The Honduras Mission, Part III

Field Notes II.XXXII: Supporting and photographing a mission trip to Nacaome, Honduras in July 2024

Welcome to Field Notes!

Construction

A house begins as a hole in the ground. Rather than building up, its roots must first be planted in the earth. Our group of missionary volunteers arrives at the site where we are to help build a house in a remote mountain community north of Nacaome, Honduras. What we find is a hole. Actually, it is a series of connected ditches which describe the outline of what one day will be a block house.

Adjacent to the trenches stands the current home of the family this mission trip is here to help. It is an 8 x 8 foot shack, pieced together with sticks, scrap lumber, plastic sheeting, and tin. This dwelling has housed three adults and two children for years.

The plan was to stack cinder blocks, giving rise to walls and rooms. We came to raise a house. However, this cannot happen before the foundation is finished. We stand looking at deep gouges in the red earth and are challenged to first fill a void and return to ground level. It is not the work we expected to do, but the work that is needed.

There is an art to mixing cement by hand, and we must learn it quickly if we are to be of any help at all. Bags of cement are opened on top of a mound of several wheelbarrow loads of rough gravel. Proportions of ingredients are involved, but they depend on the visual estimation of whoever is overseeing this batch.

With shovels, the dry mix is pulled from the center outward, forming a ring on the ground. The ring holds a pool of water. How much water? Several buckets full, but the exact number differs with each batch. This is an art, not a science.

Then we shovel. Slowly spiraling inward, we move material from the outside of the ring to the ring’s inner shores. The circumference slowly shrinks as we progress. The goal is to continue as long as possible while maintaining the integrity of the walls. If we are successful, the entire mass becomes mud.

Then we shovel more. This is an intense phase of lifting, turning, and mixing. The consistency of the mud must be as even as possible.

Distant vultures slowly spiral in the open skies above. This work drains me quickly in the unflinching Honduran sun. The heat of the sun’s rays radiates through my sun protective hoodie. Its material is moisture wicking but still saturates with my sweat that does not dry in the high humidity.

After every batch of concrete is created I look forward to lifting heavy wheelbarrow loads of it, moving it to a ditch, and dumping it in. This exertion is different somehow. I would trade anything to get a break from the shoveling.

The work seems to persist for days without much visible progress, but our group of volunteers is dauntless. Everyone contributes to the efforts, though not all equally suited to heavy exertion in the heat. There is always more work to be done, in some other capacity. I am reminded of perhaps my favorite quote-

The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.

-Marcus Aurelius

Find another way forward, find another way to help. Each member of our group exemplifies this. While not mixing concrete they are busy clipping wire and bending rebar. The metal is laid out and twisted together, forming skeletal columns that will become unifying and strengthening structures within the foundation and corners of the walls.

Day by day the trenches are slowly filled by carefully placed rocks. Endless loads of concrete hold them in place. The stack of cement in the shed dwindles.

On Saturday morning we arrive to see the rebar framework has been laid in the foundations and is being erected in the corners. These placements are precise, guided by string showing straight lines. Maybe it has been done, but I never see measurements taken. The process seems reliant on the experience and judgement of the builders rather than any blueprints, plans, or formulas. It is less of a science and more an art.

All of this construction requires one main effort from me- more mixing of concrete.

No one works on Sunday. This is the only day of the trip that we do not go to the work site. Monday comes quickly and, a bit refreshed, we return.

This is the day for moving cinder blocks. Over 1,000 blocks have been delivered and await in a massive stack, ready to be used. The problem is that this stack is at the roadside, 100 yards up a steep gravel driveway from the home.

Victor drives a small truck to the hilltop. There, we fill the bed of the truck with as many blocks as its strained suspension and tires can handle. He then skids the truck down the hill and, one by one, we unload the blocks and form new stacks. So the day goes by, load after load after load.

As this work is going on the concrete in the foundations is filled and has set. Everyone pauses their work to watch as the first block of the first wall is placed. The moment is charged with elation and gravitas. For the first time, rather than filling empty space we are seeing the house rising from the ground.

The walls rise quickly after this first block. By the end of the day several rows are in place. Tuesday is not a work day for us at the site, but we walk there to see the progress. The walls stand tall, with the base of windows already formed.

A week later, back at home and removed from the work and the sun, I see updated photos of the site. Though not complete, it stands as a solid building with several rooms. Soon it will be a home.

Community

The eyes of children describe it best. They shine with an excitement of belonging, in having a place in the world, in being part of a community. This area is named Casa Nueva, but I don’t know if it describes an actual village or just a collection of homes in the hills. All I experience of it is the school.

Each day that we arrive at the school we are greeted by kids excited to see us. They hug us with genuine smiles and delight in their eyes. They are fascinated with us, as new and strange visitors. Still, I feel an honest welcoming of our group into this community. The kids are eager to share with us this place that is central to their lives.

