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New construction ideas for housing in Honduras
Los Cerditos y las Covachas or The three little pigs, a beautiful tale we read during childhood, reminds us that the little pigs built their houses according to their self-esteem and, what happened? The wolf destroyed the two lesser constructions, until he came upon one made of brick, secured windows, an iron door, and bullet-proof walls, etc., that finished its career as destroyer of homes. "A cautious little pig is worth two little pigs...," they say.
I have tried to explain this anecdote to Honduran children, but it is hard to understand, since it implies reasoning the following facts: 50.9 percent of the homes in Honduras are provided with potable water service; only 34.9 percent of them have toilets, while 15.9 percent have latrines; 71.4 percent of all homes have electricity; 1.2 families live in each house, that consist of only 1.5 rooms on the average.
Then, the houses of Honduras are constructed from wood of poor will. What is difficult about this, is for children to accept something they have never had and therefore don't lack of. And if they don't miss it, they don't need it... Human beings have found many ways to live, but inside the home, which is a basic one, we find many other difficulties: the neighbors' economic status, the neighbors' professionalism, the neighborhood's community interest, the low or high tax rate to pay, the availability or not of additional land, the parking space available for one's own cars or visitors' cars, the security service, the community service in general, the community's sanitary assistance, the availability of basic services such as electricity, water, gas, sewage, garbage service, irrigating water, as well as closeness of commercial centers and the beach.
Well, we are talking about a neighborhood where people do not cooperate with their community just because such a neighborhood does increase in value, making investment a hard sale. It is important to observe national behavior, and then we will be able to realize that the ideal home in our country is the one that is seen in extension and not from a community point of view: an apartment or condominium. Availability of new living options will improve the behavior of our society.
Additionally, it is necessary to stimulate smaller family, as well as offering stability and solidity to the future society. In fact, there are many advantages to apartments or condominiums. These include cultural advantages, such as the apartment-children effect, where children grow more culturally than physically. We think it is unbearable to keep on looking at low quality remedies in the national planning proposal. The current statements throw away human expectations.
The present and future of our country becomes evident the task of keeping out of the social context irresponsible people who express their opinion of the future of life. It is indeed valid to say that given the shortage of land and the high cost of construction, the option of condominiums in our country is completely beneficial.
We must study new ways of living. Our country has grown in an horizontal way, and this explains in great part it's human behavior. These schemes must be considered today. For our current analysis we have estimated that every house is inhabited by five people, while 70 percent of all Hondurans live under the line of poverty. The terms that should be used to satisfy this need must be strict and benefit those who care about the future of our country, and live in a small family nucleus. The rest must pray to God and their church for their future.
Letter from Honduras: A simple life in the countryside
By NIGEL J. POTTER
Special to HTW
"Want some apples, Nayo?" I looked up from under the sack of fruit and vegetables I was carrying through the market and saw a small man with a teenage lassie with him smiling at me. I dropped the sack and shook hands with one of the health promoters who I used to work with and helped train up, Juan Manuel. I didn't recognize his oldest daughter who seemed to have leapt from being a little girl to young womanhood in two years. At their feet was a nearly empty sack but with some apples still at the bottom. "These are the last," he said, "can't sell them, too bruised so you're welcome to them if you want them." Battered or not, I certainly did want them as his apples are absolutely delicious, crunchy and juicy, a thousand times better than the huge, perfectly unblemished, expensive soft and tasteless imports from the U.S. I offered to pay for them which he immediately refused reminding me of the photos I had taken of him and his family when I was working on our development project. "Let's take some more," I suggested, "always interesting now the children are older and bigger," plus one recent arrival. We named a day and I returned home to delighted kids ecstatic in an orgy of apple-eating.
When I set off the visit Juan Manuel about three or four walk away I went along paths and byways I had been along a hundred times before but not over the last couple years. It was all very familiar yet somehow strange: a dirt road where once there had only been a narrow path, a path where there had once been a gash of newly-made dirt track now largely overgrown again, wire fences where there had been an open space, an open space where there used to a barbed-wire fence, corn patches where there were, once woods and tangly undergrowth, burnt and stunted stumps of trees like some no-man's land, product of 'slash and burn". The whole walk was some how unreal, from another life, before the children were born, when I was a "development worker" fully expecting to return to the U.K. to do only god alone knew what. "Still in the same house?" I had asked Juan Manuel. Yes, he had answered, but not quite true. As I walked round the curve I fully expected to see his old shack, walls of stripling trees banged close together supporting a roof of Spanish-Style tiles and a neighbor's house, similarly built, nearby. As I rounded the bend, I was astounded to see a small village of about twenty large whitewashed adobe houses with asbestos or tin roofs. Flowers were planted in front of Juan Manuel's house which I only knew to be his because his wife was in the garden. She gave me hot, sweet coffee while I expressed my amazement and pleasure at her new home and then she sent a younger daughter with me to show me the way to where her husband was working, hoeing the maize. Every where as we went along I saw fields of thriving corn, irrigated by spinning jets of water. The well-kept fields, the green woods, the new houses shining brightly white in the sun made it all look something out of a story book or the ideal rural living home exhibition.
