A day in the life of a Honduran - Selling Coconuts

In an effort to only use my own images on my blog, I will now be creating stick figure scenarios for anything I haven't captured a picture of.

"God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in his shoes

'Cause then you might know what it's like to sing the Blues"

Everlast - What It's Like

My life began anew when I arrived in Honduras. Pierre Ferrand, Blue Crab Enchiladas, Korean BBQ, Sushi, online grocery shopping, Gucci driving moccasins (before I owned I car of course!), Cali's finest (ooouuweee!) and an expensive apartment in a trendy neighborhood all became things of the past. Baleadas, fried chicken with plantains, a pulperia, the early retirement of ridiculously expensive shoes, and moto-taxi rides on dirt roads became my new reality. I was in a third world country (not exactly a developing country); no idea what I was going to do for work, no friends or family to help, and depleting resources. It is taking forever for me to find a niche here. In frustration over not immediately finding a job, I began performing average Honduran jobs to entertain myself (and as research for my future Presidential campaign). These are the type of jobs that most of the Honduran population depends on. In El Porvenir, it was herding cows. In Tela, it was selling coconuts on the beach.

Tela doesn't offer many options for entertainment, a bar and the beach sums up the options. Tela is nice... To visit, not live in. It's a beautiful place with marvelous people. I just didn't fit into the little town setting. maybe for retirement, but not at this age. When going to the beach, we always headed to Telamar because that's the only strip of beach in Tela where you don't have to worry about your belongings while you're in the water. If you sit at the Telamar beach, it's only a matter of minutes before a Garifuna comes by to offer you a fresh coconut or coconut bread or coconut tablets. After becoming a "regular" customer of the coconut products, I began befriending these guys. Most of them are trilingual, speaking Spanish, English and Garifuna. I began a language exchange with two of them, Garifuna for English words. All I remember is "uduruh weity" - big fish, "duna" - water, "idibilla" - waddup, and "tanki" - thank you. During one of our conversations, I inquired about their food; they mentioned machuca, guifiti, and cassabe (obviously the coconut bread and tabletas). I was intrigued by this "cassabe," a cassava (yuca) based hard bread (like a crispy tortilla or toasted pita bread). I love fried yucca, so I had to taste this.

I went to San Juan on a mission: to find Cassabe and an adventure. I only knew the direction to San Juan, no other reference. I hoped on the chicken bus heading to Tornabe. As I boarded the bus, my eyes immediately scanned the passengers in search for an empty seat next to an old lady to direct me (you have to trust old ladies right? Just hope they're not senile!). No luck. I took a seat next to a mean looking Garifuna wearing a tilted baseball cap and a muscle shirt, showing tattoos that were difficult to make out, due to the quality and his dark complexion. You know, the type of guy you want to call "Debo". As I approached the seat, I extended my right fist in his direction; he met it with his in mid air and proceeded to bring it against his chest. I wasn't "down" with the greetings yet, so my reaction was a little delayed. We proceeded to chat and upon request, he told me where to get off the bus and pointed out places to ask for Cassabe. This made me think of all the times I mislead people on L.A. public transportation system. My bad...

I got off the bus and immediately felt out of place. I had to take off my shirt to fit in a little better. I don't know why, but that's what I felt and did. My search wasn't well timed as yucca crops were only beginning to grow. Even though it was scarce, everyone I asked told me they would do everything within their power to land some for me. I was extremely disappointed; I was to return home empty handed. No Cassabe and no adventure. On the walk back to the bus stop (the road), I bumped into one of the guys that sells coconuts on the beach, Noel. He was shocked to see me there. I explained about my search. He responded with guilt about not having told me that it was hard to find at that time. He refused to accept that it was nothing to worry about, and asked if I'd eaten lunch. Before I could finish telling him that I was heading home for that, he insisted on me joining his family for lunch. "My woman and grandmother are cooking now", he added. I found it impossible to reject the offer and begrudgingly accepted. The fish was being fried over a clay stove outside their palm tree hut - by palm tree hut, I mean palm tree hut... It was delicious! I'm glad I didn't turn that offer down.

