The days keep ticking down... In just three weeks my mom will be here, and five days after that I'll be back in the States. "For good." Still hard to imagine saying all of the goodbyes--to my beloved coworkers, cooks, vigilantes, bus drivers and ayudantes, etc. etc. People who I can't just facebook, or email, or text/call when I want--who I literally don't know if or when I'll ever see them again.
I'm also beginning to realize just how little time I have left to finish all that I want to accomplish. We're looking to hire a local education coordinator to direct our education initiatives here, and in that search I've been exposed to a whole new can of worms. That, combined with a few meetings with the local mayor and various conversations with Conce coworkers, have helped me understand just a tiny bit more about the complicated political situation in this tiny little pueblo, and how much everyone--even unknowingly--is embroiled in it all. There are the Nacionalistas, and then there are the Liberales. There is the Resistencia. There are the powerful people from Conce, and then the powerful people who live in but aren't from Conce. There's always a backstory and an old grudge somewhere, but somehow everyone maintains smiling, hand-shaking relations with everyone else. And they do it well enough to deceive us naive gringos, who thinks that everyone just...gets along.
Last week I got to ride Antonio's motorcycle around the campo. It was a trip...meaning, I fell on my ass. Twice. Afterwards, we ended up platicando about my (read: my parents') beloved Maxima, and somehow that turned into them going to the States--how going "mojado" was what Antonio and Edgar aspired to in the future. It definitely wasn't the first time I've heard the idea mentioned; I've heard time and again how hard it is to find a stable job here, how money from America multiplies even if the job is in something like landscaping or construction, how it's a huge risk but often worth it, etc. etc.
But to hear it from these boys--people I work with, who already have jobs, who I know to be relatively well-educated and intelligent, and have seem to have made a place and life for themselves here... Somehow it was so, so different. I just didn't know that there was so much more to the picture. That even beyond the expenses of a higher education, even beyond the scarcity of jobs here, there are still always the obstacle of politics: party politics, but also familial politics. That if you don't align yourself with the right people, your CV can all of a sudden go missing, or your job can be taken away for no reason. To hear that Shoulder to Shoulder is the only organization around here that hires purely on ability rather than connections or politics... I guess I could have felt pride, but instead I just felt sick.
Coming from America, and from a Chinese background, I believe SO strongly that if you work hard enough, with skills, perseverance, and a dash of luck, you can achieve practically anything. The thought that even if someone were smart and worked his/her ass off, it still wouldn't be enough, or that there is absolutely no guarantee that hard work will be rewarded, that keeping your nose clean and out of politics can actually hurt you, or that it's so hard that people here are willing to give up their vocations as teachers, promoters, lo que sea, to become undocumented restaurant and construction workers because that really IS the "better life"... I mean shit, what would you do?
Now I'm on the other side of it all, reviewing applications and CVs to decide who gets a job. Now that word's got out that we're hiring, everyone and their mom is submitting an application to be considered. Chepe told me today that it's "game over"--anyone with the tiniest bit of experience or even interest in education will be coming to find me. And of course, every recommendation I get is that person's friend/relative...
My own little taste of Conce politics. Fantastic.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
thoughts & reflections from 4/7
Sitting on the ferry in Roatán, about to head back to La Ceiba. Then San Pedro, then La Esperanza, and then, hopefully, "home" - Concepción, Intibucá.
It's been a whirlwind of a trip so far, in a new and completely different way from the last. Traveling with Matt, Steve, John Ray, and Helen is always an adventure, and every person adds a new flavor to the group. That, plus the novelty of seeing every place from an "outsider's" fresh eyes: the roads, the trees, the fields, the Pepsi/Coke signs, the children playing, the mountains... It's hard for me not to compare all of it with where I've lived for the past 8 months--"it's better/worse/different/nonexistent in Conce"--and just to see it as it is from the perspective of someone fresh off the plane from the US of A.
Just being with these guys has been like a breath of fresh air in a lot of ways; they are full of life, energy, curiosity, everything genuine and nothing contained. Others feel it, too, and we've made a few friends already: we charmed our chef-turned-housemate in Tela, who stayed up to drink whiskey and play ukelele with us under the stars; we befriended our jungle river guides-turned-husband in La Ceiba; and I can only imagine what new adventures we'll have and what new characters we'll meet in the next few days.
On my part, the time away has me reflecting (again) on my time here, and what it means for me now, next year, five years from now, etc. etc. I've gone back and forth about extending my stay more times than I can count, and each time I think of another reason to go one way or the other. Last time I went on vacation I realized all the reasons I was excited to leave--to move forward, to have opportunities to meet new people in new places, to have new adventures, to see patients and connect with them as a medical provider rather than a mere liaison or interpreter. This time, I realized how much I've gotten out of my time here, and how much of it I will miss--the opportunity to do and learn things completely different from my career path, to come and go as I please, to meet and bond with people over a bus ride and trust them when they invite me over for coffee, or dinner, or offer a job, the freedom and relaxed pace of both personal and, to a lesser extent, professional life, and the people I've come to love and respect along the way.
