Rescuing the Wrong Dog

Some portraits I painted of dogs that were rescued off the streets of Antigua
(Charlie, Bruno, Einstein, Cleo, Aggie, Milagros, Maco, Jacco)

It was busy this morning on the Alameda Santa Lucía, as it always is on this street in Antigua Guatemala. The rough cobblestones slow down the speed of traffic but never the amount. This is where chicken busses take a turn towards the terminal; shoppers head to the market while motorcycles and tuc-tucs weave in and out of long lines of cars, on both sides of the treelined strip of cement that divides the lanes. The sidewalk wasn’t much better. I was hopscotching my way to the hardware store when out of the corner of my eye I saw something quite out of place. A dog lying in the middle of the street. Not quite in the middle, actually, more like next to the curb of the midsection. But ON the busy street. Very likely to get hit by a car, if he hadn’t been hit already, because his hind legs lay in a bit of an odd angle underneath his body. Damn!

I kept on walking, as if by ignoring the dog the problem would miraculously go away. But I couldn’t. After a few more meters I stopped and turned around. I managed to cross the street and made my way to the dog. He was dirty but friendly. He let me pet him and ate a few pieces of kibble. (Yes, I quite often carry kibble around in my purse.) I tried to lure him onto the curb, but the dog made no effort to get up. It looked he was paralysed indeed. So, I’d have to lift him up. That was a little scary because it was a big dog and although he seemed friendly, you never know ho he might react, especially if in pain. But the dog let me lift him up without a problem. I put him on the curb and got my phone out, thinking of a strategy. Whom to call, which vet to take him?

As my brain goes highwire thinking of how to save this dog’s life, the animal in question gets up (!!!) and casually crosses the street at the exact but rare moment when not a car is in sight. He then walked up to this kid in a wheelchair who apparently was laughing his butt off at my attempt to “save” his dog.

The kid mentioned for me to come over and when I made it through the stream of traffic, we chatted a bit. I had seen this kid before, he can’t walk (as opposed to his dog I tried to rescue, how ironic) and is often panhandling on this part of the Santa Lucia. He told me his dog just wanted to lie in the sun a bit. I told him the road was not the right place to let his dog do so. He then told me he had another dog too, but it died when it got hit by a car. I told him that’s why his dog shouldn’t be on the street.

Anyway, he then asked if I could spare some change for breakfast. I gave him enough for breakfast for the two of them.
And that’s how I ended up rescuing a dog that didn’t need rescuing.

No more dogs!

There is lots to like about Guatemala but also a few things not to. Let’s not talk trash today, but about something else that bothers me.

Street dogs.

On my short walk through town yesterday I saw no less than seven dogs in different spots and different degrees of shabbiness. Some might have owners but they were nonetheless wandering around town in search of food or a short-lived love affair, resulting in even more unwanted puppies. Each of the coffee farms near the place I’m staying at has its own pack of dogs. Many of them are injured from fights with their peers, traffic accidents or from purposely being hurt by people with machetes. And needless to say, the packs keep growing and growing. These dogs sometimes assault people who’re walking their pet, chase motorcycles and rip open garbage bags. They’re definitely a pain in the butt. But it isn’t their fault.

One of 6 puppies we've so far been unable to catch, in its "home" at one of the coffee plantations

Being born poor in Guatemala as a human usually means a tough life ahead. Being born an unwanted puppy is basically having no future at all. Even “proper” pets are often not well taken care of. People take on pets without a thought (and to be honest, in many cases the same counts for kids), not realising it is a serious and long-term commitment. Despite the fact that hardly anyone is ever forced to have a pet (unfortunately the same can’t be said about unwanted babies in Guatemala with its skyrocketing number of cases of sexual abuse), few people seem to think of what a dog’s life involves. I’m not talking about puppy day-care, designer booties or pricey wet food from a tin with a sprig of parsley on top. Just basic stuff, like actually having enough food to spare. A dry, safe space to live. Medical care when needed. Care in old age instead of being dumped on the street. And preferably, playtime, exercise and socializing.

