March 12, 2024
Mario the Bus Driver
“Honestly, I have traveled a lot of places, but I always feel out of place. Nowhere else feels like home.” -Mario
If you drive into the Nueva Suyapa neighborhood, one of the first things you will see is Mario on the side of the road in front of the lot where his buses are parked. He will probably be in the middle of telling a story, and the men around him will be laughing.
Mario is in his mid-50s and grew up poor in Nueva Suyapa with his three brothers. His two oldest brothers immigrated to Miami many years ago, but Mario and his brother Herbert decided to stay in Honduras. Mario recently sat down with us and told us some of his story:
When he was 15, Mario and his brother decided to buy an old pickup truck. They put some wooden seats in the back and told their neighbors that, for a fee, they would drive them from their neighborhood to downtown Tegucigalpa– about five miles away. It was the first bus service in Nueva Suyapa. Mario says, “That pickup was also the neighborhood ambulance. I don’t know how many babies were born in the back of that pickup truck, but it was a lot!” The pickup had more customers than it could handle. Soon, the brothers bought an old yellow school bus, and then another, and another. They now own 40 buses that take people all over Honduras.
Mario and his brother have built a strong business. They have found success in Honduras, and Mario is proud of that. He told us about the time he called his brothers in Miami to let them know that he and Herbert planned to build a new home for their mom. He said with a grin, “They got very quiet, and then one said, ‘Listen, we don't have money to send for a house!’ and I said, ‘We don’t need you to help pay for it, I just wanted to let you know.’” He laughed and then said, “That felt really good.”
Anyone would have thought that once Mario could afford it, he would leave Nueva Suyapa, which is considered one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Tegucigalpa, and move somewhere nice, but he hasn’t. Thirty years later, he is still there. We asked Mario why he stayed when he could live anywhere. He paused for a bit and then said, “Honestly, I have traveled a lot of places, but I always feel out of place. Nowhere else feels like home. I just want to be here–caring for my mom, spending time with my family, and making sure I am there when something goes wrong at work.”
When Mario talks about things that can go wrong at work, he isn’t just talking about a driver calling in sick. Being a bus owner in Honduras is dangerous. If you own a bus or a taxi (or any neighborhood business), you have to pay gang members every week whatever amount they ask for. In exchange, they will leave you alone. If you don’t pay, they promise to make you wish you had. The formal word for this is extortion. In Honduras, it is called the “war tax.”
Mario hates extortion for a very personal reason. Ten years ago, after Mario resisted paying an even higher war tax than the week before, gang members kidnapped his 15 year-old-son and held him for four days. Mario, completely panicked, called ASJ co-founders Kurt VerBeek and Jo Ann Van Engen and asked if they could come. They stood by his side as he fielded threatening phone calls from gang members demanding he pay more money. They would put his son on for just a few seconds and then continue to threaten Mario. He was terrified of what they might do. He paid the ransom and they released his son, but Mario had had enough. He called Kurt and said, “I want to do something to stop this.”
That’s when Mario started working to eliminate extortion in his neighborhood. He worked with ASJ investigators to determine which gangs were involved and who was in charge. He hid one of ASJ’s investigators in his back seat while he went to the drop-off spot so we could get photos and a recording. He shared photos and phone numbers of the people who threatened him. He was fearless, and it paid off. Gang leaders were arrested, other bus drivers joined the fight, and extortion in his neighborhood was completely stopped. For years, Nueva Suyapa was the only poor neighborhood in the capital city that did not pay “war tax.” Mario and the other drivers were so grateful they even started making regular donations to ASJ’s work.
We asked Mario why he took that risk and continues to take risks to keep his community safe. He said, “Well, don’t think it is because I am not scared. I am, but someone has to do it, and if I show my face, that means others don’t have to. They can stay safe. I guess I have just realized that, for me, life is only satisfying if I feel like I am contributing something.”
At the end of our conversation, we asked Mario what it was about Nueva Suyapa that had kept him there all these years. He grinned and instantly replied, “Because it's the best place ever!” We laughed together, knowing that what he meant was that Nueva Suyapa is home, and that makes it the best place ever for him.
