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Inside journalism
Freedom has encountered many a situation in our country. Historically, the loss of liberty and reason has brought on chaos. In Honduras, the biggest defender of freedom has always been the press.
During the 1920s and 1930s, the printed press was the protagonist that reported national events. It's role was to inform without losing life during one of the many revolutions of this time.
During the 1940s and 1950s, the Honduran press became more active, more social, more participatory and more denunciatory, but in the midst of a regime of terror. From the early 1960's on, after reporting took on a more belligerent role, many reporters have been forced to change their place of residence and even flee the country for their own safety.
Total freedom of press does not exist, here we find everything is relative, but the intention is there and the way is known. This fact is more exciting than possible. The concept of complete truth in unreachable, but the dream of every reporter. The journalist, many a time, does not know where to begin, at home or at work. Every time a reporter writes, he or she cannot separate from his or her own story and intellectuality.
But writing for others is very glamorous, many a time we write what we don't want others to do or what we want to do. Does this mean we are preaching to others? Or are we simply modern educators? You choose, but this philology is not an easy task.
We do not to pretend to make martyrs of journalists, it is however a virtuous profession and to fall for the truth is a privilege. You could say, we die for the rights of others. We defend and protest for our rights now, thus avoiding having to cry on our children's graves.
The Honduran state pretended to ignore journalism for a long time and it wasn't until the 1970s during the government of General Juan Alberto Melgar Castro, that the a Ministry of Culture, Tourism and Information was created and headed by Colonel and Lawyer, Efrain Lizandro Gonzalez Munoz.
Colonel Gonzalez was a key player in achieving peace on a nationwide level. An intellectual equilibrium was conserved during the antagonistic cold years of the 1980s. During that time, many an intellectual flowered and have continued serving our country, among these: Patricia Murillo de Bueno, Julio Cesar Marin, Oscar Alvarez Vaca, Eugenio Castro Claramont (RIP), Juan Ramon Duran, Rafael Zavala, Julio Armando Pavon, Reinaldo Amador, Mirían Mercado and others.
The threat to freedom of press has taken many a form. Independent reporters find it hard to distance themselves from their sponsors. Isolation and being singled out by the state has also caused many to lose their freedom.
But finally the state, together with outstanding members of the national press, through the Central Information Office, has been able to find the necessary equilibrium and not fall into war, as in the case of neighboring nations.
Writing has a magical quality that lies halfway between what is idealized and what is real, what people want, what minority groups want and what is real. A journalist can feel many emotions concerning the same issue. I still remember my mother, a journalist, when she covered the Honduras-El Salvador war, writing articles with tears in her eyes, and I am still trying to uncover her message.
Letter from Honduras: Rape in the countryside
By NIGEL POTTER
They seemed amazingly normal, almost cheerful if a bit subdued. Nothing like a wash and a change of clothes to be able to face the world and here was I half-expecting them to be hysterical or dumb-silent with tear-streaked faces. You would never have known that these three lassies, (15, 14 and 13 years old) had been waylaid the day before at one o'clock in the afternoon on a country road on their way home from school by four hooded men and dragged off to a remote spot and raped, half strangled and threatened with death. The high school staff was shocked, outraged and had come to the house of two of the girls who were sisters to offer support. The most obviously distressed was the father of the two sisters who strode up and down, speaking incessantly, hovering between tears and rage.
I had been asked to go along to treat both the girls and distressed parents medically, (which I did at the end of the meeting -
homoeopathically). We sat down outside the house on rocks, wooden home made benches and plastic chairs. The high school director was superb. She said how sorry she and the rest of the staff were at what had happened and that we were all here to offer support and comfort.
She was sympathetic and practical at the same time: don't hurry back to school, take your time but don't let the bastards get you down, don't give them that satisfaction, go on going on and we'll help in any and every way we can. Another teacher jumped in saying more or less the same thing but proving at the same time it's not what you say but how you say it that maybe matters more: life is full of problems, everyone has their difficulties but you can't just go moping around, you just have to grin and bear it and get on with your life (how many times has she been raped? I wondered) And then an elderly woman tottered in on a stick and said that God never sent us more than we could bear (well, thank you God). And so on: support, consolation, advice: don't go on a killing spree, no revenge, it will just lead to further problems, stay within the law - but since this is mostly non-existent and not respected anyway perhaps this was not very helpful.
