A hilarious — at least I think so — first-person media account of life holed up in the Brazilian embassy with former Honduran President Manuel Zelaya:
All night long, floodlights shine on the Brazilian Embassy where I have been holed up with ousted Honduran President Manuel Zelaya since he slipped back into the country.
When I do manage to sleep, I'm awakened by high-pitched cat calls from the soldiers ringing the compound, and music so loud the windows vibrate.
Day or night, through every window, police officers and soldiers stare in at me and the other journalists through binoculars.
When I'm not trying to do my job taking pictures of Zelaya and his entourage, I pass the time reading; I now know more about Brazil than I ever hoped to — the embassy has an impressive collection of books about the South American country.
Honduras' coup-installed government says soldiers will arrest Zelaya if he leaves the diplomatic mission. Zelaya says he is not going anywhere until he is reinstated as president, and the Brazilian government, which also wants him returned to power, has not pressured him or his supporters to leave.
So we in the media who pushed our way in when Zelaya took up residence here on Sept. 21 are stuck. Once we leave, we can't get back in.
Still, time has taken its toll as the crisis drags on, and Zelaya's group of fist-waving supporters dwindles with each passing week. Even Zelaya's son went home recently, hugging his mother, who stayed behind.
Talks stalled again after interim President Roberto Micheletti refused to budge on allowing Zelaya to be reinstated — the central point of a power-sharing agreement the two sides are negotiating.
A delegation headed by U.S. Assistant Secretary of State Tom Shannon is headed to Honduras this week to urge the two sides to find a solution, State Department spokesman Ian Kelly said Tuesday.
Zelaya says if there is no breakthrough this week it will never happen, but he has not said what he would do then. In the meantime, Micheletti's government is banking on the Nov. 29 elections to end the crisis: Zelaya is not eligible to run since the Honduran constitution allows presidents to serve only one four-year term.
Meanwhile, those of us inside try to make the best of the situation; the other journalists and I wile away the hours playing endless games of Monopoly and cards.
Sleep is the biggest challenge.
The Zelaya supporters have put up a curtain to block the floodlights and covered windows with newspapers, but that has made little difference.
Soldiers bark like dogs, meow like cats and crow like roosters just as my REM cycle gets going and I'm jolted awake almost nightly.
Troops last week blasted us with music from 1:30 a.m. until 7 a.m. The playlist included the grating Spanish ballad "Two-legged Rat," an accordian-laced tirade against an ex-boyfriend made famous by Mexican singer Paquita La del Barrio. Its lyrics begin, "Filthy rat, crawling animal, scum of all life ..." and it got worse from there.
That was a rough night.
