As a youth, Henry signed up to be a seaman. He was running bananas from the border of Nicaragua and Honduras to Tampa, Florida. Mr. Henry worked at SS Caravelle, an LCI (Landing Craft Infantry) ship from World War II. Eventually he worked as a seaman on a shipping vessel hauling cargo between Tampa, Havana, the Isle of Pines, and Haiti. “We were picking up chicken feed from Haiti,” remembers Mr. Henry.

Mr. Henry’s wife Mrs. Sula, was born in Utila Cays on July 11, 1941 to Henry Rose Suniga and Evelyn Mae Howell. The two met at a dance at Wilson Hotel. “We mostly danced boleros,” remembers Mr. Henry. In 1961, they married. “Every one damn thing is different. They are hard to get along with,” says about the Caytons Mr. Henry.

Mr. Henry learned how to shrimp in Texas in Port Isabel and became a shrimp boat captain in Western Caribbean. “I was the first one to fish [shrimp] out of Puerto Barrios, Guatemala,” says Mr. Henry. “I’ve been a shrimper all my life.” He was also shrimping out of Nicaragua and Louisiana. Back in the Bay Islands, he shrimped out of Mariscos de Bahía in Oak Ridge.

While he was at sea, Mr. Henry and Mrs. Sula communicated via single side band radio. Every day the young captain would call home to Utila to check how things were. The couple had eight children; five chose to live on Utila.

I’ve been a shrimper all my life.

Mr. Henry was the first shrimp captain to open shrimp grounds near Tela and Puerto Castilla. “I shrimped till I lost my eye,” said Mr. Henry. He lost his right eye in a fishing accident while motoring between Utila and Roatan. Mr. Henry took his dory and departed solo for Roatan to take part in a surprise birthday party. He had placed fishing lines trailing in the water, and three miles outside of West End he caught a fish that was hard to handle. After a struggle, a line slipped and bobby from the fishing rod hit Mr. Henry in his right eye. “Utila was so far I thought I was going to bleed to death,” remembers Mr. Henry. “I was bleeding like a hog.”

He was closer to Roatan and decided to just keep going. “I am going carry you to Anthony’s Key, there is a hospital there,” a Roatan fisherman he encountered off West Bay told him. The Good Samaritan towed Mr. Henry’s boat to Sandy Bay and likely saved his life. Since then, Mr. Henry had seven operations on his eye. The accident marked the end of his fishing career.

Utila was so far I thought I was going to bleed to death.

An old parrot and two small dogs keep the couple company. Mr. Henry and Mrs. Sula smile and hug one another as they swing on the porch of their tidy hillside home surrounded by a spotless garden. Mr. Henry feels most proud of “the days we spent together with his wife.”

Her parents were Itilia Stewart and Godwin Stewart, a farmer. Both of her parents were active in Baptist Church and had a large family. Etland was the fifth child of a thirteen.

Mrs. Etland went to school in Coxen Hole, finishing sixth grade. The days were spent playing with friends, and helping parents with chores around the house and in the field. “We were poor. We had to work hard,” she remembers.

As a 10-year-old girl she remembers a hurricane that hit Flowers Bay with a brutal force and without. “We sheltered under the trees,” remembers the late September evening Mrs. Etland. “That was the strongest hurricane I remember.”

You have to be patient to your parents.

She started her family life early. She married a young man she met at school. The wedding was a simple affair. She was 20 and her husband was a neighbor from Flowers Bay – Lindberg Pinnace. The couple moved into their own house.

In her early 90s, Mrs. Etland spends her time watching to going-ons in her neighborhood. She lives in a pink, wooden house with a front porch facing the thoroughfare of Flowers Bay. She spends her time resting on a bed with a bible next to her head.

For a few years now her youngest daughter Carla takes care of her. “You have to be patient to your parents,” says Mrs. Etland on how to reach a long life. “I am proud to be here, be a member of church.”

