coordinator of emergency efforts in Montañuelas
(photo Bill Loker)
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Bill Loker (right) with Leonardo Anariba,
coordinator of emergency efforts in Montañuelas (photo Bill Loker) |
By November 1, the worst was over in Honduras and adjacent areas of Nicaragua. Mitch continued to wander around Central America, causing further damage in El Salvador and Guatemala. But nowhere did the devastation equal that caused in Honduras. Final casualty figures were about 6,600 people dead, half a million homes destroyed, 2 million people (out of a total population of 6 million) living in shelters, 60 percent of the bridges destroyed, and property damage in the billions of dollars. All this in the poorest country in Central America, which is the poorest region in Latin America.
Back in Montañuelas, we were looking out over a changed landscape. The lake level had risen dramatically, and those with low-lying cornfields were desperately trying to harvest what remained before the crops were destroyed. The one road connecting the town to the rest of the country was washed out, but reparable. The newly built local water supply—the pride of the town—was also damaged by land slide and there was no running water. But compared to other regions of the country, I knew that Montañuelas was relatively lucky. It turned out that Montañuelas was as good a place as any in Honduras to ride out the storm. However, now a new problem presented itself—isolation.
Isolated in the best of times, Montañuelas was now truly on its own. Flash flooding ripped through the major local market town La Libertad as well, taking out homes, businesses, and over $1 million worth of road-building equipment that had been repairing local roads in anticipation of the coffee harvest. Virtually all goods that arrive into Montañuelas come on via La Libertad.
The Trip Out
Only a few people in Montañuelas seemed seriously concerned about the prospect of the town's isolation. At a hastily called town meeting, I suggested that the town send a group down to the dam site to let government officials know of the town's plight and to buy supplies to bring back via the lake. There was little enthusiasm for such a trip, which involved a four-hour walk, a boat crossing, and then a search for officials of the electrical company. The electrical company is not held in much esteem by local folks for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the lack of electricity in the town despite its proximity to the largest hydroelectric dam in Central America! I volunteered to deliver the letter to the electric company explaining the need for boat transportation for supplies and attempt to bring back emergency provisions.
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Locked door left standing in
Tequcigalpa in wake of Hurricane Mitch. (photo courtesy Bill Loker) |
At the road we ran into the manager of the fish farm. I explained the town's situation to him and he immediately volunteered the use of one of his boats to take supplies back on the return trip. We set off in search of electric company officials. The walk from the dam site to electric company offices opened our eyes to the magnitude of the storm's damage and the difficulty of delivering supplies. There were numerous massive landslides that made the road to the dam impassable. One slide had come within about 500 yards of the dam itself. We wondered how we would ever succeed in getting goods down to the water's edge.
After about an hour's walk over roads, landslides, and collapsed sections of road, we came to a military checkpoint and soon ran into electric company personnel. The chief of operations promised the power company's assistance, but explained that he had no boats, as those had been leant to local cities to assist in rescue efforts. He did offer a ride to the nearby market town.
We made a quick trip to Santa Cruz de Yojoa, the local market town and determined that there were, in fact, supplies available. Unfortunately, transportation to get the items back to the power company's offices was not available that day, so we placed our orders and promised to return the next day.
The next morning, Gumercindo headed back to Montañuelas to carry news about the supplies and to have a pair of mules waiting at lake's edge to transport provisions up the hill to town. Once I purchased the 600 pounds of sugar, rice, flour, and other miscellaneous goods, I hitched a ride back to the power company on a Honduran army truck. Miraculously, the power company had opened a single track through the mud slides, enabling a pick-up truck full of our supplies to reach the dam site. We lowered the sacks of food down the 30- meter, cactus-studded cliff to the waiting fish farm boat. We headed up the choppy lake on a dangerously overloaded boat.
Fortunately, Gumercindo had made it back and there were two mules waiting at lake's edge. I helped him load up 400 pounds of provisions and then sat down to wait his return. As darkness fell, the muleteer returned. We loaded up the mule with the remaining supplies and walked up the hill to town. I met with the local shop owners and together we worked out what seemed to be reasonable prices for the goods, and set up an informal rationing system, especially for the sugar, which was in high demand and short supply.
An emergency committee was formed the next day. Its first act was to organize the collection of foodstuffs to send to La Libertad and other communities more drastically affected by the storm. It was truly inspiring to see the response. People who were desperately poor dug into their limited stores to donate 20, 50 or 100 pounds of corn. This often meant they would have to get out to their muddy, sometimes half-flooded fields, to harvest the promised grain—cut it from the corn stalks, shuck it, thresh it (all this by hand) load it on a mule to carry it home—to have it ready for transport to affected areas. The 170 households of Montañuelas donated more than 4,000 pounds of corn to nearby communities in the days following the storm.
Bill Loker, Anthropology
To be concluded in the February 18 issue of Inside Chico State.