Category Microfinance in Honduras

Leaving Honduras

Closure is important to me. Like the two years of my life spent in Honduras, I would like to be a short chapter of righteousness in a much longer story… Leaving Every time I remember leaving Honduras, I get shots of anxiety in my system. The circumstances under which we left were not normal, although […]

The Shadow Of A Community

I feel confident in saying I’ve been accepted by the community, but that doesn’t mean I’ve got it all figured out. I wanted us to meet in a no-man’s-land, so I chose the soccer field. The hot April air was almost unbearable, but a patch of shade appeared at 3 pm. We set up the chairs […]

Poverty In Dog Years

Every time I scratch a Honduran dog behind the ear and see them light up, I think of Pelusa. For a while, I’d refrained from donating to other causes because stipend money was short. But then there was a crack in the dam when I saw a GoFundMe page for a dog named Foxy. Anybody who […]

Why Immigration : Part Three

Living Honduras, you see that immigration isn’t just statistics, it’s a mind set. Teens in the communities spray MS13 on walls because they think it’s cool. They have little else to do – no jobs, not many fathers – so they either work in the fields or join the club. Gang communities feel claustrophobic. Their […]

Why Immigration : Part Two

In the summer of 2012, I was backpacking in Arizona when I met my church group in the sizzling streets of Phoenix. We were attending a general assembly, and one of the activities on the list was an organized protest. We mounted a fleet of school buses and headed into the outskirts of the city, […]

Why Immigration : Part One

It took her three buses and less than a month to reach the US border from Honduras. Once there, she had no choice but to stay in a border town and save money; the coyotes were charging something like $3,000 for the smuggling. She settled in with a local family and watched their kids in exchange […]

The Quarters Effect

The sun was setting but she had one more thing to show me before I left. The cement walls of the house were dull and kept the humidity in. The orange light rippled through the sheet hung over the bedroom door as she disappeared behind it. When she emerged, she carried in her wrinkled old […]

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