It’s been a tumultuous few months in Honduras. From the aftermath of the presidential elections of last year and living for a time under martial law to the more recent transport strikes, it’s been a challenging environment and one that I’ve learnt to not just survive in but thrive. According to government figures, things are getting better with the murder rate down 30 per cent to just 14 per day. The dubious title of “the murder capital of the world” is now with El Salvador, but we’re not far behind and life is still full of tension and unknowns.
I was fast asleep the other night when I was woken abruptly by a loud explosion. There then followed frantic banging on the door and a lot of shouting ensued. Before I could get my thoughts together, I found myself being chased in the dark and wet, wondering where I needed to go. With me were six of the children and young people from the Manuelito Children’s home. We were under a time limit. We were, of course, just taking part in the midnight “wide game” during the annual camping trip, and we were having a lot of fun.
In almost every way, as I type, I can’t be much further away from where I was sat
Antigua is even more beautiful than I remember.