The Murder Capital of the World

Honduras is not known for rainbows or pineapples or sunshine. It may have all of these things, but Honduras is not often painted in the news with such color and light. In 2013 TIME magazine published an article titled, “Honduras Is Still the Murder Capital of The World,” averaging 19 homicides per day.

This is the image of Honduras many Americans have. The news back home does not cover increase in profits from coffee production or sweet potatoes like the local papers. In the States we see stories of protests, corruption, and murder. Of course, these things do happen. Prior to my departure in January, several worried family members and friends advised me not to leave due to the political situation in Honduras.

“It’s so dangerous. What if you get shot?”

“Are you sure it’s safe for a teenage girl?”

“Why don’t you just stay home and volunteer?”

And after I arrived: surprise and shock that I followed through with my travel plans. I had no qualms about moving to Honduras. I knew I was traveling out to a rural area and would not be living in the city where the majority of demonstrations and riots were taking place. I knew the directors would postpone my departure or advise me to change my plane ticket if my safety were at all in question. I appreciated the love I know was hidden behind the furrowed brows and worried statements, but I ignored the concern and promptly flew 3,000 miles south into the political turmoil.

My first few weeks in Honduras I saw almost nothing relating to politics. Tucked away in the mountains, I only heard bits and pieces of news from the capital from those who were coming and going daily. Then, last week, I traveled to Tegucigalpa and stayed there for nine days.

I went to attend a program called Red Viva Honduras. It is designed for missionaries or long term volunteers as an intensive language immersion and cultural study of Honduras at the beginning of their time here in this country. In my class, I was the only “North American.” Everyone else was from Denmark and already at least bilingual. I was unaware how much Spanish I understood until I overheard a conversation in Danish. After the first day I was moved to my own class where I was able to converse with and question my teacher as I learned at my own pace. My confidence in my abilities to communicate in Spanish increased exponentially throughout my time in the class.

Throughout the week I received 36 hours of formal Spanish tutoring. This does not account for time spent talking in the kitchen with the cook, Doña Gladys, brief exchanges with Blanca in the halls, or the lunch hour spent conversing with the Spanish speaking end of the table. I was not, after all, going to join in on the Danish conversation on my right.

When we were not in class, we attended lectures and discussions relating to Red Viva Honduras programming, Honduran culture and politics, and how to be sustainable volunteers during our time here. We visited the Honduran National Identity Museum and several partner project sites to Red Viva. I saw another children’s home and observed the differences in facilities and procedures compared to Montaña de Luz. I learned about sustainable volunteer work and how to be an effective use of other’s time and resources. For the first time, I heard about using sports for development. As someone born without an athletic bone in their body, I am quick to dismiss and sometimes resent sport for talent. Here, sports are used as a medium to achieve character development, to provide opportunity for positive social interaction, to practice conflict resolution, and to keep kids off the streets and away from gangs.

On our last outing we visited the Association for a More Just Society, or AJS. Their mission is to make Honduras’ system of laws and government work properly to do justice for the poor. After teaching a man how to fish, does he then have access to the pond?

My eyes were opened to this and many more revelations during my time at Red Viva. Not only did I leave with more questions than I came with, I left encouraged and with visions for future partnerships and programs when I return to the States. Red Viva Honduras has two more sessions, one in March and one in April. At first I was unsure if I, the North American, was invited to participate, because I had not heard of these previously. I was told I will be welcomed with open arms, and I plan to use money raised on my personal fundraising page to be able to attend the remaining two sessions with my same classmates from last week.

I have now seen more of Honduras than the beautiful rolling mountains that surround the village I call home. I have walked the streets of Tegucigalpa at night, taken the bus to the grocery store and back, and negotiated with farmers at the local market. Never once have I felt as unsafe as I do in the bathroom after finding the cockroach on the toilet seat, but even he would not stop me from ignoring the furrowed brows and hopping on the plane if I was asked to do it over again.