What separates the men from the girls

First news first, I got a phone call from Jorge the welder this morning…telling me about his run-in with his brother, and the machete injury he has a result. He was really calling because he needed some crutches. I ran them over (Cecilia was with me for the trip, some last minute bonding time before she left) to him, and got the full scoop. His brother is a little loco in his coco, and was beating their mother with a board or bat or something wooden. Jorge’s nephew (the son of that brother that Jorge has been watching) told Jorge, and with machete in hand, he went out the door on instinct.

Jorge posing for his picture as I told him "people that know you will want a picture to see how ugly your face still is...oh, and to pray for you and your family as well. The smile hides what otherwise was pretty intense pain."


Bad instinct, since the machete wound he has is from his own machete after his brother got a hold of him. Fortunately, the wound is on his leg...not severing his head. Sadly, the incident is indicative of the state of criminal affairs here in Honduras, because after he got home from a rather lengthy visit to the hospital to get the matter attended to, the police came by to investigate. As normal, fearing reprisals, Jorge said he would not be pressing charges. I am not sure what the mother and other witnesses will do, but here if someone is caught, but no witness comes forward in 24 hours…free he goes. This is a story that is relived every day, over and over…part of the problem here with the crime rate, but going into that would be a topic for a research paper not a blog update.

Valerie left for the US as well today, normally I would say “with Cecilia in tow” but that was far from the case. I have seen women here in the airport all the time…sophisticated, stylish, elegant, and self assured in those qualities. Watching Cecilia with her sunglasses, purse elegantly hanging from her forearm, posing for pictures as Valerie verified their exit tax…I could see that in her. Needless to say…she was not crying upon leaving this time as when I left last October, but rather asking every five minutes in the waiting area “when are we going to get to go?” Soren took it all in stride…for the time being. We will see what happens in a few days.

And now that we are alone for the first time in our lives for a long stretch, we participated in some male bonding. First, the shared lunch of two PB&Js (“dada gives me two sandwiches, mommy only one!”) and then a hair cut. Soren's is less pronounced since his hair was shorter to begin with, but you have to start somewhere.


I pity the fool who does not like this hair cut! Let the games begin!