Hello and welcome to another great episode of “E-I-E-I- Oh No You Didn’t,” where the shenanigans are plentiful and the points don’t matter. I’m your host, Papi Rayan Eslattery. Let’s play, shall we?
It’s been a while…it’s been a while. The months continue to fly by here, and I mean fly, super-fast, “fast like Flash” as one of the boys likes to say. I know there are a number of things I would like to share with you all (and for posterity’s sake, I need to share them, of course…ha ha ha), however, to avoid a complete word vomit of the last two months, I have for you a compilation of some silly, unforgettable, “I can’t believe you just did that” moments instead.
I know I’ve harped on this many a time before, but I am so enthralled with our kids and their tenacity for all thing simple, beautiful, and fun. You know, life? They’re almost always the source of the deepest belly laughs, at least they are for me. The other day, I was playing sticky ball Velcro disk catch (what the heck is that even called??) with one of our boys. He was really starting to get into a groove, and I know this because he started doing what I can only describe as a jiggle or a wobble perhaps. If you can picture it, I’d throw him the tennis ball—despite having Velcro for a left hand, he was often not catching it—and he would start throwing his limbs around as he walked to retrieve the ball. His whole body was like a big glob of jello just bopping around as he walked and prepped his wind-up to throwback the ball. It was hysterical. Our simple game of catch quickly turned into two jello blobs boppin’ about the Finca.
And then you’ve got the smallest of the smalls who think just about everything is funny. You walk into a room, they laugh (it’s a real self-esteem booster), if you hurt yourself in any way or a fly lands in your drink, snickers flitter about the room. I got them good only a few weeks ago after watching a movie with the afore mentioned giggle monsters. We arrived at their house, and wouldn’t you know it, somehow a mysterious sapo [frog] found its way on my foot. I say mysterious because I couldn’t see it (duh. It was an invisible frog). Not to worry. I was urgently made aware by the chiquititas [little girls] and I swiftly slapped at my foot to shew it away. Amid bursts of laughter and without my knowing, the frog had moved to my shoulder and then to my knee. It slunk to my back and soon was dancing on my arm. After flipping to my bellybutton and swooping up to my head, the frog slid to my face. And yes, I was left slapping my face to a gaggle of girls rolling on the floor as a result of their busted guts.
Well I suppose word got out about the frog business, though it would seem that the story became a bit skewed and mixed up with another froggy tale as it passed from ear to ear. While dropping off some provisions for our younger girls’ house, the “squire” to the kingdom gave a slight bow, extended her hands to entrance of the great hall and saluted me saying, “Su Majestad” [Your Majesty]. Covered in sweat and carrying a rather large sack of vegetables, I was more like the indentured servant to the Finca Kingdom, but I knew I was always meant to wear a crown. I played my role with elegance, greeting my loyal three-and-a-half feet subjects and promenading about the house. As I went away to retire to my summer kingdom, I heard the farewell of the squire once more. “Adios, Majestad!” I thought the title sounded pretty swell and fitting, but somehow it didn’t seem to catch in the Missionary community, or the rest of the Finca for that matter.
On May 10th, we celebrated Mother’s Day (Happy Mother’s Day Momma and all the mothers out there) I imagine there were all sorts of festivities and treats to show your appreciation for the mothers in your life (for example, I know my family was indulging in one of God’s greatest delicacies in the world to commemorate the celebration: Puffed Pancakes), but I bet you didn’t find yourself being woken up at 3:00am to the blare of Mother’s Day songs from the back of a pick-up full of all the men of the Finca wanting to serenade the houses where mothers or “mother figures” lived (so, yes, that means the missionary house was included). The thing is, you want to be grumpy and upset that your slumber is being disturbed in such a manner, but there are a few things you’ve learned which prevent this. Firstly, the comforts of your bed have quite a powerful influence when thinking you might want to lug yourself out of bed to share a word or two about your current displeasure with the situation. Secondly, you must remember it’s a well-intentioned act seeking to show gratitude for the long, tiring and countless number of hours these mothers work and care for our kids, and they really just couldn’t wait to share that with them. Lastly, you’re living in Honduras, and frankly, you’ve come to expect these sorts of things.
Recently our missionary community has had the distinct pleasure of coming in contact with some uninvited, furry, scaly, and/or creepy crawly creatures enter our household. Now, I know an update such as this may sound scary and all together unpleasant, but you would be discounting the adventure spelled out for the older boys, Adam (fellow missionary), and me. We are always well equipped before embarking on such escapades. Every combatant sports a broom, mop, duster, a large poking device essentially and a supply of gallon ice-cream containers (empty, of course) for capturing. Some days, it’s a miracle we exit the skirmishes practically unscathed, but I’m happy to report that there have been zero casualties, well, zero on our end. If you’re interested in seeing their ugly faces, I have uploaded the gallery to include all that we’ve encountered in recent weeks.