Although I think that in many “developed” countries the way people treat their pets is sometimes way over the top, around here even basic, fair treatment is not a matter of course. But it doesn’t mean people don’t love their animals. I think it’s mostly a matter of education.

Luca, Monster, Saudi and me, Honduras

When I lived in a small town in Honduras, I was appalled to see that people’s first reaction to seeing a dog on the street is to kick it. I even saw toddlers barely able to stand, swing a leg at a passing dog. Dogs were obviously considered dirty and a pest. But not MY dogs! Everybody loved MY dogs! Cars would stop on the street and let us pass when Monster would drag his four feet long stick back home from our walk. The kids I used to teach were always more excited to see my Luca than me! They’d spend hours playing with her, teaching her tricks and would even share their lunch with her. (No wonder she was fat.) But none of these kids would ever consider doing the same with their own dog, which they all have in the rural areas. And when I would ask why not, they answered their dogs don’t play. Because they were never taught to.

But the times are a-changing. More and more upper-class Guatemalans who previously would only be interested in overpriced full bred pedigree puppies are now considering adopting. Even in rural areas, small changes are visible. My friend and patron saint of dogs in San Martín Jilotepeque, Cristy Velasco, mentioned how dogs are mostly used as doorbells, but more and more often she sees people walking their dogs or putting food outside for the strays. More people are willing to spay and neuter too.

Tessa and Gerson with cats in recovery

When Linda Green made her dogs rescue efforts official in 2010 with the NGO Unidos para los Animales, she quickly realised that picking up abandoned puppies off the streets and shipping them off for adoption to the US was just a drop in the ocean (although not for the puppies, obviously). Stronger measures were needed in order to prevent puppies on the streets altogether. But when Linda started her first spay and neuter campaigns, she almost had to beg people to have their pet sterilised. It wasn’t a common thing and especially castration of male dogs was not considered “natural” in this macho culture. But how times have changed! The main focus of Unidos para los Animales is now on sterilization campaigns with a target number of at least 2.000 dogs and cats a year, in communities in and around Antigua Guatemala. And these days people are begging for a spot on the waiting list! Considering the fact that each pregnant cat or dog can easily be responsible for a thousand puppies or kittens (because her babies will eventually have babies too), this has a huge impact on the canine and feline community.

Linda and her paharmacy

Due to Covid-19 the target of 2.000 animals wasn’t reached in 2020, but this year we’re off to a good start. The first week of January, veterinarian Jim Bader (from Mapleview Animal Hospital, Holland, MI, USA) and his daughter Karina came down for a full week of surgeries. Dr. Jim did a total of 161 surgeries, including some complicated cases other than sterilisations. Today another 82 cats and dogs were spayed/neutered in Jocotenango.

The logistics for today’s clinic were in the capable hands of the Dirección de la Mujer (Women’s Office) of the Municipality of Jocotenango. We did a clinic there last December, but the demand was so overwhelming that a new one was scheduled so soon after. As usual, the ladies of this office were fantastic. They did a pre-sign-up last week and in no time the 100 slots were filled. They closed shop with no less than 132 people on the waiting list! And today everything went as smooth as can be. Volunteering for the clinics in Jocotenango is borderline boring, because everything is so well organised and so many people are helping out. From the traffic police out on the street to the ladies at the entrance disinfecting everybody; the ones at the inscription table; the strongman who carried the dogs and cats from the operating room to recovery; the cleaners afterwards… The three Guatemalan vets and their techs did an awesome job and were done operating around lunch time.  And 82* happy humans went home with slightly groggy cats or dogs.

