Making Lemonade

Returning from my extended vacation to Panama proved more difficult than I expected. Honestly, it did not occur to me that it might be difficult at all. After nearly two weeks with LTE data, drinkable tap water, and English as a common language, I forgot what I was returning home to: extended coverage, a broken water pump, and Spanish. I forgot, because each time I said home, I pictured Columbus.

The first six weeks here in Honduras were hard. My longest streak was eleven days without crying. I missed my family, my friends, and all my creature comforts. I was accustomed to being able to meet all my wants and needs on my own time and by my own means. Here I became dependent on everyone else to get my needs met, forget my wants.

Transitioning to life in another country wreaked havoc on my body physically as well as mentally. I spent nights doubled over on the toilet, and more than once fell asleep on bathroom floors because I was afraid if I left I would never make it back in time. I woke up one morning covered in hives and sweating with fever, not knowing where or if I could get Benadryl. I found new bug bites littering my legs and feet every morning. I struggled as I felt myself gaining weight because I could not go for walks or runs and had not been to the gym in months. I lost control of what I ate and the size of my portions, but I graciously accepted what was prepared for me each meal.

As I grew more accustomed to the language and my body more accustomed to the food, things started to look up. I was doing more than communicating; I was conversing. One afternoon, I was even gossiping. I spent time in the kitchen helping prepare the food that no longer made me ill. I found my bug spray. OSU came and brought with them a care package full of snacks and notes from home. They made me even more excited to start college, to be a student at OSU, and to begin studying engineering.

Then they left. I attended the second Red Viva course. I spent Holy Week traveling around Honduras. For the first time, I felt unsafe. I was back at the mountain for a few days, then I turned around and left for Panama. Or rather, I tried to leave. I was stopped by immigration. I made it out. Spent an extra week on my visa run. Got the yellow fever vaccine. Made it back again. All in one piece.

Now, I feel defeated, because we have stopped reading. It started the week before I left for Panama. Nearing the end of my volunteer term, we needed to decide how to spend the rest of the fundraising money. We considered new books. We discussed a book club. We debated the merit and feasibility of these together, but I had noticed something the day before that gave me pause. I was asked to help a student with her homework: an investigación, a research project. We sat down at the computer. She waited, with her hands in her lap. She was waiting, I realized, for me to search for the terms. Usted puede, I prompted, you can. Her eyes got wide and she shook her head. She had no desire to touch the computer. Sí, I encouraged. She reached for the keyboard with a single finger. One by one she struck the keys. At the end of the word she turned to me. Her finger now hovered over the return key. I nodded. She browsed the images and chose one. Click. Turn. I paused. Unfamiliar with copy and paste, unfamiliar with the computer, and unfamiliar with right click. She is thirteen years old. What was I doing on the computer at 13? Writing papers for school using Word. Making PowerPoints to convince my dad to buy me an iPhone. Spending too many hours playing Sims. Because someone taught me how. Because computers were central to my life and learning. Because I had exposure and access to that kind of technology. I wanted to see these students with the opportunity to learn this technology too.

We decided to use the remainder of the fundraised money to buy three new laptops, printer paper and ink. The computer lab currently houses ten computers. Three of them turn on. Two are able to connect to the internet. The rest sit and take up space, mocking those who have homework to do but did not get there fast enough to claim one of the coveted seats.

I want the kids to take the computers apart. The computers that do not function, that will otherwise sit and continue to collect dust, can serve as a hands on investigation into the inner workings of technology. Then, with the new computers, they can research and read about the pieces and parts they have picked through.

During what was formerly our designated reading time, our class started a typing course. We printed out pictures of the keyboard, color coded with a diagram of both hands, and taped them to each desk. We spent the first day learning where to put our fingers. The next day we went to the lab. With only three computers, we had to supplement with laptops we could find that were not in use. We practiced resting our hands on top of the keys and not striking “asdf” as we lined up our fingers. One student did quite well and seemed to be enjoying the exercise. Another cried, claiming she was incapable, and left the lab. Some days are better than others.

Typing was not mentioned in my initial goals or plans for Honduras. I wanted to read with the kids. I wanted to share with them my love for fictional stories and characters. I did. But I wanted the reading, and hopefully the love, to outlast me. I am still here, and reading has already taken a backseat.

Profe made the decision to change reading time to typing time. It is her class, and I respect and support her choice. I am happy that I am able to help introduce the students to Word and break the habit of typing with one finger. I am frustrated and upset because I am only able to make the introduction. I am finding a new direction and a new need of the classroom at a terrible time. I am not able to continue with this work because in twelve days I fly home. Home to the States. Home to Columbus.

It feels as though nothing has gone according to plan. I expected this, but I do not think I accepted this. I said over and over that I would adapt and change to meet the needs of Montaña. I would talk to them, build relationships, and learn what they needed. I never wanted to be an imposition. But I did have a plan. I had hopes and dreams and goals that I do not feel I have achieved or realized.

I do not want to walk away from my time at Montaña thinking I failed. I do not feel like a failure. I stopped consuming dairy. I started doing squats. I kept smiling. I typed. I learned to be assertive and faced every challenge head-on. I took my lemons and made lemonade.

I once read that unless life also gives you sugar and water, your lemonade will suck. Life gives you lemons. I think it is up to the individual to come up with the water and sugar. This is how I must remind myself that I have not failed. I have experienced a lot of lemons. However, in the end, these sour moments will not define my trip. They will not determine how I am remembered by everyone here. It is okay that my direction has changed. I am still helping the students. They are learning more than they would have without me here. I brought something new to the table. I brought lemonade, and I am happy to be leaving that behind.