Feature writing Below are two stories I wrote while on assignment in Honduras and some .pdf's of other stories I've written.
Picking up the piecesBy Chris Birks TEGUCIGALPA, Honduras - Since Hurricane Mitch hit the city last fall, New Hope Mountain has kept its horrific secrets buried. Yet survivors relive the terror this mountain brought on the families that lived - and died - along its ridges. The mountain, named for the optimism abundant in Honduran culture, became a murderous mudslide that whisked more than 100 people to their deaths. Raquel Garcia escaped with her life, her only scars are the memories of that night. "There used to be 32 home right there," she says, pointing toward heaps of rocks and dead trees. "There were over 100 people living on that side of the mountain. They only found seven of them alive." The relentless rain saturated the mountainside until finally, at 2 a.m., the land could no longer resist the blast. "I could hear them screaming as the whole side of the mountain gave way and slipped into the river below. They were screaming as their houses slid down the mountain," Garcia said. "What I will never forget is the moment the screaming stopped. They were yelling, ‘Help us, help us,’ and suddenly, it stopped. They were buried alive by the mud. There was no sound then, just that of the rain and the river." There are similar stories throughout Honduras, with many of the country’s 6 million inhabitants still trying to rebuild the lives after the storm last October. Hurricane Mitch was one of the worst storms to hit Central America. In all, 11,000 people were killed, nearly 6,000 in Honduras. It was second deadliest hurricane to ever hit the Western Hemisphere, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. There are 8,000 people are still missing. Winds reached more than 150 mph and as much as 2 feet of rain fell each day. NOAA estimates the overall damage in Honduras to be $4 billion. Yet throughout Tegucigalpa, the Honduran capital of about 800,000 residents, many areas seemed to escape harm. Homes still stand, businesses remain open, people go about their daily lives. The normalcy is a testament to the rebuilding efforts of the Hondurans, who are proud that visitors have to search for remaining signs of destruction. A river called Rio Choluteca, or Rio Grande by the locals, cuts through Tegucigalpa, separating it from its sister city, Comayaguela. Some of the worst flooding in the country occurred along its banks on October 31 - Halloween - when Hurricane Mitch hit this area sending water and mud careening down the river and tributaries. Parts of the Rio Choluteca rose 100 feet and completely enveloped three-story buildings in mud. A small lake appeared between the two cities, remaining there for weeks. The ferocious rain also dissolved the walls of La P.C., the central prison. The adobe walls gave way to the constant pounding of water, allowing the prisoners to tunnel out of the structure. Some of the inmates were shot by guards as they escaped, others that made it out were swept to their deaths by the torrents beyond the prison walls. Today, a watch tower is all that remains of La P.C. The prison, and its remaining inmates, are at a new site that features concrete walls. It’s an example of the Honduran ability to learn, adapt and move forward. Blanca Flores, who lives in a slum called Little Breezes, is another example of that ability to adjust. Her cardboard shanty home was swept away in the first few moments of Hurricane Mitch. But in her world, it was the best thing that could have happened. "Sure, I lost my house, but it was made of cardboard. The flooded river brought trees from the hillside down to our neighborhood. I now have a house made of wood," she said, proudly looking at her new home with the bark still intact. Many Hondurans lost more than their homes. Some cannot rebuild because their property was either washed away or covered with tons of mud and rocks. For these people, there is little choice but to stay at a shelter or a refugee camp. The Red Cross built The Clover for people with no place to go. The residents of this camp, and all others around the city, have one year to find housing. Despite this, construction continues to expand the camps to house more refugees. The Hondurans have learned to live in Hurricane Mitch’s aftermath by reclaiming their country from Mother Nature. Business have been re-opened, streets and bridges have been repaired. President Clinton stopped at one such structure while touring the county in March, a bridge that was rebuilt by Hondurans and members of the American military. At Llanti Mundo auto garage on the banks of Rio Choluteca, workers fought to reclaim their livelihood. "We were back in business two months (after the storm)," said Fernando Avila, the chief of sales. "We could see that the boss was thinking about closing the store. He thought it was a total loss. Our enthusiasm to reopen inspired him to keep the business, and we saved our jobs." In Honduras, a popular saying helps residents cope with their obstacles. Many repeat "Mitch was meant for us," which means the storm was an unavoidable act of God. Many Hondurans aren’t angry about their plight. The overriding attitude is relaxed, they take it in stride with an undeniable ability to cope with problems. "Why start worrying?" Avila said. "If everyone was worried, no one would live in peace." And that’s why, despite all their heartache, the Hondurans still call it New Hope Mountain.
