How You Can Support Access to Education For Honduran Girls
Here is a way to make a real difference
After an hour’s hike, by the time I reach the bottom of the hill, my pulse has quickened considerably. I’m out of breath and I have a skinny stick in my shaky hand. The warning bark of a dog has stopped me in my tracks. My stick is ready, but my friend Hernan walks past me and the dog slowly backs up as the four of us enter the packed red mud patio that passes for a yard. Doña Cirula walks inside the house to get four plastic chairs as the dog settles down, uneasily accepting us into the space. Four girls sit on the ground next to a small ledge that borders the house. The girls are separating yellow and brown coffee beans from the green ones. Their hands move quickly as if they are racing each other to sort the beans.
The four of us are men all in our 50s and 60s, and the hike to Doña Cirula’s house has three of us feeling our age and fitness levels (only Hernan doesn’t appear winded). At first, we are just glad to sit down and drink some coffee. Then my attention is absorbed watching the girls sort the coffee. Doña Cirula explains that because of the coffee rust disease, they preemptively picked their last harvest underripe, and they are ripening the beans off the trees in sacks. The girls are sorting through to see if there are any ripe beans that they could roast for the family…