I know it’s been quite some time since Holy Week and Easter, but I wanted to make a quick comment on the beauty of it all. Here in Honduras, Holy Week is an actual week of celebrations beginning on Palm Sunday (and maybe it’s the same in the USA but I feel like growing up Holy Week meant more just the Thursday, Friday, and Saturday before Easter). We put together a great number of activities such as the viewing a short film on the importance of the Mass, workshops, games, crafts, little theatre acts, washing of feet, a live Stations of the Cross, view of The Passion, communion services for all the holy days, and of course, an Easter egg hunt. My mother will be pleased to know that for our Easter Vigil Service, I was asked to sing the Exultet in Spanish. It was quite a trip, especially since I wasn’t given too much advance notice to learn it and we didn’t have the music. Nonetheless, I did my best to replicate what they had given to me in a CD track and I believe it turned out alright.
Aside from communion services and English songs in my classroom, I have been lending some vocal noises in other ways here at the Finca. One of our oldest boys is quite the musical artist, writing lyrics and putting them to pre-recorded rhythms he finds online. Well, for a few months now, he, DJ Dot (Adam again), and I have been sitting down together in “our studio” going back and forth on mixing, re-mixing, and creating some poppin’ music. He is a big fan of Trap music, which is very similar to rap in the states but it has a specific Latin American flavor. He writes all the lyrics himself and will ask me to look them over and see if I can fit in an English refrain or bridge or something to complement his tunes. He’s not too shabby in my opinion. He’s even posted 5 of his songs on YouTube, 2 of which might include a familiar voice if you decide to search for them (or if you would really like to hear them, I can send the links by request). They’re not professional quality or anything, but it’s a heck of a lot of fun to toggle with the voices, doodle with random instrument noises, spice up the beats with some electric boogaloo, just making music for the love of music.
The other night I was covering for the house parent who cares for our little girls. Now don’t be fooled by my referring to them as little girls and think that they must all be “sweet angels” or something. These ones know how to work the system with their innocent smiles, constant buttering up of your self-esteem, and high-pitched, sweet little sing-songy voices. I don’t ever have difficulty until bed time rolls around. I state clearly in my most grown-up voice, “Ok, listen up young ladies. Five more minutes of this coloring nonsense and then I want to see pajamas on, teeth brushed, and heads on pillows.” As you can see I had clearly stated my intentions, but somehow I found myself in the front of the room instructing a Zoomba class instead. I don’t know how it happened. They all sort of gang up on you while your back is turned, and very quickly the “precious cherubs” you once knew have overtaken what little power you thought you had. You can imagine what the house parent was thinking when she came home that evening (probably that it was a good thing I was a FREE babysitter). Before leaving the house, I overheard one of them saying her prayers at the bedside. She said, “Te pido que China ya no tiene guerras y por todos los enfermados de Coronavirus. Ruego por la vida de Ryan y Melissa y la familia de todo el mundo [I ask the China no longer have wars and for all who are sick with Coronavirus. I pray for the life of Ryan and Melissa (another missionary here) and the family of all the world].” Suddenly, the halos had reappeared over the heads of our little angels.
Every day, Megan (the last of the 4 other missionaries here with me that I have had yet to mention) keeps track of how many days we have been at the Finca. I believe now it’s somewhere around 250ish, but when the 200th day came around, she wanted to make it a special day for all of us. She even shared this news with the wider community and we were given a great big round of applause after morning prayer. Megan made us an incredible Honduran lunch, managed to acquire ice cream for later indulgence, and had one more surprise that she had yet to reveal to us. She ushered us out to our back yard where a single bench stood facing to the right. We were asked to sit while she stood in front lecturing us on all the good we had accomplished, the struggles, and the laughs we have shared up to this point. Then, as she was beginning to get into the thick of her speech, out of nowhere came a squadron of attacking munchkins each carrying a shirt-full of water balloons. There was nothing to be done, we were helpless victims to this watery siege, that is, until Megan pulled out the remaining buckets of water balloons. And so, the battle ensued, missionary against munchkin. Not a single head was left dry that day.
