a honduran breakfast buffet

today's menu is corn tortillas... again

vaya con dios

this guys got nearly as many locations as mcdonalds!

In Response to Anonymous

anonymous' comment to my caption to my pic of the church brought to mind an incident i had to endure during my time in honduras (where the pic happened to be taken). my overall goal while in country was to supervise the construction of a potable water system for 6 rural communities that were currently using water from an unclean river. one of the objectives in reaching that goal is to learn and adjust the attitude of the locals toward the commitments needed on their behalf to get the system up and running. a water system doesnt create itself afterall. there was one meeting i had early on with a village leader that was beyond eye opening. due to the religious turf battles that go on throughout all of central and most of south america between the catholic and protestant churches, friction, disrespect and animosity between neighboring communities has fostered an environment that makes such multi-communal endeavors quite complicated. much moreso than they ever should be. as i was speaking with the village leader he told me that his community was not interested in becoming a member of the the water system 'team'. keep in mind that all expenses were paid for by the honduran government, all supplies were provided. all the community had to do was supply the labor and meet certain relatively easy prerequisites. after it was built each household that had a spicket off the system would pay the equivalent of $1 a month to provide for upkeep and maintenance. i was baffled by why his community would choose to continue drinking out of fertilizer intoxicated river rather than contribute to this sweet deal. as it turns out all of the communities on this system had been catholic for many years. however, just as the catholic church had seen opportunity hundreds of years ago to expand its base by 'converting' other faiths, various other christian sects now realized that same opportunity. with the promise of salvation, mental and financial prosperity that catholics had also promised for decades yet upon which had failed to deliver, many communities were changing faiths. if this wasnt sad enough, a key technique that every church used in trying to expand its territory was to ridicule and put down the other communities and their faiths. such actions by strangers who make their way into a community and who are perceived as worldly and wise and spiritually 'with it' tend to have a lasting impression on the locals who usually have the equivalent of a 2nd grade education and have rarely traveled more than 50 miles in any direction. this one particular community (unlike the others on the system) a few years back had been managed to be converted to evangelical. a result of that conversion was a great divide in all aspects between the neighbors. hence, this particular community refused to be a part of a water system that would result in better health for all, simply because they no longer wanted to have anything to do with the unsaved souls of the other communities who did not convert. to drink from the same water line as them or to work beside them on its construction would be 'wrong' according to the local church leaders (who managed to come around for the collection plates about once a month and had quite little to do with actual community involvement). though it was quite a task i was eventually able to supersede their spiritual leader's advice by explaining that even if they didnt join they would still be drinking from the same water source as the other communities (the same river but tapped higher up the mountain). however, we did have to figure out work schedules so that the converted community did not have to work the same hours as the others. what is truly tragic about this is that each community is closely blood related to all the others. due to conversions and turf battles entire families do not talk to relatives who live less than a few miles away. so when i post a comment such as the one above, it is not disrespectful to the 'guy' it is aimed at those who pretend to speak on his behalf. and there ARE far too many mcdonalds in the world. note: to see anonymous' comment, click on the asteris under the Vaya Con Dios post above.

dia de jugando

actually, sally struthers cries more than these kids do.

somos amigas

yet again, enjoying life WITHOUT nick central and a game boy advanced. go figure.

pobrecitos

their favorite game is musical shoes

su cosa es mi cosa

in the central americas there are 3 grades of walls and 3 grades of roofs. what ones house is constructed of is a simple indicator of one's land wealth: the best roof to have is solid sheets of a corigated compact asbestos material that is essentially unbreakable; if thats out of your budget then clay fired tiles (pictured here) is the way to go (rats - and i mean BIG rats- are want to live within their grooves), there can be an occasional leak with these and breaking is not uncommon; the lowest grade roof to have is corigated tin sheets, these will rust and spring leaks rappidly. the best constructed walls are of cedar block; the next step down is well mixed mud bricks with a thick layer of adobe coating the walls; the lowest grade is simple 2nd hand wood planks (pictured here) though sometimes earth patch is used to fill in the bigger gaps.

ruinas de copan

mayan temple in copan, honduras

quisiera cafe?

the red ones make you taller, the green ones make you smaller, the yellow ones? well they make you believe that bush is an environmentally sound president.

la niňa bonita

a las aradas portrait

mira las colóres

native lenca women from la esperanza, honduras

si, se puede fumarla

any guesses?

shhh, el baracho descansa

weve all been there! when home is just a little too far (some of us more frequently than others) . irony is: ths is the town alcalde (mayor)

el mano fuerte

wanna see his RIGHT hand?

