December 19, 2017July 6, 2020 Amy

Unexpected Friendships

Honduras

There is presently a political crisis here in Honduras surrounding the recent elections, for obvious reasons I will refrain from posting about the political situation for the time being. The recent events mean that we spend more time at home in the gated community. On the upside, this situation has led to me make unexpected friends in unexpected places. Today, I would like to tell you about our cooking class with E and our family outing with Ed.

E called late one afternoon, just as I was scratching my head wondering what leftovers we could muster together into something that might resemble a lunch, and he asked: « Have you eaten yet? I’ve made too much fried chicken… » I sighed with relief at his perfect timing and replied: « Please come over! »

Less than five minutes later, E knocked on our door with containers full of warm homemade food. T and I wolfed down his juicy fried chicken, beans and rice and fried plantains. At first B, was scared and cried upon hearing the deep voice and hearty laughter but she soon came around and bounced happily in E’s arms, playing with his hat, earring and scruffy beard.

E is the partner of another diplomat here. He is originally from Haiti and is now working on a musical career writing and producing his own songs. As we gobbled down the tasty meal, we got to listen to some of his catchy tunes. T wiggled and danced to the beat in his chair. He has good taste for music: the next day, while we were listening to Christmas music on YouTube, T asked for:  « Play E’s song mama! »

After a short while, both children started to get fussy and cry. I put them down to bed and soon had one of those magic moments mothers can only wish for: time to myself. I walked into the kitchen to find O (our cleaning lady) and E trying to have a conversation. I say try because O only speaks Spanish and E only speaks English and Creole. There was lots of laughing going on as they pointed and gestured towards the remaining beans and rice. I quickly gleaned that O was curious as to how her beans and rice were in a sticky clump and E’s version were not. (I had no idea this was even an issue up until this point.)

As we all pointed and gestured, I tried to translate between the two chefs as best I could. E mimed the steps he followed in order to make crumbly beans and rice and O asked questions. I now have even more admiration for professional translators as I struggled to go between English and Spanish on a topic that was totally foreign for me. It’s not easy to simultaneously translate and synthesize the information being discussed. I tried my best, but often got confused, and to make it worse, in all the excitement, sometimes I would blurt out random French sentences.

We decided to cook dinner together. I wish there would have been a fly on the wall with a little camera to see how the three of us worked together in the kitchen. Some questions and answers got lost in translation but in the end, as a team, we made a scrumptious meal of chicken curry over a bed of mashed potatoes. I learnt how to wash the chicken in lime, boil the meat to tenderize it, marinate the vegetables in fresh herbs picked from our garden, and laugh with my new friends. Our shared love of cooking superseded language and cultural barriers. We were curious about each other. O, coming from a very male dominated society with strict gender roles, was surprised to see a man comfortable cooking in the kitchen. I was happy to learn new skills and recipes from both Honduran and Creole cuisine. E was proud to share his cooking tips and joie de vivre. This is an experience I would never dreamed of in Quebec: an impromptu cooking class which superseded differences of class, culture, education. The barriers of language and money no longer mattered. For a short moment, we were able to forget the chaos outside. We were brought together by the simple fact that we all need to eat and enjoy preparing our food together.

 

Our second new friendship involved a man and his dog. I formally was introduced to Ed as he walked by our house with his pet on a leash. A short aside here, anyone who knows me from back in Canada is probably aware of my acute fear of dogs. I have been known to place people between dogs and myself. I have also been known to cross the street to avoid crossing paths with menacing dogs. It does not help to say: “Don’t show your fear, it’s a nice dog.” I’m very scared and cannot hide it. That being said, nearly all of our neighbours here in the gated community have dogs. I’ve been asked to walk them, feed them, and babysit them. And here I was agreeing to go for lunch with a complete stranger and his dog. (There must be something in the water for me to agree to such things.)

Ed is Columbian and his wife works for the Embassy in Honduras. He speaks Spanish, French and English and has lived in several countries before moving here to Honduras. Upon figuring out that both our spouses would be away for business, we exchanged telephone numbers and agreed to go out for a meal the following weekend. We selected a nearby pizza parlour that was both children and dog friendly.

At the assigned time on Saturday, I waited for Ed in the car in front of his building and then we followed him and his dog in their car to a nondescript tower block a few kilometers away. The mixed apartment and office space was in a new part of town for me and I was glad to have someone show me the way. We drove down an unmarked lane and entered an indoor parking garage. I parked and unloaded the car: T clutching his little backpack filled with toys, happily strapped B into her stroller, and myself shouldering my purse/diaper bag. I looked over to see Ed and his dog with an equally large bag. We found out later that his doggie bag contained a collapsible water bowl, steamed carrot snacks, and a portable dog bed for his four-legged friend.

From the parking lot, we took an elevator up a few stories and exited into a whole other world. We strolled around a sunny rooftop terrace with stunning views of the surrounding mountains and city below. Several cafes and restaurants were open for business and had set out inviting tables and chairs for their patrons. We could peek into a couple inviting stores and beauty parlours as their storefronts were all glass. We found a trampoline and T merrily jumped around as I admired the view and Ed took his dog for a stroll.

We then sat down to eat at a pizza parlour which served delicious pizza prepared fresh before our eyes in a wood burning oven. The meal was not restful to say the least: despite all my best efforts, T tried feeding his pizza crust to the dog, B knocked over my full glass of fresh mint lemonade, and several gusts of wind threatened to blow all of the napkins onto the floor. We were so occupied with both children and the dog that we barely finished a coherent sentence without interruption. Here is a sample of our trilingual nonsensical conversation:

–Como te gusta Honduras Amy?

-Me gusta. No T, don’t feed the dog!

-Sientate aqui amigo. Ahh!

-Shhh! B, pourquoi tu pleures?

-Encore pizza T?

-Mama! Caca, change my diaper.

-Vamos a caminar…

Nonetheless, we left the restaurant with full bellies and happy smiles on our faces. The shared laughter and meal allowed us to forge a new kind of friendship. Now, whenever Ed walks by our house with his dog on their evening stroll, they make sure to ring our doorbell and say “Hola.” Both experiences have taught me that despite differences in languages and culture, keeping an open mind and an open heart can lead to unexpected friendships in unexpected places. Who will you meet today?