The End (July 31)

At breakfast in the morning, I met an interesting man named Wes who was with a group at our hotel called Blue Line Ministries International, a small American organization working with the police, military, and politicians in efforts to eliminate corruption from Honduras. “It’s a goal that seems impossible and unreachable. We want to completely turn the country around,” he said. Apparently, the police and military have quite limited training and even more limited access to counseling services, despite routinely facing extremely difficult situations. The organization also combats child trafficking in the region, and is currently on a ten-day trip to work in a few Honduran orphanages. “Our leader, Ken, who to me will always be Pastor Ken, is the kind of person who can see people and get them to open up. Of course, there is resistance everywhere along the way. He frequently receives death threats, and the places where he stays are often attacked and broken into,” he added.

We finished the conference in the morning with the remaining student presentations and then prepared to leave. During our shuttle to the airport, however, a cargo cable broke on the top of the van and one of the soft bags, containing a computer, fell off onto the highway. Luckily, the car behind us was able to stop without running over the bag, and we were able to retrieve it.

At the airport, I said my final good-byes to many people with earlier flights (mine was the latest), but Roger and his sister came to visit us one last time before we left. They gave me a nice Honduras t-shirt and a personalized keychain with my name on it as parting gifts. Suddenly, however, we were kicked out of the check-in line we had been waiting in for well over an hour, because the computer system was down. “Welcome to Honduras,” Roger said, annoyed.

Now waiting until 2:30pm to check-in, the few of us with late flights, including Dr. Malkin, went to get lunch with Roger and his sister before they went back home. Finally, the time for our flight came, and quite by chance I was sitting next to Leah, who had worked in Roatan.

On the second flight, which departed from San Salvador, I was seated beside a woman named Cora and her 10-year-old daughter Clara who were Canadians. We had a very interesting conversation, and after discussing things such as from what and where we were returning home, she asked about where I went to school. “Oh, yes. Ronald Reagan?” she replied, “I know all about him. We learn about American history in Canadian school.” “Well, we don’t learn Canadian history in America,” I responded. She laughed, “That’s because there’s nothing to learn. Really, not much goes on. Canadians are content to be followers while the U.S. leads. But, at the same time, we can go anywhere in the world with our Canadian flags and everyone loves us. You can’t do that.”

Cora’s own story was also interesting. “I’m a single mother, but when I had my child, I decided that it didn’t have to mean I would stop traveling. So every summer, we go somewhere in the world. Clara here is a little world traveler; we just spent three weeks in South America and the Amazon. I started out small at first, but I worked hard and am now what you might call a successful corporate banker. We might be opening up some branches near where you live.”

On the third flight, from Guatemala City to Chicago, I was again seated by Cora and Clara, but this time in a different row. We were in the same plane as well, but had to remove ourselves and our baggage from the plane for a security check and drug search. In the aisle across from me was an interesting person named Ian, who works with the Institute in Basic Life Principles in Chicago. While the ministry was hosting seminars in Chicago to teach about the spiritual, physical, and economic effects of emphasizing family and moral values in a society and culture, some Peruvian leaders who attended the conference were so impressed that they invited the group down to Peru for five days to meet with government officials.

A woman in front of us turned around and said, unconvincingly, “I’m sorry. Your conversation is louder than my headphones,” expecting us to stop talking. Of course, she was actually just uncomfortable with the content of our conversation, as we were not at all loud and she did not even wear headphones during the flight.

Finally arriving in the States was a bizarre feeling. Waiting in line for customs and immigration, a cheesy welcome video played, with stereotypically American images. The film of steel mills, people fishing, wild horses and buffalo, the Rocky Mountains, and a few skylines climaxed with the Statue of Liberty and a faded American flag waving in the background. Of course, I ecstatically drank in the propaganda with my mouth gaping open. At nearly 3:00am, my family awaited on the other side of the doors with a sign reading ‘KLINE’. I was not yet in my house, but I was finally home! Later, I felt foolish for asking in response to my thirstiness, “So, does the hotel have drinking water?” “Uh, yes,” Paul said.