More than anything though, I've come to appreciate the road I took to get here, and how different everything--I--would have been if I hadn't taken it. As excited as I am for med school, I worry that the fast-paced, go-go-go lifestyle and mentality will make me lose what I've come to appreciate here. Respect for honest, hard labor, which never used to be quite as respectable as ambition and education--things that I've seen become twisted and manipulated here. A better understanding of how to consider the big picture, looking at not just one person at a specific period in time, but the larger community over a longer timespan. The knowledge that what I think is best, what others think is best, and what we collectively think is best is often different--and often wrong. The difference between what I want to accomplish, and what I can actually accomplish. The realization that we have much more to offer than just our ambition, education, and career, and respect for the turns and forks that are different from the Yale/American/Chinese-dictated "upward" path. Appreciation for working as hard as possible for what I want, but remembering how different it is from what I need.
I have learned SO much in the past eight months, and can't even begin to imagine what it would feel like to leave in a mere six weeks. I've come to love so much here: riding on tops of buses or the beds of trucks on bumpy dirt roads, the sounds of cows and/or roosters at any hour of the day/night, meeting new people only to find out they are so-and-so's sister/uncle/cousin/father-in-law, making tortillas/pupusas/tamalitos with our cooks while joking around in the kitchen, "Spanish lessons" with my Honduran coworkers and counterparts, meeting and working with some of the most passionate and dedicated people I will probably ever know... The list goes on. All of it has left an incredible impression, and I am both nervous and excited to see where the next few weeks take me.
Let's hope these lessons stick :)
It's been a whirlwind of a trip so far, in a new and completely different way from the last. Traveling with Matt, Steve, John Ray, and Helen is always an adventure, and every person adds a new flavor to the group. That, plus the novelty of seeing every place from an "outsider's" fresh eyes: the roads, the trees, the fields, the Pepsi/Coke signs, the children playing, the mountains... It's hard for me not to compare all of it with where I've lived for the past 8 months--"it's better/worse/different/nonexistent in Conce"--and just to see it as it is from the perspective of someone fresh off the plane from the US of A.
Just being with these guys has been like a breath of fresh air in a lot of ways; they are full of life, energy, curiosity, everything genuine and nothing contained. Others feel it, too, and we've made a few friends already: we charmed our chef-turned-housemate in Tela, who stayed up to drink whiskey and play ukelele with us under the stars; we befriended our jungle river guides-turned-husband in La Ceiba; and I can only imagine what new adventures we'll have and what new characters we'll meet in the next few days.
On my part, the time away has me reflecting (again) on my time here, and what it means for me now, next year, five years from now, etc. etc. I've gone back and forth about extending my stay more times than I can count, and each time I think of another reason to go one way or the other. Last time I went on vacation I realized all the reasons I was excited to leave--to move forward, to have opportunities to meet new people in new places, to have new adventures, to see patients and connect with them as a medical provider rather than a mere liaison or interpreter. This time, I realized how much I've gotten out of my time here, and how much of it I will miss--the opportunity to do and learn things completely different from my career path, to come and go as I please, to meet and bond with people over a bus ride and trust them when they invite me over for coffee, or dinner, or offer a job, the freedom and relaxed pace of both personal and, to a lesser extent, professional life, and the people I've come to love and respect along the way.
More than anything though, I've come to appreciate the road I took to get here, and how different everything--I--would have been if I hadn't taken it. As excited as I am for med school, I worry that the fast-paced, go-go-go lifestyle and mentality will make me lose what I've come to appreciate here. Respect for honest, hard labor, which never used to be quite as respectable as ambition and education--things that I've seen become twisted and manipulated here. A better understanding of how to consider the big picture, looking at not just one person at a specific period in time, but the larger community over a longer timespan. The knowledge that what I think is best, what others think is best, and what we collectively think is best is often different--and often wrong. The difference between what I want to accomplish, and what I can actually accomplish. The realization that we have much more to offer than just our ambition, education, and career, and respect for the turns and forks that are different from the Yale/American/Chinese-dictated "upward" path. Appreciation for working as hard as possible for what I want, but remembering how different it is from what I need.
I have learned SO much in the past eight months, and can't even begin to imagine what it would feel like to leave in a mere six weeks. I've come to love so much here: riding on tops of buses or the beds of trucks on bumpy dirt roads, the sounds of cows and/or roosters at any hour of the day/night, meeting new people only to find out they are so-and-so's sister/uncle/cousin/father-in-law, making tortillas/pupusas/tamalitos with our cooks while joking around in the kitchen, "Spanish lessons" with my Honduran coworkers and counterparts, meeting and working with some of the most passionate and dedicated people I will probably ever know... The list goes on. All of it has left an incredible impression, and I am both nervous and excited to see where the next few weeks take me.
Let's hope these lessons stick :)
Monday, February 7, 2011
life on the frontera
So I spend a lot of time talking about my work life here. Patients. Reports. Health fairs. Brigades.
But I've realized recently that my favorite part about being here... is being here. Taking time to just talk and get to know people, to spend a day in real, rural Honduras rather than being cooped up in our little Westernized world of luxuries--of internet, English, and circular debates about the nature of our work. In light of this, I've been making a much more concerted effort to experience "Honduras" more, to really get to know the area and the people, not just my coworkers but also my neighbors and fellow community members.
Highlights of the past few weeks:
- Horseback riding, where I actually got to gallop as fast as I wanted up and down the mountain on a horse named Bandido (Bandit). So much, in fact, that we only got back five hours later, with sore buttocks, sunburnt faces, and the grins of two giddy five-year-olds.
- Sorting coffee beans (green to red to brown to dried!) with five-year-old Fernando, who wore galoshes too big for him and a ratty t-shirt riddled with holes. Sitting with him for an hour as we waited at his house for his grandparents, neither of whom we knew, and knowing that as creepy this would be in the States, it was perfectly normal and in fact the only way to meet them.