Lending a hand
LA PAZ, Honduras - In the back corner of a crowded, noisy pediatrics room, Louis Moncado waits patiently by his unconscious daughter’s side. During the day, he fans her with a newspaper, trying to make the 4-year-old’s recovery from surgery a little easier. At night, he lays his head on the side of her bed, holding her hand in case she wakes up and wonders where he is. Alba Moncado, Louis’ daughter, has a club foot, which is a congenital disorder that turns the foot inward. Walking is difficult, and running is nearly impossible. Louis, a La Paz farmer, cannot afford the corrective surgery Alba needs since Hurricane Mitch destroyed his crops. His only hope is a volunteer group from the United States that includes several people from McHenry County. Finally, more than a day after the surgery, Louis holds his awake daughter in his arms, her freshly bandaged right foot rests across his knee. He collects his belongings from around the chair that he has called home for the past 24 hours. He’s thankful for the everything the Americans have done, but he may not be aware of how much the medical team truly cares. As Louis kept a vigilant watch over Alba, Carolyn Sweeney of Harvard kept watch over him - a friendly pair of eyes looking out for both patient and family. “(I like to work the nightshift) because it’s on a more personal basis,” Sweeney said. “My goal is to just be in the culture of the people and see how they view us.” Sweeney, a nurse at Harvard Hospital, was one of four McHenry County women who traveled to Honduras in March as part of the Surgical Medical Assistance Relief Teams volunteer agency. The S.M.A.R.T. group sends medical personnel and lay people to Central America to help residents. For Margaret Wolf, a nurse from Memorial Medical Center in Woodstock and Dawn Lentine, a cosmetologist from Oakwood Hills, this was the first S.M.A.R.T. trip they would take. The March visit was Sweeney’s second trip to Honduras and Helen Howard Edwards, a nurse at Northern Illinois Medical Center in McHenry, was back for the fifth time. In all, over 25 people from around the United States took part in the mission. For Sweeney and Howard Edwards, coming back was shocking.. They were in Honduras in early October 1998, just a few weeks before Mitch cut his deadly path through the country, leaving nearly 6000 dead. “It really hits you after you just get back from someplace like this,” Sweeney said about seeing the destruction on television and in the newspapers of the United States. “Helen and I went through this period of mourning. I mean, we were just there.” Honduras is one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere, with more than half the population living in poverty, according to statistics by the World Bank. The S.M.A.R.T. team would have come to Honduras even if the hurricane would not have hit - the need there has always existed. It is the rest of the world that is know seeing how much Honduras is hurting. During this trip, the team worked in La Paz, a small town about 40 miles Tegucigalpa, the Honduran capital. The only hospital is a primitive, yet workable, one-story structure. The team sets up shop first and starts by screening people who will receive medical attention later. Their ailments vary, including everything from cleft lips, extra fingers and toes, disfigured ears. The pre-op area where Howard Edwards works is little more than a hallway. She scurries from patient to patient, preparing them for operations that will change their lives. She helps ease the pressure the medical team members feel, occasionally zipping into the operating room to lend a hand or to tell a joke. “We work hard and laugh our (butts) off,” said Howard Edwards with a grin as she checks on a young girl. Most of the team members have worked together on missions before, so the mood remains upbeat, despite the plight of the patients. Banter fills the poorly lit rooms, with many inside jokes and “Remember when you...” stories followed by laughter. The Americans use two operating areas - one for orthopedic work and another for cosmetic reconstruction staffed by a team from the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. Club feet, cleft lips and the like make up the 40 or so cases the team will work on during their long weekend. For most of the patients, the American medical team is the only hope they have of leading a normal life. They pay, not with money or gifts, but with the thanks of a person saved. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this operation,” says Rene Rodriguez. He and his 4-year-old son, Rene Jr., had extra fingers and toes removed. Neither could walk correctly right and Rene Senior could not maintain a job. He understands how their lives have been transformed by their surgery. “I used to cry when I was a boy and the other children would run and play,” Rene Senior said. “Now, my son can play with the other children and not cry. It was worth everything to bring my son (from Tegucigalpa). I want him to have the life I didn’t have.” The immediate and lasting impact is what drew some SMART team members to Honduras. “If we don’t do it, no one will,” said Brian Steeland, a team member from Michigan. “In the States, if we don’t do it, someone else will.” Surgery is not the only aid the American have brought. The team also runs a general medical clinic where those with less serious ailments can receive medicine. The line of people to see Dr. Mark Sadzikowski from Detroit snakes across an open courtyard. Hundreds of people wait in 90 degree heat for up to five hours. Wolf, the nurse from NIMC, assists in the diagnosis. Every few minutes, a new family steps into a small room. Translators tell the Americans what is wrong - worms, dry eyes and malnutrition are all common sites throughout the long weekend. Wolf and Sadzikowski discuss what they see and decide on prescriptions. With the demand high, breaks are rare for those staffing the general clinic. People just keep coming from early morning until after dark and the hustle stops only when the doors close for the day. Outside the clinic, Lentine sets up a makeshift beauty salon. While people wait to see the doctors, Lentine cuts their hair. So many of the children have lice that she must ration the special shampoo. “I was questioning if I would be of any use because I didn’t know what to expect,” Lentine says, trimming the bangs of a small boy. “I love giving, so knowing that your giving to people that really need it is beyond words.” That sentiment is echoed by all the volunteers. Here, they are able to do what they love, away from the daily stresses and politics at home. There is a level of need and appreciation that they find no where else. As the team prepares to finish its mission, a women walks out of the hospital, supporting her daughter with one arm. The child had her foot repaired and is hurrying faster than the mother can keep up. Before they cross through the exit door, the mother turns to a nearby SMART member and utters the only English she knows. “Thank you.” |
New Hope Mountain’s secret is that many of those people will never be found. They are buried in tons of soil, a grave too treacherous and too costly to excavate.
The Clover is such a place. It’s within sight of the Little Breezes slum and its bark-sided homes, but it’s worlds away. Row after row of single-roomed barracks are the only outward sign of these camps. More than 2,000 people live here, on a barren hunk of rock about the size of a football field rising above the countryside.
By Chris Birks
The specific reasons people have for spending their free time helping others in a third world country are as varied as each individual person. One common thread is the idea that they could make a difference. In Honduras, making a difference is not difficult.