Honduran folks are so charming. They are warm, of course, and good-spirited; witty, playful and just all-around pleasant to be around. I believe these qualities are deeply genuine and pretty much generically true of nearly every Honduran I have met down here. They are generous and eager to lend a hand, optimistic and unpretentious...
but there's many layers to an onion.
I guess learning and conforming to your culture's behavioral patterns is universal. We Southerners certainly operate with a code...a certain way of making small talk, nodding and smiling benignly while we're being spoken to (sometimes even when what's going on inside is ugly). This week I realized that Hondurans are no different. They have a code. Being helpful and gracious is their way but sometimes a glimmer of something else pokes through the gentility. I think yesterday I caught an honest moment from one of my colleagues, and it was very illuminating.
She is a great lady. Everyone loves her. She always has a joke or an encouragement for everyone. She greets each person one by one when she enters a room (although that is fairly common down here). She and I work closely together because we each teach half of a two year course. I'd be pretty lost without her. (And she gives me my Spanish word of the day.)
Yesterday afterschool, we got to talking about the political situation--after all, we're both history teachers. We were talking about interim President Michelleti's offer to resign if Mel Zelaya will resign. That's nothing new really, but what's new is that he intimated that Mel could receive political exoneration if he will only resign (not full exoneration though; his embezzling and narcotraficante activities have cost the Honduran people literally hundreds of millions).
The situation is that Hondurans (conservative estimates say 70% of the citizens are anti-Zelaya) will not ever take him back as President under ANY circumstances (other than military coercion, may God forbid it). But they are worried that the world will not accept their November election as legitimate if the present administration is still viewed as illegitimate).
Anyway, they are FIERCELY proud of their little country and are resolute to stand up to Zelaya no matter what it costs them--in a way that average Americans could scarcely imagine. The people that we know seem very prepared to sacrifice almost anything. They LOVE their little democracy. (One lady that we sometimes ride to school with, spends many of her nights cooking for the soldiers.) It has cost them dearly to create it. Honduras has been surrounded by communism for decades.
So, I'm talking to my co-teacher yesterday, and she asks me why the U.S. isn't doing anything to help Honduras. I told her I wasn't really sure but that I feel like President Obama's foreign policy approach is all about soft power diplomacy and is driven by some kind of guilt or sensitivity about America's heavy-handed dealings in the past. I said, 'He thinks that America is just a bully and that he can change that perception.'
She looked me square in the face and said, 'I love America. All Hondurans love America. I went to school in America. I send my children to America to go to school. But America does not love Honduras. America loves no one but America.'
In that moment, I had become the embodiment of America to her. She leaned over her desk and pointed her finger at me and said (I'm not making this up), 'You have stabbed us in the heart. Honduras has been America's friend. But you have looked the other way when we needed you most. And Hondurans don't understand it. And what you don't realize is that, in the end--you will be the ones that will pay.'
I was speechless. I just tried to keep my jaw from dropping open and listened while this tiny little sweet-spirited woman vented all the anger and resentment that had been simmering inside her for 20 years or more.
She told me that Honduras had done what America wanted; that Honduras had fought to be the democratic outpost in Central America; that she and her husband had gone without pay for over a month when their children were young, so that they could stand up against the encroaching communist dictators; that America had befriended them long enough to fight off the Sandanistas, then left the country in ruins, never building the hospitals and roads that had been promised.
She told me that America has betrayed Honduras. She said, 'I know that everything is not America's fault. Honduras is to blame for many things. But we were your only real friends in this part of the world and now we have no one. We are on our own now. A poor little country standing up to Hugo Chavez while the rest of the world preaches to us about democracy!'
And then things got even more personal...
She told me essentially that the school pays me more than her because I am an American. I had suspected this but hadn't heard it firsthand. She went on to say that it was ok. I have left my family and my home and it was ok that I made more money than her. But that things weren't going to be easy in Honduras for a very long time (not that they have been) and that I could just go home to my comfortable life in America when my time was up. She said, I don't tell you to make you feel bad. But I want you to know...that's how life is for Honduras.
You have to understand that all of this was said without a hint of true malice. I never felt like she was angry at me or directly resentful of me. Remember, this is a woman who has been sorta like my mother for several weeks now. She was just scolding me for my naivete.
We were quiet for a few moments. She was wondering, I suppose, if she had offended me, so I finally said something like, 'I can't imagine how you must feel. I know that I don't really understand, but I want to. And I do love Honduras...I say the pledge every morning!' She smiled and gave me a little hug. We laughed and started making our way out of the room.
And then at the door, she turned to me one more time and said, 'Honduras is the little country that could. None of us know how this will turn out. But we always survive.'
So...yesterday I learned how hard it must be to be a Honduran. And I learned how remarkable Honduran charm and generosity really are. It is no small thing to smile into the face of betrayal.
I love America. Those of you who know me, know how patriotic I am. You know that I am very skeptical of America-bashing revisionist history. But sometimes doing nothing is worse than doing something. Our President or Secretary of State could ease the pressure against this tiny little impoverished country with just a few words. No sweeping legislation or military authorization necessary. Just a kind word for an old friend.
But I don't expect to hear that word. I'm not holding my breath...and neither is Honduras.
