Tiempo, Donde va?¡

As March sneaks away slyly, and April sneaks up behind me like an unsuspected monster, I wonder where these months have gone?! Maybe time and memories just fly away and vanish, but really I like to think that life is more complex that just time and all its events getting lost in the dust. Maybe the memories that we create float up in bubbles to stay with God so that he can read them and judge our behaviors. Or maybe more clearly, the memories of the past influence us and make the present. So now in these moments that I am spending in Honduras are shaping me, molding me into who I will become in the future. Every little thing and conversation I have and do influences others. If I would not have gone to the highschool at the same precise moment, I might not have discovered the wonderful house we are living in now and we would still be living in darkness without any windows! If my Mom and Dad would not have loved me so much, I might not have the love for others and the longing to help out and I might not be here today. So then all the memories in the past have brought me here and therefore time does not just go away and disappear. The past lives on to make the present and the present will breathe life into the future.
I will share the memories of today with you. And you can take them where you please. We woke up in a hot sweat at six a.m. (the heat never takes a nap and breathes air as hot as fire at us at all hours). I ate a quick bowl of cornflakes mixed with powdered milk and ventured into the already blazing sun to continue my fight against my enemy named the laundry heap. I scrub and scrub all the dust that blows in the thirsty streets. There was no water in the faucet, so I used the water in the "Pila." The pila is a huge tank where we store water reserves. I use one bucket and mix it with laundry soap and swirl the clothes around, my hands are the washing machine. I am careful to splash some of the water on myself to sway off the heat. I refill the bucket a second time to rinse them all and twist all the water out before I hang them to dry. The sun is so strong that even the heavy blue jeans dry in an hour! Steve left on the six thirty a.m. bus to travel to the capital to put funds from the computer center in a bank account. In this way, the computer center can obtain a bank card to pay for telephone minutes over the internet. Finally, Moroceli will offer international calling as many people have family members illegally living in the U.S.A. Everybody has a story to tell about how their brother, son, or husband, cousin, nephew, or sister has snuck safely over the Mexican border to live the rich live in the U.S.A! There is a steriotype here that the United States has lots and lots of money and lots and lots of jobs. There is no escaping the reality that there are better paying jobs in the U.S and even a dishwasher earns much more than the factory work here in the tabaco factories. The tabacco factories are the ONLY work facilities here in Moroceli. So my love left for the capital around six thirty and I stayed behind to finish laundry and then I wrote a long letter to my parents because I miss them soo soo soo much! I tried to mail it today, but without success because there are no stamps available. I will have to wait until next Tuesday. Around nine thirty, I went to check internet email and attempted to write this journal entry, but the power went out and everything got erased! (Yes this is my second time writing this!) I left Moroceli at nine thirty a.m. on by mountain bicylce for the super bumpy rock roads that wind through the sugar cane fields and across the river to the small pueblo of Guadalajara. Today there was a mother´s meeting and the teachers introduced me as the English profesora. The mothers gave me a loud applause and one even invited me to her house afterwards to see her tortillas and her mango tree. She lives in a humble clay house and has a fire stove and a large open space with a few mango trees and chickens. I thanked her kindly and continued my battle against the hot dusty climate of Honduras to make my way back across the river and through the sugar cane fields. The big companies can afford to irrigate the sugar cane fields with the water from the river, but once I pass the sugar cane, everything is dry to the bone and there are only brown spiney plants that poke their way through the tough hardened earth. So I finally arrive at home after my hour bike journey in full sun and I drink too bags of water within ten minutes. Then I sit with the old man named Victor who teaches art classes in the art center that was started by the past volunteer. My little good friend named Migelito sees me and runs to me with a large hug. It makes me feel warm inside and he walks me home to my new house. He cuddles with my bunny and I see the bus come in from Tegucigalpa and I am sooo happy to see the love of my life has arrived from the capital! He brought me a bag of grapes and how yummy they tasted!!! I hope I gave you a little taste of my day...I kept all the grapes to myself!
We are going to peddle our way home soon and will head to spend our Saturday in Danli, seeking chairs and a few more kitchen utencils. We send you lots of abrazos y besos de Honduras!
Love, Teresa and my wonderful husband (Esteban as he calls himself in Spanish)