Taking it to the Face

(And no, sorry people this does not involve chugging PBR)

Some days just don’t go your way. Case in point, Tuesday September 8th. After scheduling to teach an internet course to graduating high school students and arranging to borrow my counterpart’s modem I was looking forward to a smooth yet fulfilling week. Unfortunately, this would not be the case. On Monday morning my counterpart informs me that she loaned her modem to someone else and I would have to teach my first class sans internet. Ok, fine, awkward but doable. But, I made sure to tell her that I MUST have the modem for the following day. Come Tuesday morning however, my counterpart never comes into work and takes none of my calls. After a few hour quest to find another internet source, I have had enough and I decide I will make the 1+ hour trip to Choluteca (the largest city near my town) and just buy my own modem. After a crammed and smelly bus ride, I walk 15 blocks, sweating like a pig, to the only store that sells modems only to be informed that they are closed for the day because someone tried to rob the store earlier that morning. But, a helpful employee does inform me that, if I am willing, I can make the half hour trip to San Lorenzo and buy it there. So, I quickly hop another bus and find my way to the other store. After an hour of haggling with the sales lady (she was unaware of my amazing negotiating skills), I persuade her to forgo the background check and waiting period and allow me to take the modem with me the following morning in time to teach my class. Happy with myself I buy a licuado (like a milkshake) and make my way to the bus stop.

Before I detail the following event it is important to note that San Lorenzo does in fact have a reputation as being “not very gringo friendly.” However, I have been to this to town before and my friend who is much taller, blonder and has large blue Precious Moments eyes frequents this town every weekend alone to do her grocery shopping so, I had no second thoughts about going there alone.

Now let me set the scene, it is 4pm, broad daylight and there I am at the bus stop enjoying one of San Lo’s famous licuados, minding my own business while standing among other Hondurans and trying to blend in. As I look down at my straw in awe of the delicious goodness flowing into my mouth, my cell phone in the same hand and my other hand on my large bag that was currently holding every important electronic device I have here in Honduras, I look back up at a passing bus and suddenly become aware that out of nowhere a drugged-out man is now standing in front of me. Before I can move away from him he slurs “Regalame un beso” (Give me a kiss) right in my face. Tempted as I was, I mean he had some teeth, I said “No” and just as I took a step back to get away from him, he reached out and slapped me in the mouth knocking my licuado all over the girl next to me and my cell phone to the ground. Shocked, I thought to myself “Oh hell No!” and yelled “No me toca!” (Don’t touch me), quickly taking two steps back as he attempted to hit me again muttering obscenities about “gringas” that won’t give him sex or money. Despite the fact that it was early in the afternoon, no police were around and no one at the bus stop, including the several men witnessing the event (one of which being the 20 something boyfriend of the girl I knocked my licuado all over), tried to intervene. As I attempted to move away from him further while he swung at me again, Glenda, indeed the good witch and the hero of this story, standing behind me with her child starts shoeing him away like a dog and effectively attracting even more attention which up to this point I did not think was possible. Upon hearing her, the loco crossed to the other side of the street and stood directly across from me staring and yelling obscenities. Quickly, I picked up my phone and started to thank the woman for standing up for me when I see her eyes suddenly get huge and whirl around to see the same man charging back across the street headed directly for me. Thinking faster than I, Glenda pulls me over to an old man selling ice cream from a cart and starts scolding him for not saying anything to the loco the first time and telling him that he needs to protect me now. Luckily, once this guy saw me speaking to another male he walked to the other end of the bus stop where he paced back and forth staring at me. After what seemed like an eternity but, in all actuality was only a few minutes, a bus came and I got the hell out of there. The oh so kind Glenda boarded the bus with me and confirmed what I already knew, that the man singled me out because I was an American woman standing alone. Greattttt.

Afterwards I reported the incident to Peace Corps and with the police in San Lorenzo the following morning. Let’s just say the police are not exactly scouring the earth for this man. However, while I can speak for no one else’s experience with Peace Corps’ incident reporting, Peace Corps responded quickly and professionally in my case. Our safety and security officer followed up with me and the police in San Lorenzo several times and I got phone calls from the Country Director and both my business bosses, Jorge and Jesus, to make sure I was doing alright which made me feel good.

So yes my dear friends, hell has frozen over because Katie Ann got pimp slapped, lost a milkshake (and let’s be honest, some dignity) and did not hit the asshole back. Shocking I know. Unfortunately, there was no way I could have avoided this incident. It was even more upsetting than one might imagine because it came directly after two other minor but equally infuriating incidents, one being when a co-worker yelled at me about how he hated America and how our government only uses Honduras to our own advantage and we do not care about the people (this due to our government’s position in the current political issues) as we were leaving a potable water ceremony funded by U.S. NGOs and the other when a bolo (drunk) grabbed me and asked for a kiss at 6pm only two blocks from my house. Stupid, frustrating and deeming, but, thanks to American media and Girls Gone Wild this is the image Americans and especially women have in other countries and they types of things we have to deal with. And yet I can’t be too mad because up until this point I’ve been welcomed with open arms and have had nothing but wonderful experiences here in Honduras. So in the end, it just goes to show that not even a pimp slap can make me bitter about being here. It’s just another chapter for the book after all!