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Experiences in Honduras

EXPERIENCES IN HONDURAS

INTRODUCTION
We welcome T. J. Porter to our pulpit today. T. J. has been a member of Pilgrim Church for as long as he can remember. Currently he's a second-year medical student at the University of Massachusetts Medical School. T. J.'s particular interest is international health care, and he has already acquired some interesting experience in the field. He spent last summer in Honduras learning Spanish while volunteering as a teacher at a rural school. Previously he had traveled to Honduras with Emily Collins and to the Dominican Republic as well. In addition, T. J. spent time in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.

One week in Honduras. To help a nurse run a medical clinic set up by Emily Collins. That sounded simple enough. But I didn't speak any Spanish and I knew nothing about Honduras or its people, what was I thinking? I envisioned myself examining patients at the clinic and helping with medical procedures. I had taken an EMT training class and was applying to medical school, so I thought that I had enough interest and enthusiasm that I could be helpful. What could go wrong?

Well, nothing, since I found myself a year later spending seven weeks in Honduras to learn Spanish and volunteer. My original trip to Honduras with Emily Collins the previous year had ensured a place in my heart for Honduras, and had given my interest in international health care a tangible point in my memory. No longer would I be speaking in generalities about my interest in Doctors Without Borders or writing application essays expressing my vague understanding of international health care. From that point on, I could speak about Flores, the town in Honduras I visited with Emily Collins. I could remember the children I played with and the looks on their faces. But more importantly, I could recount in detail the living conditions in Honduras and the people I saw at the medical clinic.

In addition to helping define my interest in international health care, that first trip to Honduras I took with Emily Collins, as well as others sponsored by Pilgrim Church, have confirmed my commitment to devoting a part of my life to helping others. My first true exposure to the developing world outside of the United States was on a trip to the Dominican Republic sponsored by Pilgrim when I was in eighth grade. There in the DR, I experienced true poverty at the school we worked where some of the children had to share shoes or uniforms in order to attend classes.
Two years ago, I was able to experience similar conditions that existed right here in the United States, as a result of Hurricane Katrina. Again, through a trip sponsored by Pilgrim, I helped to re-build the parsonage of a local congregational church in downtown New Orleans. My sense of the American spirit was renewed after one family, who were living in a FEMA trailer, provided us with a pot of Cajun beans and rice after we had worked on their house for the day.

With my prior experience in the Dominican Republic, New Orleans, and Honduras, I was motivated to spend the summer after my first year of medical school back in Honduras, learning Spanish and volunteering. There are many secrets about the life in medical school that I did not learn until I was actually immersed in it, and one of those that some of my professors seemed to love to harp on is the fact that the summer after the first year of medical school is truly the "last free summer of your life," as they liked to put it. Some of my classmates were heeding these words of wisdom appropriately, and taking exotic vacations. However, many also dedicated their summer to learn another language or volunteer in a developing country. The city in Honduras that I chose, La Ceiba, was located on the Caribbean coast, so I liked to think that I was combining both aspects of the exotic vacation and service trip all in one.

My favorite memories from my first trip to Honduras with Emily Collins had been my interactions with the Honduran people, and my trip last year was no different. The language school at which I was studying helped me to set up a volunteer opportunity at a local rural school called the "Jungle School," which was no joke: the school really was in the jungle. It was situated on the side of a steep hill off of a dirt road about twenty minutes outside of La Ceiba. The school was comprised of approximately fifty students in grades from kindergarten to sixth grade, yet there were only two full-time teachers and two other volunteers for the entire school. The students were poor children who lived in the villages higher up in the mountain above the school. Some of the students had to walk two hours down the mountain to get to the school, and some had to cross a river which was located across the street from the school. After a hard rainstorm, school would be cancelled for the next day because the mountain trails would become too muddy and the river would be unsafe to cross for the children.

As for my involvement at the school, I was given the impression that my position would as an assistant to one of the teachers. However, as was the case with most pre-existing arrangements in Honduras, plans frequently changed. As it turned out, I was given the first-grade class to teach all by myself. This decision made sense due to the lack of staff at the school, but there were a few problems: I had never taught before and I only had two weeks of Spanish lessons which were my first two weeks of speaking Spanish ever. At first, I was horrified because I had no experience whatsoever, and did not speak nearly enough Spanish to communicate with the students, let alone teach a basic concept such as the alphabet. Needless to say, the first week was very difficult and involved more learning on my part than for my students.

However, by the end of my four weeks at the Jungle School, I felt comfortable in my position as a teacher and I was confident that I could speak enough Spanish to be able to communicate with the children. I had grown to truly enjoy my class, even though discipline in the class was a bit of a nightmare. The children who attended the Jungle School came from situations at home that I could not even begin to understand. Most of the children lived in houses that consisted of a single large room, but housed an entire family with several children plus extended family. This situation exposed the children to everything that happened within that single room: arguments, fights, and abuse, both physical and sexual.

The home lives of my students were probably the most difficult issues for me to deal with emotionally during my trip. I would become frustrated with my students at times when they would not want to do work or act out during class. Some of my students' behavior in school was a reflection of their possible maltreatment at home. The teachers at the school were particularly concerned that one of my students, named Wilmer, was being abused at home. Wilmer appeared to be a normal kid most of the time; he had a great smile and loved to play. However, there were some days when he would come to school without any expression on his face, and I could not get him to do any work. During class he would act out and fight with his classmates. These wild swings in mood raised the concern of trouble at home, but how much can be done by a school that is free and optional to the children and is run by a foreign non-profit organization?

As much as the teachers tried to convey a sense of value of the education provided by the school to the parents and children, the school was a target of theft by the students and even their parents. The school represented an American influence, and this included the values promoted by the school and the supplies within the building itself. One of the saddest ironies that I encountered was the fact that some students would steal their books or supplies from class so that their parents could sell them to earn some money for the family. The worst offense that I learned of was the theft of some new computers at the school by the father of one of the students. The only humor to that story was the fact that the identity of the thief was revealed by the man's own kindergarten-aged son the next day at school.

My time in Honduras and at the Jungle School has demonstrated to me the great disparities that exist in our world, and how unfair it is that some must endure these hardships while most others will never know what hardship is. I felt fortunate that I had the opportunity to become a part of the children's lives at the Jungle School, and hopefully to have a positive impact. My contribution was short-lived, but I strongly believe in the adage that "every little bit helps," and in doing my part along with the other volunteers at the Jungle School, perhaps our influence could be enough to help a child earn one of the basic rights of modern society: education.

My trip this past summer came full circle when I was able to meet up with Emily Collins in the town of Flores before I traveled back to the United States. Returning to the town where I had gotten my first experience in Honduras the year before, and after spending the previous seven weeks learning Spanish and teaching at the Jungle School, I finally felt like I knew what I was doing. No longer was I a naïve traveler visiting a new place, or an inexperienced eighth grader getting my first volunteer experience. I felt like I had discovered a purpose for myself, and for why I had spent the past seven weeks in Honduras. The connections and relationships I had established were my purpose. The faces of my first grade students whom I will never forget had become my purpose. I now had a specific place with specific people in my memory to which I could return one day to help, which is something that I plan to do.

And for all of this, I have the people of Pilgrim Church to thank. Without the generosity and support of Pilgrim, I would have never gone on my original trip to the Dominican Republic, or gotten my first experiences of Honduras. The church has provided me with the foundation of service to others on which I plan to build my future life and career. And for that, I am forever grateful, and hope to continue the spirit of compassion that is imparted by the members of this congregation. Thank you.