Coming Home at Last

Michael is the oldest of nine children of Vindel Elizabeth Collins, from Thatch Point, and Isaac Abraham Thomas, a carpenter born on the island of Montserrat. Isaac Thomas left Montserrat in 1914 for Cuba to work at a sugar plantation. He eventually made his way to Trujillo, Honduras, and at some point in the 1930s, arrived on Roatan.

In 1961, the judge in Coxen Hole wanted to deport Isaac, who still held only a British Passport.
His entire family presented themselves in support, and things settled down. Isaac died on Roatan, and was buried in a cemetery in Coxen Hole.

Michael’s first memory is from when he was 11 years old and used a machete to cut down bananas. He was taught six grades of English and math in a Coxen Hole private school by teacher Elfrida Brooks.

Michael remembers 1950s Thatch Point and Coconut Garden as filled with thousands of coconut trees. Coxen Hole still had coconut storage houses filled with coconuts waiting to be picked up by boats heading for La Ceiba or Tampa. Those small houses were built in the water to make easy access for the boats and keep rats away.

A life of adventure and the wide open world tempted Michael in his early years. When he was 18, he travelled to Tampa where he found work on boats moving cargo around the Caribbean, earning him $50 a month. He soon found a better-paying position as ship’s assistant cook for $100 a month. Eventually, he learned to be a cook, and his salary increased still. “That was the best job you could get,” says Michael.

He moved all over the US, but never acquired proper residency papers. He lived in Miami, Los Angeles, and the far off Glacier Bay, Alaska . Every year, he would visit Roatan and stay for a month or two.

Michael fathered 14 children, but remained an eternal bachelor. Seven of his children live on Roatan, with 36 of his grandchildren. A saying goes that a seaman has a girlfriend in every port – “or more than that, I tell you that,” said Michael.

After suffering a stroke in 2010, Michael finally came back to Roatan for good. He settled in a small wooden house at the Punta of Coxen Hole, once called Black Creek and full of mangroves.

Michael’s ankles are swollen, and he likes to sit on a blue plastic chair facing a tamarind tree. He can see and hear the airplanes landing just 100 feet away. He is tall and soft spoken, and his eyes have a tint of blue in them.

He can see airplanes landing just 100 feet away.

Now he plays dominoes with friends, and reminisces on the old good times. He also visits his aunt, who is 94 and lives just a few meters away. “The family learns to live with what they have and they also share it with each other,” says Michel.

Michael never received any pensions from his american employers, so life is sometimes a struggle. He attends the Methodist Church in Coxen Hole. “Regrets, I had a few. I don’t like to even talk about it,” says Michael.

Mrs. Anita’s Tough Life Full of Struggle

Her parents moved to Oak Ridge and that is where Mrs. Anita went to five grades of school. Mrs. Anita spoke Spanish at her home, but even today she still prefers speaking Spanish and her English is burdened with a heavy accent.

When she was 18 she met her future husband – Mr. William Nixon. “We met at a dance in French Harbour,” remembers Mrs. Anita. A year later the couple had a wedding. There were cookie and candies and Mrs. Anita had a glass of wine to toast. That was the only alcohol she had in her life.

Mrs. Anita life included many people addicted to alcohol and nicotine. Her husband worked hard doing carpentry, farming and fishing, but he also drunk quite a bit. This made getting ahead for the family difficult. It also created a poor example for some of their children. These addictions have fallowed the family through generations and she had seen her children and grandchildren succumb to vices. It has not been an easy life for Mrs. Anita or her family.

We met at a dance in French Harbour.

Mrs. Anita’s family moved three times in her life. These were big, life changing events, more memorable for her than hurricanes that battered French Harbour. In 1971 Mrs. Anita moved with her 12 children to a French Harbor house close to the cemetery. Yet again, in 1993 she and her six grown children moved to a lot in Los Fuertes.

