Nick lay on his back in the small twin bed with his heels hung over the end of the mattress. He felt disoriented. The ceiling fan circled above him clicking in rhythm, and a delicious aroma made his stomach growl.
It was the best sleep he had experienced in weeks. He stretched his arms over his head and surveyed the room. It appeared he was alone, as all the other beds and bunks were empty in what appeared to be a dormitory.
Nick heard a brood of squawking hens and the bleating of a sheep. Not since his youth in Montana had he awakened to an animal sound, in that case, the crow of the rooster.
It had been dark when they arrived at the Hope Center on the outskirts of Quetzaltenango. Nick had been relieved when they pulled up to the gate.
No bandits.
Maggie had shooed him directly to bed and told him to sleep as long as he wanted. He hardly remembered climbing into the small bed, and now he wasn’t sure he had moved at all during the night.
He let his feet drop off the side of the bed and sat up. He ran his fingers through his hair and remembered the warm kiss Maggie gave him on his cheek as they parted for the night. He wasn’t sure what he had gotten himself into, but for some reason it felt good to be here.
John, wish you were here, my friend.
Nick pulled on a pair of jogging shorts, a T-shirt, and running shoes and opened the door to the outside. He had no idea what time it was, but the sun filtered through the scattered clouds at the mountaintops, painting them in pink.
The compound of the Hope Center appeared to be a couple acres in size, surrounded by a high, cinder-block fence with razor wire coiled on top. It was immaculately clean with gravel pathways leading from one building to another, lined with flowers, palm and banana trees, and various shrubs.
It had John’s fingerprints written all over it.
Nick could hear the soft voices of children coming from a building to his left. He saw a large metal gate on his right, which he assumed they had come through last night.
He walked toward the gate. A Latino man in a tan uniform rose from his chair next to the gate. Nick was surprised to see a sawed-off shotgun strapped to his back.
“Buenos dias, Dr. Nick,” the man smiled at him. “Can I help you?”
“I was going to go for a short run.”
“Aw, like our Dr. John,” the man nodded. Then he realized what he had said. He looked down and shuffled his feet in the dirt.
Nick saw the pain on his face. “Yeah, I miss him too.”
The man shook his head and looked at Nick. “Mi nombre es Joseph,” he said, sticking his hand out to shake.
Nick offered his name and shook Joseph’s hand.
“Be careful out there,” Joseph warned. “Maybe go toward town.” He smiled broadly and pointed to the left out the gate.
As Nick started out the gate, he saw a large group of people waiting in line outside the fence.
Wonder who they are?
* * *
It didn’t take Nick long to realize he was in a different world as he made his way down a rutted dirt road and tried not to sprain an ankle. The air was surprisingly cool, and he wondered if he should have worn a jacket. The sun was peeking over the mountains, and he hoped it would warm up. The area was surrounded by mountains and reminded him of his hometown. Most of the mountains were covered in lush jungle and a couple of them looked like sleeping volcanoes.
An old man that looked to be about ninety smiled at Nick as he trotted by. The man carried a large bundle of sticks wrapped in cloth and slung behind his back, supported by a sling around his forehead. Nick estimated fifty pounds of wood and was amazed the old man’s neck could support such a load.
The rural road was dotted with shack-like structures, presumably houses, built from whatever was available—sticks, logs, bricks, tin, or thatch. A small boy in a dirty red Air Jordan shirt and tousled hair stood on the other side of a barbwire fence in front of his house and waved to Nick. A pig rooted through rotting trash that was piled to one side of the structure. An old woman sat on a rickety stool in the shade, waving a towel to shoo away flies.
At another house, rusted oil barrels sat under the tin roof, providing a make-shift water collection system.
Memphis had its poor sections, but this was poverty Nick had never seen before.
Mongrel dogs with raw looking mange and prominent ribs barked from houses or trotted down the road. They didn’t bother Nick, for which he was relieved, as he doubted they were vaccinated for rabies.
As he approached the town, the impoverished houses gave way to more permanent looking homes of cinder block. A short man in a cowboy hat and a stained, button-down shirt guided an ox pulling a load of firewood, similar to what the old man carried on his back. The ox pulled against a large wooden yoke, but it looked healthy.
The firewood business must do okay.
As Nick entered the town of Quetzaltenango, the dirt road yielded to brick, and retail businesses appeared. A small group of children, three boys and two girls, walked down the road dressed in matching school uniforms, white shirts and black pants or skirts. When they saw Nick, they chattered in Spanish and pointed at him.
One brave boy waved at Nick. “Hello,” he said with a heavy Spanish accent.
That caused them all to giggle and inspired further bravery.
“Hi,” the smallest boy said.
“Hey, mister.” A bigger boy said with macho confidence, checking the girls to gauge their reaction, which turned into a shoving match among the boys.
I guess nothing changes between boys and girls, no matter where you are.
It wasn’t long before Nick entered the city square with a large park in the middle and a central gazebo. At one end of the park was a large, official government building. A small group of vendors operated a farmer’s market at the other end.
He walked into the park and, eyed by the market-goers, he felt like an alien. He gave himself a once-over and realized he was the only one in shorts and bright blue and green tennis shoes. I must look pretty odd to them.
A woman sitting in front of a variety of fruit and vegetables smiled and waved him over.
“Señor,” she said. “Señor, come buy from me.”
Nick patted his pockets and gave the universal shrug of no money.
“Hope Center?” she asked.
“Si,” Nick replied back with one of the few Spanish words he knew.
She jumped to her feet and grabbed a banana. Nick tried to protest, but before he knew it, she had it peeled and held it out to him. He tried to protest again.
“Please,” she said offering it to him. “Present for you.”
“Thank you,” Nick said, realizing that he was hungry. He took a large bite. It was the sweetest banana he had ever tasted. “Thank you,” he said between bites.
* * *
As Nick made his way back, the roads filled with people—school children headed to classes and adults headed to work. Nick noted that even in the midst of poverty, the people, for the most part, dressed nicely, women in beautiful, colorful dresses and men in long pants, collared shirts, and often cowboy hats.
As he got closer to the Hope Center, Nick realized that most of the people were headed in the same direction. At two blocks away, he realized that a line had formed down the side of the road leading to the Hope Center.
I wonder what event Maggie is holding?
Nick saw Maggie with a clipboard about half way down the line talking with the people. She hugged some of the women and patted the children’s heads. She wore a bright purple skirt and white linen blouse and looked radiant, probably more at ease and relaxed than he had seen her in years.
Maggie handed the clipboard to a woman holding a baby and took the child from her arms and gave it a big squeeze. She put her face to the baby’s belly and gave it a raspberry, which made the baby giggle and squeal with delight.
Nick made his way to Maggie, and everyone looked at him. Many of the women eyed him up and down, staring bashfully at his bare, hairy legs. Self-conscious, he blushed.
“El Doctor,” Maggie smiled and used the baby’s hand to wave at Nick. The baby shyly turned away.
Maggie said something to the crowd in Spanish. He could tell it was about him.
The crowd responded in unison: “Buenos dias, El Doctor Nick.”
Nick thought it was funny how they said his name, like Neek.
“Buenos dias,” he said slowly, in not very good Spanish, which made the crowd crack up.
He spoke to Maggie. “Are you having a fair or a party? Everyone is so dressed up and happy. What’s up?”
“Why, El Doctor…they are here to see you.”