- Riding on top of a bus on the way back, enjoying beautiful scenery, the occasional catcall, and fresh fruit (ocote) from the side of the road. Hanging onto the side rails as we turn and swerve around the winding mountain roads. Lying down on a bunch of boxes, only to realize that my head was resting on a bunch of chickens.
- Playing (or trying to play) soccer with the local boys, doing my best to remember which were on my team and which I had to avoid. And then learning their nicknames, which included "Chicas" (girls) and "Pavo" (turkey).
- Horseback riding, again, this time bucked off by the very same horse, simply because he was jealous of another horse getting too close to "his" mare. Apparently love triangles know no bounds, even those between species...
- Traveling to the airport and back (an 8-hour venture on shitty roads--6 on a good day), making friends with the various bus drivers and ayudantes. Talking to them about America, China, and good music. Good music that is not solely limited to 80s rock ballads. Or at least, not solely limited to the same five 80s rock ballads.
- Making a stop at a local microbrewery, run by an American expat and frequented by primarily European backpackers. Jealous of all of their crazy travels all over the world, yet now realizing the vast difference between that type of time abroad and extended time in one place. Wondering if now I could ever be satisfied with just spending a day or two in a new place.
- Riding, and then learning to drive "mototaxis": motortrikes with makeshift carriages that traverse back and forth between Santa Lucía and Magdalena. Only to find that our bus was coming up from behind, about to pass us, at which point our driver (or my mototaxi teacher) points and yells at us to get off, swatting our money, and us, away.
- Working in the computer lab for a day as the only gringa in the room. Laughing and joking with health promoters, data entry staff, and our area manager, all of whom teach me various colloquial Honduran phrases. Speaking only Spanish for almost the entire day, by the end of which I can not only express myself better, but also be sarcastic and crack jokes--so that they could understand me! Small victories :)
- Spending hours and hours in the kitchen over the weekend. Doing my best to cook up pineapple fried rice (thanks Mike!) for Chinese New Year, despite lacking half of the ingredients. Then helping to make a "Superbowl dinner," complete with Skyline dip and two types of chili. Learning how to make tortillas, then frying them to make homemade tortilla chips.
These are some of my favorite parts about being here--experiences that remind me how much I love living here and how much I love the people here. After about four months here, I get both frustrated with and protective of the Honduran campo that I'm still only beginning to know. Looking at Fernando, I wanted both to take him far, far away where he could eat better food and wear better clothes, but also keep him just where he was, left alone and protected from gringos and Western influence, too much technology, and cynicism. Not that it matters, since I can't do either one...
Anyway, just wanted to share! Paz :)
But I've realized recently that my favorite part about being here... is being here. Taking time to just talk and get to know people, to spend a day in real, rural Honduras rather than being cooped up in our little Westernized world of luxuries--of internet, English, and circular debates about the nature of our work. In light of this, I've been making a much more concerted effort to experience "Honduras" more, to really get to know the area and the people, not just my coworkers but also my neighbors and fellow community members.
Highlights of the past few weeks:
- Horseback riding, where I actually got to gallop as fast as I wanted up and down the mountain on a horse named Bandido (Bandit). So much, in fact, that we only got back five hours later, with sore buttocks, sunburnt faces, and the grins of two giddy five-year-olds.
- Sorting coffee beans (green to red to brown to dried!) with five-year-old Fernando, who wore galoshes too big for him and a ratty t-shirt riddled with holes. Sitting with him for an hour as we waited at his house for his grandparents, neither of whom we knew, and knowing that as creepy this would be in the States, it was perfectly normal and in fact the only way to meet them.
- Riding on top of a bus on the way back, enjoying beautiful scenery, the occasional catcall, and fresh fruit (ocote) from the side of the road. Hanging onto the side rails as we turn and swerve around the winding mountain roads. Lying down on a bunch of boxes, only to realize that my head was resting on a bunch of chickens.
- Playing (or trying to play) soccer with the local boys, doing my best to remember which were on my team and which I had to avoid. And then learning their nicknames, which included "Chicas" (girls) and "Pavo" (turkey).
- Horseback riding, again, this time bucked off by the very same horse, simply because he was jealous of another horse getting too close to "his" mare. Apparently love triangles know no bounds, even those between species...
- Traveling to the airport and back (an 8-hour venture on shitty roads--6 on a good day), making friends with the various bus drivers and ayudantes. Talking to them about America, China, and good music. Good music that is not solely limited to 80s rock ballads. Or at least, not solely limited to the same five 80s rock ballads.
- Making a stop at a local microbrewery, run by an American expat and frequented by primarily European backpackers. Jealous of all of their crazy travels all over the world, yet now realizing the vast difference between that type of time abroad and extended time in one place. Wondering if now I could ever be satisfied with just spending a day or two in a new place.
- Riding, and then learning to drive "mototaxis": motortrikes with makeshift carriages that traverse back and forth between Santa Lucía and Magdalena. Only to find that our bus was coming up from behind, about to pass us, at which point our driver (or my mototaxi teacher) points and yells at us to get off, swatting our money, and us, away.
