"Oye Amor"

One of our volunteers, Meredith, wrote this letter after she left from volunteering at the Hogar de Amor.:

" ‘Oye Amor, es una tortura perderte.’ 22 little Honduran voices sang these lines back to me from Shakira’s song ‘La Tortura’ this past month during my time at the Hogar de Amor home for abused children. In English, the line translates ‘oh love, it is a torture to lose you.’ One month ago I was listening to this song on my iPod, on a plane to Honduras, unsure of what was to come next, fresh off the podium of high school graduation. Now the words have taken on a new meaning: it is a torture to leave those children and that experience in Honduras behind, with the 22 little voices still echoing in my ears as I make the difficult transition back to reality.

I went into my volunteer experience in Honduras with unrealistic expectations. I was going to transform the lives of these children, whom I had never met, and they would never be the same. I was immensely humbled when I arrived at the Hogar de Amor, founded by David Ashby, part of the Helping Honduras Kids Organization, and began to adopt the natural rhythm of the day-to-day routines of the children. The children (ranging from ages 5-14) get up everyday at 5 am with the sun, and get in line, oldest to youngest to use the showers. They then do their morning cleaning, eat breakfast together and head off to the school building in the gated orphanage grounds to begin a day of learning at 7 am sharp. Most volunteers teach students grades kinder to 5th, and by noon, classes are done and lunch is served. After lunch, the kids have a time for chores, then the rest of the afternoon and night is theirs.

I quickly realized that I would get as much out of this volunteer experience as I put into it. Besides following lesson plans to teach in school, the volunteers didn’t have any set guidelines. Some volunteers left at 2 p.m to head back to the volunteer house. Others would stay the night at the Hogar de Amor, and read to the kids and tuck them into bed. It would be up to me to plan and execute extra opportunities with the kids. Since my time at the Hogar de Amor was short, I wanted to take advantage of all the extra time I had with them. Many of the kids were bright and curious, and wanted to learn English. We started an afternoon English class and in a week’s time, they all could introduce themselves in English and sing the chorus of Taylor Swift’s ‘Love Story.’ Many of the girls wanted to be ‘una cantante famosa’ so we did music sessions and choreographed dance moves to Shakira songs. All of the kids wanted to use the computer, so computer times were set every day for kids who paid attention that day in class.

I ended each day in utter exhaustion, having drained my energy on 22 never-tiring children. It was a good kind of exhaustion though, because for the first time in a long time, I was too busy focusing on the problems and needs of others, that I didn’t have time to dwell on my (small in comparison) own problems. For the first time in a long time, I was feeling content. Not to say there weren’t struggles though. Teaching 2nd grade was no easy task. I had a curriculum to follow but I exhausted half of my energy on getting the kids to stop fighting and focus before I could even begin to teach. It was weird to think that a short time ago, I was the one sitting in the classroom, chatting with my friends, while my teacher waited impatiently for everyone to be quiet. Now I was telling a group of 2nd graders to ‘stop fighting!,’ ‘pay attention!,’ and ‘ who knew learning could be so much fun?’. Periodic breaks in the class to do the Macarena and sing Shakira songs worked wonders.

When I wasn’t playing with the kids or teaching, I was getting to know the other volunteers. They came from all parts of the world and everyone had an interesting story behind their reason to come to Honduras. We picked up on each other’s ‘cultural quirks’ and exchanged stories of Europe, Australia and the U.S. It was nice to have others with whom I could observe the Honduran culture and share some of the same memories and experiences. Since we had the weekends off, and everything in Honduras is much cheaper than it is back home, we were able to visit islands off the coast of Honduras and recharge before another week of teaching hard and playing harder at the orphanage. Because I was just getting a taste for my new freedom after graduating high school, I savored the spontaneous trips, and loved finding my way around in an unfamiliar country.

The ‘mini vacations’ were always much appreciated but after a day of swimming and basking, I was ready to return to my ‘home’ of Honduras with the kids at the Hogar de Amor. When it was finally time to say goodbye (I had to cut my trip a little short due to the political unrest in the country), I didn’t think I would cry, didn’t think it would hit me until later. I walked into the schoolhouse, where everyone was sitting obediently at their desks, to give one last ‘abrazo’ to the kids. I said goodbye to Angelo, a second grader who would proudly solve extra multiplication problems and do manly poses and ask me to take a picture of his strength, to Lorenza, a girl with a head full of curls who gave me a toothy smile and laughed every time I told her to stop teasing the boys, and to Cherlin, a 9 year old who danced and sang Taylor Swift’s ‘Love Story’ with me in the courtyard and read English books with me before going to bed. It wasn’t until I was saying goodbye to Lourdes, a 5 year old who I called ‘my monkey’ because she would climb to the top of the orange trees in the backyard, that I started tearing up. ‘Pon yo en su mochila. Trae tu mono a los Estados Unidos.’ (Put me in your backpack. Take your monkey to the United States) Lourdes commanded in her tiny voice as she proceeded to unzip my backpack to try to fit in. ‘I’ll just have to come visit you!’ I squeaked, trying to fight back the ‘lagrimas.’ It was too late. She saw the tears. Este es solamente sudor.’ I reassured her. ‘It is just sweat.’

As I drove away from the orphanage I thought about how this past month, I was worlds apart from the home I had been used to for 18 years, and yet I finally felt like the person I always wanted to be. Going to Honduras taught me to be independent when getting around, commanding and patient when teaching a class and enforcing rules, understanding when dealing with kids who have had a difficult past, frugal when bargaining with hostel owners and fruit vendors, sincere when making new friends with new experiences to share, spontaneous when jumping off a 30 foot rock into a river down below, and appreciative for the family I have in Houston that allowed me the trust and financial means to take the trip in the first place.

By the time I arrived in Houston, I was already homesick for Honduras. I was a little weirded out by the many Starbucks, and the constant go-go-go rhythm of city life. I couldn’t see that we were in an ‘economic crisis’ when people in Honduras seemed perfectly content to get by for so much less, because it was their relationships with other people that made life so rich.

The month I spent in Honduras was the best trip I have taken and was the best thing I could do before going to college, as I now have a new sense of self and independence. While I already miss the kids terribly, I hope to return and plan on starting a support chapter of their organization at my college, so I can continue to help out. While I hope the kids remember me and I hope I had a meaningful impact on their lives, truth be told, they did more for me than I did for them. Whenever I start to miss them, I turn on Shakira’s ‘La Tortura’ and I am there.

If you want to learn more on how you can get involved with the Hogar de Amor or the Helping Honduras Kids Foundation, visit www.helpinghonduraskids.org. "

-Meredith Baker