Our strongman of the day

Today was actually a little weird because we got a lot more attention than usual. We got no less than four visits by politicians and the press and were live streamed on several social media. Turns out we are great (although unwilling) propaganda and were reported to have done 150 surgeries with more to come in the following days. (Not.) All that with “international support” and no mention of Unidos para los Animales. Not that the dogs or cats don’t care, but we humans do.

People and patients waiting for their turn

See, these clinic cost money. Each pet owner pays a small contribution (50 Quetzales or USD 6.50) whereas the cost per animal is four times as much (surgery and vaccines). If people can’t afford the required contribution, they can “pay” with whatever they can. A bag of rice, some avocados or a few pounds of sugar will do. The clinics are organised and run by volunteers. And although they are officially offered by Unidos para los Animales, it is in close collaboration with Tessa and Gerson of WOOF Guatemala and Francesca of Patitas.

Volunteers Jimmy and Bobbie

It is great to see how animal welfare is slowly going tin the right direction. Sterilisation is becoming the norm, as is clear from the number of inscriptions. New too is the increasing number of male dogs and cats. It would be great to walk the streets of Antigua one day and not encounter a single stray.

If you’d like to contribute towards the sterilisation program, please visit the following websites. Thank you!

USA, Canada, Guatemala, Europe: Unidos para los Animales

Holland: WOOF Guatemala

 

*The number of surgeries is usually a bit lower than planned because some animals are rejected because of medical history, not having fasted or nor being healthy enough.

 

 

 

A Christmassy Thing for Dogs

 

‘Twas a few days before Christmas and it wasn’t snow but a light traffic that covered the roads to San Martin Jilotepeque, a town in mountainous Guatemala. After many twists and turns in between steep walls of soothing green, the town of San Martin Jilotepeque is surprisingly buzzling and urban. A cacophony of sounds and colours hits you in the face with motorcycles whooshing by with women in their indigenous dress apparently comfortable sideways on the backseat. Chicken busses honk, rev and roar on the narrow streets covered in bright signs, posters and banners. If you don’t have a specific reason to go there, you probably won’t. But we were on a mission.

See, San Martin Jilotepeque is the town where Cristy Velasco lives and works. Cristy is the patron saint of street dogs in that part of the world and cares for over a hundred dogs in her shelter, not counting the twenty or so she has at home, the dozen that stay at her restaurant or the never-ending number of strays that she feeds. So, after an eventless journey, we went by Cristy’s restaurant to pick her up to direct us to the shelter, only a ten-minute drive away.

Well, not today. The asphalt of the road near the shelter was being renewed and we got stuck in a humongous traffic jam. After sitting put for about 45 minutes (entertained by a puppy that Cristy had just rescued off the street), we decided to park the car at a carwash across the road, walk to the shelter and then return to the restaurant to drop off our donations. And that turned out to be a very good idea, because on our way back, the line had barely moved an inch.

Up until last week, Cristy kept her dogs at an abandoned construction site of what was once supposed to become a maternity clinic. The place consisted mainly of walls and a roof, but it was spacious and offered dry places for the dogs to sleep and enough areas for play. Recently the town council decided to resume building the clinic. Not a bad idea by itself, but what to do with over a hundred dogs? The mayor offered to build a new place. And he did. Which was a very nice thing to do, but unfortunately the new place is very small and there is no space at all for the dogs to play. 

On our way to "the end of the world..."

The shelter is located on the outskirts of town, right there where you think you’ve reached the end of the world. It consists of two wooden / aluminium sheets structures with kennels divided by chain-link fences. The kennels are clean but bare, with just one wooden pallet for the dogs to sleep on.

Cristy at the shelter

This is not a shelter as you know them up North or in Europe. This is a place where, with all efforts and good intentions, the dogs are dry, safe and fed, but not much else. All because Cristy does this basically singlehandedly, on a shoestring budget. Just the cost of feeding al those dogs is staggering, not to mention medical costs. So Cristy can use all the help she can get and that’s why we went up there with a few bags of food, dog beds, used collars and leashes, cleaning supplies, some cash and a bag of bulky sweaters that can be used for beds.