Boy on Window

i hesitated putting this up for a long time because of certain child picture laws. but from what i was able to ascertain from NAMBLA's website, this is perfectly legal, unless you find this erotic or unnatural. If you do, please leave my site. *bricotrout in no way condones or endorses NAMBLA or its activities*

Mi Jalon

his other bike was a burro

Central American Ferry

an abandoned boat high in the Honduran mountians

kids at play

a coffee bean irrigation channel in Honduras

stairway to...

Drying Frijoles

In the Eyes of a Child

what I have long referred to as my token UNICEF pic.

agua, agua everywhere

my time in Honduras was spent establishing a potable water system in a number of rural communities. this is a scene from that long arduous (and rewarding) process.

a true story

it must have been early april '95. i had just completed in country training with the peace corps in honduras. all the volunteers from our training group were off to our assigned sites where we experience and often endure a life that was to rob us of all luxuries to which we had grown accustomed in the states. though it wasnt prohibited it WAS discouraged for a volunteer to hitch rides across country, particularly alone. if you have ever traveled on a third world bus you know why hitching a ride in the back of a hog truck is preffered to the ordeal that goes on in a mass transit vehicle venturing city to city. on this particular morning i had the fortune to be picked up not by a hog truck but in a brand new government health department pickup. a ride in the cab noneless! the first 2 hours were pretty uneventful. the driver took his time around the dangerous mountain cliff roads and didnt press me for extensive conversation. it was when we made the turn off the main highway and headed away from the cities toward the outlying hill villages via a road less traveled that the memerable moments began. we were only 20 minutes out from where i was to be dropped off to make my way to my particular destination (las aradas for those who care to know mundane details) on a winding dirt road when we were passed by another truck traveling the same direction, but much faster. the older pickup now just ahead of us, swerves and comes to a dead stop in our path. the driver of my vehicle lets off the accelerator but doesnt apply the brake yet. just then the passenger door of the 'other guys' ride flies open and out jumps what has to have been the biggest pistol ever made carried by a man also wielding an angry expression that would have given pause to dirty harry himself. "jesus christ!" i find myself saying far louder than i needed to for my driver to hear adequately my concern for the moment. "si!" he responds. hmmmm, either the messiah's name translates fluidly across language barriers at times like these or he instinctively said the only word that came to HIS mind at the moment as i did. that angry faced gun took about 2 steps in our direction before my driver decided to channel dale ernhardt instantaniously (i know he hadnt died yet but work with me) and the accelator was punched and the wheels swirved edging us around the what i can now call the 'evil doers' and their weapon of mass intimidation. if youve ever been in a vehicle when a .44 rings into the side of it it is a sound you never hope to hear twice. unfortunately i heard it about 5 times within a minute (he must have missed with the 6th shot). meanwhile, there are a number of thoughts going through my mind. for some reason when youre curled up in a ball on a flying vehicle's floorboard because your very life is in danger you get the bright idea to hide your wallet under the floor mat (like not having any cash is going to garnish sympathy and save your life. as im stashing my loot the driver is managing to navigate the winding, sheer drop off, loose gravel road with a flawless touch while himself crotched beneath his floorboards with only one eye above the dashboard and one hand on the wheel. his other hand is simutaniously holding the c.b radio handpiece and frantically changing the channel on its base as he called for help (i dont know exactly whos listening to these channels in a 3rd world country, what kind of range he had, and what someone could have done IF they had actually heard him - but at the time i was extremely optimistic that putting word out to the tuned in world of our current predicament would quickly correct the wrongs that were upon us. noone ever responded. the high speed chase that ensued lasted about 3 minutes though it could have lasted 10 seconds for it to have been burned into my memory banks. at one point the pursuing vehicle had pulled along side us and not on the edge side either. fortunately THAT scenario was short lived and we managed to gain some ground on them. the light at the end of the tunnel came when we overtook yet another pickup going (quite slowly by comparison) in the same direction. as luck would have it, riding in the bed were 3 police officers. after rolling down my window the driver (having given up on the always useful c.b.) let them know of the ill intentions of that truck quickly coming up behind us. now the driver of the police truck could have easily accelerated faster and left us to fend for ourselves (and having lived in the country and seeing the honduran boys in blue in action such a move wouldnt have surprised me) fortunately these finest took the creed 'a protegir y servir' seriously. they slammed on their brakes, drew pistoles and began to fire upon the banditos from about 40 yards as they realize whats going on and do their best to change direction and return from whence they came. at this point i was just hoping that my driver was still planning on going straight ahead rather than turn around and help out the police. fortunately he was as eager to get to his destination as i was mine and onward we headed. shortly thereafter he pulled over at my dropoff to let me out. i grabbed my backpack from the back (no holes in it!) and waved him adios. i watched as he drove off further up the road creating a cloud of dust as the vehicle faded out of site. complete with my wallet and $200 u.s. cash still under the passenger side floormat!