- Working in the computer lab for a day as the only gringa in the room. Laughing and joking with health promoters, data entry staff, and our area manager, all of whom teach me various colloquial Honduran phrases. Speaking only Spanish for almost the entire day, by the end of which I can not only express myself better, but also be sarcastic and crack jokes--so that they could understand me! Small victories :)
- Spending hours and hours in the kitchen over the weekend. Doing my best to cook up pineapple fried rice (thanks Mike!) for Chinese New Year, despite lacking half of the ingredients. Then helping to make a "Superbowl dinner," complete with Skyline dip and two types of chili. Learning how to make tortillas, then frying them to make homemade tortilla chips.
These are some of my favorite parts about being here--experiences that remind me how much I love living here and how much I love the people here. After about four months here, I get both frustrated with and protective of the Honduran campo that I'm still only beginning to know. Looking at Fernando, I wanted both to take him far, far away where he could eat better food and wear better clothes, but also keep him just where he was, left alone and protected from gringos and Western influence, too much technology, and cynicism. Not that it matters, since I can't do either one...
Anyway, just wanted to share! Paz :)
Sunday, January 23, 2011
from 1/19
So. It's been over a month since I wrote last. Since then, I've gone home, flown across the country, had a college reunion (weird to say that!), finished interviews, and come back, and assisted my first brigade!
As always, time moves both incredibly slowly and quickly at the same time. The pace of daily life seems agonizingly slow sometimes, even though there's always a ton to do, and so much has already happened in the mere week or so I've been back. Most of us (Ashley, Karla, Jess, Kaitlin, and I) came in from the airport with 2 brigades--"mine," a one-week undergrad group from UDayton, and another brigade of nursing students from Minnesota.
The brigade over here in Santa Lucía was great--super low-key, friendly, and eager to help. I took them on the sunrise hike (beautiful), answered as many of their questions as I could, and tried to calm some of their frustrations about their limited abilities to help in the short time they had. It was a great experience, in that I got to better understand how StoS looks from the "outside," or at least from a brigade member's perspective. The kids were super enthusiastic, and it was nice to have a couple fresh, friendly faces around the clinic. At the end of the week, I took them out to the airport, a long 9-hour bus ride that left my butt sore and my entire body covered with dust.
Besides the brigade, we also have a few extras floating/running around here. Dra. Rosbinda's family is here, which means we are often entertained by her hilarious husband and their three precious kids, who normally live in Tegucigalpa, the capital city several hours away. They are a handful, chasing/hitting/screaming at each other, but they are increeedibly adorable. The little ones are constantly tugging on me to play soccer or watch a movie ("Los Cuatros Fantásticos!"), while the oldest (naturally the most responsible) always says hello and waves when he sees me, sometimes trying to say a phrase in English. In particular, their precociousness and avid curiosity are in stark contrast with the kids who live/work around here, who tend to be more quiet and, sadly, are used to being left alone, so they ask very little of the people around them. We also have Treván, who is a third-year med student here for a clinical rotation, and it has been great getting to know her. She is always positive, reminds us of what we sometimes take for granted, and is phenomenal about going out and trying to become familiar with SL and its locals.
I've realized that it's way too easy to get comfortable here--we settle into our small slice of "American/upper-class" life complete with our internet, movies, and English... Sometimes I almost forget where we are. Besides the occasional venture into town for errands or--go figure--a Coke, I hardly ever interact with people outside of the clinic. It's easy to forget that we live in rural Honduras, out in the campo with campesinos who survive by going out into the fields at the crack of dawn, who often don't send their children to school for the mere fact that they can't afford the basic expenses of food and travel, much less actual costs of school like books and writing utensils.
But just as I began to get comfortable again this time around, something happened to jar me awake, reminding me that our microcosm of English and comforts is not at all representative of this poor, rural town. A few nights ago, Ashley, who'd been working in the clinic at the time, ran up to ask Ben about sending a patient on the ambulance. A woman had been carried into the clinic on a "bamboolancia," a mattress tied to a bamboo stick on either side, by 5 policemen from Santa Rita. She was in her mid-thirties, had a husband in the States, and two children at home. After a man had been continually harassing her, she reported him to the police, who told her nothing could be done. In retaliation for trying to report him, the man came back to her house, this time with a machete, and gashed her from head to toe. She had 5 cuts on her head alone, one of which caused a skull fracture and another that left her scalp practically hanging off. Another cut so deep into her hip that her bone marrow was visible. Two doctors spent a few hours just suturing as many wounds as they could before sending her off on the long road to the nearest hospital in La Esperanza (usually a 5-hour bus ride on rocky dirty roads; around 3 hours in our makeshift pickup-truck-turned-ambulance).
This patient touches on so many different aspects of life here... She reminds us of what people here are up against, and how people can be resigned to their situation, no matter how hard it is or how much it could be improved. What do you do when you can't depend on the authorities, who are supposed to enforce the law and protect you from harm? Or when you're used to hearing promises that are never kept? Or when the elected mayor is himself a violent drunkard who is known to engage in domestic violence? After what kind of abuse would women come together to fight back, or even just assert themselves in their own households? Under what circumstances would people come together in order to try again, to try to fight a battle they've lost again and again, or try to be heard when they've been ignored time and again?