Cristy had to stop on the way back to buy some food for some street dogs we encountered.

After a delicious lunch at Cristy’s restaurant it was time to head back. During our ride home I already received pictures from Cristy of the donated bed and collar being put to good use. She had even made puppy sweaters out of the sleeves of the cardigans we had left. Darn cute!

Puppy Sweater, design by Cristy Velasco!

Dog bed and red collar approved!!!

It was a wonderful day and I couldn’t believe to be back in San martin Jilotepeque this soon. It was only a few weeks ago we were there to paint a doggie mural. You can read all about that project and more about Cristy by clicking here: MuralArt Guate.

The idea to go to San Martin Jilotepeque to drop off donations was a fantastic one, and all credits go to Catherine Corry, who not only offered to drive, but also supplied much of the donations. Many thanks too to Ana Maria Ackermans, Irene Saletan, Ellen Cristenson, Linda Green, Unidos para los Animales, Alice Lai, Cat Langley and Catherine’s friend whose name I forgot.

Today's donations.

A few bags of dog food will help, but won’t last. So in the future we hope to continue supporting Cristy taking care of the dogs of san Martin Jilotepeque. If you’re in Guatemala and would like to donate, please contact me at carinsteen at yahoo.com. You can also donate directly through Paypal using the following link: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/sanmartindogs?fbclid=IwAR3xy3CqLuRQkBsbSxWEL9NlLfi2zP7h__szn4J74E6ci3X_qBJ0-VW9XwI

 

Donations pup approved!

One very tired but lucky puppy....

Thank you so much!

Wooof!!!

 

 

Doggies in Heaven

Luca (Honduras, painting by Carin Steen)

Today is World Animal Day. It is also exactly two years ago I buried my dog Luca on a beautiful mountain overlooking the valley of Antigua Guatemala. It was grey and rainy that day, quite fittingly, but just when we covered her grave with dirt, the sun came through as if paying its last honours. A little later, just after we purchased a much needed bottle of wine, the skies broke open into a torrential downpour. Also quite fitting.

Monster (Honduras, painting by Carin Steen)

As sad as it was to burry my dog, it was also beautiful and harmonious. Luca had been with me for a long 15 and a half years. I met her the day she was born and she died in my arms. In between she had a wonderful life and I’m happy I was there for the beginning, middle and end. But World Animal Day is now forever the day that Luca died.

Ganja (Honduras, painting by Carin Steen)

I usually couldn’t care less about what International Day of What it happens to be today, but World Animal Day has always been special, ever since I was a little girl. I was one of those animal nerds, who rather crawled into the rabbit cage than playing a game with other kids. World Animal Day was almost as good as my birthday. At school we did animal-related activities and some teachers even let us bring our pets to school. Which might actually not be the best of ideas, stressing those poor kittens, hamsters and Guinea pigs out for educational and recreational purposes. Even stupider was the idea of a teacher at a school in my neighbourhood in Guatemala to build a cardboard arc of Noah and telling her kindergarten students to bring a live animal, to celebrate the love of Noah for animals. So every kid grabbed a random puppy or kitten, always plenty of those around in Guatemala and brought it to school whether the poor thing was ready to be separated from its momma or not. Those kittens and pups, all unvaccinated of course, spent the whole day cuddled up together in a cardboard boat. When it was time to leave each kid was given one animal to take home. I really wonder how many of those animals are still alive today.

Noah (Guatemala, painting by Carin Steen)

So that’s how I got Noah. My neighbours were not pleased at all when their 5 year old daughter came home with a puppy. She was only 3-4 weeks old, way too young of course to be separated from her mom. Big brother went to look for the mom and siblings but couldn’t find them. And that’s how she ended up in my home-Noah turned out to be the craziest and funniest pup I’ve ever met. Unfortunately, she died when she was only 13 months old, probably of a brain aneurysm. That really sucked an there was nothing beautiful or harmonious about it.

