During my three-day visit to Honduras, I had conversations with many people, several taxi drivers, hardware store employees, fellow passengers, family members, random strangers, Hondurans, gringos, all very talkative, all very relaxed, but only one was critical of the new government. Of course, I expected my parents, who are staunch nationalists, to support Micheletti, but my conversations with supporters of the Liberal party were the most interesting. As my trip coincided with Zelaya’s multiple attempts to break in to the country, I expected people to be nervous, and angry. But the great majority of the people I saw were remarkably detached from the political crisis.
When I arrived at San Pedro Sula airport, the air of normality was almost surreal. Everyone went about their business without sign of emotion, and the military were notably absent. Only a small group of police were chatting in a corner, unconcerned. An accountant friend of mine was at the airport Friday, and told me he had originally opposed the “coup, for it was a coup, you know. But after seeing the theatrics of Zelaya, I changed my mind, and begin to think we are better off without him.” On Saturday, while waiting in line at a bank in La Ceiba, the people there were curious about Mexico and Monterrey, but no one talked about Zelaya even in passing. They looked cheerful and at peace.
But between these two anecdotes, I saw a feeble sign of trouble in the country. On Friday a group of thirty Zelaya supporters had blocked the highway into La Ceiba, and were facing an equal group of police in riot gear. I was forced to walk across the protest to get to my dad’s car, a few hundred yards ahead. But no one seemed very angry. No stones were thrown. No tear gas canisters were fired. Everyone was simply standing there, some joking around. A lady was selling “cold water, tamarindo juice, Coca-Cola” as naturally as if the protest were simply a group of shoppers at a local market.
At first I was afraid to take pictures, but my camera barely drew the glance of the police. In contrast, yesterday a security officer in Mexico City airport stopped me taking pictures there, but at this protest everything was surreally peaceful.
Since my luggage never arrived, on Saturday I was forced to buy a new suit, which needed alterations. I had barely hours left before the ceremony and I had to run to catch a cab. Just as I got in, a major rainstorm began, with winds strong enough to uproot small trees. The cab driver and I roamed all over the center of La Ceiba looking for a tailor. We asked a lady selling tortillas under a beach umbrella at the market for directions, and finally found a rundown tailor’s shop in the northwest corner of downtown.
The walls of the shop were of wood, the roof of tin. Inside were a picture of Barack Obama, an old clock, curtains separating the living quarters, and windows without glass, or even screens to keep mosquitoes out. Four apprentices worked in dark and cramped conditions, with worn electric sewing machines. All of them were Garifuna (a mixture of Carib indian and African). A radio talk show provided the background noise. Santiago was the tailor’s name, and he promptly measured me for the alterations to the suit, and told me to be back in an hour.
When I returned, the suit wasn’t ready, because the storm had knocked out power, and the apprentices were sowing it by hand. So we whiled away the time chatting about this and that, and finally the conversation turned to Zelaya.
The tailor told me he was sad that the country was so polarized, and that Zelaya was being kept out of the country by the “golpistas” (coupsters). He said that he was also disappointed that all the news channels were publishing pro-interim-government stories. He said that from the day Zelaya took office, the news was all against him.
I wasn’t very surprised to learn that his major sources of news were CNN and Telesur. I suggested he read Tiempo instead, since it is a local news source critical of Micheletti’s government, but much more truthful.
I told him an experience of mine a few years ago. My boss being wrongly accused of fraud by Zelaya’s protegè, Marcelo Chimirri, who, with the support of the government, sent the district attorney, a crowd of Hondutel employees, policemen with automatic weapons and local news cameras into our office claiming that they had caught a crime “in fraganti”, and that they would take away all the computers, telephones, faxes, and even the television, claiming that they had been obtained with the proceeds of an illegal act.
We were innocent, and successfully sued the government. We got some of our computers back, a year later. But when the outcry against Chimirri was reaching its climax, Zelaya came in and defended him, even when it was very clear that he was the guilty party.
The tailor didn’t have much to say to this, except that corruption is everywhere. I agreed with him, and echoed his earlier complaint about Honduras being polarized (something straight out of a Telesur broadcast, by the way). I told him that we Hondurans should be united, and be at peace, which we both agreed.
When the suit was done I thanked him, and told him I would be coming back next time I needed a tailor. We parted in friendship, which to me was very important.
All in all, Hondurans are very peaceful, and hobbit-like. We tend to face whatever problem we have with a blasè attitude that can be irritating to outsiders. But this is one of our great strengths.
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