Afterward, we heard rumors that the woman hadn't made it. And that the man who had done it had escaped to El Salvador, where he would be safe from the authorities because of extradition laws. My first gut reaction was to try to check it up--I'm so used to checking the news and Wikipedia that my fingers were practically already typing before I thought... Where would I find that information? There are no newspapers here, and we are so far from any city that their newspapers wouldn't even receive this information. We would have to get in touch with the hospital and hope that we spoke to someone familiar with this patient; was she even still there? How would her family members find out? There are no tragic headlines to be found anywhere; if they didn't try, it'd be very possible they wouldn't find out at all. Everything is via word-of-mouth; the distinction between truth and rumor becomes pretty blurred.
In the face of all this, it becomes incredibly easy to doubt what we're doing. I am looking to improve our girls' empowerment program, but in what way can we empower people who have little to aspire to, whose adult examples are primarily soft-spoken, submissive, and essentially expected to cook, clean, and produce offspring without ever wanting anything for themselves? More generally, how do we try to encourage development in a community that we are only beginning to understand, in which we will always be outsiders? Not only do we look, dress, and talk differently, but we come from a background and a mentality where people believe that each person has the ability to determine his/her future, to work hard for what he/she wants in hopes of attaining it, and continually strive for improvement. And in turn, we hope and even expect this from people here. We come in with the aim to "help," which naturally implies that we would know better. But... Well.
But.
As always, time moves both incredibly slowly and quickly at the same time. The pace of daily life seems agonizingly slow sometimes, even though there's always a ton to do, and so much has already happened in the mere week or so I've been back. Most of us (Ashley, Karla, Jess, Kaitlin, and I) came in from the airport with 2 brigades--"mine," a one-week undergrad group from UDayton, and another brigade of nursing students from Minnesota.
The brigade over here in Santa Lucía was great--super low-key, friendly, and eager to help. I took them on the sunrise hike (beautiful), answered as many of their questions as I could, and tried to calm some of their frustrations about their limited abilities to help in the short time they had. It was a great experience, in that I got to better understand how StoS looks from the "outside," or at least from a brigade member's perspective. The kids were super enthusiastic, and it was nice to have a couple fresh, friendly faces around the clinic. At the end of the week, I took them out to the airport, a long 9-hour bus ride that left my butt sore and my entire body covered with dust.
Besides the brigade, we also have a few extras floating/running around here. Dra. Rosbinda's family is here, which means we are often entertained by her hilarious husband and their three precious kids, who normally live in Tegucigalpa, the capital city several hours away. They are a handful, chasing/hitting/screaming at each other, but they are increeedibly adorable. The little ones are constantly tugging on me to play soccer or watch a movie ("Los Cuatros Fantásticos!"), while the oldest (naturally the most responsible) always says hello and waves when he sees me, sometimes trying to say a phrase in English. In particular, their precociousness and avid curiosity are in stark contrast with the kids who live/work around here, who tend to be more quiet and, sadly, are used to being left alone, so they ask very little of the people around them. We also have Treván, who is a third-year med student here for a clinical rotation, and it has been great getting to know her. She is always positive, reminds us of what we sometimes take for granted, and is phenomenal about going out and trying to become familiar with SL and its locals.
I've realized that it's way too easy to get comfortable here--we settle into our small slice of "American/upper-class" life complete with our internet, movies, and English... Sometimes I almost forget where we are. Besides the occasional venture into town for errands or--go figure--a Coke, I hardly ever interact with people outside of the clinic. It's easy to forget that we live in rural Honduras, out in the campo with campesinos who survive by going out into the fields at the crack of dawn, who often don't send their children to school for the mere fact that they can't afford the basic expenses of food and travel, much less actual costs of school like books and writing utensils.
But just as I began to get comfortable again this time around, something happened to jar me awake, reminding me that our microcosm of English and comforts is not at all representative of this poor, rural town. A few nights ago, Ashley, who'd been working in the clinic at the time, ran up to ask Ben about sending a patient on the ambulance. A woman had been carried into the clinic on a "bamboolancia," a mattress tied to a bamboo stick on either side, by 5 policemen from Santa Rita. She was in her mid-thirties, had a husband in the States, and two children at home. After a man had been continually harassing her, she reported him to the police, who told her nothing could be done. In retaliation for trying to report him, the man came back to her house, this time with a machete, and gashed her from head to toe. She had 5 cuts on her head alone, one of which caused a skull fracture and another that left her scalp practically hanging off. Another cut so deep into her hip that her bone marrow was visible. Two doctors spent a few hours just suturing as many wounds as they could before sending her off on the long road to the nearest hospital in La Esperanza (usually a 5-hour bus ride on rocky dirty roads; around 3 hours in our makeshift pickup-truck-turned-ambulance).
This patient touches on so many different aspects of life here... She reminds us of what people here are up against, and how people can be resigned to their situation, no matter how hard it is or how much it could be improved. What do you do when you can't depend on the authorities, who are supposed to enforce the law and protect you from harm? Or when you're used to hearing promises that are never kept? Or when the elected mayor is himself a violent drunkard who is known to engage in domestic violence? After what kind of abuse would women come together to fight back, or even just assert themselves in their own households? Under what circumstances would people come together in order to try again, to try to fight a battle they've lost again and again, or try to be heard when they've been ignored time and again?
Afterward, we heard rumors that the woman hadn't made it. And that the man who had done it had escaped to El Salvador, where he would be safe from the authorities because of extradition laws. My first gut reaction was to try to check it up--I'm so used to checking the news and Wikipedia that my fingers were practically already typing before I thought... Where would I find that information? There are no newspapers here, and we are so far from any city that their newspapers wouldn't even receive this information. We would have to get in touch with the hospital and hope that we spoke to someone familiar with this patient; was she even still there? How would her family members find out? There are no tragic headlines to be found anywhere; if they didn't try, it'd be very possible they wouldn't find out at all. Everything is via word-of-mouth; the distinction between truth and rumor becomes pretty blurred.