Mrs. Anita lives on a modest compound that has several wooden houses that belong to her children and grand children. At 96 she is the oldest person in Los Fuertes. Mrs. Anita dresses and washes herself; she walks to her plastic chair to see the people walking in front of her property.

She is a religious lady and above her bed there is a picture of Sacred Heart of Jesus. Mrs. Anita is Catholic and used to go to church well into her 90s. Now her wheelchair doesn’t allow her such a trip but the Catholic nuns, Franciscan Sisters of Immaculate Conception, have a convent in Los Fuertes and check on Mrs. Anita form time to time.

Today four of Mrs. Anita’s 12 children survive. She has seven grand children and 13 great grand children. Her advocate in the family compound is her granddaughter Rosita Janet Nixon. Mrs. Rosita was brought up by her grandmother and thinks of Mrs. Anita as her mother.

His first memory as a child was a church celebration. As Methodist’ Church in Coxen Hole celebrated its harvest festival, children were carrying gifts. “I had my offering, and when they came to get it, I didn’t want to give it. They said: ‘He’s going to be a mean fellow,’” said Mr. Sam.

When his mother begun working at Vincente D’Antoni Hospital in La Ceiba, the young Sam followed her there in 1947. “All the doctors came from the States, so they couldn’t speak Spanish. They would hire young ladies from the islands who could speak English,” remembers Mr. Sam. While on Roatan, he received tutoring classes. He had four years of schooling at Methodist School in La Ceiba.

In 1952, he went out to sea as an OS (Ordinary Sailor) and graduated to AB (Able Sailor). Then he went to work in the pump room. In 1955, he had saved enough money to enroll in a technical course in diesel, at a technical school in Chicago. “I always was yearning to further my education,” remembers Mr. Sam.

He saved for three years to afford a course that offered opportunities for advancement. He went to a school in Chicago that offered six months intensive courses in “diesel” technology.

After the course, Mr. Sam came back to Roatan and began working at Casa Warren, Coxen Hole’s biggest supermarket. In 1961, he met his wife, Myrel Anderson from Sandy Bay through work. “I had been running for a long time,” says Mr. Sam. The couple tied the knot and began their long life together.

He was a personable, intelligent young man, and some people were surprised to see him living on a small island. A casual acquaintance – an American doctor visiting from Oklahoma – helped Mr. Sam secure a work visa in the United States. “That is why it’s good to have a little diploma,” remembers Mr. Sam.

When he arrived in the US, he immediately applied for a job at Ford Motor Company in New Jersey. Before long, he was working in Manhattan. Mr. Sam sent for his wife to join him, and before long he was enjoying what was one of the greatest boom decades in US history – 1961-1964 – in New York City.

Eventually, island life called, and Mr. Sam came back to Roatan. “I promised him I would come back,” said Mr. Sam. He worked at Casa Warren in Coxen Hole, the island’s biggest grocery store.

The island was small, but growing, and opportunities were all around. The airline industry was connecting major locations around Honduras, and Roatan was one of them. When an airline came calling to open a regular connection with Roatan, Mr. Sam was there.

The first airline that came to the island with a connection to La Ceiba, in 1947, was Transportes Aéreos Nacionales. Soon after, LANSA came in with their service between Roatan and the coast, and Mr. Sam became its Roatan agent.

Mr. Sam remembers Bill Earle, the owner of LANSA who knew a man named Robert Webster, a licensed pilot from Guanaja, and the two went into business together. “They buckled up together and became partners,” said Mr. Grant.

He saved for three years to afford a course.

The airline needed at least one passenger to stay profitable on the Roatan route, and Mr. Sam made sure there was always someone wanting to visit la Ceiba. He worked out of his desk at Casa Warren selling the Roatan-La Ceiba tickets for 12 Lempiras (82 cents). “Within six months, we had five planes,” remembers Mr. Grant.