Gaviota (Honduras, painting by Carin Steen)

By the way, I always thought World  Animal Day is celebrated on October 4th because it’s Francis of Assisi’s day, patron saint of animals. But as it turns out, it´s an initiative started in Germany in 1925 by cynologist Heinrich Zimmerman. And a cynologist is someone who studies dogs. Who knew! Thanks Google. (Now I think I want to be a cynologist, later when I grow up.)

Tres (Honduras, painting by Carin Steen)

Anyway, going through the dog portraits I have painted over the last few years, it was sad to realize that so many have already passed the rainbow bridge. So here a little tribute to all those fantastic dogs, our buddies and besties. Cheers to you all, dear doggies, I hope you’re having a ball in heaven! (Pun intended.)

Lupita (Honduras, painting by Carin Steen)

And in case you´d like a portrait of your own dog, check out the Shop section on this blog!

Murci (Guatemala, painting by Carin Steen)

Bambi (Honduras, painting by Carin Steen)

Roxie (USA, painting by Carin Steen)

Bombero (Honduras, painting by Carin Steen)

Hazel in Heaven (Guatemala, painting by Carin Steen)

Unidos para los Animales shelter, Guatemala (and not all deceased yet, thankfully!)

Canine Celebrities

I guess each town has its own Gallery of Fame of Extraordinary Characters and Copán Ruinas is no exception. There’s the guy who sells corn on the cop on a corner of the central park; the legless beggar; the panhandling nasty old lady who hits you with her stick if you refuse to give her some money; that one particular drunk, amazingly still alive after years of guaro; and Doña Mena whose diner is called “El Pijazo” (The Punch) because she’s famous for hitting her customers. But in Copán Ruinas we also have celebrities of the canine variety.

For those who’ve been to Copán, Bombero hardly needs introduction. You’ll probably see him hanging around at the park, the market or even more likely, at Café Via Via. Not that Bombero doesn’t have an owner: he actually belongs to a vegetable salesman at the market and his real name is Manchas (spots), because he’s a Dalmatian and all Dalmatians in Honduras are called Manchas.

But because he likes to hang around with gringos, he got his own gringo name too, Bombero of Fireman, again because of his appearances, of course, Dalmatians being a firehouse mascot in the US.

Bombero has his routine down to a tee. In the early morning he runs along the moto-taxi that brings his official owner to the market. He flirts a bit with the neighbour who besides selling veggies and fruit also preaches over a portable sound system. Then he lies down in front of the market’s entrance to see the world go by or to wait for me to accompany me to Café Via Via for a yoga class. Bombero is great at Downward Dog, does a good Happy Baby and gladly joins you on the mat for Sabasanah.

Breakfast is daily served at the Via Via for Bombero and his friend Bambi, also a regular at this restaurant. The rest of the day Bombero likes to hang around at the Via Via, trying to sneak on the couch, getting petted by tourists or just to sit on the porch and bark at any man passing by with a hat or machete. His charm and good looks make every human melt down, except those guys with hats and machetes, maybe. In the afternoon he takes a walk through town, but is never late for dinner, again at the Via Via. Then it’s bedtime, somewhere up the hill, just to start his routine all over again the next morning.

Many dogs in Copán are in a pretty miserable state because there’s not much of a “pet culture”. But Bombero sure is one of the lucky ones…

Pet Paradise

Dog (owner) meeting place in the Vondel Park, Amsterdam

Last week I wrote about how children born in Honduras are (in some ways) less privileged than those from Holland, but that’s absolutely NOTHING compared to the way pets are treated like royal family in my home country. The contrast between how animals are cared for here and there couldn’t be bigger. If you ever consider reincarnating as an animal, making sure you don’t do it in Honduras!

