The reality of it all..

Last week...interconsulta (bringing the HIV kids in for their monthly appointments at the hospital in Tegucigalpa)...

As we start heading down the road (the road that has been under construction for months, trying to rebuild a bridge that collapsed) from Cerro Grande into the center of Teguc, we realized it was going to be more difficult than expected. It had been raining for several days, and as the road is just dirt, it has now turned to mud, and for those of you who don’t know the road, it's pretty steep. Even more so now that it's been re-routed. As we begin to slide through the mud down the mountain side, I’m thinking of all of you at home driving in the snow.

We sit there at a standstill, waiting for a pickup and taxi that had collided, to clear the road. As we're waiting, a bulldozer passes us, and when he began to slide down the mountain, straight for the edge of the cliff, I was just waiting for him to jump out. Luckily, he got himself under control, and continued on his way. So, we eventually worked our way down the road, also sliding towards the cliff. The kids thought it was all pretty fun and exciting. I do admit that I was quite nervous.

So, after the consults, our driver headed straight back for that same hill. I tried to convince him to take another route, but it had stopped raining, and he thought by that time it would've been dried up. However, that was not the case. As we headed towards it, people were standing along the sides of the road, directing traffic, telling us to take a different route. I think to myself, "thank god". However, after it was all over, I would have preferred that one.

We turned around, and took off through "barrio el chile" (those who are familiar, that neighborhood right before you get on "puente el chile", going off into the mountain on the right side of the road). That afternoon, I saw people living like no person should ever have to live. After not having been off into marginalized villages for quite some time, I was brought back to reality of life in Honduras for so many people…the life that so many of our children have lived and survived.

We couldn’t go much more than two minutes on the muddy, rocky road without having to avoid hitting a drunken man stumbling in the way, without seeing a homeless man or child digging through garbage, just looking for something to eat. We passed families outside their homes, trying to repair the walls, made of plastic, boxes, tin, anything, trying to keep the cold wind and rain out.

Upon arrival to the Ranch, home sweet home, I start to think of our children here at NPH, and to know that they are so lucky to have been taken in by this family. That is the reality our kids would be fighting if they hadn’t come here.

That night, I was hanging out with several of my really good friends here, some of the older “internos” who are now studying in university. They told me so many stories about their lives before coming to NPH…about having been beaten by family members, about being abandoned by their parents, about being sent out with their fathers to the bars because nobody else would take care of them at night when he went to drink, about sleeping on dirt floors. About finding money laying in the road one day, and making an escape plan to get away from their family, only to have their uncle find the money the day before they were going to run away, and the girls getting beaten because he thought they had stolen the money.

Often times, being here on the Ranch, and only being in the “nice” parts of the city, you forget about the histories of these kids, forget about the things they have had to face, where they come from.

So, just to throw this out there, for anybody interested in supporting NPH and it’s mission to these children, check out the website www.nph.org. There are several ways to support our children…general donations, supporting a project, purchasing books online, or becoming a godparent for $30/month.