One day I joined a few of the fine folks from the Yo Quiero Ser orphanage on one of their occasional excursions to what is known as "the bank" in San Pedro Sula. Unlike the expensive riverfront homes on the Elbow River in Calgary, in this part of the world the slums are often located along a river bank. This way, the river provides a source of water, a laundry facility, and a toilet for those without plumbing.
We loaded up Patricia's pickup truck with green-bags full of second-hand clothing, packages of rice and beans, and four cases of Washington State apples. Apples are rare and expensive in Central America since they come from so far away. They are often only seen at Christmas time and usually only by those with the means to purchase them.
After a short drive to this, the poorest part of the city, we began to cruise through the shacks and makeshift buildings that line the bank's quiet, hot, dusty road. Once we had slowed to a crawl and I had begun to wonder who we were there to help, the street erupted in a flurry of running kids chasing our little truck. My rough estimate was that each 'house' contributed 6-8 children to this crazy street scene.
We handed out a couple of hundred apples in no time, often noting that the more entrepreneurial of the pleading kids had managed to already stuff a couple of them in their pockets. At that point they began to explain that further apples were for their mothers, fathers, grandparents, baby sisters, cousins, etc. We in the back of the truck lightheartedly teased them that they seemed to have many mothers before handing over another apple to their laughter.
We also handed out the clothing, trying to match the gender and size of the articles to those whose hands were outstretched as best as we could in the hot, sweaty chaos. More often than not we tried to hand the clothing, rice, and beans to the mothers who approached us.
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| The school |
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| The church |
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| New home construction |
A short drive away, outside of San Pedro Sula in a rural area, we visited the home of someone who was building a new home of mud and bamboo. Patricia was assisting with the construction of the roof. These mud homes have a life expectancy of approximately eight years, at which point a new one needs to be constructed.
Homes and whole neighbourhoods of this type of construction are common in Honduras.
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| The original one-room house housing a family of four, now eight years old |
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| The kitchen |
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| The toilet |
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| Laundry facilities |
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| One of two beds |
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| The new house, almost ready for its roof |
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| The mud pit that the family's two children were ferrying the wall material from |
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| Electrical 'system' |
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| Wall detail |