In the face of all this, it becomes incredibly easy to doubt what we're doing. I am looking to improve our girls' empowerment program, but in what way can we empower people who have little to aspire to, whose adult examples are primarily soft-spoken, submissive, and essentially expected to cook, clean, and produce offspring without ever wanting anything for themselves? More generally, how do we try to encourage development in a community that we are only beginning to understand, in which we will always be outsiders? Not only do we look, dress, and talk differently, but we come from a background and a mentality where people believe that each person has the ability to determine his/her future, to work hard for what he/she wants in hopes of attaining it, and continually strive for improvement. And in turn, we hope and even expect this from people here. We come in with the aim to "help," which naturally implies that we would know better. But... Well.
But.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
journal entry from 11/2/10
We're in November. How did this happen?? I am a mere two weeks from home--from my 奶奶, Chinese food, 60-degree winter...
Going into my third month here, I'm noticing how my perception of my time here is changing yet again. Now that I've seen a few brigades come and go, my frame of reference, both in time and people, has become defined by the people here, and when they leave.
Last night, I met the famous Dr. Ed Zuroweste--a remarkable (of course) family physician who has devoted the latter half of his life to migrant workers. He and his wife--to whom he is adorably dedicated--have their own migrant health clinic, and also serve as "consultants" to various public health organizations...including the WHO. He travels to various countries to help establish and improve global health organizations, and decades ago had to make the decision: work with Partners In Health in Haiti with Paul Farmer, or Shoulder to Shoulder in Honduras with Jeff Heck? Since then, over twenty years later, he and his wife have made countless trips down to rural Intibucá, helping with paquete básicos and seeing us through the growth of our Santa Lucía clinic and the subsequent construction of our Conce clinic.
Listening to him speak about his various experiences, I remember how again and again, the people who keep Shoulder to Shoulder going are these types of incredible, selfless people. And each of them--Art, Dick, the Tepes, Ed--lead their lives in very different ways, but all equally admirably. Again and again, I think to myself, I want to be like them someday...
And then I remember, that's what a friend told me two months ago, and he's already on that road. It really is that easy.
Going into my third month here, I'm noticing how my perception of my time here is changing yet again. Now that I've seen a few brigades come and go, my frame of reference, both in time and people, has become defined by the people here, and when they leave.
Last night, I met the famous Dr. Ed Zuroweste--a remarkable (of course) family physician who has devoted the latter half of his life to migrant workers. He and his wife--to whom he is adorably dedicated--have their own migrant health clinic, and also serve as "consultants" to various public health organizations...including the WHO. He travels to various countries to help establish and improve global health organizations, and decades ago had to make the decision: work with Partners In Health in Haiti with Paul Farmer, or Shoulder to Shoulder in Honduras with Jeff Heck? Since then, over twenty years later, he and his wife have made countless trips down to rural Intibucá, helping with paquete básicos and seeing us through the growth of our Santa Lucía clinic and the subsequent construction of our Conce clinic.
Listening to him speak about his various experiences, I remember how again and again, the people who keep Shoulder to Shoulder going are these types of incredible, selfless people. And each of them--Art, Dick, the Tepes, Ed--lead their lives in very different ways, but all equally admirably. Again and again, I think to myself, I want to be like them someday...
And then I remember, that's what a friend told me two months ago, and he's already on that road. It really is that easy.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
i'm a cuckoo
So. I've had a lot of unfinished blog and journal entries lately. Mostly because there have been so many changes lately, it's hard to know where to start.
There is another brigade here, again mostly from UC but this time composed of medical students, interns, residents, attendings, and even their kids. Together with the translators, they are almost 40. Like the last brigade, this means... a lot of different things. All of a sudden, there's never any room (though everything has been rearranged to make space), the bathrooms are always occupied, and sometimes we even run out of food. But on top of that, everyone's normal routine is shaken up a bit as we try to accommodate brigade activities, make sure everyone is constantly occupied, entertained, and having a good time, and organize all of the new supplies and medicines that the brigade brought and needs to use.
For instance, I played babysitter last week, walking one of the doctors' kids to and from school every day. It was actually a good experience--I got to interact more with teachers, sit in on a few classes and see what those were like, as well as familiarize myself with the system in general. For instance, I found that Wednesdays are phys ed days. The kids (at least in SL) get half an hour of classroom time, and then jet off to the campo de fútbol to play soccer for the rest of the day. And if children from another community, for instance Magdalena, happen to come to use the soccer field for whatever reason, the kids get to go home. No school!
Plus, since this brigade has a lot of medical students and residents, I have had some incredible learning opportunities--talking to students about med school, to doctors about their experiences with interesting patients, and... teaching stations! Alex, Jess, Ashley, and Beth coordinated some teaching stations to give residents practice on starting IVs, giving IM injections, starting nebulizers, and using blood glucometers. It was... AWESOME. To be in a room full of people interested in both learning from and teaching their fellow peers was absolutely wonderful. Everyone participated, whether by helping teach, offering arms to be pricked/prodded/poked, or trying it out themselves... including the lowly med school applicants, Liz and me! Two hours later, I'd received one IV, 2 IM injections, and had also started an IV and given an IM injection to someone else! Super exciting. On top of that, the brigade leaders have held talks and discussions, so that in essence, the med students are still getting classes while down here.
