A 10-year-old Boy, his Bike and a Birthday | Scotty Parker's Ride for Water
April 13, 2015
It is 6:15 in the morning in Honduras. The rooster started crowing at 4 a.m., every ten seconds. Our accommodations at the Water Missions International compound in Tocoa are very adequate - full kitchen and three large bedrooms each with its own bath. The construction is typically Central American; all concrete and louvered glass windows high in the walls. But the rooms have AC, which is nice seeing that it is relatively hot and humid. Our host is the Water Missions Honduras Country Director, Hector Chacon and his family. They met us at the airport and rode with us the three hours to Tocoa. Soldiers and various police were everywhere. Roadblocks seem to be the national occupation in Honduras. We went through at least five- run by the army, or the National Police, or the State Police or the local police. I was waiting for the boy scouts to stop us, but it must have been past their bedtime.
We ate Thursday night in Tocoa. We had everything you can imagine in fajitas, plus bean and cheese dip, various salsas and various native drinks. We all slept well, until the rooster, and woke up, ready to meet the WMI staff at their daily prayer time, and then head off to open a water system in San Francisco.
After a bumpy one hour van ride on a rather dreary Friday, we heard the sound of a marching band as we slowed for the turn onto a dirt road that was the entrance to the village of San Francisco, population around 1000. As we disembarked, the cheers of 200 schoolchildren, all in their uniforms, were added to the drumming of the band. First there was a delegation of local dignitaries who stood in line and whom we greeted one by one with handshakes and smiles. I am sure each had wonderful things to say about us if only we spoke enough Spanish to understand. But the message was clear: they were REALLY glad we were finally here at their village.
Then, like a wave breaking on the shore, the mass of kids burst over us in a happy flood and we began the parade into town with cheering and waving. Scotty looked like the Pied Piper as tiny school kids jostled for a chance to walk next to him. Each little house we passed contained people on their doorsteps, waving and cheering. It was awesome and incredibly humbling at the same time. To have safe, clean water for the first time ever IS a huge reason to celebrate. The little children will never have to know the fear of water borne diseases because of the safe water treatment system in their village. It really is "Agua de Vida" - Living Water. Why not jump for joy? If we look past the amusing and rather embarrassing spectacle of being greeted as heroes, we can share in the joy, the exultation. So we did.
We visited the water treatment facility and got to experience what it is like to assemble the final steps of a system. They showed us what usually happens and we connected hoses, added shut off valves, charged chlorinators and alum tanks and basically splashed around inside the building. Lisa produced a chlorine test kit from her bag to make sure the chlorinator was doing its job and the water was safe to drink. As expected, it was and she proceeded to ceremoniously take a drink from the tap, while everyone watched to see if she would survive, which she did. We opened the tap, filled our water bottles and all toasted the health of San Francisco. By this time there was already a line of people with empty water bottles waiting. They arrived on foot, on horseback, but mostly on bicycles to cart five gallons of fresh water back to their homes. We passed much of the afternoon filling up water bottles.
At 4 p.m. the whole community arrived at the school and the speeches began. The program included the singing of the Honduran and US national anthems, 13 separate speeches, none less than five minutes long, three poem recitals by students, and four "responses” by Steve, Scotty, Peter and Hector. The speeches lasted three hours. The school kids hung in there like champs for about an hour and a half, but then lost it, so their chattering began to deafen the speakers, who gamely spoke on.
Finally the speeches ended, or so we thought. We were called up to the front and a fifteen-minute speech in honor of Scotty was given. His entire life was recounted, his vision for the bike ride, his experiences ON the bike ride (the speaker said he rode through rain, sweltering heat, hail, ice and snow for two weeks without rest). You would think they were comparing Scotty to the likes of Abraham Lincoln, St. Francis of Assisi and Ronald Reagan. By then the kids were crawling under the chairs and swinging from the rafters. The whole day was incredible but everyone was exhausted and thankful when the evening came to an end. We had local home-stays in the village overnight, for the next day we were going to deliver water door to door in the community.
On Saturday, after a wonderful lunch of fried local Tilapia, we got ready for the fiesta planned in our honor, at the town square. Most of the village kids showed up for the fun and games. There was soccer, piñatas, pin the tail on the donkey, folk dancing and the main event: a bike ride through the village with all of the local kids and us. The ride was hilarious with all of us dodging puddles, animal droppings, and for ten memorable minutes, evading a herd of cattle being driven home for milking.
After our reception in San Francisco, we thought we were prepared for the parades, the marching bands, the flags and the speeches to come in Tocoa. But San Francisco is a village of 1000. Tocoa is a city of 100,000. Escuela Guardiola has 750 students. We had hit the big time. We waved, smiled and “gracias-ed” our way for a full 20 minutes through the crowd and only by keeping close to the marching band as they plowed through the throngs were we able to reach the school. Immediately upon entering the gates we were seated under a tent and the performances began. The marching band, which was really very good for an elementary school, drummed and danced at the same time. They were so intent that at least three of them snapped drumsticks, causing their director to dart through the dance moves to supply new sticks.
Astounding, as it might seem, this school of 750 in the middle of a city of 100,000 has never had running water. There are around a dozen primitive toilets, which aren’t much more than out-houses with piping, which might sometimes contain water. What Scotty's ride provided was fresh, pure drinking water, which has been installed in every classroom in a sink. So the kids not only drink safe, clean water, but they are also taught basic hygiene, like how to wash their hands. Scotty's job was to go to every classroom in the school, take a sip of the water from the sink to show it was pure, and then wash his hands to demonstrate hygiene. He gamely did this in about 16 classrooms. In each room he was cheered, presented with various food items, and overwhelmed with adoration.
While we ate a lunch of fried chicken, the din outside continued to grow and we sensed that the next scene in this mystery drama was unfolding on the playground. We emerged from lunch to find that the BOMBEROS had arrived with their fire truck and were organizing activities for the kids. There was jump rope, dodge ball, and sack races. All of the play equipment was provided by the firefighters, as the school had none. We also never saw books, papers or materials in any of the classrooms. Apparently, all instruction is done on a blackboard. The next several hours contained an assembly with multiple speeches and lastly, a bike parade through downtown Tocoa. We had a police escort in front, the Honduran army blocking the intersections and the fire truck wobbling behind with what looked like 100 school kids packed on top.
What are we to make of all of this? It is surreal. It will take us a while to process, particularly Scotty who has stepped up to the limelight with grace, cheerfulness, and a large measure of bewilderment. It may be years before he makes sense of all of it, but he will never be the same. Neither will the rest of us. With childlike faith he believes he can do all things through Christ who gives him strength. It’s reminiscent of the loaves and fishes. One small boy gives Jesus his loaves and fishes and God makes that offering multiply exponentially. The boy did his small part, and Jesus produced a miracle. We have to process the astonishing fact that a 10-year-old set the wheels in motion to solve problems that the people of San Francisco or Escuela Guardiola never dreamed could be solved. For the Honduran children, it must have something to do with the fact that a child their own age, with a story that they can relate to, decided to help THEM. It must seem miraculous to them. In fact, it is a miracle, dropped from heaven. Simply because a 10-year-old boy decided to ride his bike a long, long way instead of having a birthday party. And he did it for THEM. My prayer is that they also come to understand, and come to know and love, the same ONE who gave Scotty the vision and the strength to make his ride for water.
- Peter Conway, long-distance cyclist and friend of Scotty Parker
Cover Photo: Ryan Belk
Related Impact Stories
