It was an eerily calm day for such a big event. Our group was to be in the lobby of the Hotel Florencia at 8 AM to depart for the “estadio nacional” where the inauguration was being held. The streets were not filled; there was no noise prohibiting anyone from holding a normal conversation. Even the sun was slow to warm the land the way it can often stifle one’s energy before enjoying the day’s first cup of coffee. The celebration of President Castro’s inauguration across town was not a cacophony of chants, claps, and screams but a quiet tiptoe to avoid disturbing the peace that the day promised. Even the most developed nations understand democracy as a fragile institution. In Honduras, hours before President-Elect Xiomara Castro was to take the podium to formally end the coup d’etat, the survival of democracy hung in the air like a piñata spinning before its coup de grâce.
Our bus from the hotel to the stadium was packed to the
brim. Ride any bus in Honduras that isn’t
Hedman Alas, and there will be standing room only. Nothing was different on this occasion except
for maybe a missing chicken or two and absence of traveling salesmen. Bill Camp and I sat in the back with the cool
kids who turned out to be a delegation representing Frente Obrero (worker’s front)
and Via Campesina (the rural road) from Nicaragua. One of the Nicaraguans, a delightful young
woman named Mariana, mentioned Dr. Martin Luther Kind Jr’s “Letter from a
Birmingham Jail” when I told her I was from Birmingham, Alabama. She also knew all about Nina Simone’s “Mississippi
Goddamn.” I could tell we were in good
company. As we approached our
destination, the clamor began to rise.
The crowds began to form, and I was getting off a bus with new friends
who knew quite well that “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” The gringo security guards checking our
passes and patting us down at the stadium’s entrance were there to ensure
justice prevailed that day. (Were they CIA, FBI, Secret Service, or UN?)
Inside, the festivities had already begun, and we were being
led across the field toward the stage. I
had no idea that we would be so close to the action; I almost felt like I was
cheating the 30,000 Hondurans who had already filled the stands. I recounted what my HR chief in Franklin
County Schools, Tennessee, Linda Foster, once said to me about how my teaching
career came together, “Michael, you must have clout.” Larry “Bucket” Guthrie of AHMEN would say “It’s
a God thing.” The music of the resistance
played. The sun grew warmer, and the
sensation that we had arrived overwhelmed me with emotion.
What happened next was as perfectly choreographed as a Cirque
du Soleil performance. However, instead
of spectacle, the preface to President Castro’s acceptance speech was about
healing. The MC announced the names of
the martyrs of the resistance, and tens of dozens of individuals filed through
the stadium as family members carried pictures of their assassinated loved
ones. Each somber loved one paced slowly
in and around the rows of onlookers. The
voice on the loudspeaker reminded the crowd that the coup government was the
reason the announced individuals were no longer with us.
Next, the MC introduced each of the different indigenous ethnic groups of Honduras. As Chorti, Garifuna, Lenca, Miskito, Nahua, Pech, Tawahka, and Tolupán groups marched in their cultural dress through the stadium, the voice on the microphone announced each as national treasures to be celebrated and not further marginalized as they had been over the last twelve years.
After the indigenous, came the journalists. After the journalists came the activists. After the activists came the political
prisoners. Finally, family members and
friends of assassinated environmentalist Berta Cáceres came to the stage, and the
MC spoke of how the corruption of the coup government took the life of the earth
protector in 2016. The crowd rose to its
feet with fists in the air to chant “¡JOH
Se Fue!” – Juan Orlando Hernandez (the dictator of the last 8 years) is gone!
Finally, the moment we had all been waiting for
arrived. President-Elect Xiomara Castro
walked to the stage with her husband former President Manuel Zelaya and daughter
Hortencia. Traditionally, the outgoing president
would transfer the presidential sash to the new leader; however, Juan Orlando
Hernandez did not attend the event.
Instead, Manuel Zelaya, the former president who the military removed
from power, and his daughter transferred power for him. This move, so symbolic in its gesture,
brought me to tears, and I dare say I was not the only one.
Upon taking the oath of office, Castro, without pause, went
straight into her inaugural speech.
There was not a moment to waste.
There is no time to lose in making up for lost time. One point after the other signaled a new day
in Honduras. With promises to end the
corruption, stop the narcotraffickers, eliminate impunity, protect the environment,
return students to school, among other initiatives to improve the lives of everyday
Hondurans, President Castro proclaimed that she would not only be the first
woman president of Honduras but also set the bar high for the future female leaders
of her great nation. In doing so, she
inhabited a space as a woman who would change the world.
President Castro, we are excited to see what you accomplish
and are here to help you every step of the way.
We are here to hold you accountable.
For as empowering as this moment in time is for individuals all over the
world and yourself, it is together that we are the difference!
Happy International Women's Day, Madam President.