One morning, just as we are setting out on our hour long bus ride into the mountains we encounter a band procession through a parking lot, headed towards Nacaome square. This is a community celebration of a holiday recognizing the peoples’ Native American heritage.

Arriving at the school, I see several children wearing construction paper native head dress, the way American children might wear Pilgrim hats for Thanksgiving.

For the people of Nacaome as well as the kids, this heritage is a strong source of pride.

This is a mission trip of The Bridge Community Church. So, the children were given youth ministry teachings by members of the groups. Glow sticks illustrate the points of the lesson and give the kids a small piece of illuminated wonder.

Then comes another tradition. Foot washing. While I am familiar with the story from the Bible, this is not something I have ever seen or participated in. The group will wash the feet of the children of the school, and everyone will participate. All I can think of is the dried animal fecal matter I have seen all over the yard that these kids play in every day. It is a revolting task and given the choice, I would gladly opt out. But I can see in the faces of the children that it is a special and exciting ceremony for them. And I can see in the demeanor of the other members in our group that this carries a strong spiritual significance for them.

This experience is not about me. I utter no word of complaint. I wash some tiny feet. And then I drench my hands and arms in several coatings of hand sanitizer.

The community within our little group grows tighter by the day. We suffer side by side in the sun working on the house. We spend time together doing our best in difficult living arrangements. Several of us are challenged by illness such as pink eye or GI problems. Through it all, we maintain a positive outlook, share laughter and accomplishments, and celebrate Angela’s birthday with a cake.

Sunday is a strictly adhered to rest day in Honduras. Rather than go to the work site, we travel into Nacaome to attend a community church service. This service, however, is not in any physical church. We are at someone’s residence. Here in the yard, under several huge shade trees, plastic chairs are arranged in a semi-circle. The chairs are gradually filled with kids and several adults.

I see little formality in this service. A speaker plays music, losing connectivity several times mid song. People stand up to sing. Children perform rehearsed routines. All words are in Spanish. The context is lost on me, but what I read clearly is the pure joy of all of the participants. There is profound feeling of fulfillment palpable during this celebration with neighbors and friends. It is the sense of truly belonging to a community, which seems to be a rare experience back home.

The service culminates with a race. I do not know whether this is actually part of the church service or a fun activity afterwards. It does not matter. The participants inflate balloons inside of plastic cups and must race them to a nearby chair before going back for the next. The hilarity of the game captivates us all.

Tuesday. We start the return trip in the early hours of tomorrow morning. Before then, we are providing a lunch of grilled hot dogs to the school, workers at the house, and some other neighbors.

Meat is a scarce treat for people living in this area, especially for the kids. We have purchased 100 hot dogs and 100 bags of chips. As the food becomes ready, the children are let in a few at a time. They are given 2 hot dogs and a bag of chips each. Very soon, some of the first children return for more. Then more kids return. No one is denied or turned away. To my amazement, some of them have soon received 4 or 5 hot dogs. Later, Pastor Luis informs me that that some of them may have saved hot dogs to bring home to their families.

Afterwards, as a treat, we hand out ring shaped lollipops, which are received with glee.

We leave Nacaome when the night still lays thick darkness over the land. The headlights of our van pierce the blackness ahead as we start the 5 hour drive north to the airport in San Pedro Sula. I look out of the back window and see the following lights of the small truck carrying our luggage below a sky glowing deep red, like the embers of a waning fire.

I came on this trip to Honduras for the adventure. I jumped at the chance to explore a new part of the world and attempt to apply an artistic eye, capturing it in photography. If physical labor was the cost of being a part of this adventure, I was glad to pay it.

What I found was an experience not about me or my own personal goals. It was larger than myself. The work was to benefit a family. The goal was to lift up others and to spread some good in the world. In the process, this experience has shifted my perspective, instilled refreshed gratitude for my own life, and left me with a deep sense of fulfillment. Still, this hasn’t been about me at all.

Why Honduras? The question sticks with me to this day. I had no connection to the country prior to this trip. There are any number of other impoverished people or places in the world that would be glad for the help we offered. Why here? I have no answer.

I am not trying to change this country or solve generational and geo-political problems. I am not seeking to save people from a lifestyle very different from my own, or maintain a notion that mine is any better in substance. All that I know is that fate placed this family in need in my path. I was in a position to help these individuals and I gave them my best effort. Perhaps in doing so I gained a small bit of wisdom, purchased by drops of sweat on the red Honduran earth.

I hope you all have enjoyed this Honduras experience. It was such a defining trip for 2024 that its hard to believe its done. The questions and insights it stirred in me are still very much swirling in my brain! I’m still working on a film. Perhaps it will be done in time for next week, perhaps not.

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As always, I love reading all of your comments and thoughts! Some of you guys explain the concepts in my head better that I do, so lets hear it-

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