We pass a town where a group of villagers, all dressed in pink embroidered garments, gathers around a priest who holds a microphone. Other nearby markets feature mangoes, bananas, radishes, pork, chicken, beef, spices, peppers, roasted bugs, and beans. They kiss and hug us, hold our hands, introduce themselves. Please,'' they say in English. After they eat the scones we buy for them, we have to ask them please to let us go.
Soldiers stand sentry outside banks, and military trucks roll through the streets.
Two young boys approach us for a shoeshine as we're walking down the street. When we refuse, they spit on us, and one of them scratches my arm. My sister warns me to eat beforehand because it's too heartbreaking to eat in front of so many hungry people. Young children cling to us as we arrive in the plaza. Some try to put bracelets on us, hoping that we will make a purchase.