Mr. Sam recalls the original landing strip located on the side of the road just east of Coxen Hole. “On one side, there were coconuts, on the other, there was a road. (…) The cows, the cats, and the dogs were all running,” remembers Mr. Grant. Eventually, the nearby “Church hill” – part of the Methodist Mission – and graveyard were both leveled in order to enlarge the landing strip. “The terminal was out of thatched roof,” remembers Mr. Sam.

There were some setbacks with the airlines as well. There was an accident with a 10-seater plane coming from Cayman Islands, stopping over on Roatan on its way to Tegucigalpa. It dropped to the sea in Dixon Cove. “They just ran out of fuel. It was an error by the pilots,” remembers Mr. Sam. Two pilots and two passengers died in the crash.

Mr. Grant knew three Americans that saw Roatan’s potential and invested their money in land and projects that benefited the island. “The government didn’t start tourism here, the foreigners did,” remembers Mr. Sam. In 1960 there were three Americans that were pioneers. There was Mr. Roy Anderson on the east side of Roatan, Paul Adams on the west end of the island, and John Henley, from Birmingham, Alabama, who focused his efforts on the middle of Roatan. “He went into leasing instead of buying, and the government changed the law and foreigners couldn’t [invest any longer],” remembers Mr. Grant.

The first tourist hotels appeared on the island soon thereafter – Spyglass Hill in Punta Gorda was the first, AKR the second, and CocoView the third. As the island grew, it also found itself in the path of three powerful Hurricanes in less than a decade: Francelia in 1969, Fifi in 1974, and Greta in 1978.

The terminal was out of the thatched roof.

In 1990 Mr. Sam began working at the Roatan Municipality with Mayor Allan Hyde as his “number two man, [that] now it is called vice-alcalde… or ‘official mayor’,” remembers Mr. Sam. “I would work for him under one condition: I would work under one boss – Allan Hyde,” said Mr. Sam. “I didn’t take ‘mordida,’ I didn’t want any handout.”

The Roatan municipal budget was small, but sufficient to finance some badly needed construction projects. Mr. Sam helped to build a Coxen Hole municipal market and new City hall building. “The last one didn’t even have a good bathroom, no conference table,” said Mr. Sam.

The Roatan municipal budget was small, but sufficient to finance some badly needed construction projects. Mr. Sam helped to build a Coxen Hole municipal market and new City hall building. “The last one didn’t even have a good bathroom, no conference table,” said Mr. Sam.

He continued to preach on the island and look after his five children. Looking back, Mr. Sam sees that the biggest difference he made was that of following the true and narrow path of life. “’Let the people remember you for good, not walls, not statues,’ this is what my mother told me, and now I understand it,” says Mr. Grant.

You can usually find Ms. de Jesus in her backyard, which she lovingly refers to as “her bush.” Her face is lovely, with a bright glow to her skin, sparkling periwinkle eyes, and a few shiny gold teeth that flash when she laughs. And when she does, her big, passionate smile lights up her whole face. She takes her job picking wine berries to a high degree. She places the harvested berries in a big bucket and carries it home, accompanied by her grandchildren.

Her right leg is stiff. A couple of decades ago, in ’86, she hurt her leg bad in a car accident. But the steel rod in her leg from this accident doesn’t hold her back from walking a lot, she says. Her belief for longevity is walking a lot, as well as eating a lot of meat, beef in particular she “is not a great fan of chicken.” Not so long ago, her doctor advised her to eat less meat, but within no time she felt weak.

Good laugh and a long sleep are the best medication.

You can’t get away without trying her wine. She takes the berries off one by one from little branches, tosses the rotten ones, removes the stems, and washes the berries thoroughly. After crushing them, she lets her berries sleep in sugar for one week in an island style fermentation container.

Ms. de Jesus explains that the flowers begin to bloom in November, marking the start of her berry-picking season, which lasts until February. “The fruits are anti-inflammatory and high in vitamin C,” she says in her island accent that is so thick it’s difficult to understand for non-island residents. Pay her visit and you won’t get away without trying her wine. The taste is strong and sweet—perfectly complemented by a piece of rich, pure cacao chocolate.

