The Books and the Bees

I can hear the bees buzzing in the tree above me. Petals fall from the wilting flowers and litter the ground. Tomorrow morning, they will be swept up. Hondurans are an especially clean people. They take pride in presentation, of both themselves and their surroundings. I am not quite up to their standards. I have not yet been called out for skipping a shower, but I know it is coming. I do not smell, but I do not feel the need to wash my hair every day.

It is especially hard to convince myself I need a shower when the water is so cold. On a normal day, I wake up around 6:30. If I want to shower, I wake up at 5:45. This extra time is not for a lengthy stay in the bathroom, oh no, but is instead to account for the time it takes to convince myself to step under the running water. I close my eyes and pretend I am somewhere on a beach. It helps too that I can no longer see the cobwebs on the ceiling or the beehives stuck between the window screens.

When I have washed and scrubbed all that I can I step out into the frigid air. I brave the three steps to my towel and welcome the rough embrace. I comb my hair, pick out my clothes, and walk outside to unplug the pump, which of course, I had gone outside to plug in before any of this could have started. The same goes for using the toilet or the sink. Anytime I want to use water, I have to turn it on myself.

The water that comes from the pipes is not water you drink. I personally do not even brush my teeth with it. I would rather not discover the effects of arsenic poisoning first hand, and this is only one of the chemicals that to my knowledge permeates every drop. Instead, we drink water from the big blue jugs that arrive by truck each week.

Each week is different. In my first few weeks I waited for the kids to start up school so I could begin to establish a routine. It is beginning to look like that may never happen, as if I am living somewhere where things are more likely to be out of order than in. And to make this week different from last, I started to read with the kids.

I came equipped with an outlined program to take us around the world through reading, filled with activities, stories and songs. I knew I may not use any of it and I probably would not adhere exactly to the “plan”. Instead, my real plan was to be flexible, with the ultimate goal of bringing more educational materials, resources, and a love of reading to share with the kids.

In the first week the biggest challenge I have faced is with logistics and scheduling. Seldom are all the kids in one place at one time. Because of this, I have felt most successful with the kids in Escuelita, where Profe Fany has incorporated the program into the school day. The students in Escuelita face more challenges than their peers in traditional classrooms. Already this week three of the girls have shown interest in the books. One stopped me from taking the book back so she could continue reading out loud after her assigned pages were over. Another brought a book to me one afternoon and asked me to sit and read with her. The third came to me after dinner one night, concerned because she had a doctor’s appointment the next day and would be missing the story. Curiosity from the seemingly least likely group is incredibly encouraging and a great start to week one.

Profe and I met each day in the afternoon to talk about the day. What went well? What could be better? What can we change? Each day we are adapting to create the best experience for the kids. In Escuelita we are reading one of The Magic Treehouse adventures. This works well in this classroom, but it is not of much interest to the older kids. We are working with Belkis, the psychologist, to choose more age-and-theme-appropriate books, and a time we can host a book club for the grandes and varones. I hope to exist only behind the scenes, help facilitate the start of the club, but not take part in the execution. Then, my presence here will not be necessary for its continuation.

Although I have not found a routine through counting hours, I have come to find a rhythm in the buzzing and the sweeping. The cold showers are predictable. I know the water trucks will come once a week. It is the unexpected, however, the surprises and all that is out of order, that I know will leave me with the fondest memories.