Waiting to see what happens next

Since coming here I’ve learned that if I want to enjoy myself I have to sit back and just let things happen. At home in the United States, I usually plan every day before it starts: what I need to accomplish, who I will meet with, even what I will eat. Here I often wake up with only a vague idea of what will happen. This is partly because Hondurans aren’t as obsessed with detailed planning as Americans. It doesn’t help that when plans are being made right in front of my face I am often oblivious to them because my Spanish is limited.

Hondurans don’t plan as far ahead as Americans do. When relatives come from out of town to visit my family in the United States, they call weeks in advance to check if it’s okay. Not so here. One night last week Esperanza’s brother called to say that he’d be coming into town the next morning and would be staying with her. She got up at 5 am the next day to start cooking and preparing for his arrival. From what I understood, she was expecting him at about 10 am. He didn’t come until later in the afternoon, and thus missed out on the lunch I imagine she was preparing for him. Nevertheless, she was happy when he showed up and had dinner ready for him later on.

Even when specific plans are made, I’m usually the last to know about them. Because of language and cultural barriers, I often don’t hear when plans are being made or am not sure how to interpret them. It’s pretty often that someone asks me to do something or tells me we’re leaving to go somewhere and I don’t realize they’re talking to me. They usually have to repeat it in more of a “Hey John! I’m talking to you!” fashion before I get the message.

Sometimes I know that plans were made but am not sure what they mean. Last weekend Julia, Esperanza’s sister in law, invited us over to eat. Originally, we were going to go for lunch, but Esperanza said Sunday morning that we’d go “por la tarde” instead. Tarde here means afternoon or early evening, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Was she having us over for supper, or more of a late lunch? I didn’t want to demand to know exactly what time we were going, so I sort of bummed around the whole afternoon waiting for Esperanza to tell me it was time to leave. Finally at about 6:00 we took off and had a great dinner. Now I know that if someone asks you to come over and eat “por la tarde” they mean for supper.

One night, because of my lack of cultural knowledge, I attended two religious services and narrowly escaped a third without even intending to go to. Esperanza’s brother Arturo’s mother-in-law had died a week ago and they were having a Novena for her. The Novena takes place about a week after someone dies, and consists of friends and family coming to the house throughout the day to visit, attend religious services, and eat food that the family of the deceased provides. In this case the family had baked about 1500 sweet rolls in their wood oven out back and cooked over 100 pounds of beef.

I wasn’t able to make it to the Novena during the day when the priest was coming to give a mass, so I came during the evening with Esperanza. I figured all the religious celebrating would be over and we would sit, visit, and eat some of those tasty rolls. When we arrived we were served food and then corralled into the living room for a “celebration”. The celebrations that they have here are pretty much Catholic masses without the priest and without the communion. One or two lay ministers come do readings from the bible and preach. Someone usually plays the guitar as well. The celebrations last about 40 minutes.

At about 10pm I was happy that the celebration was ending so that I could go home and get some sleep. Coffee and rolls were served. Arturo’s wife thanked everyone for coming and headed off to bed. Just as I was about to get up and say goodnight, here came two more people toting bibles and another man with a guitar. Let the second celebration begin! Little did I know that novenas go on till one in the morning and that this one would include two or three more celebrations. Luckily, after the second round of celebrating someone notified me that a third was about to start and asked of I was getting tired. I made a quick exit, satisfied with the cultural experience.