Her daughter Chola has her own restaurant/bar a few doorsteps away. It is the place to be on the East part of the island. She is a hard worker, has strong values, and never met a stranger. Ms. Jesus has five children in total: three boys (one passed) Chola, and another daughter. Her husband passed in the 80s, when he was 78 years old. “No man in her life ever since,” she has her hands full with all her grand- and great-grandchildren. She thinks she has 28, she has lost track.

The bottles are ready to sell, right in time before Semana Santa. After the processing starts, Chola’s empty bottles from her café are used for her mom’s wine. Besides selling by the bottle (100 Lps) she also sells by half a gallon (600 Lps) or one gallon (1,200). “A real business lady she is”, her proud daughter says. “And of course I drink her wine almost every night.”

Cooking is her passion. She cooks coconut bread, meat, stew, soup, pancakes, you name it. When you see her grating a coconut down on a board, you realize how physically strong she still is. Most people trying to open them quit after the fifth time, at which point they usually slice open their thumb. “You ain’t no good, my friend,” she comments. Whether making her own coconut oil or producing wine, she keeps moving and never stops.

She loves to be surrounded by her family and most of them live around her. Her secret to a long and healthy life? “A good laugh and a long sleep are the best medication for everything. Time and health are two cherished valuables that we usually do not recognize and appreciate until they have gone,” Ms. Jesus says with a grin on her face.

Ms. de Jesus passed away in July, 2024; she was 94 years old.

At the Forefront of Casa Warren’s Legacy

Ivy’s siblings were Timothy, Cheryl, Kirby, and Esther. Mrs. Ivy’s first memory is drinking from an oat meal glass on the kitchen table that usually contained peppers, mutton peppers and onions. The glass had only had vinegar, and the young Ivy, maybe three years old, drunk the vinegar form the glass.

She did her ABCs to sixth grade using Royal Readers English textbooks. “As small children, we had to do both Spanish [public] school and English school,” remembers Mrs. Ivy. At eight, she begun taking music lessons from her aunt, married to Paul Ebanks.

The 15th of September was a very important date in Roatan’s calendar. School children from all over Roatan would gather in the island’s capital to march and celebrate Honduras’ Independence Day. “Our teacher taught us: ‘Honduras es mi patria,’” remembers Mrs. Ivy. At seven o’clock in the morning the children would await a boat send by the municipality.

In order to go to a store or attend church service Mrs. Ivy walked from West End to Coxen Hole. “That was a little, narrow road, that you buckled your ankles if you didn’t watch it,” remembers Mrs. Ivy, The foot and horse path that runs between West End across the hills to Flowers Bay. “We had ticks, uuuuu, loads of ticks,” remembers Mrs. Ivy. The walk to Coxen Hole would take two hours and some rode horses to save time, but Mrs. Ivy was afraid of horses.

The last day of the week was a special time for the entire family. “We went to West Bay almost every Sunday afternoon. We ate a lot of coco plums and grapes, they were wild. Jim Díaz, Foster Díaz’s grandfather, used to live in a little house in West Bay.” These were bucolic days for Roatan and for many children that grew up on the island. “There were a lot of crabs. They were clean,” remembers Mrs. Ivy. “We would pick them by the sack, take them home and boil them. We still love the crabs.”

In 1952 the Warren family moved from West End to La Ceiba so children could receive more formal education. The family was there for four years to take advantage the city’s schools and colleges.

In 1950s there was only one municipality on the island, and Coxen Hole was its capital. It was a busy town and it had thriving general store. Mr. Warren had an opportunity to buy a building that became Casa Warren, Warren’s Supermarket and now is Eldon’s Supermarket in Coxen Hole.

Warren Hotel with its seven rooms was the first hotel in the Bay Islands.

In January of 1955 the Warren family traveled on “Colonel Cruz” boat leaving La Ceiba banana company dock at midnight at arriving at the Coxen Hole municipal dock at 6am. “It was always a pretty rough ride.”

