A Day in The Life of a Honduran - Herding Cows

Google maps images

I didn't expect to herd cows for my first job in Honduras. I arrived in May 08 and didn't immediately find work as I expected. Living in a little pueblo didn't help my efforts either. My half orange ("My better half" in Spanish,I don't get it) and I moved from L. A. to El Porvenir.

From a previous blog post:

This little town is in nestled in between hills and sugar cane fields of San Manuel, Cortes. Being the city slicker that I am, I immediately took note of how isolated this town is and said to myself “DAMN!” I knew my family is from a little village, but DAMN!!!

(I said it more like "DAAAAAYYYUMMMM!!!!")
Click here for entire post:

http://returningcatrachoreport.blogspot.com/2009/05/hittin-somersaults-without-nest-this-be_10.html

So you get a better picture of where El Porvenir is, take a look at the images below.
This is a close up of San Pedro Sula and El Porvenir at the same distance from Google maps.

El Porvenir is 35 minutes outside of San Pedro Sula, 45 by rapidito and an hour or more by chicken bus. I had no choice but to travel by bus because taxi drivers know better than to pick up passengers there. They wont even take you there from San Pedro Sula out of fear of being robbed (or worse) while navigating the desolate strech of road embedded by sugar cane fields that splits from the road to El Progreso. The piece of road highlighted in red on the first image is the "hot zone" or zona caliente, as dubbed by local media. This area is used to either murder people or dump limp bodies that were murdered elsewhere.

Finding work became impossible; I didn't want to move to San Pedro Sula without finding a job first and employers in SPS don't hire candidates residing outside of the "casco urbano". By this time, my "media Naranja" was understandably growing frustrated with our surroundings (possibly me too) and home sickness (or being sick of Carlos) made her go back to L.A. three times in the first couple of months. The last time she went away for over three weeks. I feared she wouldn't return. I would have understood too. I decided to move, and arrived in Honduras three months after. I was amazed that she decided to join by extending her fiancee contract agreement instead of opting out of it as a free agent. She had no time to plan for it, I unconsciously planned for decades.

The last time she left I became Atlas, carrying the weight of the heavens on my shoulders, wishing to become Heracles instead. The weight on my shoulders, represented by the tumultuous task that was finding work, became unbearable. I was being overwhelmed by the pressure I put on myself. I worried that I wouldn't find work or improve living conditions by the time Rosa returned. In the case she didn't return, I had to bounce up out of there anyway. During this mental and emotional struggle, I temporarily lost grasp of some of the reasons that drove me to move back to Honduras on impulse. I wasn't getting a taste of "Honduras Living", or getting to know "my people". I was in a place I wished to visit for years, my mother's little village, but I wasn't taking advantage of it.

Then... a revelation descended from the heavens, "WWLD?". What would "Los" do? I wasn't me anymore... I had to get back to ME. I thought about what would have become of me if I had lived there my while life. I came to the conclusion that I could very likely be in the same position; unemployed, alone, and lost. That was me, even though it wasn't. That same room, in that same village, that same day. I realized that it was time slow the wheels from Angeleno speed to Catracho speed.

I decided to join the only person in the village I befriended (not by lack of effort either) in his work. Byron, 20, is the nephew of a cattle farmer. Not like a Wild Wild West tycoon, they only owned 25 cows. Initially I didn't know what he did exactly. When I asked, he responded with "cuido las vacas" or "I take care of the cows". That didn't sound like he slaughtered them, so far so good. I told him I would like to "work" with him, for a day. He immediately responded with a burst of laughter. Our conversations usually consisted of me imposing some curiosity about life in Honduras and him responding with boisterous laughter.

C: Is there malaria and dengue here?

B: JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA!!!! Of course

C: Do you brush your teeth with tap water?
B:WAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Obviously

C: Do you know what Dry Cleaning is?
B: JAJAJAJAJAJAJA!!!! You are lost (estas perdido compa)

C: Where can I get some trees?
B: JAJAJAJAJAJA!!! Follow me...

It was set. I was to work with Byron for 50 lps, half of his daily pay, 100 lps. FYI, that's $2.50 for a whole day of work, he earns $5.00 a day. That's tough cookies considering that a can of corn is more expensive here than it is in the states. He instructed me to join him at his uncles farm (more like a field with a fence around it) at 5 A.M. the following morning so we can milk the cows, he also said lunch would be provided. MILK THE COWS!?!?!?!? I don't know about all that! I didn't have a "Four H" club in my high school and I sure as heck never touched a cow. I would arrive fashionably late as to avoid milking cows. The rest of his day was built up by herding the cows while they graze and any other task he needs to take care of on the family properties.