A younger sister brought us a sugary, watery coffee and a bun and then we went on our way - followed by the distressed father and the two sister's elder brother who insisted on showing us where they had been kidnapped and dragged-off to. We plunged off the road, down a steep incline until it was difficult to go any further. But the men had forced the lassies much further on, through wild undergrowth down into an abyss to river and raped them. I could hardly stand it, feeling the fear, panic and terror that must have consumed these girls as they were pushed, shoved and dragged down the slope with a pretty good idea of what was coming and the likelihood of being murdered afterwards.
And here's the irony: these conscience-less bastards had a kind of conscience. They were hooded and one of the girls was blindfolded. Why? Because they were out to rape, torture, and torment but not to kill. Dead lassies tell no tales. It would have been so easy (so practical) to have killed them. Instead of the outrage and scandal of three raped girls they would have just "disappeared." The spot where they were taken was so remote and wild; it could have been months or more before their bodies had been discovered, even if left intact enough by the vultures and coyotes. But they were allowed to live to tell the tale arriving at their houses after scrambling back up, filthy, bleeding, crying, clothes in shreds.
On our way back, I saw a swastika scratched into a rock by the side of the road. I was both shocked and astonished. It is most unlikely that whoever scratched it into the stone has ever heard of Hitler or World War II and if they have heard of Germany, probably think it is a town in the United States. Yet here was this symbol of unspeakable evil in a place of unspeakable beauty, ridges, cliffs covered in pine and oak and the sun beginning to glow orange and sink behind blue mountains on the horizon.
A couple of days later I went back to see my patients. I was warned this might be unwise. A brother-in-law offered to accompany me and somebody insisted I took a gun, which I accepted but, at the last moment, left behind.
The revolver increased my fear rather than diminished it. Well, I though, if they are really out to kill me, the gun might be useful but, on the other hand, there may not be much I can do about it anyway if they jump or ambush me. And if they are out to just threaten, menace or rob me, going for my gun could as easily spark off the very reaction I least wanted to see. So, scared as hell, off I went with my penknife in my pocket. In the event nothing happened.
I saw my patients who said they felt better, were even apparently quite cheerful and very appreciative. But, of course, they are by no means, over their ordeal yet. One has cold sores around her mouth; another woke up crying this morning and all are glued to their mummies like two-year-olds. But, as their teachers say, this isn't the end of everything. It could just be the beginning, like pregnancy or HIV infection (which is rampant here).
Then one night one little boy told another little boy who told his mum he had seen two hooded men lurking around the dark path to my house. Now are they really pissed off because I have been ministering to three raped little girls and want some pay-back, or do they have wild misconceptions that because I am a foreigner and obviously not a poverty-stricken peasant, that I am loaded with money and, furthermore, walk around with it? Or is it just coincidence, that they were hanging around where they were because they a score to settle with a
neighbour? Whatever, it's not a happy time.

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SWAN ISLAND DEVELOPMENT
Dear HTW:
With reference to several articles published by the local Honduran newspapers concerning a web page and the declarations of Kevin Morrill, President of Swan Island Development, LLC concerning the development of the Honduran Swan Islands, I would like to make the following comments:
There are already two corporations, Swan Island Development Corporation S.A. and Swan Development Corporation S.A., formed and registered in Honduras and vying for the right to develop this valuable Honduran property since the early 1990s. Our companies held numerous meetings with the Ministry of Tourism and the Ministry of Environment during the administrations of President Callejas and President Reina, as well as with several other institutions such as the Chamber of Commerce presenting a three phase program to them including our intention with the airport project and yacht club and also an agreement to build a small military base for the navy personnel that are housed on the island.
Mr. Morrill's statements are misleading as well as lacking in fact. I have spent much time on this island and have walked virtually every inch of it. There is no way that the islands will support 5000 residents, plus tourists in an environmentally sound manner. Our program is a sound project although not as elaborate as the recent proposals.
Mr. Morrill should be aware that Honduran shareholders form part of both corporations and that bank accounts exist under these corporate names in Honduras.
For further verification of this information, interested parties should contact our attorneys at the law offices of Nicolas Cruz Torres.
Jack Walker
President
Swan Island Development Corporation, S.A.
Swan Development Corporation, S.A.
Via Internet
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