The Honduran Way

07/06/11

Have you ever made a split-second decision and  that decision ended up changing your life (or at least giving you one heck of a story to tell)?  Well....I have.  No...I'm not talking about moving to Honduras for a year.  That definitely was not a split-second decision!  However, the decision to accompany two of my coworkers on a trip to San Pedro certainly was and....what an experience that turned out to be!

Last week, Nick needed a ride to the airport because he was going on a mission trip to El Salvador for a few days.  Nick is the one teacher that actually has a vehicle so he was driving to the airport and his roommate, Allan, was going with him and bringing the truck back.  Unbeknownst to me, Nick had already had some issues that day with the truck and ended up having to purchase a new battery right before we left for the airport.  (Yes...that is foreshadowing!)  When I heard Allan was going to ride with Nick and then drive back by himself, I offered to go along.  The roads here in Honduras are a bit dangerous and I didn't want him to have to drive back alone.  I figured, what's a few hours out of my day?  It would be an hour and a half to the airport...an hour and a half back home.  No big deal, right?  Yeah.....right. 

The trip started out fine.  The guys picked me up and we headed toward the airport.  Nick was telling me about the issues he'd had that day with the battery.  He told Allan that while in El Salvador, he wouldn't have cell phone reception or much access to the internet so if he had any problems, we could send a message to him via Facebook and he would get back to us when he could.  Little did he know that I would be contacting him VERY SOON.  We made it to the airport with no problem, dropped Nick off and headed for home...that's when it got interesting.

We were just outside of San Pedro when I noticed that the air conditioning wasn't working, the radio was going in and out and the windows wouldn't roll down.  Allan pulled the truck over and...it died.  The new battery Nick had just purchased was dead.    Unbelievable.  After assessing the situation, Allan got out to try and flag down someone to help us.  After a couple of minutes, a van full of people (only those familiar with Honduras knows what "a van full of people" really means!) pulled over to try and help us.  A couple of guys got out to see what they could do.  Unfortunately, they did not have jumper cables.  The only thing we had in the truck was a machete. Not terribly useful to jump a dead battery.  They left and another van pulled over but they didn't have jumper cables either.  We weren't too far from a gas station so Allan decided to head over there to try and find someone to help.  This was the only time during our experience that I felt extremely nervous. 

Now...I have been left on the side of a highway before.  No big deal.  However, being left on the side of the highway in Honduras as a "gringa" is a little different.  Since our arrival in Honduras, I have been told numerous times about the dangers we may face.  The school does not want us walking along the highway between Pena Blanca and school and we are to always go places in pairs.  We have been told about the gangs in San Pedro and about how Americans tend to be targeted for robbery because when "they" see Americans, they think money.  So, I was pretty sure that being left alone in a dead truck outside of San Pedro probably would be frowned upon by the school.  To be honest, I wasn't sure if I should be praying for someone to stop and help or if I should pray to be left alone. 

After about a half an hour, Allan finally returned with two wonderful men.  They drove over to see what they could do.  They didn't have a jumper cable either so they left to go and get one, along with tools (the machete just wasn't going to cut it...no pun intended....).  They came back and tried to jump start it but, because their battery was smaller, it wasn't working.  They determined it was the alternator that was causing the problem.  The left again to go and get a mechanic for us.  The mechanic didn't want to come, so they came back and took our battery with them to charge it for a half an hour in a different location.  They then returned with a charged battery, replaced it and wanted no money for all their work.  As I said, wonderful men!  They told us not use any lights as we drove home because it would drain the battery again.  So, after two and a half hours, we were back on the road and ready to get home!

Allan and I had driven probably another 40 minutes and then....sunset.  Now....there is a little discrepancy between Allan and my account of the next part of our story.  We are not quite in agreement about who is actually to blame for what happened next.  Perhaps it was my suggestion...but perhaps he needs to learn where all the mechanisms of a vehicle are before operating said vehicle....perhaps we are both a bit to blame.  As I have said, the Honduran highway is quite dangerous.  It is filled with twists and turns, blind corners and crazy drivers.  Maneuvering a vehicle during the day is dangerous enough but imagine doing it at night...without lights.  I merely suggested that perhaps the parking lights would not effect the battery terribly...but when Allan couldn't find the parking lights and started switching things on and off, the battery died....again.  This time...in the middle of nowhere and in the dark.  Um....oops!

