Rambling thoughts after a conversation with Clare

What follows is an undescriptive and polemical monologue, of the sort that Eoin Keehan would not approve. Apologies in advance.

First, a disclaimer. What I write about here on this blog is a worm's eye view. That's what I have to offer, a completely subjective, and tiny, perspective on the big story (of "development"). And perhaps it's a bit baffling, particularly the part about my work. So it has to be said that what I do in the area of citizen participation is one contribution to the broader development project in Honduras. And what I do is perhaps the least obvious part. So to be clear, my organisation does support more tangible things in this country: training for farmers in sustainable agriculture, HIV education, judicial struggles for land rights. And my part: participacion ciudadana, with the intention that with a democratic government, northern NGOs wouldn't have to fund all the other things, which are basic services. Now for the blog:

The skype obsession continues unabated. Today I spoke to Clare in Paris. And my brother in Galway. I have never felt so connected in my life, I have never felt that technological advances made such a profound difference to my life. All that talk of the digital divide passed me by, because I am so darn lo-tech. But man alive, skype is different. It rocks.

I spoke to Clare in Paris about Paris. She said that it's made her into a socialist (some raised eyebrows here: Clare sweetie, you were ALWAYS a roaring trot). I can just imagine: I always feel uncomfortable with the trappings of imperial grandeur in big cities - and Paris defines that - for Clare, it just makes the exclusion more apparent. She described it as "the exact opposite" of what I'm experiencing. Au contraire. In fact, I experience almost as much wealth as poverty. And like Clare, I'm taken aback by the extent to which the wealthy seem unconscious of their blessed status.

The permeation of American culture is absolute here. When we go out, we often go to places that seem to be modelled on MTV: barely dressed high heeled ladies and sports casual men gyrating to identikit pop music. The wealthy speak English, they're educated in Miami. And I'm struck by a poverty in their culture, which is an imitation of one that (for all I disdain it) runs deep in the USA, and has no real roots here in Honduras. The poor too imitate the gringos: nobody is so poor they can't afford bottles and bottles of Coca Cola, and for special occasions maybe a trip to McDonalds or Popeyes. And, for anyone with a modicum of hope, ambition or desperation, the only realistic exit from the mess that Honduras is in is a trip over the Mexican border.
The presence of the US here, it's palpable. We have over 100 tv channels (we pay for cable), of which the majority are American, or pan-Latin American (like CNN en español). They portray a Latin American way of life that doesn't exist, a pretence of a functioning state, secure streets, the existence of a broad group of people who grew up with the same opportunities. No, that doesn't exist in the US either, but it's much less of a stretch to imagine it.

I'm more a part of that pretend life than I am a part of the life of the poor. It strikes me hard from time to time, when I really look at the conditions of the people who live on the roadside. The nature of my work is such that most of the people I meet are at the very least literate and outspoken. I work in "citizen empowerment", and the organisations I support talk endlessly about developing leadership, supporting natural leaders. These aren't generally the most needy: of their very nature they're not, it's a truism that you need bread before politics.

But is IS the real life! It IS more sincere than the fake American dream that makes up my experience of Tegucigalpa. The level of engagement that exists here is astonishing, given the mess the country's in. You'd never see it in Ireland, political engagement from people who don't have running water. Perhaps they should be rioting. But rioting won't make that much of a difference: the government gives in to bully boy tactics (say, with teacher's and police salaries) and the most powerful groups win, but the structure never changes.

A couple of things occur to me here. 1) that this blog doth protest too much. I know. Please comment: tell me to stop whining, tell me to write about my feelings or about my friends, or whatever you want me to write about. And 2) I often refer to the mess the country's in, but that's not something I've described once. I'll rectify that shortly, now that I feel more qualified to diagnose Honduras as a place. And 3): Simon, it's long past the time you were supposed to blog. You were here at Christmas for god's sakes. We're all waiting.

I'll be away for a week and a bit on the north coast, so not sure when I'm going to blog again, but keep checking. And commenting. And hey! Skype me! carol.ballantine