The rain is devastating. The locals have heard that it rains a lot in England and so they grin widely and say ´just like home huh?´ I force a smile and nod my head. No, I think to myself, this is nothing like home. I have never seen rain like this. It just comes out of nowhere and it keeps on coming. It seems to come vertical too and with purpose. When you’re out in it feels like its forcing its way through your clothes. Our ponchos and Macs seem like token measures. Waiting at the bridge we see locals passing in the back of trucks crouched in black bin liners.
The children love it. Adopting that fantastic childlike attitude that time seems to beat out of us. They are cycling around in near see through clothes. You can only get so wet right?
Right now they are telling us it could rain all week, by which time I fear the river may have inundated everything. Elsewhere in Honduras the main hydroelectric damn is in danger of breaking if they don’t shut it down and begin evacuating the water. Of course in doing this they are risking flooding hundreds of homes in surrounding towns and villages but this is mere collateral damage when compared to what could happen if the damn breaks. Incredibly an EDAN evaluation claims that 42,234 people have been evacuated, 38,604 people relocated, 8,466 home have been flooded with 1,459 damaged, and 467 have been destroyed.
It’s easy to forget that this is a country still recovering from Hurricane Mitch in 1998. It’s very hard to believe but it is said that ten years later there are still 10,000 Hondurans homeless or living in temporary accommodation. I should probably say it’s hard for us to believe. I am sure if England was inundated the promised aid would come flooding in…no pun intended. Honduras is said to still be waiting for the financial aid it was promised to help implement preventive measures after Mitch. Nature has not been kind to Hondurans. Although it would appear the world has been even less so.
For now I am camped out in our project house awaiting news and listening to stories of devastation in rainy seasons past. Down in La Ceiba it’s more of a concrete jungle. The entrances and exits to the estate are already knee deep in water and the streets are like rivers. At least they are warm and dry and with power.
It’s easy for me to think of this as just another experience to add to my catalogue of new ones this year, for all that it is scary its also very exciting. However, I can always leave. The Hondurans live with this reality year in year out, one disaster to the next, one unfulfilled promise to the next, constantly putting out fires, never having a chance to fully recover. I wonder sometimes if this is why they are so relaxed about everything. At the mercy of nature I guess we are all powerless. But when you live in a country like this it must be easy to feel hopeless too.