When I arrived Byron had finished filling empty 1 liter soda bottles with fresh milk, tied bottles to rope and hung them over his shoulder and we were off. As we began our journey on foot, he delivered the milk and collected empty bottles delivered days before. There isn't much to do with the cows, they pretty much roamed in any direction they felt like. Byron complained about their eating habits. He asked "Why the hell can't they eat all this grass? Why do they have to go way up the hill to eat? It's the same gras!!!" By the time all the milk was delivered the grass grew to my torso and mosquitoes appeared to be flying spiders. These mosquitoes even big through jeans! After 4 hours of "herding", Byron called for a lunch break. He broke out a liter of Coke and four little bags of chips. That's it. That was our lunch. Needless to say, I was pissed. I didn't express my disappointment because I didn't want to offend him, but I was outraged. I later considered that he had already given me half of his pay, then used his half to buy our "lunch", leaving him with only a quarter of his regular pay.

After this hearty lunch, Byron told me he had to "chapiar" (clear a field with a machete) at his uncles house up on the hill. We arrived at the little house under siege by the grass. He went inside and brought out two machetes and a file, proceeded to sharpen the machetes and handed me one. While he did this I walked around kicking air and swinging my arms to keep the mosquitoes from biting. He gave me a quick training in machete skills. I proceeded to swing the machete like a bat at a t-ball. As expected from a city slicker, I failed miserably at my first experience with clearing a field. Pay attention to machete training to avoid back injuries or loss of digits.

We finally decided to head back to the village before sunset. I was dead tired by this time. We walked the cows back to the "farm" and to my surprise, many of the cows jumped over the fence to get back in. I didn't even know that cows can jump! He invited me into his home for dinner. Before entering he warned me, "I have three sister, if you mess with any of them, I'll kill you". ok... His sisters were nice and they CAN COOK!

After dinner I headed back home and began counting my blessings. I rolled something up, bumped some Talib Kweli and Kanye and began planning my take over on the world. That experience is just what I needed to "get back on the grind". I also decided that I would continue to try and experience a day in the life of a Honduran for research toward my 2039 presidential campaign. Seriously, well... maybe.

Month's later, a lady posted this on Honduras Living. Props to her! By this time I was living in La Ceiba selling coconuts on the beach. I'll write about that in another post.

> I have a challenge to those who think the average Honduran worker is paidenough. Take an average job working in a field or in a maquila, making the same average wage, for one month, all the time living in comparable conditions. Thenreport back to us on the adequacy of the average Honduran paycheck.>>

I love you for putting this out there. I'm actually doing this as research for my 2040 campaign. I'll start a new thread on it.Carlos M - La Ceiba - Not too good with a machete, cows or the hot sun...

Yahoo Groups - La Migra

Although this blog entry is labeled "Honduras Living - The Yahoo Group", this post isn't about Honduras Living. It's about another Honduran related Yahoo group. One that doesn't (how do I say this without offending people?) . Judging by the fact that I was temporarily blocked from it for posting my opinions about foreigners and their employers abusing the Honduran labor laws in the tourism industry, they don't like me or my point of view much either. I have met cool people that frequently contribute to that group, but it is the right wing polar opposite to HL. The following set of posting are about the "migra", in Honduras, raiding an area dominated by foreigners and dive shops. The thread started with people looking to confirm or inquire about the raid.
The thread took a wrong turn when I responded to:
"Let's not forget that there are 500,000 illegal Hondurans living and working
in the US and double that in Mexico, Guatemala and El Salvador."

with:
Let's not forget that those Hondurans working in the counties you mentioned get
paid peanuts for work no one else will do, while all the foreign dive
instructors are here doing something they love and getting paid well for it. So
illegals in the States sing slave songs, while illegals in Honduras whistle
while they work.

Does this qualify as culture shock? I never imagined I'd hear about N. Americans
and Europeans hiding from raids. This is hilarious to me, to a certain degree.
My personal opinion is that immigration is a human right, but you have to adhere
to laws no matter what.

This was funny to me because when I left L.A., "La Migra" and police were raiding Latin communities and businesses to weed out the illegals. In the process of doing so, they were beating and harassing even US born Latinos. Old ladies, handicapped, they were all complaining about the unnecessary force used during those raids. I didn't hear any similar complaints from the Gringos "harassed" in that town. If those same cops were raiding Honduran criminals, someone would have shed blood for sure. So don't whine next Semana Santa.

Obviously offended, the same guy responded with:
Let's not forget that any Honduran can walk into any dive shop in Roatan or
Utila and get their certification to become a PADI Instructor for FREE, but
99.99% of them cannot pass the written exam sections of the PADI course.

I wanted to tell him that if businesses like his actually paid taxes like they are supposed to instead of keeping two sets of books, one to tell him what his business is actually doing and one to tell Tio Sam only what he thinks he should know, our educational system may not be doing so poorly. That would have resulted in a childish volley of jabs so I ignored it, but it did sting having him insult 99.99% of Hondurans like that. His statement is completely false. I think maybe one dive shop actually sponsors people for free. I'm considering doing a bookkeeping trade for certification, and that still doesn't cover the entire cost. Dive shops aren't exactly comfortable places to be in if you're a Spaniard (the Honduran kind). As soon as you walk in all the people there pause, stare, then proceed to slowly gather their cigarettes, cell phones, wallets and other personal belongings they are usually comfortable littering around a dive shop setting.

