Day 17: Blue

Today, Honduras is playing Mexico in soccer. Starting on Monday, blue flags and jerseys began to pop up all around the city as passionate citizens showed their support and clever entrepreneurs banked on that passion. On the way to work this morning, I was shocked to see so many people wearing the Honduran national team jersey. There is an electricity in the air that is not normally present in the city.

On the way back from lunch, Jesus and I stopped by Diunsa, a large department store, to visit the bank. The line must have been at least 20 people long. Americans would go crazy in such circumstances, but the Hondurans waited patiently for their turn. I decided to explore the store while Jesus waited for his turn in line. What struck me most was the large number of employees in the store. There were dozens of blue-uniformed women strategically stationed all over the complex. Some were diligently counting inventory while others were itching to help any customer in site, unlike the few minimum wage teenagers that you usually find in a similar store in the US. I have found this same phenomenon all around Latin America as shops can afford to have a lot of laborers due to the low salaries.

In the food court, there was a Dunkin’ Donuts, Mexican restaurant, and juice bar. Here, there were women in red uniforms, who were clearly contracted to clean the floors. They methodically picked up trash and swept the floor… not too fast and not too slow. There was no expression on their faces, as if they were working on autopilot. I am very lucky to have the opportunity to work at something that I love.


Joel Montgomery

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Day 3: Protests & Football

My day changed from ordinary to extraordinary at noon today when I began to hear a lot of noise outside the second story window of our office. The building, which is owned by the municipality, houses a number of non-profits, government programs, and businesses. As I peeked my head out the window I noticed a mass of people carrying bright banners and chanting at the entrance to the building. One banner showed a shark breaching the water with a small seal in its mouth. Underneath the shark was the name of a well-known brand of flour, “Maseca,” while the seal’s caption was, “Tortilleria Sabrosa,” a local company that made tortillas that must have been put out of business. The rest of the banner was quite explicit in its condemnation of CAFTA-DR, the Central American Free Trade Agreement. The police were standing by at a distance but did not directly engage the peaceful protesters. As we left for lunch, the building was under lockdown, with armed guards manning the entrances. Upon returning from lunch, all that remained from the swarm of people were a few signs haphazardly thrown on the ground.

Later in the evening, Jesus and Ami Noel took me to the Maratón, which in Spanish means marathon. What I soon found out was that we were not going to a marathon at all, but the soccer stadium to watch the local team, Maratón, play against Ceiba’s team, Vida. As we approached the stadium, there was garbage strewn on the walkway and grass growing in the bowl that once was a fountain. Approaching the gate, I felt more like I was attending a high school football game instead of a local soccer match of a city of 800,000. The tickets were small pieces of blue paper that cost 50 lempiras each, or about $2.50. Just before we reached the steps of the stadium, a number of food vendors were hawking everything from steak and beer to tortilla chips and snow cones. With every step we took toward the innards of the stadium, the beat of a drum got louder and louder. At the top, we got our first glimpse of the green grass and few thousand spectators who had gathered for the event. Taking our seats, we watched the local team struggle against its red-jerseyed countrymen, who gained an early lead because of a penalty kick.

Throughout the game there was a flurry of sales men and women who would come by offering a variety of tasty treats. Some of the sales people were as young as five or six. Off to the left of where we were seated was a mosh pit of sorts where the craziest of local aficionados resided. They would climb up the large fence that separated the fans from the field and hoot, holler, and rant at the top. At one point in the match, they ignited three green flares (green is the team color) and held them at the top of the fence to help cheer their team on to a goal. Finally in the last few moments of the game, Maratón scored, followed by an eruption of celebration from all the fans. Our common plight resulted in immediate friendship as hugs and high fives were exchanged by all.

Joel Montgomery

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