Welcome to Paradise

This Sunday I will already have been in my site for a full month, though it feels like I just got here.

Teupasenti, El Paraíso

On my last blog I left off talking about how I had arrived in Teupasenti (Teupa). I slept my first night at my counterpart’s house, but the next night I went to move into the house Peace Corps assigned to me. They did a great job placing me in a home, as I am very comfortable where I am. I have a large room with a comfortable bed, and I even have my own bathroom. There’s actually a functional shower in the bathroom that even sort of has hot water, but it’s not something you can really depend on. I say ‘sort of’ because only one of the six or so streams of water that come out of the showerhead is hot, but it’s hot enough to make it feel comfortable. However, the problem is that the shower doesn’t work every day. The water in the town only works for a few hours a day, if it comes on at all. I was spoiled my first week, but then it only worked one day during the second. The letdown of expecting a hot shower is almost worse than not having one, so now every day I wake up assuming there is no water. The first thing I do after getting out of my bed is check the sink faucet in my bathroom. If there’s water, it’s a lucky day. If not, I just go to the kitchen to start heating up some water on the stove to use for a bucket bath.

Here are some pictures of my room:

If you noticed that it’s really messy, that just means that I’ve gotten very comfortable.

As for the family, they’re all really nice. I live with the grandmother of the family (Lidia), who is laid back and a great host. She also happens to make great coffee, usually at the times when I need it most. Overall I get a lot of privacy. Also, my room happens to be quite sound-resistant. It’s situated in such a spot in the middle of the house that I’m never bothered by noise in the streets (roosters, dogs, motorcycles, etc.). The only problem with this is that it means my room is not well ventilated, but having a fan running while I sleep cures that problem.

The owner of the house is the mother of the family (Maria), who actually lives just around the corner from my house. She cooks my meals for me, so I spend a decent amount of my day over at her house. Though she isn’t always punctual, she definitely goes out of her way to make sure I’m comfortable, and she can cook pretty well. She has teenagers and a five-year-old, all of which are easy to get along with. Both of the older ones, Gerardo and Alexandra, have a good sense of humor and are to fun to hang out with (and are also more entertained by a game of UNO that one would think is possible). The five-year-old girl, Genesis/Paloma/Daniella (I swear everyone in this country has 7 names) is very cute, and calls me Tío Peter.

Finally, one of the more interesting members of the family is Maria’s brother, Gonzalo, known to most as the ‘Mudo’. He was born deaf, but they call him a mute as well (sordomudo) since he has never formally learned to communicate or read. I think we take it for granted in the United States that if someone is born as such, that they will be able to learn sign language and other skills to help with the disability. However, in Honduras, schools that teach sign language are only found in Tegucigalpa, and are definitely not accessible or affordable to the average citizen.

Despite the lack of resources available to him, he has done quite well for himself. He owns and runs his own billiard club in town, and is also a mechanic. It boggles my mind to imagine what that learning process was like for him. I actually have spent a lot of time thinking about him and about what his life must be like. Since he can’t fully communicate, it’s almost as if he’s trapped in his own world. There’s so much we would think that he’s missing, not being able to hear or read, but at the same time there are things that probably aren’t so bad to miss. I think of the Who’s rock opera ‘Tommy’ (the deaf, dumb, and blind pinball champion), especially the song ‘Christmas’: “Tommy doesn’t know what day it is / doesn’t know who Jesus was or what praying is.” Though he’s never been formally taught about God and can’t read the Bible, I’d actually say that perhaps he knows Him better than most. He is always extremely positive, constantly smiling, and likes to try to joke around with you. His spirit and his accomplishments seem to me to be a thing of God.

I also think there are some positives to not being able to hear or read. There are some things in this world that wouldn’t be so bad to not know about. Sure he doesn’t know about Jesus (formally), but at the same time he doesn’t have to hear about war, genocide, or people such as Hitler in this world. He’s free to perceive the world as he wishes- he doesn’t have to let the negativity of others bring him down. He may have never listened to the Beatles, but he’s also never heard cries of pain or declarations of hate. He’s never heard anyone say in words that they love him, but I doubt he needs words to know that is so.

Sometimes I feel like I can relate with him. I wonder if he even knows that I have trouble communicating at times as well, if he even understands the idea that there are different languages in this world. Whatever the case may be, he’s always great to be around. I even went for a run with him one day, which was fun. We’ve tried to go again, but (using his invented sign language) he has been telling me lately that the field is too muddy from all of the rain to go running in. I’m sure we’ll go again soon.

I have too much to write about… I’ll leave the rest for a second (and possibly 3^rd!) post.