An unusual evangelical sermon on a bus

I was sitting on the already-packed and hot bus in Santa Barbara waiting for the driver to finish lunch (or whatever) to take us home. Amid the ten-year olds coming and going selling Coca Cola and deep-fried plantains stepped on board a well-dressed thirty-something year old man. He had on a tie and a man bag on the shoulder. And, unusually, he started to preach.

Let me clarify. If you happened to have read my last post about riding buses in Honduras, you already know that it’s not entirely unusual for people to get onto buses and start preaching, praying, speaking in tongues, generally proselytizing, incoherently yelling, blabbering, and/or spitting. Usually they’re spitting, I guess. And the common themes of their brief and fiery sermons are one or several of the following:

1) IT’S THE END OF THE WORLDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!

2) Don’t follow in the footsteps of those greedy sinners in countries like the United States [read: it’s God’s will for you to be poor and Americans are evil]*

3) Muslims, gays, women who wear pants and the like are doomed to eternity in Hell.

*the ironic part is that most of these preachers belong to various Pentacostal denominations based out of the “sinful and greedy” United States and thus receive their paychecks straight from churchgoers in the US… for me, the irony is that, listening to some of these guys, it’s as if I’m back in the Bible Belt again

Needless to say, these common bus sermons (and “sermons” may be a little bit generous here) don’t usually end up making me hop up out of my seat and run to the nearest Evangelical church. Some people listening, though, shout out halleluiahs and amens, some give the preachers cash, nobody seems as put off by it as I am, but generally people are kinda indifferent.

Anyway, this particular fellow in Santa Barbara who started preaching was nothing like what I’ve become used to: He was quiet, well spoken, seemingly quite educated and open-minded, and, most surprising, wasn’t radical in anyway except for his lack of radicalism. He talked about how we all have sinned and how we should seek God in our own way, not to be pressured or fooled by judgmental denominations that are “wolves dressed as sheep.” It was a nice, simple message that I felt okay with.

Then, he closed his Bible and pulled out a couple new toothbrushes from his bag and asked who was interested in “buying quality toothbrushes for the low, low price of 2 for L10.” Alas…

Riding buses in a third-world country

Traveling on buses in Honduras, just like probably in any third-world country, is almost always guaranteed to provide… let’s call them interesting experiences that are either immensely frustrating or hilarious, depending on the traveler’s prior amount of sleep, general outlook on life that day, and current mood at the time of travel:

• Buses can be old and rickety, usually 30+ yr hammie downs from US school districts, churches, and senior citizen groups.
• Buses are usually way, way, way over-packed.
• You are likely to be sitting next to someone who doesn’t recognize your right to personal space (though I’ll admit that on very rare occasions you can get lucky and this person will be a cute Honduran girl with twinkling eyes and a skirt, excited to be sitting next to a genuine gringo).
• There may be barn animals aboard.
• People will probably toss trash out the window without giving it a second thought (but really, what else can they do with it?).
• You may be stopped and searched by police officers if the driver doesn’t bribe them first.
• Schedules probably won’t be followed as efficiently as you’re used to, understating it a bit.
• Full-fledged riots may ensue while boarding the bus… unsuspecting little old ladies have been known to throw elbows and bite.
• On all hot days (okay, and most of the rest of the days too), strong smells protrude from fellow passengers, perishable cargo, the over-heating engine, afore-mentioned barn animals and babies.
• Apparently horribly desperate vendors urgently rush up to stopping buses and yell out what they are selling as they shove their baskets up to the windows (and thus into my face if I my window happens to be open, which it usually seems to be).
• If you’re a foreigner (which, thanks to my ubiquitous freckles, I certainly qualify) children, old people and most everyone else sitting near you will probably spend an average of at least twenty minutes an hour openly staring at you, mouths usually slightly agape.
• Inebriated individuals may come on board an make a loud scene, even if you may be napping;
• Some of the afore-mentioned desperate vendors may come on board and make loud sales pitches in the aisle, even if you may be napping.
• Evangelical preachers may come on board and give loud and threatening sermons, even if you may be napping.
• Despite music playing on the bus stereo system, teenagers and young adults will most likely be blasting raegeton music from their cell phones, making an infuriatingly loud disturbance, even if you may be napping (ie this is a recurring theme).
• Bus drivers will probably be talking on their phone while driving way, way too fast, while changing the radio station to either ranchero (or 80s American pop) and/or eating messy baleadas.
• Finally, and seriously, your bus may break down, be assaulted by armed gang members, or crash.

I’m sure I could go on for a while longer with this list. These were just the first things that came to mind.

Public transportation is certainly cheap in Honduras, but I suppose you get what you pay for. Safety regulations are nothing more than jokes on paper far away in the capital. Culture surrounding public behavior and common courtesy is very different here than in the States. And the word ‘schedule’ is not quite understood.

Most of the time, I try to keep a positive attitude, be patient and flexible, laugh instead of cry, and keep a low-profile while traveling on buses, as they urged during our training. Honestly I do try. But it’s really hard sometimes, especially when I catch myself thinking about the terrible things that could happen at any minute. But don’t worry Mom; nothing terrible has happened to me on a bus in Honduras. (yet…)