I’ve described this previously, but I doubt anyone remembers. Leading up to Christmas in Honduras we celebrated every day a tradition called the Posadas. Posada means inn or lodging, and it’s the word used around Christmas because Mary and Joseph were given posada to stay in the stable. Every night someone hosts the posada at their home and we go to their house as a group. Once everyone’s arrived, half the group goes inside, and the remainder stays outside along with two children dressed as Mary and Joseph (Somewhat historically inaccurate, but they have a white dress for a Mary costume, and a cowboy hat, a wooden hook—the type used for working fields with a machete—and a hollowed squash which is the traditional water vessel for Honduran farmers). The door is shut and those outside knock on the door to start the posada. Usually it’s not cool for the men to be too involved (apart from those who play instruments or are church deacons), so Mary and Joseph stand on the doorstep with a half-ring of women standing behind them some holding tightly to the ears of their kids so they don’t misbehave, and then a scattering of men in the back standing with their arms crossed waiting to see if any other guy will go ahead and participate. (I’ve done experiments and sometimes if I take two steps forward, the whole group of guys starts moving. Sometimes I take one and a half just to psyche em out, and it gets about half of them, but then they pull one of those balancing acts like a child at the edge of a pool who got pushed, but is trying not to fall in. Usually they stand awkwardly in the space between the men and women, and look over their shoulder nervously to see if anyone else noticed.) After a conversation of song between the people outside (pleading, “knock, knock”) and the people inside (asking, “who’s there?”) the doors are opened for Mary and Joseph and everyone enters singing a song about peregrinos which, naturally, makes me think of Peregrine Falcons. I didn’t think to care what it really meant till the other day; it’s loosely translated: weary traveler. A passage of scripture leading up to the birth of Jesus is read, a few church deacons preach their interpretation, prayers of Simeon, Mary, Joseph and Sweet Baby Jesus are read. And we’re all invited to sit and stay for coffee and cake, tamales, or pastels.In one of the recent posadas at Don Oscar’s house, I entered (as a foreigner, I can still be cool and go in as long as it’s only about ¾ of the times, otherwise I stay outside and help represent the wall flowers) and sat on a bench near the door. Manuelito, a 8-year-old Honduran version of Buzz from Home Alone, sat his tiny body down and looked up at me with his huge head and funny gap-toothed smile and continued a discussion he’d apparently been having outside, “Right Jesse, this year you’re going to teach us classes of English since I’m in fourth grade now?!”
This was right after I’d received news that PC Honduras is pulling us out in early January (their school year starts in February). I just choked up and half-lied, “tal vez si.” Instead of si Dios quiere, I was thinking, “Parece que Dios no lo quiera.”
Saying goodbye after a short-notice warning that we’re leaving has been difficult. It took me nearly a week to bring it up to my former host family, because every time I tried, I worried I’d lose it, and lost ganas to speak.
So I’ve been realizing lately that I’m not ready to leave yet, and wont be in three weeks. I’d already made plans to spend a week birdwatching with one of the top bird experts in Honduras for late February in a work he’s doing to finish what will be one of the best Bird Guides for Honduras and Central America.
I’d committed myself to teach a statistics introduction course to the only biology university program in Honduras because they currently don’t get a single lecture on statistics (it sounds boring, but I was actually pretty excited for it. AND the stats course includes paid lodging and transportation, so I could just fly out right afterwards.So for those who’ve gotten excited that I’m coming home early, I’m sorry. I’m going to take cash in lieu of my plane ticket home in mid-January, and I’m going to live off the money I’ve saved here in Honduras until late March. But still, I’ll see you MUCH sooner than I was planning!
Love you all.
