Day five in Honduras
Waiting is always a hard thing particularly so when the outcome is totally unknown. Waiting in a foreign country, watching the rain clouds roll in, and then darkness is even harder. It was after 7 before the bus arrived and then we faced a crooked muddy road back to our hotel in Danli.
We arrived in a little village of about 200 people in the mountains and were met by a tall American at the local school. He and his three brothers with their wives and children owned land in Honduras and ran a small school under the auspices of the Church of Christ. Students including their children were our helpers for the day, acting as translators and assistants. Diana was my helper and was so enchanting I wanted to fold her up into my luggage and take her home with me. Joanie, one of the wives, grew up in Richland Center, not far from my home.
People lined the walkway and it wasn’t long before it looked like we would be working for hours and hours and would have to cut off the registration with people still waiting. We chugged along; the dentist arrived around 11 and began working. I had sent him the first patient, a small boy of 8 who did not smile at me—all of these children except the smallest always smile with the most beautiful smiles. His face was swollen and red and he felt hot. We put him first on the list—and he ended up going to Danli for more extensive care than we could give in a temporary setting.
We ran out of Vermox and Thomas offered to go to Danli to purchase some for us. He went to six pharmacies before he found one that sold him a package of Vermox and a bottle of Metronidazole—which we had just run out of.
hearing about Honduras from an American’s viewpoint was indeed interesting; he planted corn and beans but held back his harvest until everyone’s was depleted and then was able to sell for a good price. He also raised bees and Don, the pharmacist and he had a detailed conversation about bees and honey production.
It was good to see the hotel and even better to take a hot shower and crawl into bed.
Tomorrow is our last day.