Vol. xxxviii # 1
September, 2017
Honduras:
Not as Bad as Some Might Think
--David Inczauskis
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tlf news |
Vol. xxxviii # 1 |
September, 2017 |
Honduras: Not as Bad as Some Might Think --David Inczauskis | |||
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It was a simmering hot July afternoon in El Progreso, Honduras, and I was just about to take my afternoon siesta. I turned the fan towards my bed and lay down to rest. Soon after my head hit the pillow, I heard my cell phone emit a harsh bling. I picked it up and saw a message from Edwin, a young and relatively new actor at the theatre. He was inviting me to an appetizing bean soup at his house down the street. My stomach was lighter than my eyes were heavy, so I redressed, picked up my sombrero, and scurried out the door. Edwin's house was humble. It had a small kitchen, a living room, a bedroom or two, and a patio. On the walls there were various prayers in cursive and a painting of Moses parting the Red Sea. The bean soup was nearly boiling. I've never come to understand why it was such a phenomenon in the already devilishly hot El Progreso. It made me sweat all the more, but it tasted like heaven. After the meal, we chatted and took a tour around the neighborhood. He showed me the park with its little playground and concrete soccer field. The kids and young adults would meet there at night to play, gossip, and make mischief. He showed me the spot where one of his friends dragged himself to safety after getting shot, but he assured me that the community was no longer as violent because it established a team of vigilante armed guards protecting all four entrances. I returned home later that afternoon. I was very grateful for the meal and the comradery, so I sent Edwin a little "thank you" message on WhatsApp. He soon replied, "You're welcome, David. We just want to show you that Honduras isn't as bad as some people make it out to be." The text made me smile, and it has stuck with me as a particularly appropriate description of my time with teatro la fragua. If you tour around El Progreso with a U.S. mind like mine, I'm guessing that several things will grab your attention. There are stray dogs everywhere, and none of them are neutered. From the mouths of men young and old, you will consistently hear phrases like bitch mother, dick, and fag. Every other person seems to have a gun. People are always telling you to be careful -- and rightfully so. If you're white and male like I am, lots of people will smile, point, and say, "Gringo." Some women might mutter to each other that you are handsome, while other women might mutter to each other that you must be rich. However, if you happen to chance upon teatro la fragua, you will see dance practices and dress rehearsals, little girls in tutus and middle-aged men in funny hats. You will hear musical harmonies and theatrical voices expressing a wide range of emotions. Granted, you will also notice many of the characteristics of El Progreso described above; but you'll come to see that, with teatro la fragua around, Honduras turns out to be not quite as bad as some might think. Theatre is a genre of desires. Emotions and dreams find form on stage. They take on life, and they do so live. I had the chance to see this process at la fragua. While my chief goal for the summer was a scholarly publication about a few of the theatre's scripts, I also spent time with the actors during their rehearsals and theatrical exercises. I wanted to grasp something of their trade because acting has always been somewhat of a mysterious profession to me. One week, we did exercises from the Brazilian Augusto Boal's Theatre of the Oppressed. The actors had to come up with a frozen scene that best described one of Honduras' social problems. After discussing numerous possibilities, they decided to frame a dramatization of Honduran emigration to the United States. Jasmín, elected as director, put together a scene that covered various aspects of the topic. She divided the stage into three parts. The first depicted an elderly gentleman working hard to clear a field in the countryside. His body showed signs of significant stress. He was going to move to the U.S. to find a job that a man of his age and health could handle. The second showed a father waving "goodbye" to his wife and children. All their faces were depressed. The father's head was turned towards his family to show that he was leaving out of economic necessity, not out of pleasure. The third portrayed two young men relaxing and smoking marijuana. They were to head north because the leader of their gang asked them to smuggle drugs across the U.S./Mexico border. The second part of the exercise was to put together a frozen illustration of an ideal Honduras. Jasmín changed the position of the elderly worker to demonstrate that he found a job inside the country that corresponded with his physical limitations. The father was embracing his wife and children. All the family members wore expressions of peace and comfort. The young men who were once consuming drugs were now enjoying non-gang-related recreational activities. Honduras had become a utopia (at least in the theatre for those fifteen minutes). The last segment of the exercise called for a conversation about how Honduras could journey from the problem to the solution. This step was undoubtedly the most difficult. There were many ideas, but two prevailed. For one, they spoke of governmental structures and programs that favored the poor. The money set aside for development projects was actually spent on said projects; it didn't disappear in an abyss of private contracts and embezzlement. The people would elect new political leaders who weren't members of the handful of families that have always controlled the country's resources. Next, they shifted their gaze towards the local level. Families stayed together, spouses were faithful to each other, and people had faith in God. Parents were models of behavior for their children. Men respected the dignity of women. This theatrical exercise brought out the best and holiest of the actors' aspirations. They incarnated their dreams on the stage. In some ways, the Boal activity is a microcosm of la fragua's mission. Theatre is a genre of desires, and the teatro, through its productions, puts people in touch with their desires in an environment that otherwise crushes them. On Friday and Saturday nights following a laborious work week, Hondurans in El Progreso can gather at teatro la fragua to share in the actors' hopefulness and to remember what they are working for -- a Honduras much better than others make it out to be. David Inczauskis, S.J., is a Jesuit scholastic at Loyola University Chicago, where he is pursuing master's degrees in Spanish literature and social philosophy. In Chicago he also serves as an eighth grade religion teacher, a chaplain to various student groups, and a spiritual director in the Ignatian tradition. For the summer of 2017, he came to teatro la fragua to write an academic paper about some of the theatre' scripts, and he hopes to continue writing about la fragua in the future. |