Pets in Holland are considered part of the family, if not completely taking over the place of (non-existing) children. I thought my dog and three cats back home in Honduras are well off with plenty of food, daily walks along the river and a place on the couch (and yes, I admit, the bed too), but I’m glad my dog isn’t here to see everything she’s missing out on. First, my Luca doesn’t have a designer outfit for every occasion. Neither do my pets have a whole closet or crate full of toys. (Actually, a friend brought a toy mouse for my cats the other day. They were not interested. And why would they, there’re plenty of real ones outside!). I also like to think of my apartment as my apartment, so it isn’t littered with an array of different cat baskets, dog mattresses or pet beds. No toys either, except for the occasional dead lizard, bat or rat. And I thought I was feeding them exceptionally well with their daily doses of dry food and leftovers, compared to the tortillas their fellow Honduran pets usually survive on. But apparently dry food is really bad and you should give them canned food at least once a day (Sheba, for example, with a tuff of parsley on top), and of course special food for older cats or dogs, puppies and kittens, middle-aged pets, pets with liver problems, pets without liver problems, pets that are too skinny and pets that are overweight. Of course there are food supplements in the form of cat candy or artificial bones. A bowl with water is not enough; a real fountain with continuously running is the thing. For cats that lack exercise there’s a special, ball you can put dry food in that falls out if being played with, so the cat actually has to work for its food. Not to mention the enormous amount of money my friends spend at the vets and the entire warehouses that sell everything from tiny stairways to help your dog getting on the bed (I’m considering buying one to get my dog off the bed) to diamond studded leashes.

In Holland we have a political party for the animals and instead of Children’s Day we celebrate Animals’ Day. If a person gets assaulted in the park, well, bad luck. But if you hit your dog in public, you likely end up in jail.

Now, Honduras. A whole different story and definitely not a better one. There’s this habit in the town I live in to kick just any animal that walks past. Why? I have no idea. I guess just because you can. Pets are generally not well taken care of, being fed with occasional leftovers and they are hardly ever trained, let alone vaccinated or neutered. That last one is a sensitive issue in Honduras, a country where nobody cares if you let your dog starve, beat it to dead or let it roam the streets. But in Macholandia you cannot touch his balls! So what if your dog stalks a bitch in the heat and comes back home with all kinds of venereal diseases, if he hasn’t been run over in the mean time?

 Being a cat or dog in Honduras is not a lot of fun for most, I guess. But then again, I think that cats named after philosophers that have their own personalized diet, caretaker and classical music to listen to, is the other extreme.

I think my cats and dog could consider themselves lucky. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind more treats and more fluffy blankets, but they’re doing fine just without it. And I’m lucky too, because at least in Honduras I don’t have to walk after my dog with plastic poop bags to pick up whatever she drops.

Pestering Heat

The months of April and May linger towards the beginning of the rainy season, and are not my favourites. I prefer the temperature of June, the morning mists of November, the clear blue sky of December, even the crispy chill of January. But towards the end of April, the mountains turn yellow, the roads dusty and the sky a nasty grey-yellow, charged with ashes from slash-and-burn all through the valley. While the temperature rises and the air gets drier every day, another nuisance appears: ticks! The tiny brown-red bastards love my dog and me even more! And in spite of the expensive Frontline and cheap home remedies such as a few drops of oil in the neck, I’m picking ticks off my dog every day. Yuck!

This year, my not-so-favourite-months had another surprise in store. On April 22 my dog turned 10. Pretty old for a medium sized black lab. So I was quite surprised when not a week later, my dog, Luca, turned out to be in the heat! Visions of Luca’s last heat entered my mind, my house barricaded but nonetheless besieged and peed on by an army of male, horny dogs. Not he prettiest ones either!

Now, Luca has been spayed when she was about a year old, so she can’t have puppies., Unfortunately, the vet at the time didn’t do a hysterectomy, just “tied her tubes”, so all these years, until 2010, Luca has been in the heat once or twice a year, or, if lucky and I caught it on time, I’d give her a shot to prevent the heat from developing any further.

