Requesting Music!!

It’s Friday, August 24, 2007 at 8:00pm. Rain is pouring outside my bedroom window. As bolts of lightening strike the town of Cantarannas household lights flicker in fear. My little town will soon disappear into the darkness of the valley. I will be left writing under candlelight, squinting to make out the words in front of me. Power in Cantarranas never lasts throughout the duration of an entire storm. Tonight the lightening is especially strong. The sky dances with flashes of white light, clouds quickly emerge out of darkness, and the moon tries desperately to push itself through streaks of pouring rain. Four Geckos straddle the white wall outside my window, doing their best to avoid the soaking Earth. Just now, a neighborhood dog pushed his dirty little nose through the crack of my bedroom door. Everyone seems to be seeking shelter while the lights continue to shine in Cantarranas.

After many hours of piecing together phrases of broken Spanish, listening to long lectures in the afternoon heat, and walking the dusty streets of Honduras, I stumble home to my little house in Colonial Laurales. Evening fatigue has led to a nasty little habit of coffee consumption. However, two cups of hot Honduran coffee each evening usually allows me to study Spanish until at least 8:30pm. In order to maintain a small amount of sanity I spend most nights hunched over my computer listening to music. Therefore, I have a simple request (I’m begging actually) to ask of you guys.

I NEED MUSIC!!! I miss the music of the States terribly and have every single song on my playlist memorized. Many of you are music gurus and I would love to stay in the loop if possible. I am working on purchasing a guitar and will begin writing music when I have the chance as well. However, until then, I am reliant upon the music I have in my computer. If any of you would like to send me the latest tunes from the States (or a mix of oldies), here’s what you should do (I would be indebted to you forever. Music is the one thing that provides a temporary release from periodic moments madness.)

First, make the cd. Second, send it to my mother’s house in the States. Here’s the address:

Dan Akenhead
1236 Setter Drive
Albuquerque, NM 87112

Third, expect a huge kiss from me upon my return to the United States (or a hug if you’re opposed to kissing me). I hope everyone is well. I love and miss all of you!!!

Dan

August 25, 2007

On Monday (August 27, 2007) I’ll begin my seventh week as a Peace Corps Trainee in Honduras. Time passes slowly throughout each training day. The seconds are beginning to seem like minutes; minutes like hours; and hours like days. Each afternoon the Honduran sun strikes our training site with a vengeance. Trainees are left baking in the afternoon heat. We try desperately to remain attentive each afternoon. However, listening to long lectures beneath the blazing heat remains difficult. We are anxious to complete training, determine our final site placement, and begin work as official Peace Corps Volunteers.

On August 11, 2007 the Youth Development group relocated from Santa Lucia to the town of Cantarranas, Francisco Morazan for Field Based Training. FBT lasts six weeks and allows trainees to gain practical work experience before volunteer life begins. Cantarranas is much different when compared to our training site in Santa Lucia. For example, Santa Lucia housed Internet, coffee cafes, restaurants, a mild climate, easy access to Tegucigalpa, and a patient group of locals willing to listen to broken Spanish. Cantarranas, on the other hand, does not provide easy access to Internet (at least an hour away by bus), lacks social settings for enjoying the afternoon cup of coffee, blisters with sweltering heat, and is home to a deadly strain of Dengue Fever. In addition, locals appear confused at the sight of Gringos walking through cobblestone streets attempting to speak broken Spanish… After a few days in Cantarranas I am beginning to understand that life in this community resembles what life is like in many places throughout rural Honduras: time moves slowly, resources remain scarce, and the afternoon sun bakes the Honduran earth.

Living within different communities in Honduras continues to enrich my perspective regarding the differences that exist between life in Central America and life in the United States. I’ve done my best to view each difference with respect, empathy, and understanding. However, at times it is difficult adjusting to certain facets of life here. In many ways, my personal ideologies have been constructed over the last 25 years according to norms existing within the United States. As a result, emerging contrasts between life in Honduras and life the United States arise daily. These contrasts provide deeper insight into Honduran culture, society, and way of life. At the same time, however, insights into the Honduran way of life have led to a deeper appreciation for certain aspects of life in the United States as well. Perhaps the most distinct differences between the United States and Honduras revolve around the concepts of time and progress. Many of my personal struggles thus far center upon these two issues. More on this later…

I’ve had little time to write throughout the last two weeks. As mentioned above, Internet services do not exist in my town. If I’m lucky I’m able to escape during the weekends in order to find a nearby Internet café. In addition, I spend most evenings hunched over Spanish grammar texts, dictionaries, and verb books. Before closing I’d like to post my contact information. Don’t hesitate to give me a call or shoot me an email at any time. I’ll do my best to respond as quickly as possible. I hope all is well in the United States and look forward to hearing from you.

