El dia de tumulo

Ya regreso.

Gracias por los comentarios! I love receiving feedback, especially when it comes from people who have experienced similar situations (la muchacha who previously stayed with my family even left a note!).

Today (only a few days before my salida) has been slightly more relaxed, but mainly because the event that was scheduled for this morning ended earlier than expected. Let me first fill you in on what occurred post-blogging yesterday. Abe (in his half-souped-up Mazda Protege (essentially, it has a CD player with an interactive face plate)) whisked me away to Decora--the place of employment of his esposa hermosa--where I was able to quickly peruse the toilets and tiles that only the wealthiest gente in Teguc are able to afford. Then, after bringing Cynthia (la esposa) to the university she attends, I was treated to dinner at Pupusas Miraflores. As it had been an incredibly long time since I had tasted pupusas, it was a real treat, but more so because I spent un rato with Abe and Cynthia. They are a pleasant pair, and there is no way I could find reason to chocar with people who like movies almost as much as I do. Los dos brought me back home, spent about an hour with the Cerrato family, and left me at just the right time--the two most popular Disney shows were beginning (think Demi Lovato & Selena Gomez, who coincidentally happen to be latinas), and the chavalos do not appreciate any interruptions during this period. I fell asleep at a reasonable time (11:30 p.m.) and woke up this morning to the familiar sound of children running barefoot through the home, cereal bowls crashing to the floor, and a stern, motherly voice reminding her chaotic children in Spanish that school was beginning "ahora mismo!" When I actually found my way to the breakfast table, one of the children (Jonathan) joined his father in teaching me some new vocabulary: chasta, charula, masiso, papo, and pereza. If you have a hard time understanding the meanings of these words, you best come down south to ask!

Arriving at ASJ, I was immediately rushed to the vehicle (I am pretty sure it belonged to the group of vehicles that was purchased via assistance from the foundation I used to work for) that would take me to the community where several young girls and their mothers were going to be picked up and transported to the tribunal. Today happened to be the day that one of the Rescate cases was reaching its final stage, which means that an individual was being tried by ASJ and an appointed prosecutor for sexually abusing menores de edad (minors). I was fortunately invited to not only attend the trial but to also accompany the team that had worked on the case for over a year when they went to retrieve the victims and their families. The trip to the community was somewhat eerie, and it didn't help that whatever was being talked about on the radio had something to do with being addicted to sex. However, the mood turned to relatively comical (at least for me) when we arrived at the spot where the girls and their mothers were waiting, as we attempted to fit 9 individuals in what amounted to a large pick-up truck (4-door) and the two girls who were at the heart of the case--the two most important individuals--opted to sit in the bed of the truck on the way to the courthouse. Meanwhile the gringo was pushed up against the window trying to decide whether taking a photograph was at all possible...

When we arrived at the courthouse, I was able to see the tail end of one unrelated case (the prosecutor essentially read the thousand-page writ sitting on his desk while the lawyer representing the defense put his best foot forward by way of one- or two-word responses) and what I imagined would be a harrowing experience via the ASJ-led trial. Sadly (and happily a la vez), the trial was cut short when the prosecution side asked for the trial to be made private so that the girls' privacy could be respected and so that both sides could come to what amounted to a plea bargain for the accused individual. The audiencia was asked to leave the room, and I began to talk to the investigator who gave me more information about the way these cases tend to work. It seemed very similar to the way the system functions in the los Estados Unidos except that the biggest penalty a criminal could receive for his crimes is 30 years. True, 30 years is still a ton of time, but if you compare such a sentence to those in the U.S. you realize that we have much longer sentences in similar cases. Apparently this is done in Honduras to avoid over-crowding in prisons and because of the squalid conditions present in such facilities, but it still provokes a lot of uneasiness. Eventually we learned that the now-reo had agreed to a sentence of 7 1/2 years for each of the crimes he committed, which in this specific case turned out to be two...at this point. I found out later that this same individual is going back to trial in August for two other suspected crimes of the same nature. When all is said and done, this former security guard could be on the opposite side of the law for the full 30 years.

What struck me most about this experience was a. the bravery of the victims, who came prepared to testify against their attacker, b. the amount of time and effort the ASJ employees put into the case (the private lawyer assigned to the case informed me that there was no duda in her mind or in the minds of her companeros that they were going to lose the case because of all the work they had done), and c. the numerous other cases that are being investigated at this point in time. Speaking with the lawyer, I caught that nearly 40 cases have already reached the courts and that dozens more were being investigated--all involving sexual abuse and children. Que horror that these crimes are so prevalent here, but que macanudo that there are people like the ASJ staff who care enough to risk their safety to bring justice to the most vulnerable populations.

On another note, I thought I should mention that regardless of the time I spent in Honduras a few years ago, it is apparent based on people's comments here that my accent is more mexicano than catracho. Abe has been assigned the task of correcting that problema, but I will admit on this blog that I do not consider it a problem to use "chido" rather than "cheque" or "andale" rather than "vaya pues." Maybe I should just mix the phrases: "chidoque" or "anda pues." Vale.

I still need to blog about the different projects I have heard about while spending mis vacaciones aca, but that will come when mas Coca venga. Coca: la leche del pueblo and the refresco preferido de los Bloggers.

As Jonathan likes to say to me whenever 11:00 p.m. comes around, "Go to bed. Park skeleton."