Weeks later, we were invited by one of the older girls’ houses to share a picnic lunch with them complete with home-made potato chips, no bake cookies, and some other baked good I’m blanking on the name of. Cute, right? It was initially. Then, in a most eerie and synchronized fashion, all the girls excused themselves from the blankets and ran inside the house. We weren’t suspicious or anything, though we certainly should’ve been. The girls exited the house with buckets full of water, and what once was a quiet, tranquil, and all together exquisite outdoor dining experience rapidly changed to yet another wet warzone. You might be thinking how terrible it is to come under attack in such a way and so frequently, but honestly, with the heat and humidity of this beloved country, it’s practically welcomed.
On May 23rd, Finca del Niño of Honduras reached a monumental 24 years of operation. Of course, we celebrated in true Honduran fashion: good food, good music, good(ish) dancing, good times. We ate pizza, hamburgers, chucos (which are essentially hot dogs smothered in guacamole, mayo, ketchup, and mustard), chips, and pupusas as a way of honoring the American and Guatemalan heritages of our founder and foundress, Vincent and Zulena Pescatore, respectively. After food, the festivities continued with a talent show featuring almost all of our kids and even their house parents in choreographed dances, poems they had written, and lots of singing. In between the acts, we prepared little contests for everyone such as a whipped cream eating contest, an ice-melting contest, and some classic Finca trivia. As we had come to realize, and as the days continue to get hotter and hotter, any opportunity to have a water fight is always a win. SO, as one of our final anniversary activities, we prepared the soccer field for battle placing two stations for water balloons and multiple buckets full of water for the big surprise we had waiting for them in this watery combat. We gathered the troops, and told them to wait while we “evenly distributed the balloons to everyone,” and when we returned, we surprise attacked them with the super soakers. They were so bamboozled but were swift to pick up a soaker of their own. The balloons and water ran out fairly quickly, so it wasn’t long before we were all changed and back on the field laying on mattresses and eating ice cream while watching a Honduran original film called “11 Cipotes” [11 Kids] just like your regular drive-in movie theater experience to end the celebration.
I want to take a bit of writing space to say how appreciative I am of the sacrifice of all out Honduran staff and professionals who are here serving this mission and especially the kids. They are a dedicated, hardworking, extremely loving group of men and women who have been recently asked to go above and beyond in light of the global pandemic. They now play a more active part in the kids’ schooling, the kids are around the house more than usual (although maybe that’s not an added stressor), some of our maintenance and security professionals have volunteered to move-in to the Finca with their families so normal operations can continue within our walls, all of them are unable to take vacation to see and care for their families outside of the Finca, basically, they’ve been asked to step up to the plate as this pandemic continues to challenge us in various ways. I just want to say how very proud I am for them and grateful for their patience, care, and commitment to each one of us here. Please pray for these men and women as they continue to serve in this new capacity.
I suppose at this point you might be wondering how we’re all doing down here in our tropical oasis cuddled up to the equator. I’ll answer that by painting the following picture: it was the end of a long day, we were all preparing for bed, but to treat ourselves, we slunk from our secret stash of goodies the remaining spoonfuls of our last Nutella jar. Each with spoon in hand, the jar is passed one by one to each individual to acquire his/her sugary nightcap. With the knowledge that we truly had come to the end of this, many left the room feeling wetter than usual as the tears ran parallel to the sweat of their faces, and while everyone had settled into their beds, I returned for the Nutella jar. The truth is, the spoon can only scrape out so much of the jar. Leaving so much left to be desired when everyone else had called it quits, the Nutella was practically beckoning for my return. For the rest of the night, it was me and the Nutella jar, together at last. I laid atop our dinner table underneath the breeze of our ceiling fan fist deep into the cruelly shaped jar (and I mean cruelly. Have you seen the shape of Nutella jars?). I had licked it clean, sparkling even. You see, I couldn’t explain to you exactly what motivated this particular evening proclivity. Maybe it had to do with wanting to enjoy every last comfort of home that this jar of Nutella represented; maybe it had to do with being around toddlers day in and day out, and what child wouldn’t love to find their germy hands in the entanglements of a Nutella jar; maybe I’ve really started to lose it being quarantined for almost 3 months now and my only companion was found in the dwindling swabs of this horribly, practically evil shaped plastic vessel; maybe I was just hungry. Who knows?
Make of that what you will. I think it’s an accurate description of life at the moment. As always, we remember to count our blessings, because they are many, and be thankful for the ways Christ has been able to work in us and enrich our lives despite the consequences of a global pandemic. Inevitably, this blog post didn’t end up being shorter than I might have mislead you to believe (but honestly, were you expecting it to be?). I am thankful for your taking the time to peruse through this. Please know of my prayers for you and please continue to pray for us.
Stay safe and healthy, and don’t allow any Nutella jars to go by the wayside without properly cleaning them first.
Con amor
Ryan
