When we first arrived in Honduras in April 1975, we lived in a tiny
apartment behind the guest house of our mission in Tegucigalpa. Tiny hardly
seems an adequate word to describe its cramped quarters, but in the absence
of a more descriptive word it will have to suffice. The living room/dining
room combination was approximately 9' X 12' and the two bedrooms just had
enough room for a small bed and a dresser. That was it! But our family
of four (We added one more a few months later.) fit well into it. We were
so happy to be in Honduras it didn't really matter to us where we lived.
The only problem with that QTH was the RFI I caused in the main guest
house. One of the missionaries enjoyed listening to the Voice of America
about as much as I enjoyed working strings of VK's. As you can imagine,
those two pastimes were not especially compatible.
In August some missionary friends were leaving for the states for about
six months. They asked us if we would like to stay in their home while
they were gone. We readily accepted for several reasons. First, it was
a beautiful house with l-o-t-s of room; second, it was handy to one of
the places we frequented; and third, they needed someone to stay there
or it would be empty when they returned. Oh, I almost forgot (Hi, hi!),
there just happened to be a 40' tower in the yard with a beautiful Hy-Gain
tri-band quad setting on top of it. You see, owner was also a ham. I had
been using an old tri-band yagi supported at about 28' with three sections
of crooked pipe. Sometimes I thought for sure the first gust of wind would
blow it down. Believe me that tower and quad looked very inviting.
Once we got moved in, it didn't take long for me to give the quad a
tryout. It also didn't take too long for me to fall in love with it. The
only problem that I discovered after using it a while was the mechanical
stability. We got some fierce winds in Tegucigalpa and I was frequently
climbing the tower making repairs.
My dream setup at this QTH eventually caused me one of the greatest
frustrations of all my years of hamming. One Saturday morning I was having
a great time working DX on 15 meters. Suddenly, someone started pounding
on the iron fence in the back yard. After a couple of minutes I went out
to see what was going on. To my momentary delight it was our neighbor whom
I had not yet met. He was also a foreign consulate to Honduras. Although
it wasn't the most opportune time, I was happy to finally meet him. I greeted
him with a friendly, "Hello, my name is Dale Holloway. It's a pleasure
to meet you." He responded, "You *$%&&#@**%$." Stunned, I replied,
"Pardon me?" "That's right, you lousy %#@&%$," he said. "My daughter
is having a birthday party and you're broadcasting into the phonograph,
the stereo, the TV, the radio, the telephone, even the organ."
Imagine, if you can, how I felt about then. It was worse than the time
two men from the FCC monitoring station in Allegan showed up at my door
in Grand Rapids back in 1960 when I was a 13-year-old Novice. My articulate
explanation to the consulate that his thousands of dollars of entertainment
equipment lacked a few dollars of filtering that would keep it from receiving
signals it wasn't suppose to receive fell on deaf ears. He said something
like, "*$%&&#@**%$."
I got the point!
Finally I agreed to stay off the air until his daughter's party was
over. Needless to say, I was quite upset. About three weeks later the same
thing happened all over again. He threatened to see that I lost my license
and to make sure I didn't bother him ever again. Being in the official
capacity he was in, he had the pull to do it too. On the other hand, there
wasn't a lot I could do except stay off the air, and I wasn't about to
do that. My ham future at that QTH looked bleak. But then a most interesting
thing happened, and it gave me the last laugh.
At the time, I was pastoring the Union Christian Church in Tegucigalpa,
which was the only English-speaking church in the capital. There were several
American and European businessmen, U.S. military and embassy personnel,
and Peace Corps workers that attended the church. Every Christmas Eve we
had a service that was attended by many people, several of whom didn't
regularly attend our church.
As I was greeting people coming in that Christmas Eve, guess who I saw
coming up the sidewalk? That's right! My not-so-friendly neighbor and his
family. After my heart skipped a couple of beats, I couldn't help but chuckle
as I imagined what his response would be when he saw me and realized I
was the pastor there. Boy, was he ever surprised! If ever anyone wanted
to pull off a vanishing act, it was him. He stumbled for some words, then,
in his heavily accented English, muttered something about what a surprise
it was to see me there. Ha! What an understatement! I chuckled again and
smiled as he and his family found their way to the sanctuary.
I couldn't help but wonder, though, if this discovery of his was going
to make matters better or worse for me. Well, to my delight, I never heard
another word from him about my interference, and he even came back to church
again after that. I guess it all goes to show once again the truth of the
Scripture that says, "The Lord works in mysterious ways His wonders to
perform."