This time, our friend the vet from Guatemala happened to be in town, so I asked him whether I should inject her again. He said I shouldn’t. At Luca’s age, the symptoms would be barely noticeable.

Hah!

That was the understatement of the century. Luca was as HOT as never before. But she could wiggle her butt or lift her tail all she wanted, most canine candidates were not interested in her. At least, not the big ones, I had already noticed that smaller dogs, of the lapdog variety, were very much into her. And since lapdogs are a bit of a trend in Copán, there’re unfortunately plenty around. They would follow us on our long hikes and I would even feel sorry for the animals and their short legs, and afraid they might get run over. That was then.

About a week later, I was about to strangle them. Two in specific. Tiny little monsters with a terrific sense of smell that made my life a living hell. I couldn’t go out with Luca anymore, because she got jumped upon the minute we set a foot on the street. Not very handy when your dog is trained not to do her necessities on the patio. At night I couldn’t sleep, because the dogs were outside my neighbour’s door, whose patio borders mine, wailing all night and scratching the door. The second night, one of dogs learned how to push open the wooden door, through the iron gate that protects it! One night later and the dog, by that time skinnier, I guess, because of days without food, fit through the gate and started his hammock on my neighbour’s patio. He scratched his way halfway through the wooden partition that divided the patios and terrorized my cats. He would bite my neighbour whenever she tried to kick him out and couldn’t care less if I threw a bucket of water on him, about four times every night. In the meantime, Luca wouldn’t eat, sleep, pee or poo, she was just on the alert 24hrs a day, constantly tried to rape my cats and wanted to be cuddled a lot. Especially near her tail. Right.

After a week I was sleep deprived, frustrated, cranky, on the edge and hallucinating with cruel visions of all sorts of lapdog torture. Of torturing their owners too, who don’t care where their dogs hang out, or vaccinate or neuter them.

Heat and more heat and ticks, what a hell!

And then, all of a sudden it was over. Yesterday was the first day the tiny furry ogres where no where to seen. Today it started to rain and the temperature dropped noticeably.

It almost feels like heaven…

Some thoughts on sweeping

Since last week I pay one of the neighbourhood kids to sweep the street in front of my house every Saturday morning, because if there’s one thing I absolutely hate it’s sweeping the street. It’s not so much the sweeping nor is it the public humiliation of standing in plain view in the dust. I do sweep tons (I’m one of the rare foreigners in Honduras without domestic help) and I don’t care what people think of me, so that’s not it.  I just don’t like it and for that reason never do it, which makes me feel guilty towards the neighbour on the right who sweeps the sidewalk every, if not twice a day. She also devoutly sprinkles the street with water so the dust settles down. The neighbours on the left are way worse than I am, so at least that’s a comfort.

Sweeping is such a part of daily life here. Every morning around seven, when the kids are off to school and men off to work, the housewives of Copán swarm out of their houses armed with brooms and often still in their night attire. And then they sweep. Of course it’s a social event too, in which the latest news and gossip is being exchanged. Not long after, the municipal ladies come by and sweep the street yet again.

Does that mean that Copán is the tidiest place on earth?

Unfortunately not.

It’s true that a lot of the dust on the streets is just sand or whatever dust is made of. And that the street dogs open trash bags and drag garbage all over. But a lot of it is trash is deposited by people of every age and gender, shamelessly dropped wherever it drops, 24 hours a day. So my reasonably logic mind thinks: if mothers teach their children not to throw garbage on the street (and keep their dogs at home), there will be much less to sweep up. The women will save up dozens of hours a year and can dedicate that time to do something else.

But when I proposed this to a few women, they looked at me as if I were crazy. So I gave in and now pay Chepito 20 Lempiras ( more than a dollar, but less than a euro) to sweep “my” part of the street. Not every day, but still.

The neighbour on the right should be happy. Or happier.