Lessons Learned From a Third World Country

In early 1999, my buddy Joshua surprised me with this question, “Do you want to go to Honduras?” We were in his tiny apartment on the campus of the Christian college we both attended.

I was studying biblical theology with an emphasis on cross-cultural communication. Mission trips seemed impossible at that point in my young, married life, simply due to economic factors. We had been wed less than a year and didn’t make enough money to go two states away, let alone another country.

Josh explained that his church was going to go to Honduras to help rebuild some houses that were destroyed by flooding caused by hurricane Mitch. He had paid for a spot yet could not go. I was his chosen replacement. Once I scraped my chin up off the floor, I gladly accepted and began preparing for the trip.

I met with the other folks at his church to discuss the details. There were 6 or 7 of us. About three college age, a couple middle-aged guys, and one older fellow in his 70s. I don’t remember all of their names now, but I can tell you there was a Scott, a Phil, and a Ted. More on Ted to come.

It was going to be a fairly brief trip. 6 days including travel days. On May 23rd, my wife took me to the airport, and I flew from Philly to Houston to San Pedro Sula, Honduras. From there, we drove through Singuatapeke (Orlando-the local Scripture Union rep who organized the work trips, lived there) to arrive at the hotel in La Libertad.

Lesson 1.

A “Fresh” Perspective

We stopped at a fruit stand on the way to the hotel. They coerced me into trying pineapple. I didn’t like pineapple. (Mostly, I still don't.) Reluctantly, I tossed a piece into my mouth. It was sweet. It was juicy. I wasn’t going to like it, however, a single bite from one harvested that day convinced me otherwise!

After unpacking at the “hotel” in La Libertad, we got assigned our sleeping arrangements. A room consisted of two beds inside a concrete block space with a little stand/dresser in between. I got placed with Ted, the old fellow I mentioned earlier. He was 70 something, spoke his mind, was cantankerous, and I’m pretty sure he wore a toupee. I just prayed he didn’t snore. We got along fine. I liked Ted, even though he didn’t trust me with the room key!

That first night was the longest. There were strange noises. A rooster had flown into a nearby tree to roost, and he would crow throughout the night just because. Did I mention it was HOT? At least, it seemed very hot and humid to this Ohio boy. No A/C. If we were lucky, a slight breeze would waft in through a window, carrying with it the proud cry of that rooster.

Lesson 2.

Sometimes Simple Equals Wonderful

Lesson 3.

Contentedness or The Hill

Every day pretty much consisted of the same general routine. Wake up early. Get dressed. Go to Lisandro’s house for some fresh fruit and juice. Head out of town (walking) to the river. Cross the river. They had materials and a mixer and made cinder blocks there by the river. Grab a concrete block and trudge up the long, steep hill to the construction site. New homes were being built up there in order to avoid future flooding. I was in my 20s and in good shape. But, I would have to stop and catch my breath halfway up.

I watched little old ladies (I was young, so were they really that old?) grab a cement block, balance it on their head, and march up the same steep hill without stopping. They were happy to help. They didn’t know about construction, but they were willing to grab a block and haul it up that hill. We all should be content and willing to help wherever we can. I don't have to know how to construct a home, I just have to be willing to carry a block.

The people of the village and surrounding countryside were poor. They had cisterns to collect rain water and sometimes, if you lived inside the village, you had running water. No guarantees. There was a rudimentary sewage system with a flush toilet at Lisandro’s and at the “hotel” but you could not flush toilet paper.

Nevertheless, the folks I met were content. Luxury was buying an ice-cold glass bottle of coke from the little store in town, sitting down on the curb, and letting that sweet, fizzy liquid tickle your throat while you rested. Just be sure to take the bottle back in when you're done.

Epilogue

Heading Home

On our last day in the village, our little group had a picnic of sorts for the locals of the village. We were able to hand out clothing and school supplies to the kids. The young children had fun participating in games, while the older ones took part in hotly contested foot races. To put it in church lingo of that time, a good time was had by all.

After the fun and games, we bid the children and our gracious hosts adios. A long drive took us back to San Pedro Sula and a modern hotel. By modern, I mean that they had air conditioning and a small hot water tank that attached to your shower pipes and was plugged in nearby. I’m not sure that I’ve ever enjoyed a hot shower more.

The next morning would find us flying back to the States. Back to modern life. To the hustle and bustle. Back to my beautiful wife and family. I wish that they could have gone with me on that trip. To experience the sights and sounds, the people, and the heat and The Hill for themselves.

Whenever I think I have it rough, I remember those folks I met in Honduras. I don’t want to take life and the conveniences that I have for granted. Though it has been 23 years ago now, I will never forget Honduras and the lessons I learned there. And sometimes, while I’m lying in bed at night, I swear I can still hear that rooster crowing in the trees.