Age and death in Honduras

Most people who know me know that I am constantly being told how young I look. The summer I turned 21, a bartender wouldn't let me into a bar because he was convinced my ID must be fake. I think the fact that I barely clear 5 feet combined with my baby face just make for an extremely young-looking 23-year-old! Most people tell me I'll appreciate it when I'm 40. Well, I received the shock of my life a couple days ago when I learned that one of the Honduran teachers was extremely surprised when she found out that I'm only 23! She was sure I was 27 or 28. She had similar reactions to learning all the teachers' ages...she couldn't believe we are all in our early 20s. I have no idea what she's talking about (I don't look 27!), but that being said, we Americans are constantly surprised by the Honduran teachers' ages also! That particular teacher has a five-year-old son and she looks to me like she could be 30...but she's 22. Age throws me off here, I always think everyone is older than they are.

Sometimes something happens here in Honduras that makes me remember where I live. It's so easy to get lost in the night sky, and the mountains, and the beauty of the school. My kids are impossibly cute, my friends are so great, I love my job, and I love Honduras. But the fact is, Honduras is the second-poorest country in Central America, and sometimes stuff happens here. Last night, a father of one of our third graders was murdered in Gracias. It wasn't a random crime, apparently this father was involved in the Honduran drug trade... but that doesn't make death any less tragic. This little boy only knew his father as that- his father.

It's very grounding when something like that happens. The reality of the situation in our school is that many of our students have lost a family member. Many of them live only with their mother or only with their father, and some don't even know where the other parent is. Many of my students come from broken families. From what I've heard, it's pretty common for people in town to have "enemigos"- enemies who want to kill them. Death is much more of a reality here, a much more present part of life than it is to most children in the United States. Children here have to deal with the world at an early age. I've seen so many children who should be in school selling food on the street. I know one of my second graders goes to a farm on the weekend to kill cows for dinner. And I know that several of my students have parents or siblings who have died. It's very strange, to experience other peoples' realities. It makes me feel lucky, guilty, sad, helpless... a lot of things. In any case, my heart breaks for our third grader who's left without a dad, and all of our other students who have to grow up so much faster than they should.