Triunpho de la Cruz

A homemade party barge/fishing boat in the waters of Tela Bay, HN

One of the things I am working hard to overcome, or at least control, is my hard driving, finger tapping, clock watching American induced tendencies when plans and schedules start to fall apart. After all, isn't that really what tomorrow is for...a day to finish all the things we didn't get to finish today?  That's the way that most people here feel and it's really not a bad way to see life...within reason of course, but it can sure drive some of us Type A personalities crazy!



Yuuuummmm!!!!!

Monday's plan is to get up, eat a quick breakfast of delicious cinnamon rolls hot and fresh from the oven, baked by Kirsten and Barbe, pack and hit the road to Triunpho de la Cruz by 9 am. Sure enough, on the stroke of nine we pull away from El Cocal House, all of us valiently engaged in a life or death battle with a cloud of mosquitoes who have attempted a hostile takeover of the van while we were loading up. The plan for the day is as follows; the Wells have a meeting with Samaritan's Purse in Triunpho de la Cruz at 9:30. I have a meeting in Naco scheduled for 3:30 pm. Theoretically, this should leave us plenty of time for both meetings, a quick lunch and still allow us to make  Siguatepque by night fall. "Should" being the key word here!

At 9:30 as we're pulling into Triunpho, right on time and right in character, Corey gets a call from SP letting us know that they will be 2 hours late. Immediately, thoughts of the extra two hours I could have slept fill my mind.  I feel irritation beginning to blossom; why didn't they call earlier, why didn't we call them, why can't anybody around here be on time. But then I realize that being irritated or worrying about the "what ifs" will change absolutely nothing. So I decide to make the best of it, unpack the van, (again) look for swimming trunks for the boys, scrounge through the coolers and bags for any left over chips, bananas, or... OH YES!... cinnamon rolls and head for the beach and the shade of a palm frond thatch roofed hut. Darn!

The younger boys are immediately in the water. The rest of us, with the exception of Kirsten and Corey who head off down the beach hand in hand, lounge in the shade under the palm fronds where we are quickly joined by a large pack of village dogs. At first I assume they are being drawn in by my cinnamon roll, but soon realize that instead, they all have a very keen interest in the one poor female in the pack. Out numbered 7 to 1, she has taken refuge under my chair and refuses to leave. I can't say I blame her. Trey has manged to fall asleep on a wooden bench half his width. Mark, Ben and Barbe are either reading or dosing and I...I sit in the shade of the palm thatch, enjoying ocean breeze and ocean view, practicing patience. Darn!

Finally, around noon Monica and Christine from SP show up, apologetic, but ready to start the meeting. Samaritan's Purse is helping start a fishing co-op in Triunpho. They have brought together 12 of the village men, purchased a boat and are guiding them through the process of developing a self sustaining, profit producing business. I'm all ears. So how does it work? Is it working? Is there enough work/profit for 12 men? What challenges are they facing? Are you helping them plan for the future?

We sit in a circle in the shade of a huge tree, sipping Coca Cola and getting to know each other. Not all of the men are able to attend the meeting, but Christine and Monica chat with those who are there about the business. The men would like to buy a GPS so they can mark the good fishing spots to return to later. Also a horse and cart so they can bring the nets and the Yamaha 75 hp motor home each night. The wheel barrow is getting old, the motor heavy. Fishing has been slow. The boat doubles as an excursions boat for tourist and that too has been slow. Other than that, all is well.

The Wells are interested in moving to the area after they finish language school. They want to know about village life for the Garifuna. (great article) When asked to list their view of the village's top 5 needs, they respond without hesitation. Closer health care facilities and more jobs, followed by worries about their young people and they'd like to see the main street paved. Honestly, I could have been sitting in a rural town in Maine listening in on a town hall meeting, except I was sweating. It makes me realize once again that we all really just want the same thing. Health, steady work so we can provide for our families and we sure hope our kids turn out all right and have a shot at a decent future. Oh... and would it really be asking too much to just get the main street paved? Darn!

It's nice sitting in the shade, laughing, sharing life. The  men want to know if we'd like to go out in the boat. Corey, Kirsten and Trey all look over at me, eyebrows raised. They know I'd still like to make my meeting and it's getting late. I know it's a beautiful day to be on the water. I know they'd really like to go and I know Barbe and the boys who are still patiently waiting under the fronds would too. I think about the boat skimming across the waves, the wind blowing the spray over us, cooling my face. I shrug, lift my phone and cancel my meeting. After all, isn't that what tomorrow's for?

 



 

I tell Fausto, captain of the boat and leader of the co-op, that we really need to be back in half an hour, that we have a long drive home. I can tell he's disappointed. I can almost here his thoughts, "Hey, we're having a good time here, there's always tomorrow. Darn!" 

 

We head for the point of land that marks the southern extremity of  Tela Bay. Pirates and buccaneers used to hide in the many nearby lagoons, making swift forays into these waters looking for Spanish galleons returning to Spain loaded with gold. It isn't too difficult to imagine. We stop to watch two fisherman pull a homemade trap up through the bottom of their homemade boat (top picture). Then Fausto heads directly for the beach and enters the mouth of a river. Immediately we are in another world. The river is the color of  milk chocolate. The banks are jungle like and the air has a damp, fetid smell to it. It's hot and humid. We are warned not to put our hands over the side of the boat and into the water. I have no desire to find out why.

 

An hour later we are back on the beach. Now it really is getting late. We all help drag the 28' boat back up the sand. I'm all in favor of them buying that horse...this thing's heavy! We say goodbye and promise to come again. Back in the van, we head for home. We treat ourselves to Burger King. (whoever thought we'd ever think of that as a treat) Darkness is falling as we leave El Progreso. I really try to avoid travel at night, far to many potholes, slow trucks with no taillights, unlit mopeds and unlit pedestrians for my taste. We arrive back home around eight, without mishap. It's been a great weekend, but it's good to be home. And that's exactly what Siguatepeque is becoming to us.