Home > International > Americas > Honduras – Learning to Live Without
Honduras – Learning to Live Without
By Marissa Lowman, Honduras
One of my first days in Honduras, I was strolling uphill to the school where I would be teaching and almost stepped on a dead cat, coated by a thin film of dust, lying in the middle of the unpaved road. This was before I had become accustomed to overlooking these sorts of things: children stoning scrawny dogs, men making noises at the gringa, gunshots ricocheting in the distance. What struck me about the dead cat was that no one had bothered to clear it away.
I have lived in Honduras for six months now. Although I have traveled widely, this is the first time I have lived in a third world country. I came to Honduras for several reasons: I wanted to try teaching, improve my Spanish, and follow my grandmother, who lived here briefly as a child.
"The average Honduran does not attend school past 6th grade, has limited possibilities for climbing the social ladder, and is virtually paralyzed by poverty. I work in a classroom with one light bulb, two fans, and one set of windows with bars instead of glass. When it rains, the floor often floods with water" -Marissa Lowman
Before I came, I imagined houses with dirt floors, a peaceful town, and students with limited English ability. I had signed on to teach 5th grade at a bilingual school run by an older American couple in Juticalpa, a town about three hours from Tegucigalpa, the capital.
I was pleasantly surprised to find colorful shotgun style houses with tile floors, frequently constructed out of adobe for insulation. My students showed astounding variability among their English levels: while some performed quite well, many were struggling with basic skills, such as reading and multiplication.
I live in Olancho, a region of Honduras known as the Wild West for its gun-toting ranchers. Because of this subculture, many of my students have witnessed their own fathers get murdered as revenge for vendettas. Despite these unspeakable vicious acts, the people are quite friendly.
Filled with stark contrasts, Honduras is a country known for its diverse nature, with miles of forests, lush mountains, and fantastic beaches. The small percentage of rich people live exceptionally well, driving brand-new Kia sports cars, taking frequent trips to Miami to go shopping, and attending bilingual schools.
However, the average Honduran does not attend school past 6th grade, has limited possibilities for climbing the social ladder, and is virtually paralyzed by poverty, especially because most Hondurans have large families to take care of.
I work in a classroom with one light bulb, two fans, and one set of windows with bars instead of glass. When it rains, the floor often floods with water. Most business owners and doctors send their children here. The tuition is around $50 per month, not including uniforms, school supplies, or lunches, which most students bring from home.
On the one hand, my students are extremely privileged. The average Honduran makes $275 per month most have access to the latest American fashion trends, music, and movies. On the other hand, they cope with many misfortunes at a young age.
Most of my students have at least one relative living in the U.S., often a parent who sends money for the child's living expenses. Their relatives seek more money and better living conditions, but often cannot afford to bring their children with them. My host mother's sister lives in Michigan illegally and cleans houses. Even though she was a teacher in Honduras, she prefers her life in the U.S.
Things here happen slowly, if at all. When the hot water stopped working once, my family did not call to get it fixed. I was the one who complained and called my Honduran friend (also our landlord) after two days in a row of chilling showers.
There is no customer service here. If the business is at fault, they often refuse to fix the problem. The high school seniors refused to complain when the class t-shirts they ordered were filled with spelling errors because they knew the company would not correct their mistake. Hardship is accepted here.
The one thing that unites Hondurans is a strong sense of community. Family (and most Hondurans have a large one) is a central focus of daily life here. It is common for people to stay in one place, moving only to attend a university or to pursue a job elsewhere.
On Sundays, Hondurans often visit relatives' houses after church (most Hondurans are Catholic). When I accompanied my host family to visit the mom's parent's house, nearly forty relatives attended a child's birthday party. There were two piñatas, two cakes, mingling, and pictures.
I am a long way away from my home and the conveniences I've always taken for granted. Living in Honduras I've learned to appreciate and focus on little things that are often ignored at home.
Many times I have been struck by random acts of kindness: a teacher offering me a ride home, a teacher's sister not charging me for a doctor's visit, a student's parent inviting me to a birthday party, a hand-drawn card from a student reminding me that what I do here is both important and necessary.
I came to Honduras to learn about the culture and teaching, but what I have really learned is a new perspective: that living in a third world country, even in the best of circumstances, presents what seems like numerous insurmountable challenges, but that with a positive outlook, many of these struggles can be overcome.
See the rest of Marissa's photos in the photo gallery.