All the Best,
Dan

Phone Number – (504) 9765-4638
danakenhead@yahoo.com

July 29, 2007

Each morning, as the sun rises over the sleepy town of Santa Lucia, I awake to the sound of Roosters cawing near my bedroom window. Their cries are long, piercing, and unrelenting at 5:30am in the morning. I twist and turn beneath the covers of my bed, do my best to avoid the unnecessary awakening, and return to dreams of a former life in my not-so-distant past… Thus far I have been unable to win the battle of the Rooster. After ten minutes of lying in bed, listening to the ear-splitting cries of the colorful bird, I rise from my slumber to begin another day in Honduras.
Training begins at 7:30am each morning of the weekday. The schedule consists of Spanish language development, project-specific technical training, and information regarding safety and security in Honduras. Spanish classes consume the majority of each morning. In order to increase the efficiency of Spanish instruction, the large group of trainees is separated into small learning groups based on Spanish levels. For nearly four hours each morning groups practice reading, writing, and speaking the unfamiliar language.

Learning Spanish requires patience, commitment, and hours of practice. Stumbling over simple words and phrases in awkward social settings is truly frustrating. At the same time, I realize frustration is one element involved in the long process of language acquisition. In order to swear-in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer, trainees must first pass an oral language interview at an intermediate Spanish level. From what I understand, achieving intermediate status means speaking at least three tenses (present, imperfect, and preterit) with little to no trouble. Needless to say, I have a lot of work to do before the next interview.

The afternoon training schedule varies depending on individual projects. Trainees convene each afternoon to discuss information related to health, safety, and security in Honduras. In addition to the standard safety and security information, current volunteers return to share individual experiences, challenges, and successes throughout their Peace Corps service. Afternoon sessions often seem long and tiring. Unfortunately, as a result of increased afternoon fatigue, I’ve picked up the bad habit of drinking coffee around 3:30pm each afternoon. The tasty little treat is everything I need to complete the afternoon sessions with ease… After five long days of Spanish, lectures, and various other activities, most volunteers welcome the opportunity to relax during the weekend.

Last weekend I embraced the opportunity to escape Santa Lucia and traveled to La Tigra National Park. La Tigra is located directly above the little mountain village of San Juancito, about an hour away from Santa Lucia by bus. Using public transportation in Honduras is never an easy venture. The busses are crowded, loud, and stop frequently to pick up local Hondurans scattered between mountain towns. After watching three consecutive busses pass by, we boarded a yellow bus marked for San Juancito.

The journey to San Juancito was beautiful. The crowded bus twisted and turned through curvy mountain streets for nearly an hour before dropping us off in the small town. Observing the mountains, people, and villages from inside the bus was truly entertaining. The roads seemed littered with pulperias, homes with outside wood burning stoves, outside latrines, colorful laundry dripping from clotheslines, children playing barefoot in dirt yards, stray dogs, horses, and men yielding machetes. Occasionally we passed Honduran military men carrying M-16 rifles as well.
Once we arrived in San Juancito we paid a local storeowner to drive us to the entry point of the Park. We spent the day hiking, discussing our Peace Corps experience, and taking in the beauty of Honduras (I’ll include a picture of La Tigra along with this entry. However, I didn’t feel as if I were able to capture the beauty of the Park with my camera). After a long day of trekking through steep green mountains, the small group of Peace Corps trainees departed San Juancito. We boarded the same crowded bus headed for Santa Lucia and eventually arrived back at our starting point.

The walk home from the bus stop was long and tiring. I climbed the steep hill to my house, changed my clothes, and prepared for bed. I slept well that night. However, around 5:30am the next morning I lost the battle of the Rooster once again. I rolled out of bed, rubbed the crust from the corners of my eyes, and prepared for another day as a Peace Corps trainee in Honduras…