After lunch, Noel invited me to the San Juan radio station, Radio Durugubuty. "That's my other job", he said, "I'm the programming director." We walked into the radio station blasting Punta and Reggae. It was a small, hot, muggy, cement room with equipment from 1895 (kudos if you know the reference). He stood over the Darma Initiative controls with a huge grin and said, "Watch this!". He muted the speakers within the station, so only the radios from the surrounding homes could be heard. The surrounding homes were blasting Radio Durugubuty's signal. That moment filled me with excitement, I could only respond with, "DAYYYUUUM!!!"

I decided to head home as the sun was about to set and I thought Rosa may be worried about me. Before leaving I asked if I could help sell coconuts one day. A bewildered look came over his face. "Serious?", he asked. "Of course", I replied. He told me to meet him there the following morning at 7 A.M. if in fact I was serious. It was on and poppin!

The next day I arrived in San Juan eager for the adventure that awaited. I met up with Noel and his friends. The first thing that came out of my mouth was, "Where do we buy the coconuts?" Everyone erupted in laughter. One guy asked Noel, "Where did you get this guy?!?!?!" "Can you imagine how poor we would be if we had to buy coconuts? We go GET coconuts." They explained that the owners of the nice homes in between Tela and San Juan pay them to bring down the coconuts ( to prevent roof damage when they fall on their own) and let them keep them. They also bring them down from coconut palms around San Juan and when the free supply doesn't meet the demand... Let's just say they get coconuts one way or the other. This meant that we would be climbing palm trees and bringing them down ourselves. I couldn't even get both feet on the trunk of the palm, so I was eliminated from that portion of the day. I was demoted to the guy that puts the coconuts in the sacks, a job that is usually delegated to the youngest of the group. It's a cut throat industry, and you have to start somewhere.

We finally filled a sack for each of us. My next question was, "Will we have to pay double for taking the sacks on the bus?" Again... Everyone cracks up, falling over each other in support as if their legs had been weakened by the laughter. "Can you believe this guy?" Noel, fighting back the laughter explained that we will be walking to Tela. I thought to myself "Phack mein!"

By the time the laughter subsided, it was after 9 A.M. and the sun was already beaming over the beautiful beaches of Honduras' north coast. I began smoldering before we even left San Juan. During the walk, I was forced to alternate the weight of the coconuts on both shoulders because the sack was beginning to irritate my already sun-burnt skin. The guys taught me Garifuna chants that we marched to. They had the same rhythm as the ARMY chants in movies, but the words were Garifuna proverbs passed down by their version of Griots. I was exhausted and cotton mouthed by the time we reached Telamar. I had to sit out for a bit, the guys got right to work. When I finally got back on my feet, I discovered how difficult it is to pitch coconuts in a 100 yard strip of beach while competing against a half dozen other coconut vendors.

People must not have been thirsty that day. It took a long time before I had my first sale. After hours of foiled attempts, an elderly Canadian couple finally gave in. I called for Noel's machete (I didn't have one), he rushed over with excitement and handed it over. I took one whack at the coconut, nothing. I took a second whack and the machete bounced off. Noel requested the machete and said "we don't want you to cut off your hand". He effortlessly used the machete to slice through the coconut husk. I stood on the sidelines and claimed to have softened it up already. I think that by this time, it had become obvious to the Canadians that this wasn't my day job.

Without stating it, we agreed that I would stay away from the machete like I stayed away from cow nipples. I was demoted once again. Since there wasn't a basement floor in this company, I had to create my own position. I turned into the "hype man" like the guy on the Lopez Tonight show. I began shouting out sales slogans for delicious and refreshing coconut water. All the colleagues were laughing and looking at me like I was crazy. It actually worked though. Some people actually walked towards us and bought the coconuts. I don't think it would have worked well if I didn't speak English.

I couldn't possibly take any of the earnings, but I did walk away with an amazing experience and new friendships.

After my "A Day in the life of a Honduran" experiences, I've developed endless respect for the people in Honduras that have to overcome similar circumstances for daily survival (as in what you make that day determines what you eat that day). Selling coconuts to tourists is a "regular job" for some people. Employment opportunities are scarce in Honduras, especially if you are from one of the geographically (and maybe racially) isolated communities.

Our strength as a nation will always be determined by our weakest links. The first and most obvious need of attention in these communities are the roads to and from more developed areas. Without access to schools, health care, employment and food, for all our citizens, we can't expect growth as a nation. I hope they get some "Cambio YA!"