In other news, I am still learning to live with and adjust my highs and lows concerning life and my work here. Sometimes I will have a wonderful morning, feeling productive, motivated, and inspired. That same day I'll struggle through the afternoon, feeling like no matter how long or hard I work or will work, I still can't ever do enough, and thus can't ever feel accomplished. And I know that the more I work and live here, this feeling is only going to become stronger. Sobering.
About a week ago, Ben and I held a little "This American Life" listening party, specifically for the "Baby College" episode after an animated discussion about education. After hearing about Geoff Canada's successes in Harlem, all of us--Ben, Jess, Liz, Ashley, our new addition Kaitlin, and I--became embroiled in a discussion about how to bring about "sustainable" change, how to assess whether or not we are doing good or are successful, how to distinguish between progress and mere movement toward American ideals and standards, etc. etc. Soon enough, we were descending into existential doubts/questions about what we're doing here, whether there's we're doing more harm than good, what is "progress," or "success," or even health...
But anyway! A couple days ago I moved back to Conce. Jess is also here, and the two of us have moved into our own little room! Since we will be living together, we have been promoted to a slightly bigger room, and even have our own dresser! Needless to say, we were extremely excited to be able to arrange and decorate our little home--my more-or-less permanent stay until June. Yesterday we ventured into town to try to find hangers at the mercado, but to no avail. So instead, we stopped by Delmy's house to say hi to Saraí and Analía (she can walk now!), and met Doña Argentina as well, a storeowner on the other side of the street. Like every other Honduran old woman I've met, Doña Argentina welcomed us with open arms and a kiss on the cheek, happy to meet us and share stories of other gringos who had passed by.
As Jess and I walked (hiked) back up the hill to the clinic and chatted for awhile in our room, I finally started feeling really good about being here. Maybe it was our new room, or Jess, or just the nice conversations we had in town, but for some reason I finally began to feel like Conce is my home, rather than always having a foot (or let's be real, both feet) back in Santa Lucía. Here in Conce, I already feel much different now than when I arrived two months ago to SL, when I was giddy and excited about pretty much everything. Now I feel like I'm really anchoring myself and my work here, and I feel much more settled. I know I will still have my rough days--when I get discouraged about work, or feel lonely--but I also have a more or less permanent safe haven here now.
Anyway, regardless I'll be back in the States in a mere three and a half weeks! Crazy how time flies...
There is another brigade here, again mostly from UC but this time composed of medical students, interns, residents, attendings, and even their kids. Together with the translators, they are almost 40. Like the last brigade, this means... a lot of different things. All of a sudden, there's never any room (though everything has been rearranged to make space), the bathrooms are always occupied, and sometimes we even run out of food. But on top of that, everyone's normal routine is shaken up a bit as we try to accommodate brigade activities, make sure everyone is constantly occupied, entertained, and having a good time, and organize all of the new supplies and medicines that the brigade brought and needs to use.
For instance, I played babysitter last week, walking one of the doctors' kids to and from school every day. It was actually a good experience--I got to interact more with teachers, sit in on a few classes and see what those were like, as well as familiarize myself with the system in general. For instance, I found that Wednesdays are phys ed days. The kids (at least in SL) get half an hour of classroom time, and then jet off to the campo de fútbol to play soccer for the rest of the day. And if children from another community, for instance Magdalena, happen to come to use the soccer field for whatever reason, the kids get to go home. No school!
Plus, since this brigade has a lot of medical students and residents, I have had some incredible learning opportunities--talking to students about med school, to doctors about their experiences with interesting patients, and... teaching stations! Alex, Jess, Ashley, and Beth coordinated some teaching stations to give residents practice on starting IVs, giving IM injections, starting nebulizers, and using blood glucometers. It was... AWESOME. To be in a room full of people interested in both learning from and teaching their fellow peers was absolutely wonderful. Everyone participated, whether by helping teach, offering arms to be pricked/prodded/poked, or trying it out themselves... including the lowly med school applicants, Liz and me! Two hours later, I'd received one IV, 2 IM injections, and had also started an IV and given an IM injection to someone else! Super exciting. On top of that, the brigade leaders have held talks and discussions, so that in essence, the med students are still getting classes while down here.
In other news, I am still learning to live with and adjust my highs and lows concerning life and my work here. Sometimes I will have a wonderful morning, feeling productive, motivated, and inspired. That same day I'll struggle through the afternoon, feeling like no matter how long or hard I work or will work, I still can't ever do enough, and thus can't ever feel accomplished. And I know that the more I work and live here, this feeling is only going to become stronger. Sobering.
About a week ago, Ben and I held a little "This American Life" listening party, specifically for the "Baby College" episode after an animated discussion about education. After hearing about Geoff Canada's successes in Harlem, all of us--Ben, Jess, Liz, Ashley, our new addition Kaitlin, and I--became embroiled in a discussion about how to bring about "sustainable" change, how to assess whether or not we are doing good or are successful, how to distinguish between progress and mere movement toward American ideals and standards, etc. etc. Soon enough, we were descending into existential doubts/questions about what we're doing here, whether there's we're doing more harm than good, what is "progress," or "success," or even health...
