Mel, Roberto, and Caesar - from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras

If you have been following the news lately, you have probably noticed that Honduras has been a frequent headline. With exiled president Manuel Zelaya's sudden and curious return to Honduras on Tuesday and interim president Roberto Micheletti’s steadfast refusal to cow to international pressure, the political situation has become more tenuous by the day. There has been rioting, looting, and vandalism in Tegucigalpa, the capital and in San Pedro Sula as both sides seem to be waiting for the other to break the stalemate.

La Ceiba however has been very calm. The distance from the capital as well as the character of it citizens has made it one of the safest places to be in Honduras right now. There have been no demonstrations or acting out for or against the government. The city did shut down under curfew on Tuesday and Wednesday along with the rest of the country, but has since been nervously going on with daily life. I have had no reason to fear for my safety and have no plans of leaving the country before Christmas, when I will be heading to Spain with the family to visit my sister Nell, who is studying abroad there. I am registered with the US Embassy in Tegu and have a cell phone on me at all times in case the situation changes and decisions have to be made. I feel confident that the crisis will eventually resolve itself in a peaceful manner, and I remain committed to fulfilling the covenant I made with Trinity to teach secondary school science for the school year.

As it stands now, Zelaya, or Mel as he is disaffectionately called, is holed up in the Brazilian Embassy, hoping that someone will give him the chance to be the Caesar of Honduras that he has always wanted to be (if Raul and Hugo get to do it, why shouldn’t he?). Micheletti continues to enjoy his new found power by declaring martial law and keeping Mel and everyone else locked up. Meanwhile, the people of Honduras suffer.

Luckily I was already at home on Tuesday when the nationwide curfew was announced. The government gave everyone a half hour to get home, which quickly overwhelmed the mass transit network. All the buses, which are privately owned converted school buses, had people hanging out the doors as they headed out of town to the surrounding pueblos. Cabs were impossible to find and people lined the streets often with children in tow searching ahead for any sign of a white vehicle that might provide an escape. It was absolute chaos.

As someone who has always been fond of my civil liberties, 48 hours of house arrest was a startling experience. All you want to do is go outside for a walk but the pick-up trucks with men in back wearing black body armor and wielding automatic rifles and combat shotguns make a convincing argument. There is a real feeling of imprisonment, even though it is your own house.

Like in any crises, it got to the point where all the news on the television was the same and none of it useful, all speculation and bias commentary. Every few hours, they extended the curfew another six hours. Nobody knew when it would be over. I sat for awhile on the roof above my landlords garage looking over the city. It was if the entire population had disappeared. The silence was deafening. The taxi car horns, the soccer whistles, the children yelling, the two stroke mopeds high pitched whine were all gone. Just the a few dogs barking and the rooster next door that prefers the hours of 2:02am, 4:47am, and 5:19am to announce that he is the king of the yard getting in some extra rehearsal. It was emptiness I had never felt before in an urban setting until then.

I was lucky. I had plenty of pasta, grades to get done, and two animated movies I borrowed from the library. It was vacation. But for many people in Honduras, there are no days off. A day not working is a day without eating. Many churches including Trinity have found themselves at the front lines, working to get families the food they need. When the curfew finally ended, I ran over to the grocery store to pick up some milk and peanut butter. The place was mobbed. Shelvers could barely keep up with the frantic shoppers, who were not just resupplying but stocking up should there be another extended curfew. The check-out lines went half way across the super market. I waited in line for 45 minutes before getting out of there.

While I am very disappointed with the power struggle and international community’s response to the political crisis in Honduras, I have made an effort not to take a side because it is not my battle. It is the battle of people of Honduras’ to fight as they decide how to best defend the principles of their democracy. My mission here is to give my students, the future leaders of this country, the tools to be engaged citizens: asking questions, thinking critically, challenging ideas, and being present. I will continue that mission pursuit for as long as I can, and leave the rest to God.

“Then give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s” Luke 20:24