Rumors, cryptic clues and money. It's not the basis of a crime novel or big-screen flick. It's what we're willing to endure to get a taste of home here in Honduras.
The current political landscape for this country in crisis since its disputed elections back in November have left us glued to news feeds and Facebook group leads just to stay safe. But when the question "Does anyone know where to get barbecue sauce?" pops up on a Honduras missionary message board. I'm no longer interested in police barricades or tear gas altercations in the streets. I'm on a mission.
Today, I'm writing from our room at the WGM guesthouse in Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras. We are here awaiting to greet a team from our home church as they arrive. And one of the things we love about being in the "big city" is the opportunity to indulge in being North American again. We eat at Denny's, buy mozzarella cheese in bulk and sometimes even get to a movie at the mall. We savor a little piece of familiarity when everything around is so different. But the search for the elusive barbecue sauce has cast a dark shadow on our last few visits. We've been so close. A few months ago, we found a marker on the grocery store shelf declaring the price of a bottle of the good stuff. It's expensive, but worth the investment we decided. Alas, the shelf was empty of its treasure. I am left with so many unanswered questions. Is it wrong to pray for barbecue sauce? Is it weird to daydream about eating it from the bottle with a spoon? Can I forget the spoon and just drink it?
And so the search continues and I find myself nervously awaiting the responses to the desperate plea of another poor craving soul, anxious for the next clue that will lead us to that sweet and tangy nectar. And there is always hope, friends. There is a team arriving and I have heard tale of a bottle of Sweet Baby Ray's secreted away between the shampoo bottle and pajamas in the suitcase of a dear friend and saint. Oh let it be so!