A Disquiet Peace

Once it became apparent that Mel Zelaya´s political posturing was nothing more than hopping back and forth over the border, yelling ¨Na-na-na-na-nah!¨ to the press, Rey and I decided that we could safely fly back into Tegucigalpa. When we arrived and began the drive through town, most of the walls and street corners were marked, painted over, than marked again: evidence of the many demonstrations. I looked with interest at the graffiti, correcting spelling errors in my mind, and chuckling at some of the more creative artists: “Pinocheletti,” “Fuera Golpistas” It all seemed a little one-sided. ¨That´s because Mel´s supporters a rag-tag bunch and very poorly behaved,” our driver commented.

The opinions here are as varied as our August weather. “The political protestors are paid off, with Chavez´s money!” “Both ‘presidents’ are ladrones!” “The news is wrong. It wasn’t a coup d’etat. The removal of Zelaya was done legally, in line with Honduras’ constitution, not the United States’ constitution”. I, personally, don’t know what to believe. History will tell, perhaps, what really happened.

In the meantime Honduras enjoys a disquiet peace. Life goes on as normal, giving the weekly political demonstrations a wide margin. The curfew keeps people off the streets at night, when it is in effect. We look forward to the November elections, hoping they will bring back international aid to this poor country. I try to put a happy spin on it to my Honduran friends: at least the world now knows of this small country, south of Mexico. “Yes,” they reply, “they know that we are politically ailing…not of the beauty and greatness that lies within our people.”