Dos

  A soft tapping on my right arm forced me to regain consciousness from my peaceful slumber.  Slowly opening my eyes, I turned my head to see who had woken me up and grumbled as Maddie’s beaming face came into focus. Does this girl ever stop smiling?   

            “We’re landing soon, you need to put your chair up,” She informed me through her grinning teeth.  Half asleep, I mumbled a silent “Okay” as I pushed the button that brought the back of my chair to an upright position.  I looked out the small window to my right only to witness an endless ocean of clouds below.  I couldn’t believe we were almost in Tegucigalpa, the capital city of Honduras.  After two flights, a two hour delay and having to spend the previous night at a hotel in Miami, the thought that we had almost reached our destination brought a much needed smile to my face.  Maddie and I had met up with the others at Pearson International Airport the afternoon prior.  We were to be going with a small group of 9 people from Maddie’s church. Whilst first meeting with the team in Toronto,  I was displeased to learn that my friend and I were going to be the youngest missionaries on the trip since the average age of the group was sixty. Still wishing there could have been more teenagers on the voyage; I couldn’t help but notice that despite their age, the adults were quite agile.  Since Maddie’s church took a group to Honduras every year, many of the team members had gone before and were very excited to go again.  Maddie spent most of the two hour delay in Miami cheerfully chatting with them, eager to learn their stories from previous mission trips.  During this time I brainstormed monologues as I popped my headphones in my ear and tapped my foot along to my favorite show tunes. I hated to admit it, but it looked like I was the only passenger on the ship of anticipation to go back home. 

            “We’ve arrived in Tegucigalpa,”  A muffled male’s voice echoed throughout the cabin. “We’ve started our descent and should be landing very shortly,” the voice continued to mumble over the intercom however, my focus was currently preoccupied as the plane had finally broken through the clouds and I was finally able to soak up my first glance of Honduras.  It was beautiful.  Golden brown mountains flowed across the landscape outside of the city where small buildings stood in scattered clumps.  Dry dirt roads gradually turned into black pavement leading into the city as the plane continued to speed into it’s descent.  I stuck my hand in my pocket and pulled out a package of gum, then thrust one in my mouth to prevent my ears from popping.  After a quick glance at Maddie, who was fidgeting in her seat with anticipation, I looked out the window again at the new world I had just entered.  As the plane hit the Honduran soil, for the first time my thoughts of home were completely forgotten and my heart beat in excitement for the week ahead. 

                                                    ***

             I had never been fond of children.  They cry too much and demand to have things they don’t need.  I didn’t have the patience for them, so when Maddie told me that in Honduras we were to be volunteering at an orphanage filled with kids, I definitely did not “jump for joy.”  The orphanage was called El Hogar, which in English translated to The Home. It was situated in the heart of Tegucigalpa, and only a 15 minute drive from the airport. Upon our arrival, we met up with Carlos, one of the men who worked at El Hogar.  He was an elderly gentleman who wore round spectacles and supported a wide smile across his face as he showed us to a large van that would take us to the orphanage.  From the vehicle, we were devastated to witness the reality of Tegucigalpa from a closer view as we drove past small beaten up buildings that screamed poverty. Children played outside their minuscule one roomed homes that sat on the edge of a battered sidewalk. The van turned a corner and Maddie and I gasped as a breathtaking view of Tegucigalpa came into focus. Thousands of scanty wretched buildings littered the land below us, stretching on for miles till they became a grey blur amongst the shadowy  mountains.  It was devastating to witness this distress driven country with my own eyes which hung on to the staggering sight below us until a wall of trees blocked  our view.  We drove through a part of Tegucigalpa that despite the Spanish written billboards, almost reminded me of a city in the southern United States. Before coming to Honduras and witnessing Tegucigalpa with my own eyes, I anticipated the small country to be barred from American franchises and pop culture. This being said,  I was incredibly surprised to see a McDonald’s planted on a street corner and a billboard towering over the streets with Miley Cyrus’ face splashed across it.  Apparently Honduras was also victim to America’s addicting and unhealthy franchises. 

             “We are almost tere!” Carlos cheered in his heavy Spanish accent.                “This is it, up here on the left,” said Cathleen, one of the older ladies who had been to El Hogar numerous times.  Sitting in the middle of Cathleen and Maddie, I had to lean forward and look past my curly haired friend.  There were no buildings; only a vast  concrete wall stretched across the the edge of the street.  Whether it was meant to keep the children in, or the rest of Tegucigalpa out, I wasn’t sure.  The large door in the centre of the wall slowly opened allowing the van to drive through.  As Carlos turned the wheel and I took in my first glance of El Hogar, a feeling of warmth rushed through my body and a smile larger than the entire country of Honduras crossed my face.