Becoming a dive instructor is officially on my list of immediate goals. I overcame my fear of swimming and now I hope to work illegally in other countries! As another group member posted in the same thread:
"there is NO better job then a PADI instructor! especially on a caribbean island."
Why wouldn't I want to do that myself? Because then I'll only eat beans and rice for a while. Hmmmmmmm?!?!?!

I did get a job offer from the following request in that thread, but that person's last name is Gonzales, so no points for that group.
Can you send me your resume off group please
Resort Manager

This group isn't all bad, just mostly.

Photo used by permission La Gringa's Blogicito

Shout out to Honduras_Living

"Honduras Living is an unbiased (noncommercial) forum where people can find up to date information about immigrating to Honduras, residency procedures, hotels, restaurants, sites to visit, experiences, crime/safety, places to avoid, and life in Honduras in general. Additionally, the group's files and links sections will be very helpful to anyone wishing to learn more about living in Honduras." I had writer's block trying to express how helpful and informative HL is so I copied that from the welcome message on the group's homepage. Most of the members are originating from N. America or a few European and South Americans countries. The Honduran members seem to have lived outside of the country part of their lives. If this group were a tangible place on earth, it would be your favorite bar.

This group has helped my fiancee and I with the move to Honduras in numerous ways. We've posted countless inquiries that we wouldn't know where else to impose. This group has proved to be the most reliable source for accurate information in comparison to a consulate or embassy in the U.S. or locally. Members post about their hardships and remind you that it can always get worse, they also share the highlights of their lives here and remind you that Honduras is filled with beauty despite being one of the poorest countries in the Americas. The archives provide an extensive library of previous threads that may answer any of your Honduran born curiosities. You'll find cooking recipies, gardening tips, legal info, twitter like news updates, restaurant and hotel reviews and tons more. My only other sources for info before HL were this link to Canal 6's live streaming http://www.noti6.com/ and my mother. I did eventually begin reading the national newspapers but they are filled with inaccuracies. The latter wasn't so helpful considering she'd been back to Honduras in nearly 23 years and the former scared the life out of me with daily reports of kidnappings and violent crimes. This group is also well moderated to keep the folks in control and enable ease of browsing on terribly slow internet connections.

Since I don't contribute as much as I think I should, I've decided to give props with a label on my blog. I'll turn some of my HL posts into blog entries because I'm a lazy blogger like that. At some point, I'll also post some of my blogs in the group to give the Returning Catracho Report of things because I'm a lazy group member like that. I'm not really lazy, my HL post frequency is directly correlated to my work, no employment = lots of posts, employment = very little posts.

The first entry into this label will be a post questioning the cleaning and bathing procedures when you have doo doo water. I still don't know wxactly what was going on with the water, but named the condition after that came along with it. This incident occurred while residing on Tela, Atlantida. It's a nice place... To visit.

This is my post.
I thought I would just let the water run and it would clear up in a minute or two, but it's been nasty all day. Does this always happen after rainy days? How do people shower or wash clothes? Carlos M - Had to walk down the street for another 5 gallon


Response #1 It happens in a lot of places after a good rain. It can take 3-4 days to clear up. While it is like this you don't wash clothes and you either don't bathe or you get a large bottle of water and take a sponge bath. You can set up a rain barrel to catch clean water for hand washing some things. This is one of the trade-offs for living in paradise.

Response #2
I always imagined paradise haveing clean water.

Response #3
Or at least some water. We have none today. I knew I should have done the laundry yesterday. XX, at least the weather is paradisal today La Ceiba

This is what I meant about reminders that things can always get worse.

Response #4
Due to the rain, we went the entire month of October without running water. Wait thats a lie. They fixed the pipes once, on a Monday afternoon, (It had stopped raining for 2 or 3 days) and then Tuesday morning it began to rain again and we lost water by 9AM Tuesday morning. I think the entire month of October we had rain every day BUT those couple of days and a day or so at the beginning of the month. We didn't get running water back until November 3. At least I had a way to collect rain water for washing dishes and taking showers (ok bucket baths is probably a better term). The kids took showers in the rain, LOL. They loved it. The adventures of living in a 3rd world paradise, LOL.

Response #5
Build two pilas approx. chest high (as long as your over 5'5") first with a sloping bottom 4 feet at the bottom to 4 inches at the top (water level) go to a rocky stream and get 2" to 4" rocks with green slime on them. Keep them wet during transport. Put a drain in the bottom of the first pila for back flushing. Cruddy water goes into the deep end very slow (a diffuser would be nice) and Slowly moves to the shallow end through the rocks. Then into your second pila which is a slow sand bio-filter. then to your cistern. during really bad water times may need to clean the slow sand filter a couple of times a week but you will get water that is very low in turbidity...

Response #6 A simple little 5 micron filter takes care of that. It will be overwhelmed, then when the rain stops you change the filter the next day and it starts doing the job. Tela usually cuts off the water supply when it overflows the cistern filters on the mountain. When the water goes off, I usually cut all water to my house and leave the tap on for the garden (which is pre-filter) until I see it is working. When the brown gets to just a dirty tan, I start it back to the house. Usually no more than half a day without water.