Thursday. I just got off the phone with Michelle. She wants us to be completely ready to leave by 2. Hmmm, better call Omar and make sure he’s ready.

“Hey vos? Michelle called, she’s gonna be here at 2, and she wants us to be totally ready to go, so we’ll swing by your house and you jump in.”

“2pm gringa time, or 2pm catracho time?” Omar joked.

“Ya sabes! GRINGA time! Be ready ok?!”

“Cheque pues.”

Michelle shows up at 2 and Suyapa has more instructions for her, so me, Jess, and Franklin load everything into the back of the truck. I call Omar again to make sure he’ll be ready in like 5 minutes.

“Sip, I’m ready, I just need to pack.” Hijole.

After picking up Melvina in Altos de Toncontin, and stopping at the Dippsa station in Las Brisas, we were finally on the way to Siguatepeque to set up for the youth camp the next day.

Two and a half hours later, Michelle, Jess, Melvina, Omar, and I pull into the O’Connor’s’ driveway. We are greeted with hugs.

Patrick and Debbie are still making final preparations for the meal, so the rest of us sit in the living room.

“Yessica, this is what gringa living rooms look like?” Omar whispers.

“Yep.”

Melvina proceeds to tell Omar exactly what gringo houses are like…in her opinion.

Patrick begins to pray for the food, in Spanish.
“Sin-your Hay-soos……”

I get an elbow to my side and look over to Omar who threw that. He’s peeking at me trying to hold back laughter but not so much succeeding. Awww, I hate it when I start to laugh during prayer!

We proceeded to the help-yourself NorthAmerican taco set-up at the table. Yum, Gingo food! As I scooped up the canned refried beans, Omar asked me, “Are those beans? They look like they came out of a can!” he whispered agast. “They did!” I replied to an appalled look on the face of my catracho friend.

Dinner was good, and setting up for camp went late into the night. After our wonderful pancake breakfast at the O’Connors’, we headed out to buy some supplies for the camp that we still needed. One of those necessities was mass quantities of toilet paper, as that was not provided by the camp facilities.

So, we parked at the Dispensa Familiar, and us four girls went into the store after trying unsuccessfully to convince Omar to come with us. We emerged laughing like maniacs. Why? Because here we were – three gringas and Melvina carrying about 70 rolls of toilet paper, and wearing black t-shirts with a huge white question mark on them (so the campers would know that they could ask us questions if they had any when camp started). You should’ve seen the looks we received as we exited the store looking like that and trying not to pee our pants from laughing so hard!

As we rounded the corner to the truck, Omar slinked down to the floor of the truck. We then realized why he didn’t want to come with us into the store! Hahaha!

One last cultural adjustment for my catracho friend – the reality of canned vegetables. At lunch at the O’Connors’, one of the things that we could help ourselves to was canned corn. Omar didn’t recognize it, but took some and asked me what it was. Upon learning that it was corn, he shoveled a spoonful into his mouth and took about two chews… then stopped chewing and looked at me with wide eyes, mouth still full of not-quite-chewed corn. I just laughed. “You don’t have to eat it, they won’t be offended,” I assured him.

It was quite an experience teaching a Honduran about northamerican culture in his own country! A funny experience though!



Omar - my catracho friend who now knows a little more about my culture!

Originally written by Jessica - May 2005, about August 5&6 2004. Hey! That was exactly a year ago!

S.S. Naz - Back In The Day

I wrote this story about my church for an assignment in 9th grade (yeah, my writing skills were a bit lacking...). But I like it. It makes me realise that my memories are fading, I don't think I'd really remember most of this now if I hadn't written it down 10 years ago!!

One of the places I have the most memories from is our church. I’ve been going to the same church for as long as I can remember. I have a lot of friends there.

Our church was very small when we started going there. There were only about 90 people. Six of them were small children my age (Andria, Apryl, Danny, Jayson, Megan and I). We did silly things like tipping over on this yellow bench that was in our Sunday school room. Apryl and Danny used to eat ants off a big tree in front of the church. They would try to get me and Andria to eat them too, and finally we did. They taste gross!

Apryl, Danny, and Jayson are a year or two older than Andria, Megan and I. They aren’t afraid to do anything. There was a fire escape stair-case on the outside of our small, yellow church. Apryl and Danny would jump off this a lot. They tried to get Andria and I to do it, but we were scared. Andria finally did after much begging. She got on the edge, jumped off, and landed on her arm. It made a cracking noise. Danny hid because he didn’t want to get in trouble. Apryl ran for help. Andria was carried off to the car. Then her dad drove quickly out of the gravel parking lot to get her to the hospital. We found out later that her arm was broken, but not too bad.

We did several silly things at church, like selling dandelions and sliding down the stair railing in front of the church. Then, when I was seven, we decided to build a new and bigger church. We moved out South Salem Nazarene Church into Western Baptist while the new church was being built. We liked the old church, and watched as it was knocked down. Shortly after that, U.S. Bank and Taco Bell went in its place.

We started exploring Western Baptist. It seemed huge compared to the old church. There was even an elevator there. Our parents told us not to play on it, so we always hid in it. There was also a bridge that went over the parking lot. It connected the Sunday school building to the church building.

Meanwhile, our new church was being built. Andria and I went down with our families to help (by this time we were eight). Our job was to pick up the sheetrock papers and these metal things that came out of the electrical system (they looked like blank quarters). When the walls were up, but there was no carpet or anything, we went through all the rooms saying what rooms would serve what purpose.

Back at the college, our church was growing fast. There were now about 10 kids my age. We still did our silly things, too. After one service, Pastor had just dismissed us, but no one had gotten up yet. Andria, noticing Pastor’s new glasses, stood up and said loudly, “Pastor, you look funny in your new glasses!” It was funny.

The day finally came to move into our new church. It was neat. Things did seem a little awkward though. Apryl tripped on the altar coming off the stage, and Andria smashed her head on a post, but her head was okay.

More and more people came. Now there are about 35 people close to my age (our youth group) and about 300 people altogether.

Kids at the old church

Originally written by Jessica - November 1995