At this point, the whole experience became pretty hilarious.  I know, I know...you would think we would be a bit panicked but...nope.  We were about forty minutes from home so I suggested we call Javier, a friend of ours in Pena Blanca, to see if he could help out.  Let me tell you about Javier.  Javier and his wife are originally from Puerto Rico but have lived in the United States for a while.  They moved to Honduras in December and took in four girls from the foster care system here.  They lived up in the mountains for several months and recently moved to Pena Blanca so they could help at the school.  They will be teaching at the school next year.  Javier helped me for a few weeks teach first grade.  He and his wife had just returned from visiting the United States the day before.  When we called Javier, he didn't even hesitate.  He said he would come and get us.  Now, Javier is new to the area so he didn't know the road between Pena Blanca and San Pedro so he stopped to get Shane (another teacher at the school). 

So Allan and I sat back and began the wait for Javier and Shane.  It was at this point that I decided it was time to tell Allan something extremely important and personal.....I had to go to the bathroom...REALLY BAD.  Allan, being a man and all, says..."Just do it the Honduran way."  Meaning on the side of the road.  Um..no thanks. Now, at the risk of giving you more information than you need....let's just say I have an iron bladder.  I'm not one of those people that can't hold it.  I have flown to Hawaii, England, France and Honduras and have never used a bathroom on a plane.  Yeah...that's right...never.  However, after 6 hours (yeah...I had to go before we dropped Nick off at the airport) I actually considered doing it "the Honduran way".  The only catch...the grass.  Let me just say that after standing in the grass for 15 minutes, my feet are covered with bug bites....and that's normal grass.  Where we were parked, the grass was chest high...um....again....no thanks.  So I kept sitting there and every few minutes making some comment like..."oh man"...."wow"...."I really need to go"...."sigh"...."mmmmm"....well, you get it.  Poor Allan.  He just kept telling me to go "the Honduran way".

Finally Javier and Shane showed up.  They tried to jump it but the battery was completely dead.  They worked on it for quite a while but it was no use.  We weren't sure what to do next.  We knew that we had to get home but leaving the truck meant that the next day, it probably wouldn't be there.  Shane and Allan go to church with a mechanic so they called to see if he knew of someone that could tow the truck back home.  He didn't but suggested that Javier could just tow us back.  Now...Javier's truck is about half the size of Nick's truck so we weren't sure if that would really work.  Also, the only rope we could find was about 4 feet long.  We figured at that point, we really didn't have many other options so...we tied the trucks together, put Nick's truck in neutral and...off we went. 

Shane sat in the back of Javier's truck with a tiny flashlight keeping an eye on the rope and to guide us.   It took a bit of getting used to...making sure we stayed centered with Javier and didn't step on the brake too hard (the couple of times that we did, we could literally see Javier's truck get pulled backward).  What a sight we must have been.  Shane in the back yelling..."5 miles an hour!"...."10 miles per hour!" ...."Increase to 20 miles per hour!"; Allan with hands at the 10 and 2 position saying, "Twenty miles per hour?  That's too fast!"; and me opening the door to get air in our truck and wiping the windshield off with a sweatshirt I found in the back of the truck, complaining the whole time about needing a bathroom.

Things were going pretty good until we got to the police blockade.  Yes...I said police blockade.  We thought for sure we would have to stop.  Javier was so sure, he actually did stop his truck...however, Allan didn't know he did so he was a little slow on the brake and we ended up running right into the back of Javier's truck.  The reaction of the police?  They just waved us on through.  We finally made it to Rio Lindo, which is a town about twenty minutes down the mountain from Pena Blanca.  We didn't even try to make it up the mountain.  We pulled into a gas station and the men there were kind enough to let us park the truck in a secure area until Shane and Allan's friend could come and look at it the next day.  They also let me use the bathroom.  What kind, lovely men!   We also found out from them why there was a police blockade.  Apparently, two thieves had led them on a chase and they had abandoned their vehicle somewhere near where we were broken down.  They had fled on foot and were somewhere in the area.  Oh, boy!  Glad I didn't know that!  I wouldn't have remained quite so calm. 

Quite a night.  We finally got home around 10 p.m. (only 6 hours later than I had planned).  The truck has been fixed and is running well.  However, when Nick asked today if Allan and I would take him to the airport on Friday, I'm not sure I was able to hide my hesitation.  Allan and I have decided to call our adventure that night, "The Honduran Way".  Despite what that means to us, I have discovered that it means something else as well.  That night we were blessed with kind, generous strangers and wonderful friends that helped get us safely home. After living here for 10 months, I have found that this is the true "Honduran Way."