Imagine a city set on a series of rolling, green hills, tall steel skyscrapers interspersed with adobe buildings with red tile roofs. From above, maybe on the highest hill, looking down over the city, or from an airplane on descent, it looks beautiful, modern, a place anyone would want to live.
Welcome to Tegucigalpa, Honduras, my home for the next year, as I start my work with Centro de Desarollo Humano, an NGO partner with Cuso International.
The first thing I am told on arriving at my orientation with Cuso is that in this city, I shouldn’t walk. Anywhere. I soon learn that day time is safe enough to walk if I don’t carry valuables, but as soon as night falls, the streets empty out, and I’m basically guaranteed to get mugged if I wander out after 7:30pm.
Tegucigalpa is the city of si pero no, of contradictions. In one city block I buy a lunch for $2.50 US, and a coffee for $3.50 at a fancy coffee shop right next door. To enter into the Cuso office where I am receiving the orientation, I wait on the street for the armed guard to open the door, then to open a series of 3 locked doors to enter into the office itself. In contrast, when I am invited to a co-worker’s home, he tells me to feel at home, help myself to the drinks in his fridge. His girlfriend teaches us how to dance the Punta, a Honduran dance. In a city where establishments, even restaurants, keep their doors locked at all time, the people themselves have a surprisingly open door policy.
Even the weather is conflicting – within the space of 24 hours, the temperature dips down into the low teens and then soars to 37 degrees celcius. I soon remember to wear sunblock on a daily basis, as my pale Canadian winter skin is no match for the sun here.
The traffic is just a conflict, period. No one follows the rules, and rush hour turns into a chaotic gridlock with horns blaring non-stop. The irony is that if people would follow the rules, there probably wouldn’t be near the traffic that there appears to be.
Over 22 areas, interspersed throughout the city, are under the control of the gangs Mara Salvatrucha 13, Barrio 18, and other groups. Locks, guns, guards, tinted windows, and a lack of trust in human kind in general are part of the daily life in Tegucigalpa, Honduras. However, there is a rich culture filled with music and dance, and amazing food (more on food in another blog, it deserves its own article), friendly people with great senses of humour, and beautiful weather. I think I’m going to like it here.
I was just in a nice group of older intellectual folks who have met every two weeks for years to discuss whatever topic seems interesting that evening. This night's topic was "If you had all the money and power to effect changes in the US government as president, what would be your highest priorities?" Most of what came out are ways of preventing the abuse of power and of harming the environment, minoroities, etc. At some point I piped up and asked: How much of these ideas would mean imposing controls that other more totalitarian systems have tried? The discussion about control vs. freedoms didn't quite become an argument, but no one had a real answer as to how to keep people from pursuing self-centered practices in a country with individual rights to purue wealth are enshrined in the constitution. So how and why do we enforce our traffic laws so fiercely?
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