An American in Honduras, Ep. 6: Cecilia Rea

Cecilia Rea is a recent graduate of St. Joseph’s Academy in St. Louis and volunteered with us in Honduras in January of this year.

My first few hours in Honduras felt overwhelming. 

The bus ride from the airport took twice as long as expected for us to reach Yoro and our driver was madly swerving in and out of traffic the whole way up the mountain. When we finally arrived at my host mom Teresa’s house and I was introduced to her many family members coming, going and speaking rapidly in Spanish, I quickly came to the hard realization that what I learned in my own high school Spanish classes was not going to cut it. By the time I was being shown how to bathe with a bucket because the current drought prevented running water, I wondered, just for a moment, if I’d made a huge mistake. 

Fortunately, my fears were short-lived. After dinner on that first night, Teresa came into my room with a plate of dessert and kind words of welcome. She took her time, speaking slowly so I could understand. She apologized for the craziness of the day and let me know how welcome I was and how happy she was to have me visiting. It was a small gesture of kindness, but it was exactly what I needed at that moment in this unfamiliar place.

I arrived at the nutrition center the next day. I immediately connected with two-year old Becky, who was quite the miracle. She spoke with her eyes. Even though she did not yet have the tools to say what she wanted to say, I knew a million thoughts were happening in her little head. From her wispy black hair to her wide grin, she was full of love. “Hi, sweet Becky,” I would say as I held her little hand. She looked up at me with her deep brown eyes. She stayed quiet throughout our time together, but I know she always greeted me back.

We spent hours together on the green turf at the center. Her bones were not yet strong enough for her to stand up on her own because of her lack of food when she was a baby, but she scooted along the ground just fine. We rolled a little soccer ball back and forth to each other. She played with dolls and toy cars while I admired her strength and resilience.

The conversations Becky and I have consisted of me doing most of the talking and her thinking. I talked to Becky even though I know a verbal response is not part of the deal. I was just fine with that because I know she was learning from me, and I was learning from her.

I think I learned more from a two-year-old in a week than I learned from years of school. My “talks” with Becky left a lasting impression on me, and I miss her every day. I hope the next time I see her, she will also be able to say “hi,” and maybe this time it will be with her eyes and her voice.

Looking back on my time at San Yves, I am struck by two competing feelings. On the one hand, it is sad to see how fragile some of the children are, especially Becky, and to realize how many are behind in growth and development because of malnutrition. The need for a feeding program in a country so abundant with agriculture is troubling to me.

On the other hand, it is wonderful that San Yves exists and that sick kids have a safe place to go. The women who work there are so loving with the kids, and it was clear how deeply they care about them.  They were equally as loving and supportive of me, too. I was honored to help out alongside them.