Mrs. Ivy’s father purchased a two story wooden building that also had a few rooms to rent and a space that could be used for a store. In fact Casa Warren Hotel with its seven rooms was the first hotel in the Bay Islands. “Judges and governors were the staying there, renting the month, and “lot’s of gringos,” said Mrs. Ivy. John C. Henley III from Alabama and his sister Edmunia Henley were guests and early investors on Roatan leasing land from locals.

At first it was Mrs. Ivy’s mother who runs the business as her father stayed behind in La Ceiba. “She run the kitchen, dining room area while the children run the store area,” says Mrs. Ivy. At 16 Mrs. Ivy was already working at the family store. Her parents lived upstairs and the children worked in the store downstairs. Her sister Janet helped out as well. The business depended on help from everyone. “My dad was off for two years and then he run the business with us,” says Mrs. Ivy.

There were just a few places on the island that one could call proper stores. “We had a store, McNabs had a store and Mr. Oswald had a store,” says Mrs. Ivy. While Roatan in 1950s and 60s had three large stores there were also many scattered through the island “Truchitas,” small stores selling sugar and a few high demand items.

Back then Roatan was a peaceful, quiet place, but the law always looked for some bad apples. “They would put you in jail for just about anything, especially stealing,” remembers Mrs. Ivy. There was not much crime on Roatan in 1950s. Most people left their doors open and there were few things a thief could steel. “In those days there was no much stealing going on. Not like today,” says Mrs. Ivy. “If you go onto someone’s plantation and steal their coconuts, they would walk you down the street with it on your back – shame you.”

Many people in jail ended up there because they would make their own moonshine. “People would make chicha; brew it down with corn. They would make strong alcohol,” said Mrs. Ivy. “They would take the cashew and make wine, they made berry wine, they make rice wine.”

Mrs. Ivy married at 18 to Walter Cooper. His father, Dr. Loyd Cooper, was the only dentist on Roatan for many years and young Walter helped his father at the clinic. The couple had two children and stayed married for 45 years. “You need to take care of yourself, eat right, lead a good clean life,” says Mrs. Ivy. As a Christian you learn how to do that.”

In 1970s her father decided to expand the store. The old wooden, two story building has outlived its usefulness and it was time for an upgrade. “I’m gonn’a make a supermarket,’ said my dad,” remembers Mrs. Ivy. “My dad was very visionary.” That is when Casa Warren went from being a wooden building to a cement building.

Casa Warren had a prime location in Roatan’s hub town. It was just a few meters west of the municipal dock and down the hill from Governor’s hill where the telegram office, a jail and a clock tower were. “Every 15 minutes it would sound off,” remembers the municipal clock Mrs. Ivy. “If you didn’t sleep well that keep you awake.” When sometime in 1980s Mr. Sam Welcome, the clock keeper died, no one took over the task of maintaining the clock. The clock Municipal clock stopped and people depended on their own time.

In 1984 Mrs. Ivy’s father died and the Casa Warren was left to Mrs. Ivy’s mother and children. “My dad was very strict. I had a good dad. He took care of us,” remembers her father with fondness Mrs. Ivy. “One thing our dad taught us is to share with one another. He taught us to take care of one another. We worked through differences, we worked through tough times.”

In 2010 Casa Warren was rented to Eldon Hyde, owner of Eldon’s Supermarket. In her 80s Mrs. Ivy lives on ground floor in a large cement home adjacent to old Casa Warren. She has the radio from morning until the early afternoon. Every Sunday she goes to the First Baptist Church where she plays the organ, or the piano. “That was my life: the store and the church,” says Mrs. Ivy. Now her life is mostly centered around the church and her family. Her two grandchildren live with her and look after her. “I had a good life,” she says.

Her days as a child were spaced by prayers that were done three times a day: at sunrise, noon and in the evening time. The life of families was concentrated around the church and religious obligations. Flowers Bay had Methodist, Baptist and Evangelical churches.

