Enanitos Verdes

Dear readers,

Last night I had the super privilege to see Enanitos Verdes, which means Little Green Midgets in English, at the Coliseum de Ingenieros in Tegucigalpa. To be quite frank, I knew absolutely nothing about this Argentine quartet. Having looked on Wikipedia, I’ve learned that they have been together for almost three decades though some band members have come and gone. Pamela told me before the concert that they sing mainly love songs about being broken-hearted with amusing lyrics in the Latin American Indie genre, kind of. It was also my first time visiting the Coliseum, which I’ve been driven past hundreds of times while speeding past it on Tegucigalpa’s ring road near Suyapa, but I’ve never known what might be lurking behind the walls of this odd shaped concrete mess of a building, built on a budget, but has a strange ugly attraction. It kind of reminds me of what is now the old Birmingham Central Library, a listed building with a charm that makes people feel sorry for it, as well as the RAC tower off towards the Bescot Stadium in Walsall. I have an unhealthy habit for comparing everything to random sites around Brum that a majority of readers neither know nor care about. Anyway, as stated, I’ve never known what happens inside. I’ve seen evangelical church meetings being advertised and Partido Libre rallies being held there. I’ve also heard its a great big basketball court. The mystery is over. You can see with your very own eyes what it looks like.

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The evening started by Pamela and I shamelessly scoffing a McDonald’s Quarter Pounder in her Juanjo’s car (Pam’s brother), which I consequently regretted due to conscience telling me that I shouldn’t really be eating at that place, but more so because it gave me a nasty case of the farts. The last thing Tegucigalpa needs is even more harmful emissions in the atmosphere. I felt paranoid because I was around Pam’s family and friends and I was unsure if they can hear or smell these emissions and they were just being polite.

After having problems with Jano’s car on the way to Omoa, Pamela and I had a feeling of deja vu when Juanjo’s brake lights refused to turn themselves off when we got Pamela’s cousin’s place near Villa Olímpica. The thought of the battery clonking out on us didnt thrill anyone. The only way to turn it off at the moment is to unhook the battery. Any would be robbers won’t be getting very far without this important piece of information. We got there anyway.

To hide the smell of the hamburger farts, I decided to dilute it with Coors Light beer, which gets its name by the way not because it lacks a sensible and fair amount of alcohol in beer according to customer rights, but also because it is light on flavour. Piss water actually. It was the only beer going though and it was 50 lemps a can, which is nearly £2, steeping up to English prices, bloody cheats. If it were Imperial or Salva Vida, I wouldn’t have cared too much, but this was Coors Light piss water.

Like all musicians, they came up on the stage late. F–king Argentine prima donas. It does my head in when bands do that, especially on a school night, and it certainly doesn’t build up the excitement. Impuntuality is not an artistic licence either. Anyway, we were up in the Gods, where we met Pam’s friend Alma (meaning soul) and her boyfriend who Pamela calls kebab (his real name is Fuad). I drank more and had a Matahambritas chicken burger which I think was the reason why I was hovering near the toilet seat all day today. I like Matahambritas usually but that burger was too lukewarm for comfort. We also took lots of pictures while waiting, like the ones below.

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Unfortunately by the time the band came out on stage, the battery in my phone had died out. So no photos guys. Sorry. If you have a complaint, send it on a post card to the band. Their fault. Not mine. Impunctual green midgets.

I liked the music when they started playing. They’ve a resemblance to Mana, but more romantic, more modern, and slightly heavier rock. I didn’t know the words or which songs were most famous, so I felt a bit left out when the three thousand or more people around me sang along to the tunes. Not to say that I didn’t enjoy it. Alma pointed out that I really should have listened to a few of the songs before. I agreed, but ignored her, to mock my own insolence of course. I’d heard one where in the chorus they sing whoahhh a lot. I don’t know the name of it though. One other song sounded very Sunday morning, which is the kind of music I like these days. Again I don’t know the name of it so don’t ask. Juanjo got to head bang. He likes to do that with his best friend who I must say looks just like him.

Anyway, the last 20 minutes were just for people who like guitar solos. I don’t think I personally can call guitar solos like that music. It’s just sound by guitar show offs. I don’t appreciate it. I wanted to get yo bed. I was tired. Boring and tired Nick El Catracho Rogers. What the f–ks happening to me?!

On the way out I saw some students from Dowal. My mother often spoke of this when she was a teacher, seeing kids in supermarkets after school and it confuses them. How dare Mrs Rogers leave the classroom! Well I had that same look last night. “WHAT THE F–K IS MR ROGERS DOING OUTSIDE THE LIBRARY?” This thought frightens me about myself. I need to get out more.

Everyone enjoyed it though. Me especially. I explore the group a bit more in the future. And I must say thank you to Pam for the ticket! Gracias amor!

Anyway, here are a couple of songs by Enanitos Verdes. Enjoy!

Song one

Song two – this one has a cool video!

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About Nicholas Rogers

I am an English journalist/copywriter living in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, and I have been here since 2011. I originally came to work with Casa Alianza, which supports street kids and vulnerable youths. I then stayed on, after meeting Pamela Cruz Lozano, who calls me her adopted Catracho. I work freelance journalism and I have my own translation business. Why did I come here? For the challenge, to open my mind and get out of my comfort zone. I love literature and I've written a book with street kids. I write novels, short stories and poetry, all of which you will find on this blog, as well as a lot of information about Honduras. View all posts by Nicholas Rogers

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