A campesino in Bajo Aguan, where local farm workers are waging a war against big African Palm companies. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Dominic Bracco II

Aqui Vivimos

[ EPF 2014 FINALIST ]

My interest in Honduras started nearly seven years ago when I found a Honduran woman laying under a mesquite in South Texas near where I grew up. She’d been separated from her group and was lost out there. She’d been traveling for three months. The rancher told me to back away from her because she was sick while he dialed the Border Patrol. She begged me to help her, but I didn’t know how I could. I was already a journalist. My uncle had been in prison for trafficking. I thought to myself, “What kind of place would drive someone to come all this way risk death here in this desert?” Seven years later a friend and I took our savings and finally went. What we found was as beautiful as it was terrifying.

The tiny country of 8 million is the world’s most violent country. Gangs control entire cities. Campesinos war with corporate funded paramilitary groups in the east. Warring cartels massacre entire villages in La Mosquita. In the capital Tegucigalpa violence has become more sporadic and faceless. Random crime has increased. Car jacking, robberies, and assaults are a daily occurrence. San Pedro Sula, the country’s industrial center, sees an average of 19 murders a day.

The normalcy of violence in current Honduran society is extremely troubling and yet it is understandable. As a journalist who has covered violence for five years, there is something unnerving in its consistency.

Honduras is one of the most under reported stories of our time. Those stories that are done often ignore the root causes: deep political rifts that mimic those of earlier Central American wars, widespread poverty, extreme gloves off capitalism, private foreign interest, and the extreme corruption it produces. Aqui Vivimos explores these ideas and looks at daily life, the contrast between beauty and horror, and the often-surreal landscapes, and personalities it produces.

A campesino in Bajo Aguan, where local farm workers are waging a war against big African Palm companies. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

The blood of two brothers and their friend in San Pedro Sula. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

A soccer field in Tegucigalpa. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Boys hang out in the gang controlled El ÔOve Park in Tegucigalpa. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Lizeth Cerros mourns her murdered husband, Darwin Franco, with her children, later she received another death threat. Franco was a community organizer. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

A carnival worker before the show in San Pedro Sula. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Jorge, the son of a military commander, spends a Sunday afternoon at his auntÕs house. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Merchants in San Pedro Sula, go about their business while a body lies in the middle of the street. Dead bodies sit for hours before the coroner has time to pick them up. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Prisoners beg church members for deodorant bars in the Comayagua Prison, where three-hundred-sixty men were killed in a fire in 2012. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Honduran military engage gunmen who were hiding out inside a residence in San Pedro Sula. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

A young contortionist at the circus visiting San Pedro Sula. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

University students throw teargas bombs back at police during an anti fraud protest in Tegucigalpa. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

A campesino in Bajo Aguan. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Three boys hide from the camera while officials dig up a body that was buried in a corn field in San Pedro Sula. The boys were waiting to see if their missing friend was in the grave, but he was not. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Two teams from the Honduran National American Football League congratulate each other in the rain after a game. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Family members carry out the coffin of a murdered campesino. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Ousted Honduran president Manuel Zelaya rallies leftist supporters during a press conference in Tegucigalpa. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Tegucigalpa ÒUltra Fiel,Ó soccer fans during a match against San Pedro SulaÕs team. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

A domestic worker picks up garbage outside of a home in a wealthy neighborhood of San Pedro Sula. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Riot Police wait for protesters to leave. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

A mother and her daughter at an evangelical church. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Two boys walk back to shore in Tula. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Nationalist party supporters wave flags in support of the current president. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Jorge and Emilia watch planes take of from the Tegucigalpa airport. (Dominic Bracco II / Prime for Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting)

Bio

Dominic Bracco II explores the effects of global economics on local communities. Although he works internationally, Dominic’s work often returns to document the effects of Mexican and North American policies on the Texas / Mexico border region where he was raised. He has degrees in journalism and Spanish literature from The University of Texas at Arlington. Past clients include The New York Times Magazine, Smithsonian Magazine, The Wall Street Journal, and The Washington Post. Dominic is also a founding member of the collective Prime. He is based in Mexico City.

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Dominic Bracco II