So after having a couple of days to reflect on my trip to Honduras, with all of its extraordinary people, breathtaking views, and some of the most positive people you can meet, there is only one way to describe the feeling I have, it is a feeling of being perplexed. No not guilty, not sad, but not happy either. Why is this? Well when looking back and looking at the simple joy and the sonrisas (smiles) on the people's faces after they finally see you for medical attention after possibly walking 2 hours to get the complex, waiting in line for another four, to still be grateful after that is just something that we as privileged Americans struggle to understand. I mean we get upset just waiting 15 minutes at CVS to get our prescription, while these people waited hours to just get vitamins from us all the while with an overwhelming feeling of happiness on their faces.
One of my first perplexing experiences was when we visited a villager’s house. The walls were made of just branches tied together by string and if lucky enough nailed to the frame of the house, the floor just dirt, their seven beds just hammocks, their stove just cement and wood, and their bathroom just nonexistent. The worst part, this was one of the better houses in the area, as others had walls made of cardboard boxes tied with string. Nevertheless, the woman gave us a tour of the house, which at the most could’ve lasted 10 minutes due to its minute size, however we stayed to ask her questions and one of the questions we asked was, “What could we do to make the Brigade better for you?” Me as a typical American with my experiences of being on the Computer Support line for HP was expecting them to say something about getting volunteers who could speak fluent Spanish or more people so they didn’t have to wait in line for hours. However, to my surprise she said one word that I could clearly understand despite my lack of fluidity. That word was “comida” or food. All of a sudden I felt my stomach drop and my heart in my throat, something I thought I would only feel on my first plane ride there. This one simple word carried so much weight, meaning, and significance that it woke me up from the state of unconsciousness that I had in the world. Yes I knew from the news or the paper that other parts of the world were in dire need of help, that they were struggling to survive, and that they didn’t have the means to fix it. Yet, despite hearing and reading all of these things I just was not truly aware of what it really all meant and how much more they needed. As we left, she stated how grateful she was that we gave her family (five boys and husband) the medical attention they needed and that we were now part of her family. This gratitude, despite the fact that we know how hungry she is, and how long she waited in line is summed up in one word: perplexing.
However, some of the most perplexing things were at the end of the last day, when we saw over 700 people and we just did not have the capacity in our pharmacy to keep up with the amount of people. Then towards the end of the day when we were running out of medications and having to tell the villagers that we no longer had that antibiotic for the infection they had, the Atenolol for their blood pressure, or the vitamins just so they could have adequate nutrition, you found yourself on the verge of tears knowing this was probably the only time, way, and opportunity they will have at receiving these vital necessities. Yet it was not us consoling the villagers, rather it was the exact opposite, because when we told them we did not have these things, they didn't get upset, sad, or disheartened, they simply smiled nodded, their head at you, and at times gave you a hug and these were the most beautiful smiles and hugs I have ever received. All the while, in your head you wonder what allows these people to stay so positive when everywhere you look the environment looks so negative. This is what is perplexing and hard to understand, while at the same time extraordinary that these people understand how hard we tried to help them and have so much gratitude and hope that it doesn’t make sense but it makes you realize how grateful we should be.
Stop…
pause…
think…
Still perplexed? So am I, but I am now able to realize that these things that we hear about on the news, magazines, and papers, they are real and we can do things to help them. And despite this feeling of perplexity, the struggle to understand how giving someone a rudimentary toothbrush, vitamins, or medical attention despite standing in line for hours in the 80 degree weather, and at times just not having the medication for them that they can be so grateful, caring, and still have a smile on their face to stop ME, not them, from crying when I told them we no longer have enough medication for them perplexed me even more. But this feeling of perplexity gave me one more lesson, and the lesson of love. Love for my parents, family, friends, and country, but most of all love of the Honduran people for they have given me a state of true consciousness of how lucky I am and how minuscule my problems are compared to theirs. So thank you Honduras, thank you my friends from the brigade, translators, doctors, dentists, nurses, pharmacists, for not only did you help a community you gave them hope and you gave me the self-actualization of how lucky I am. So thank you all and mucho gusto!
Until next year.
-Sean
One of my first perplexing experiences was when we visited a villager’s house. The walls were made of just branches tied together by string and if lucky enough nailed to the frame of the house, the floor just dirt, their seven beds just hammocks, their stove just cement and wood, and their bathroom just nonexistent. The worst part, this was one of the better houses in the area, as others had walls made of cardboard boxes tied with string. Nevertheless, the woman gave us a tour of the house, which at the most could’ve lasted 10 minutes due to its minute size, however we stayed to ask her questions and one of the questions we asked was, “What could we do to make the Brigade better for you?” Me as a typical American with my experiences of being on the Computer Support line for HP was expecting them to say something about getting volunteers who could speak fluent Spanish or more people so they didn’t have to wait in line for hours. However, to my surprise she said one word that I could clearly understand despite my lack of fluidity. That word was “comida” or food. All of a sudden I felt my stomach drop and my heart in my throat, something I thought I would only feel on my first plane ride there. This one simple word carried so much weight, meaning, and significance that it woke me up from the state of unconsciousness that I had in the world. Yes I knew from the news or the paper that other parts of the world were in dire need of help, that they were struggling to survive, and that they didn’t have the means to fix it. Yet, despite hearing and reading all of these things I just was not truly aware of what it really all meant and how much more they needed. As we left, she stated how grateful she was that we gave her family (five boys and husband) the medical attention they needed and that we were now part of her family. This gratitude, despite the fact that we know how hungry she is, and how long she waited in line is summed up in one word: perplexing.
However, some of the most perplexing things were at the end of the last day, when we saw over 700 people and we just did not have the capacity in our pharmacy to keep up with the amount of people. Then towards the end of the day when we were running out of medications and having to tell the villagers that we no longer had that antibiotic for the infection they had, the Atenolol for their blood pressure, or the vitamins just so they could have adequate nutrition, you found yourself on the verge of tears knowing this was probably the only time, way, and opportunity they will have at receiving these vital necessities. Yet it was not us consoling the villagers, rather it was the exact opposite, because when we told them we did not have these things, they didn't get upset, sad, or disheartened, they simply smiled nodded, their head at you, and at times gave you a hug and these were the most beautiful smiles and hugs I have ever received. All the while, in your head you wonder what allows these people to stay so positive when everywhere you look the environment looks so negative. This is what is perplexing and hard to understand, while at the same time extraordinary that these people understand how hard we tried to help them and have so much gratitude and hope that it doesn’t make sense but it makes you realize how grateful we should be.
Stop…
pause…
think…
Still perplexed? So am I, but I am now able to realize that these things that we hear about on the news, magazines, and papers, they are real and we can do things to help them. And despite this feeling of perplexity, the struggle to understand how giving someone a rudimentary toothbrush, vitamins, or medical attention despite standing in line for hours in the 80 degree weather, and at times just not having the medication for them that they can be so grateful, caring, and still have a smile on their face to stop ME, not them, from crying when I told them we no longer have enough medication for them perplexed me even more. But this feeling of perplexity gave me one more lesson, and the lesson of love. Love for my parents, family, friends, and country, but most of all love of the Honduran people for they have given me a state of true consciousness of how lucky I am and how minuscule my problems are compared to theirs. So thank you Honduras, thank you my friends from the brigade, translators, doctors, dentists, nurses, pharmacists, for not only did you help a community you gave them hope and you gave me the self-actualization of how lucky I am. So thank you all and mucho gusto!
Until next year.
-Sean