07 June 2005 20:44
Pto Lempira: Morning VisitAs we walked along we found ourselves in front of Mau's (pronounced Mow, as in "wow" with an "M"), a simple concrete structure sitting across the ditch from the irregular edge of the dirt street. Stepping from the street onto a rough array of uneven cinderblocks; we passed between piles of dirt, tall bunches of grass, and sickly barb-wire fence. A board walkway bridged the shallow ditch as we stepped from it up onto the smooth red patio tile in front of the store. The store front was adorned with two windows and a wide door, with a squared arch in front of each supporting the balcony roof. The roof itself housed a second storey under construction; gray cinderblock rising for the exterior walls, and weathered two by fours in place for rafters. Further construction clearly awaited either further funding or further enthusiasm. Perhaps both.
The wide door led to a customer area six by ten. Across the counter we could see straight down the hallway, through the residential area of the building, and out the back. We breasted the counter and accosted the grizzled storekeeper...a ten year old boy. Granddad asked his father's whereabouts. The father was of course nowhere about, as the boy solemnly affirmed. "Did this then leave him in charge of the store?" The boy nods. Granddad, stalling for time in an amicable manner, proceeds to question the boy whether he speaks or understands any English.
At this point a woman appears in the back hallway attempting to marshal the three or four younglings who have gathered there to gape at us. Noticing us for herself, she figures that three white people are probably of worthy note, and calls her husband from one of the back rooms. A big man (especially for the area), Mau ambles to the front to greet Granddad whom he met last year. Mau has short cropped hair, sideburns to his jawbone, and a mustache. Lines crease his forehead, the skin sags across his shoulders and chest as he sits shirtless on a stool, leaning elbows on the counter and playing with a multi-tool.
As they converse in English I watch his son, who has receded to the background with the arrival of his father. Soon a little girl came in to purchase something, and I was able to see a fascinating sight...
Two children living in an adult world. He a tender ten, she the same or younger. He with his arms on the counter straight out from the shoulder...for the counter reaches his armpits. She standing on tiptoes, pulling herself up by gripping the counter edge so she can rest her chin on it. She recites a list, obviously given her by her mother: flour, some corn meal, soap, and a few other small odds and ends. Then there is an exchange of lempiras (the money looking strangely large in children's hands) and she walks out carrying a bag of groceries weighing a significant portion of her body weight.
Mau's son retired to a stool off to the side and watched his father talk to the foreign stranger. He probably understood little if any of the spoken English. Talk of economics and how the business was doing, of border conditions and seasonal weather, of current travel plans and regional history. What was going through his mind as he watched the white-haired stranger gesticulate with full hand movements, or as his father shrugged with minimal movement and continued to play with the multi-tool. Was he trying to follow the conversation or was he merely biding his time quietly until he could stop filling his role of adult responsibility and run out side to play?
The son of Mau continued to tend the counter, most oft dealing with customers at least twice his age. But no transaction struck me as much as that first. The children here, they grow up so fast. It is unfortunate that as adults, too many seem to stop growing as soon as they have children to grow in their stead.
Mau himself : Mau's store
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