Little by Little

She recently finished construction on her cement patio, extended the roof of her porch to reach the sidewalk, installed a six person picnic table, and built cement steps for customers to step up to the window. Inside, Josefa shows off her economic engine. “Esta vacío ahorita,” its empty right now. Josefa’s pulperia, or convenient store, is run out of her home. She sells everything from candy, to rice and beans, from bags of water, to 3 liter bottles of Pepsi. Her pulperia is what allows her to make improvements to her home and business.

Josefa (40) has a pleasant demeanor. She is soft spoken, generous and motherly. She is small in stature, about 5 ft. She has a young face with delicate eyebrows, rosy beige cheeks, a warm smile, and soft eyes. Welcoming in nature, she offers food and drink to all her guests. With such a tranquil and gracious manner, it is hard to guess that she is a single mother with 10 children, that her only husband died 15 days before their wedding, that she’s never attended school, and that she was one of 10 children.

Josefa grew up in San Jose de Negrito, near El Progreso. San Jose de Negrito is a remote mountain town accentuated by thick vegetation and rolling hills. The nearest pulperia was a two-hour walk from her home and the nearest school was a three-hour walk. Josefa is the second oldest of her brothers and sisters. Her siblings looked up to her and depended on her to take care of them. Josefa’s mother worked as a maid during the day and expected Josefa to take care of the family while she was gone. Thus, Josefa spent most of her youth cleaning, cooking, washing clothes, fetching water, and caring for sick siblings.

Josefa was 18 when she met Dionosio Escobar. Dionosio was a farmer who lived near Josefa’s home. Josefa remembers him fondly, “le amaba mucho,” I loved him very much she said. They were together for six years and had four children. Dionosio worked on a farm for a wealthy landowner. He made enough money for the family to live comfortably while Josefa spent time at home with her children. She remembers those as happy times and planned to officially marry Dionosio. Tragedy struck however, when, just fifteen days before the wedding, Dionosio was shot and killed.

“Jueves, 19 de octubre, 1997.” Josefa murmured, in a low sad voice, the date Dionosio was killed. Her eyes watered and tears ran down her check as she sat silently in thought.

With no wealth of her own, no job, no status, and coping with the loss of her fiancée, Josefa took to cultivating the land. She had enough land to grow beans, corn, tomatoes, peppers and coffee. Soon, Josefa was growing enough food for her family to live from and there was enough left over to sell in the market. What’s more, word got out throughout the community that Josefa was growing her own food. Eventually Josefa found herself juggling job offers from three different commercial farmers. She worked for a respectable wage of 140 lempira ($7) a day. It was an unsustainable venture however, as agriculture punished Josefa physically. After three years of farming, she decided to move.

Josefa found an opportunity in the community of Siete de Abril. Josefa could buy and own the land, an ambition of hers for many years. It came at a cost however: the conditions were dismal. Her house was built from cardboard, rusty tin, scavenged wood, and cloth. To start a construction project on a worthy home in Honduras, one needs a total investment of about $10,000. With her salary of $2.50 a day working at a restaurant, five children to take care of, and another on the way, Josefa’s dream seemed far off and unobtainable.

Josefa moved to Villa Soleada in 2008 through a project of Students Helping Honduras. Her home is small yet comfortable. The front room is divided in two, by the pulperia, on the left side of the room, and the living space, on the right and backside of the room. A multi-colored hammock hangs across the front of the room near the door. A couch lines the right wall. A frail metal stand houses a small television and stereo set. The grey cement walls are decorated with pictures of her children with friends and family. The pulperia claims two large refrigerators and a 4 by 6 ft shelf stand. The shelves are neatly filled with rice bags, cookies, bread, eggs, and beans. About 50 chip bags line the left wall. Her pulperia is the only one on her side of town, and serves about 22 households.

Josefa doesn’t keep formal records of her financial activity but she knows that the pulperia produces enough money to cover most of her needs. The pulperia produces enough money to pay for food, electricity, water, school tuition fees for most of her children, and enough is left over for cell phones, transportation, and construction projects.

Josefa currently has a 5,000 lempira ($250) loan with La Ceiba. She’s had nine loans dating back to 2009. Josefa used half of her current loan to pay off other debts. The other half she invested in her pulperia. For example, Josefa’s mother was sick recently and she didn’t have enough money to pay for medical expenses. She asked a neighbor for help who agreed to lend Josefa 3,000 lempira ($150). Josefa used previous loans to pay off more toxic debts. For example, the furniture in her home was bought on credit. The store let’s customers buy furniture on credit and will charge interest on payments. Some stores charge as high as 30% monthly interest and exorbitant late fees. Additionally, Josefa or her home might get robbed on occasion… the life of a Honduran. Josefa was recently robbed in El Progreso and she found the La Ceiba loan useful in supplementing her lost cash.

Josefa acknowledged that she has come a long way. She listed improvements from a year ago: a cement porch, new home furniture, a refrigerator, shelves for her inventory, she is planning new investments in her home, her pulperia is growing, almost all of her children are in school, and everyone is healthy.

As Josefa finished telling her story, she settled her stare on the cement brick wall as if her story were hidden in the cracks. Suddenly her posture changed and she sat back in her chair. Her expression went from that of a pensive and serene one, to one of satisfaction. A slow smirk came across her face. She looked at her daughter attending to customers at the window, at her son Nelson, laughing and playing outside, and at the pulperia. Her gaze turned to the wall where the pictures hung of her, her children, and her daughter in a graduation toga, and finally, she looked at me. Completely silent and peaceful, her thoughts turned to the future. “Poquito a poco,” she said, little by little.

Santiago Sueiro
La Ceiba MFI
Program Director
2/25/2014

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