Juan Manuel and I talked about these huge housing and water projects. I congratulated him on his and his neighbors' healthy-looking corn where every where else there is consternation as it has not rained for a month and everything that, was planted when the rains came is now likely to be lost, something of a catastrophe following an equally disastrous coffee harvest, a great crop, but terrible prices as the bottom dropped out of the world market. He told me that Caritas, a Catholic Agency, based in Valencia in Spain, had funded the projects while he and his neighbors had made the adobes, out the wood and provided labor to build their new houses. I thought back to when I had worked with this group, a local branch of the largest peasant organization in Honduras. I worked with these groups all over the country and this one had certainly impressed me as being one of the most together and best organized, managing to avoid or at least contain the dissension and disputes that lead to the break-up of so many groups and the collapse of projects.
These new houses had replaced what were basically wooden shacks but they had been quite large and sturdy, certainly much better than the hovels of other nearby villages. I thought of one I know well, only an hour's walk away where the poverty is far worse, the soil much poorer, practically deforested and hovels for houses. Juan Manuel and his companions are almost the bourgeoisie of the peasant world: they are fighters, have the persistence and patience to keep going on, the formalities to get the funding for this project had taken years. They also had sufficient education very basic though it might be, enough self-confidence and group solidarity to push themselves, to make visits to the posh agency offices in the capital, and write out presentations of projects and applications for funds and do simple book-keeping or get someone to do it for them. They needed and deserve everything that has come their way and for which they have struggled so hard for. There are people much worse off than they, who need help much more than they do, but who are unlikely to get and take advantage of opportunities, even if they should ever arrive. They are just too poor. They are great survivors, getting by on next to nothing, making my pretty basic lifestyle look like decadent luxury.
But they can't get anything together, they fall out amongst themselves the whole time, are too tired, perhaps even too hungry, too hopeless and despairing to grab for themselves a bit of the action, even a little tiny piece off the cake.
This pattern is reflected throughout Honduras society. Once a poor man could go to the U.S. an illegal immigrant, a "wetback." He still can but the journey is more dangerous than ever with a much greater chance than before of being picked up at the border.
To have some chance of getting through to earn the dollars you have to pay a "coyote" (the middleman) between US$2,600 -4,000, in other words it is a middle-class activity. What peasant can afford that kind of money?
I had a good day with Juan Manuel and his family. They gave me a delicious soup, filled my rucksack with apples and we talked about old times and present work. I took photos and then went on my way. He had asked me if I would ever consider returning to my old job as "development worker" with the health project we had worked together in.
As I walked through this wild and beautiful countryside back home I reflected that I didn't think so. I have done it; for all my experience (or because of it) would be bored, my heart wouldn't be in it and for me if there's no enthusiasm, there's nothing. Besides which I hated all the politicking, the corruption. I often used to ask myself that if I had been born a Lenca Indian peasant whether I would have been one of the fighters, one of the organized ones like Juan Manuel, or one of the passive losers. Sometimes I suspect the latter, the struggle is so often do great, so unequal. Besides which I have, no desire to be a development worker again. It is an unreal, artificial position. My teachery-preachery instincts, however are still fairly strong so no doubt someday in one form or another, Juan Manuel and I will once more fight the good fight together.
At present I am enjoying my loss of prestige, the decline in my social position. I'm poorer but freer. The work I do now doesn't bore me , it interests me so I therefore have enthusiasm and that may well, one day, bring me round full circle again to Juan Manuel's group. Last week because of my work as pay, I brought home a Lps.30, a tin of cooking oil, a sack of corn and a large dog. I consider myself a lucky man, a free man. This is, I sometimes think, as good as it gets.
Nigel Potter is an expatriate living in Marcala, La Paz.
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Is MADTV comedy insensitive ?
By LAURA FACUSSE
Special to HTW
MAD TV, www.madtv.com , a comedy show, opened the doors for discussion, knowledge, and mockery on Honduras in one of their shows on Thursday night, November 29 at 12:30 p.m. It said "Honduras, people instead of working chew a burrito," ignorant that Hondurans typically don't eat burritos, alluding to unemployment, and implying sexual abuse in maquilas, an industry where production can range from simple assembly of imported parts such as sleeves, necklines for shirts or other materials from various countries.
The first scene showed rats running around on a floor, and then it moved into a scene where weary women in tattered garments were sowing clothes. A man entered a scene and yelled, "work faster, work faster." He then grabbed one of the women from behind and she said, "No, please senor, no. The next scene appears with little boys working in the maquila and the man says, "Let all the children be happy, even though sowing little dresses for me." Afterwards he tells the somber boys, "Smile, you cute little Hondurans, smile," and they remained unsmiling.
Maquilas are more prevalent in developing countries like Mexico, Honduras, Nicaragua and many other countries were there is cheap labor due to massive unemployment, illiteracy, and poverty. "Maquila workers normally work 80-90 hours a seven day week with a monthly salary of approximately $75 plus overtime. Ninety percent of maquila workers are women ranging ages 18-25 and many are single mothers. The number of maquilas in Central America has doubled in the past two years, and is open to foreign investment. Presently, 100% of the exports are destined to the US market, totaling approximately $300 million in the free trade zones," according to the IDRC (International Development Research Center).
Most of the developing countries have no other choice than to rely on the USA and create free trade zones to increase the GNP. Abuse on the workers is quite obvious with the extensive working hours and poor salaries. Also the employment of children in these appalling work places is horrific, and the treatment that they and the single mothers receive in inconceivable. Sexual abuse is not certain, but these working conditions violate human rights. However, what other choices do these countries have other than agreeing to foreign and local investment on these work places to decrease massive unemployment that ranks up to 70%? Since all the exports are destined to the US market, indirectly the US is supporting this abuse and quietly avoiding responsibility. Ironically, is MADTV sarcastically alerting the American public of their abuse? Or jousting Honduran poverty about their disgrace?
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