Little Dellis learned how to read, write and mathematics from Ebenezer Johnson, a schoolteacher who taught in Flowers Bay using English Royal Readers. Little Dellis completed knowledge of all six Royal Readers books.

The discipline in school was important and occasionally the teacher whipped unruly students. Mrs. Dellis remembers an April fool’s day where one of her companions “pinned a tail” on the back of the teacher and was punished. Another April fools day mischief involved taking a “note” to a faraway place.

In the 1930s, the Honduran government built a school on the point in Flowers Bay. The September of 1941 hurricane destroyed it completely. Mrs. Dellis remembers that “Nicaraguan Hurricane” well. The storm came without warning and brought high winds and a quickly rising tide endangering most of the Flowers Bay homes that were built very close to shore. “We were running in the rain, cold. We were frightened and hungry,” says Mrs. Dellis. When her family arrived at a home that was up the hill, they found it was already filled with fleeing neighbors.

Made flower arrangements for weddings.

Mrs. Dellis spent several years with her grandmother in Los Planes, a Standard Fruit community on the Cangrejal river outside of La Ceiba. She learned Spanish while studying at the local school there. In 1930s and 40s many islanders left to pursue jobs with banana companies on the mainland.

In 1950, at 21 Mrs. Dellis married Oliver Cromwell Bodden, a seaman from Flowers Bay. Mrs. Oliver worked on “The Daydream,” aboat that carried cargo between Roatan and Grand Cayman, Louisiana and Florida.

For several years the couple rented homes, but finally purchased a house lot in Flowers Bay. While taking care of the house Mrs. Dellis planted flowers and made flower arrangements for weddings and birthday bouquets. On Sundays she would sing hymns and recite bible verses at the Baptist church she joined. The couple had five boys and one girl.

In her ninth decade, Mrs. Dellis is very active and energetic. She spends her time visiting family and tending to her flower garden. She lives with her son in beautiful seashore home in Pensacola area of Flowers Bay.

Smiling at the Future and Thinking about the Past

Cergia González García was born on February 2, 1939 in Punta Gorda. She was the third of five children born to Ebencio González, a farmer, and Everista García. She was raised by her grandmother, Guillerma. “I remember plenty of things,” says Mrs. Cergia about her youth. “I remember waking up at 5 a.m. to pick up cohune [nuts].” She was five, and already working to help the family make ends meet. A boat from French Harbour comes to pick up the nuts every 15 days.

Helping the family came at a cost.

Helping the family came at a cost. As a child, Mrs. Cergia never had a chance to go to school. Only when Mrs. Cergia was in her thirties did she had a chance to go to school. She learned how to read and write in an educational program for adults that is given at a school in Punta Gorda. For 19 years, she worked as a domestic worker in Jonesville. She had three children, then married, and had another eight.

Since she turned 65, Mrs. Cergia began selling small food items from a small wooden table on the side of the street in Punta Gorda. Her son manages a bar right behind her stand.

She has a confident gaze, and an air of comfort about her. “I don’t regret nothing (sic!),” says Mrs. Cergia. She feels right at home in the middle of Punta Gorda’s street.

She married Hamilton James and they had a son together named Robert. Mrs. Clara is the mother of two other children, Candia and Liliana.

She was a very social person, and travelled to many places around Bay Islands and all over Honduras. She was a housekeeper and a cook in many places on the mainland –San Pedro, Tegucigalpa, and La Ceiba.– “I worked like a man,” says Mrs. Clara. “I worked hard.”

She used to farm vegetables late into her life. The numbness in her fingers prevented her from continuing to do so.

Since the mid 1980s Mrs. Clara has lived in the home of her daughter Candia, in a concrete, blue hose perched on a hill in Diamond Rock. Her home is just west of the Czech development in Diamond Rock looking at Roatan’s highest hill, Mount Picacho.

I worked hard.