I am an international undergraduate student from Honduras currently studying in Louisiana. This is a letter I wrote just right after my parents left my dorm room and the next day was my first day of college. As I was about to start a new chapter of my life, I could not help to look back to everything that led up to me being there.
Hello there,
I am currently writing this letter about an hour since my parents left me at my dorm. Therefore, since I am feeling incredibly nostalgic, I thought this was the perfect time to write to you about my home.
Most people consider their home to be their house or even their entire neighborhood. But for me, home is a place that I refused to call it until I was about to leave it: my country.
Honduras is a very small country in the middle of Central America. It is mostly known for its fruit and coffee exports, beautiful beaches and an incredible amount of corruption and violence. You have probably heard of the city I lived in, San Pedro Sula, for being honored with the titles of “The Murder Capital” and “The Most Violent City in the World."
These factors, amongst others, contributed towards a deep sense of contempt that I felt towards my country. I was ashamed of calling myself a Honduran most of my life. I did not want to be associated with a country in which you cannot walk safely in the streets, in which you see people die in inhumane ways every day and, most importantly, in which the word “justice” is nonexistent. I honestly could not wait until the day came that I could leave that place for good.
However, it was until I was at the gate, about to board the plane and finally make my “dream” come true, that I realized how incredibly wrong I was. The actual reason why my country is “doomed” is because people like me have given up on it. I had given up on the country that made me the person who I am today. I had given up on a country with an infinity of wonderful things to offer. I had given up on my home.
Honduras is not defined by its colossal levels of violence and poverty, but by something greater than that. If you were to spend a day in Honduras, you would find a place filled with enchanting forests and jungles abundant with fascinating creatures—from dazzling guacamayas, that flaunt their vivid hues, to icky opossums that creep in street corners looking for a meal. You would find that my home has the second largest coral reef in the world. It is fenced by oceans the color of the sky before sunset, its hues blending like if it were paint on a canvas. Its colossal mountains stand tall in every corner of the country, protecting it from every hazard.
You would experience its rich culture and diversity that resonate through the entire land. The raunchy and vulgar, yet unfortunately catchy, reggaeton music can be heard in every street corner. Everyone is also obsessed with soccer. They all display their pride out loud with no shame at all. You will also find true happiness in the shape of the baleada, a soft tortilla filled with beans and unhealthy amounts of cream and cheese—a food that unites all Hondurans together.
You would see that its people, no matter from what social class, race or gender, are kind, caring and incredibly hardworking. If there is a trait that all Hondurans share, it is the ability to move forward. We are all warriors. We will fight against any obstacles and always strive for a better life.
My home is a five-star country. And yes, it still has a handful of issues that need to be fixed, but despite having suffered through endless adversities and hardships, it is still moving forward.
So there you go. Even though I am thousands of miles of away from Honduras, I have never felt as close to it as of now. I will wear those five stars everywhere that I go.
Yours truly,
Sabrina Handal
