New Blog

I've got a new blog...this one will hopefully be easier to opperate on the run:

cameronhartsell.tumblr.com

I appreciate all of your support!!

Thanks,
Cameron

Sad Times in the Neighborhood...

Up the mountain, next to the ML coffee plantation, about 3 miles and an hour down the road, we’ve got some neighbors…a family with nothing but themselves. They were a family of 12, as of last week they’re down to 11. At 20 years of age their oldest son suffered an epileptic seizure and died on the floor in front of his younger brothers and sisters.
Hearing of their conditions, a landscaping contractor, Ed Jackson along with his foreman, Miguel Enriquez, who were visiting from Georgia decided to visit our neighbors. We carried some food, candy (a must) and a few toys up to their home.
After seeing how their house and grieving conditions, Ed and Miguel left money with me asking that we take more food and provisions to the family. Late Friday evening, Fernando (preacher/warehouse mgr), Brianna Capps (intern) and I took the 36lbs of rice and beans, along with a lot of other food and supplies (including a soccer ball) to the family’s home and held a Bible study with them…they seemed to enjoy it (considering the circumstances), but what they appreciated the most was the company and the visit. Both adults kept telling us how much they appreciated having visitors. Their own family had yet to visit and it wasn’t hard to see they were a hurting from their lack of family support. It was pretty obvious there was a lot of pain in the household…the father couldn’t say the son that died—he could only say “el hijo que se fue”…”the son that went away”
Having never lost a child, its difficult for many of us to relate to this family’s suffering. After 2 nearly full 100lbs sacks of supplies, prayers and visiting, we are still doing what we can, but I know and realize we are just scratching the surface…only time and God will truly heal this family’s pain.

LA MIGRA!!!!

They got me. For those of you who wondering just how long it would take before the five-O caught up to my loose living...you can rest your thinkers...it happened. Really a little over a month ago, but since I'm still not really in the swing of this blogging thing, you all are just now finding out about it.

I was cruising along the Pan-American Highway with my new friends, Bubba, Talley and "Doc" all from around Franklin, Tenn. when it happened...a roadblock. The fuzz were everywhere...they were like an army (at least 5 of them). Now when I first came down roadblocks made me a little nervous, but by now I felt like I had the system perfected to an art...slow down, smile and give them a sucker... For some reason these guys (child and adult alike) love blow pops. So I try to always have a bag of candy readily available...just to let the police know how much I appreciate their hard work. Unfortunately for me this go around they were stopping everybody and I was out of suckers.

The four of us were on where way back from visiting the medical clinic in Las Pitas when we happened upon a random police roadblock. Most of these Police stops are stationary and they don't move...no sense in making things difficult for the bad guys...but this one was right next to the cock fighting ring and caught me off guard.

They waived us over, being the driver/guide/translator they naturally came to my window first and ask what we were doing. I told him as I started easing on the gas and letting off the clutch, hoping to kind of slip away--maybe he wouldn't notice--he did...and then he dropped the bomb, "you have your passport?" Of course not...what do I need to carry that around for? At some point this fellow got confused and thought I was down here working illegally so I could send Limperas ($) back to support my family in the states...Let me work a month digging ditches so my grandparents can treat themselves to a Happy Meal on a Friday night...

With each new group I give an orientation on their first night with Mission Lazarus...and I strongly emphasize the need for carrying your passport...so needless to say all of my travel buddies had theirs, the missionary/guide was the only one without--it was a little annoying and embarrassing...

I had to get out, leave my nervous Gringo companions alone in the car, and go plead my case with the "jefe"--boss. His proposal was to hold their documents and we could drive to the house and get mine---about and hour away---I kindly rejected his offer and told him I'd stay, give the gringos (cause I'm not one) their papers back and they could return with mine. He was obviously disgruntled--he would have rather me make a contribution to his retirement fund and get it over with. So I walked back to the car, laid out the plan of action, grabbed my sack lunch and proceeded to bust a fat chill with the Honduran Po Po.

As I opened my lunch I could tell they were interested, so I shared--it doesn't take much to make friends-- and about a half hour into the ordeal they stole a tomato from an old man driving by and offered it to me as a gift. ENTRAPMENT!!---I've seen Matlock and Perry Mason---so I cut it up to share, that way they were guilty too...I had no plans of going to a third world prison alone...

Then, about the time I thought things were going good...they started asking about "my love life". One thing led to another and since I have no wife, girlfriend or "woman", its only natural to assume I'm batting for the other team... Luckily I was able to clarify with some "Jesus talk" and inviting them to church...

By the time it was all said and done, I had been there about an hour and we were laughing and shaking hands...they even apologized for detaining me. Two days later, the boarder patrol stopped a group of Mission Lazarus volunteers coming from Nicaragua, he jumped on the bus saw it was gringos and (since we all look alike) said "Ya'll know Camaron?" the North Americans said yes, the police let them go...Makin new friends everyday...

On my way to the top...

My good friend and future bankroll, Josh Massingill, recently informed me that I was the world's worst blogger...So I'll see what I can't do about posting something now and again.

I decided to start with a name change...I thought "'round the world" was kind of lame since my plane flight was only about 3 1/2 hrs and I'm still in the same hemisphere as you all. So as I got to thinking about it "A big gringo named Shrimp" seemed a little more appropriate. While that may seem kind of weird, just bare with me will I explain...

Since "Cameron" doesn't really roll off the Spanish speaking tongue very well, my gringo companions suggested that I try using "Miguel" since my first name is Mikeal--pronounced Michael--but since I wasn't used to introducing myself that way, Miguel didn't stick...

I kept introducing myself as Cameron, only putting a little accent on it. But even then the people kept struggling with it, especially the campesinos (poor farmers...probably because they don’t have any teeth). There really is no equivalent to my name in Spanish, nothing like John=Juan or James=Santiago...the best I've got is "CamAron" followed by a few sheepish grins.

For those of you who don't know, CamAron translates to "Shrimp". So it has kind of turned into a joke...a 6'2", 200lbs gringo being called shrimp by a bunch of malnourished short people...its quite the ice breaker and I think I'm starting to make a name for myself.

Whether I'm in the jungle near our clinic or in the mountains near my home, its not uncommon to hear "Que tal, Shrimp?" or "Shrimp! Que pasa mi amigo?" There are even a few that refer to me as Shrimp (using the English word). Just the other day I was in the airport, 4hrs away, in the capital when the shoeshine boy, whom I had never met before shouted out (in Spanish) "Hey Camaron, you want to get your shoes shined?"...I'm on my way to celeb status...

Disclaimer

Im not really what one would call the "blogging type" but I am going to give it a shot...Hopefully yall can find a little enjoyment out of mi vida en Honduras...

On similar disclaiming note, since Ive already entered my fourth week in Honduras, some of the first few stories are from the past.