People of Importance

February 4, 2011

I meant to finish this last month but between translating for a medical brigade and my family’s visit the month of January flew by.

So as I said before, these are a few of the people of importance in my community.

Noemi or Mimi for short.

Mimi is a single mom who supports two kids on remittances from the United States and the rent I pay her each month. It’s more than most Hondurans make but it also isn’t a permanent source of income.

She is my closest confidante and my Honduran mother.

Every other week we take a trip into Choluteca to buy groceries together. It gives us a chance to get away from the house, chitchat, and hang out. Plus, she likes to have me around to carry the grocery bags.

As a single mom, Mimi has to be strong and confident not only with her kids but also with other Hondurans. She belts out orders, doesn’t put up with back talk, and states her opinion. She doesn’t let other people run her over. So it’s nice when the kids are at school and it’s just her and I at home making tortillas and talking that I see her guard relax. She’ll express doubt and uncertainty and fear—things I rarely see her express in public.

This is my neighbor uncle Monca, Lily’s dad. He is a farmer who also occasionally works harvesting sugar cane and coffee. He left just yesterday for the north to work 3 months in the fields cutting sugar cane. Monca is tall for Honduran standards (which means that he is a little shorter than me).

Monca taught me how to milk cows. When he is in town we wake up at 5:30 every morning to milk. He stands by my side while I milk to make sure that the other bravo (angry) cows don’t give me any trouble.

He is funny, considerate, and a loving father.

This is Lily. She is my cousin who lives next door. Lily is vibrant and exuberant and has a laugh that shoots through you. She doesn’t worry too much about appearances, which is a nice change of pace from the average Hondureñas I’ve met. She isn’t boy crazy and she is willing to play around and make a fool of herself. She likes to play soccer with me while the rest of the girls in our barrio sit on the sidelines and watch. She has never cut her hair.

One of my first weeks here she was my guia as we explored the creek in our backyard. She taught me the names of the trees and plants and taught me how to crawl through barbed wire fences.

This is Doña Dora, my counterpart and all around bad-ass friend. She is a highly respected leader in the community and seems to know everything that goes on. She works closely with our municipal government and with the regional women’s group. She wants to start a local women’s group with me. She is the kind of woman who you can walk around with after dark because people wont mess with her.

A fellow volunteer and I admire, ‘the Doña Dora dress’. It refers to her brightly colored, hand sewn, button down, pleated dresses which I absolutely love and covet. She is almost always wearing her apron, even during government meetings, and has long, dark, curly hair, which I’ve only glimpsed once as she reset her hair clip.

I love this photo of her because she looks stoic. It’s as if she has the entire weight of Honduras resting on her shoulders.