Reflections......

There aren’t any pictures today. Simple reason being I am not taking any, not for this blog anyways. It isn’t appropriate….

They are an elderly couple in their 90’s. I think she’s the resilient one, tough yet has hands surprisingly soft for what must have been and still is a hard life. She’s tiny, 4 foot something. I’m not sure about him, as he sits and doesn’t stand. Problems I think with his back, but we’re not sure. Maybe he’s just tired of standing, tired of a hard life. We are at their house. I use the term house but it isn’t a house. It’s a little shelter, a place they call home, but a far cry from anything you and I will ever endure. We, Ellen and I, are here with Jesse, an American who lives in Copan and Jessie’s parents from West Virginia. A short time ago, Jesse and Ellen heard that the roof leaks of this elderly couple’s “house”. With no children (we think) there is nobody to fix the roof so they get wet. Their few things get wet. Jessie’s parents have a little money left. It’s a donation from their church so they have spent it on fixing the roof. We are here today to see the “new” roof and Jesse’s parents have brought food. They have brought a lot of food.

We had met Jesse and his folks and the old lady in a tuk tuk infront of Ellen’s house. She was in the park shopping. What a coincidence so well shall give her a ride home.

She doesn’t say much but smiles,not many teeth left but a big smile none the less. She smiles with her eyes as well. The tuk tuk takes us only so far. They can't get up the hill to her house. It’s too steep. As we gringo’s slip and slide up the dirt, she slowly yet steadfastly puts one foot in front of the other. She knows where to step. She has walked up this hill countless times. Lee, Jesse’s mum, holds her hand. Who is helping who? We go through a little gate made out of sticks and held together with wire. Then it’s down a short mud path to the “house”. There’s not enough room for us all inside so we take turns going inside to give our best to the old man. I have to stoop to save banging my head. I see the back room…there is a small wooden bed with some blankets…tons of hats hanging up and bags, plastic bags, also hanging from nails and hooks around the wooden walls. A smaller area holds an assortment of baskets and is where Lee leaves the food. I don’t see an oven or anywhere to cook but maybe I miss it. There’s little space and I don’t want to stare. The front area has only two walls and a roof made from what looks like black garbage bags held on to the roof with bigger pieces of wood. They ask if the roof leaks. No…it’s dry…only the walls leak now. The floor throughout is mud. There is no bathroom. The “house” is on a steep mud embankment. I don’t know where they go to the washroom. Of course, we don’t ask. There is running water. I catch a partial conversation. Sounds like the tap is on their property or is their neighbours…not sure…but they have running water. There are a few bowls that I guess they use for washing.

There is a bird tied up by one ankle…..do birds have ankles? It is in the same as area as where the man is sitting. Is it to lay eggs? Is to eat? Maybe both. I don’t ask. We are all horrified. There is a dog with a machete cut to the back of it’s neck. It is so open and deep you can see it’s spinal cord. I have to leave the house. I need fresh air. The dog also had mainge…no hair on it’s body. Ellen throws a handful of dog kibble down, taken from her bottomless bag. The dog eats…so do the two emaciated kittens.

We don’t stay long. There is no room to socialise and what do we say? We leave. They have food and a roof that doesn’t leak. Lee is crying. Ellen and I are just silent. Not much to say. I tell her that I will pay for the bullet. We need to euthanize the dog. It’s not that simple here though. There is no vet. Who would we get? Would the old couple understand? Would the person we pay actually do it or just take the money? We would have to be there to be sure it is done. The walk back is somber. Ellen and I fight with our emotions. She tells me that she has seen immense poverty in the mountains but this experience is up there with the worst. We are both haunted by the sight of the animals. We feel guilty that our thoughts are so preoccupied by the animals when the old couple is struggling as well. We can’t help how we feel. We walk back in to Copan. I take a tuk tuk to the church where my “family” is spending the afternoon. I have a water pistol fight with the kids. I try to forget. It helps.

Today, I see Ellen at school. We are still both talking about yesterday. Neither of us have forgotten. Neither of us can forget. As Ellen puts it, those sights will haunt you. She described it best a few days ago when she told me that life in Honduras can be raw. She is right. Life here is raw. So, no photos. This was and is the old couples reality. There is nothing to be gained by posting grisly photos, but this story is the reality of Honduras.

I am disappointed a little in myself, I didn’t even ask their names.