my soundscape

Jason and Sarah have introduced us to many wonderful things, not the least of which are TED talks – (15 minute lectures over a myriad of topics that you can download in Ceiba and watch on your computer at your leisure.) They are entertaining enough for a Friday night of chocolate shelling and just thought provoking enough to keep our brains from rotting on half comprehended Spanish and village old wives tales.
One of last nights lectures was on “sound” and creating the perfect “soundscape” for your life. While Jarod was pleased to learn that a noisy environment is scientifically proven to decrease productivity by over 2/3 (thus giving him solid footing for demanding some peace and quite), I was amused by the extravagant idea of controlling 'your' life to such a minute detail. In stark contrast to the noisy week that Urraco has had, I have decided that only we isolationist individualist North American and Eurpeans would dream of such a “sound control” concept. The rest of the world just shakes their heads.
A Birthday party for a 3 year old and 1 year old started our week. Complete with an extravagant rainbow cake made in the complete dark due to a lightning storm and 6 adrenalin stoked kids it was completely noisy. You can't have quite with children.
A 2 hour drive home in the dark with sugar pumped children down a bumpy dirt road in a truck that could use better shocks. You can't control sound in transit.
48 hours of rain commenced the rainy season, with the metal roof continually pounding reassurance for 2 more months of mind numbing heavenly racket. There is no silence in tropical rain.
Monday night we had 8 kids over for pupusas and to celebrate the end of the school year with a little game of pictionary. The laughter of teenagers screaming in broken English is a sound like no other.


During the four hours of library time the children were remarkably respectful of the silence rule. But on Monday we introduced over 20 kids to puzzles and on Wednesday thy began with water colors. There were so many questions, so much excitement. Learning cannot be silent.
On Tuesday our neighbor Angela and her family needed help moving to Ceiba, then plans changed to Wednesday, and Margery had to take a test on Thursday so, “could she spend the night with us?” - and of course, “what time?” “ok, let's change plans again.” There is no peace when you really KNOW your neighbors.
On Wednesday, Pamela taught me how to make rice – even though she had broken an arm in a soccer game and her husband was laid up because of, well, a little too much to drink – as usual. And as we rinsed rice in her kitchen and the chickens cleaned up the fallen pieces I wondered at the thought of tomorrows soup, eating today's lunch. There is no silence in Honduran cooking – the chicken's talk to you and YES a whole ¼ Lb of butter sizzles in the skillet for every one pound of rice you cook.






On Thursday I went to help Tita put the finishing mud coat on her new house ( and see her new outhouse - dug for $10) but by the time I reached her house 3 people had informed me that Evangelista had died. The grandmother of Darwin, Allen, and Edwin who had been struggling with stomach cancer for some time, had finally, quietly, left our world. But even death is not silent in the aldea. More cars than usual came baring family from town and the cousins played up and down the streets. The room which held the coffin and body for 24 hours hummed through the night with prayers and condolences until 5 am when they drove to her resting place down in Toncontin.
Our house must be the quietest place around because Friday, weak with exhaustion from the vigil Allen slept on our couch. And we tried to be quite. But people are coming now to buy oranges and leches, to see if there are any shoes left, or work. And the men were on the hills chopping and singing, filling our open windows with the sounds of machete labor.
Yesterday, we walked through the town on our way to learn to roast coffee, picking up bits of news and watching friends noisily crack coconuts between rocks. Dona Wilma, chattered the whole 2 hours we roasted the coffee as her wooden rake brushed the beans over the hot metal. She told me about her 16 year old daughter who has down syndrome and her 33 year old son who is mentally ill. She told me about who her children are going to buy her a pila – but she really will miss washing clothes by the river. It is just so peaceful. Such a soundscape.
And as we walked home with the noisy children we picked up a long the way, the only thing that seemed out of place was a whir of Don Pedro's newly purchased weed whip.