All good things must come to an end. A cliché but true statement that we 

must reflect on as we end our time in Honduras. The farmers said their 

goodbyes and blessed us with kind words. The women who have been preparing 

our meals expressed their gratitude through Enoc. And I, speaking on behalf 

of the group, expressed our thankfulness for their warm welcome and 

hospitality and promised to return as long as they continued to make 

amazing tortillas. After exchanging words, we hopped in our van and drove 

off. 

We drove down the mountains, leaving behind the place we had called home 

for the last four days. The ladies who had been preparing our meals packed 

up their things and returned to their everyday duties. The farmers went 

back to their farms to finish the harvest. And we drove off, returning to 

the Tegucigalpa to eventually to return to Wheaton, a place we have called 

home for our four years of college. 

I took my last view of the great mountains before leaving, reflecting that 

the last time I looked out on such great view I was in Israel. In the last 

year, I have come to learn that life does not stop to remember or reminisce 

on such incredible beauty, but moves on. Even when I try to memorize and 

print images in my mind, I eventually forget. And the memories are never 

the same and will never be the same as the moment when I can feel the cool 

mountain wind in my face. 

Even though life moves on, I have created these memories. I have learned 

life-changing lessons. I have formed perspectives and created 

relationships. I have bridged the gap between consumer and producer. I have 

learned and shared with my team the amazing feeling of knowing how and 

where what you consume is processed. All these things cannot be taken away 

from me and will remain in me. And because these memories remain in me, 

they will remain in the community members, whom I interacted with and got 

to know this week. I hope they remember the time when the Ethiopian came to 

their community to learn from them about their work and profession. 

I have and will cherish my time in Honduras, but I also look forward to 

returning to the place that I call home, to share with my community members 

the things I have learned and experienced.

So here we come Wheaton College. 

YT

The women here know how to laugh. While sitting in the kitchen, helping to prepare tortillas and breakfast (but mainly watching), we asked if they like to dance. I personally love to dance, so the question arose naturally. One of the women immediately responded with, “I love to move” and started shaking her hips as she put tortillas on the mud and tin stove. The other two women said nothing, standing silently as they prepared beans. As she continued to dance she chimed in and said, “its ok to move,” They all started to laugh and talk amongst themselves, somewhat embarrassed by the conversation. A truly beautiful moment. 

Today we visited a health center in a nearby village named Nueva Esperanza, about 30 minutes by truck from our “hometown” of Azabeche. The government decides where the health centers are located, provides them with medication, and staffs them. Think of it as the Honduran version of universal healthcare.  Unfortunately the way this system often works out is that everyone has a very limited amount of access to the poorly stocked medical centers as.

The drive was beautiful-we drove through remote mountain vistas, and the scenery was well worth the trek out to the health center.  Views of mountains stretching for as far as the eye can see gave the place a romantic feel.  I had to wonder, though, how beautiful l would find the mountain scenery if someone in my family was hurt and needed medical attention.  Many people in Azabache do not even bother taking the drive out to Nueva Esperanza because it is so long.  Geographically this health center is closer, but many people drive to the city of Danli instead because the health center there is more easily accessible and better stocked.

The center is housed in a cinder block building with four rooms off the main corridor: a general practice room, a bathroom, a “farmacia,” and a room for treatment of patients.  There was a nurse and a janitor who worked there.  The center never has enough supplies, the nurse said, and most people suffered from respiratory problems, as you might expect from the cold, wet climate of the mountains.  These illnesses are oftentimes not treatable; all they can do is let them run their course or prevent them from happening in the first place.  

The Growers First model does a great deal to help communities and to reinvest through means of microfinance and sustainable development.  However, this health center serves as one example of how difficult it can be to make progress in the direction of providing fully for the needs of a community. When even the government is doing all it can, and it is still not enough, it is hard  to imagine what else can be done. We have been glad to see how Growers First does help these communities. The people who belong to them are free and able to respond to such needs as inadequate healthcare by putting forth their own efforts and working together.

Christian Curran