But anyway! A couple days ago I moved back to Conce. Jess is also here, and the two of us have moved into our own little room! Since we will be living together, we have been promoted to a slightly bigger room, and even have our own dresser! Needless to say, we were extremely excited to be able to arrange and decorate our little home--my more-or-less permanent stay until June. Yesterday we ventured into town to try to find hangers at the mercado, but to no avail. So instead, we stopped by Delmy's house to say hi to Saraí and Analía (she can walk now!), and met Doña Argentina as well, a storeowner on the other side of the street. Like every other Honduran old woman I've met, Doña Argentina welcomed us with open arms and a kiss on the cheek, happy to meet us and share stories of other gringos who had passed by.
As Jess and I walked (hiked) back up the hill to the clinic and chatted for awhile in our room, I finally started feeling really good about being here. Maybe it was our new room, or Jess, or just the nice conversations we had in town, but for some reason I finally began to feel like Conce is my home, rather than always having a foot (or let's be real, both feet) back in Santa Lucía. Here in Conce, I already feel much different now than when I arrived two months ago to SL, when I was giddy and excited about pretty much everything. Now I feel like I'm really anchoring myself and my work here, and I feel much more settled. I know I will still have my rough days--when I get discouraged about work, or feel lonely--but I also have a more or less permanent safe haven here now.
Anyway, regardless I'll be back in the States in a mere three and a half weeks! Crazy how time flies...
Saturday, October 16, 2010
sappiest post yet! sorry...
i had a wonderful morning today. there was nothing remarkable about it--i sat at my little temporary desk, alternately browsing the new york times and reading up on early childhood care and education while brainstorming ideas for CHI. in the meantime, i sipped on two cups of hot coffee, made a couple to-do lists on my new sticky notes (thanks ben), and bantered with janell and liz. but in those few hours, little things kept reminding me that... i really have it good. great, in fact.
i was greeted by TLC first thing in the morning, thanks to friends who are far away, busy with their own lives, and yet make time to send me beautifully written emails that keep me updated and remind me that despite distance and time, some friends will always, always be there.
i read an article about a ballets russes exhibit in london that described the collaborations between diaghilev, nijinsky, and satie--stories i had learned in my music history class just a few months ago. i was not only super excited that the material i learned in class showed up in the NYT, but i also reveled in the fact that i had the opportunity to learn from professors as passionate and wonderful as professor hepokoski. man, his beethoven lectures were good...
i read a chinese blurb about parenting that my mom sent me, and was reminded that i have the most wonderful family a girl could ask for--parents who are sensitive, open-minded, and empathetic, a grandma who is doting, selfless, and never fails to make me smile, and a little brother who despite being bigger, taller, and more mature than i ever remember, always brings out the most protective side of me.
i looked around me, and was again amazed and inspired by the people who work with me. ben with his constant flurry of activity, janell always pushing through with her mountains of paperwork, beth and her reports on everything that has to do with vaginas (okay, just paps and cervical cancer), liz doing her balancing act of med apps, pharmacy, and respiratory study, ashley taking care of and getting excited about her baby, i.e. the clinic bodega, and jess powering through her spanish and nursing books... after four years at yale, again i am lucky enough to find myself surrounded by high-energy peers and colleagues, all of whom are extremely dedicated and passionate about their work. it is an incredible work environment, and i know i'd be hard-pressed to feel this way about any other job in the future.
crazy to think about all the little forks in the road i followed to get to where i am today. almost makes a girl believe in something bigger...
i was greeted by TLC first thing in the morning, thanks to friends who are far away, busy with their own lives, and yet make time to send me beautifully written emails that keep me updated and remind me that despite distance and time, some friends will always, always be there.
i read an article about a ballets russes exhibit in london that described the collaborations between diaghilev, nijinsky, and satie--stories i had learned in my music history class just a few months ago. i was not only super excited that the material i learned in class showed up in the NYT, but i also reveled in the fact that i had the opportunity to learn from professors as passionate and wonderful as professor hepokoski. man, his beethoven lectures were good...
i read a chinese blurb about parenting that my mom sent me, and was reminded that i have the most wonderful family a girl could ask for--parents who are sensitive, open-minded, and empathetic, a grandma who is doting, selfless, and never fails to make me smile, and a little brother who despite being bigger, taller, and more mature than i ever remember, always brings out the most protective side of me.
i looked around me, and was again amazed and inspired by the people who work with me. ben with his constant flurry of activity, janell always pushing through with her mountains of paperwork, beth and her reports on everything that has to do with vaginas (okay, just paps and cervical cancer), liz doing her balancing act of med apps, pharmacy, and respiratory study, ashley taking care of and getting excited about her baby, i.e. the clinic bodega, and jess powering through her spanish and nursing books... after four years at yale, again i am lucky enough to find myself surrounded by high-energy peers and colleagues, all of whom are extremely dedicated and passionate about their work. it is an incredible work environment, and i know i'd be hard-pressed to feel this way about any other job in the future.
crazy to think about all the little forks in the road i followed to get to where i am today. almost makes a girl believe in something bigger...
Thursday, October 14, 2010
asleep on a sunbeam
So... Where to begin? I am back in Santa Lucía, sitting upstairs with my fellow compañeras as we share pictures and reminisce over our various (mis)adventures, both here and now in Antigua.
Anyway. Antigua was... A. Mazing. It was really a little bit of everything. A lot of quiet reflection on our 16-hour bus ride, and then a lot of walking up and down cute cobblestone streets, admiring the old buildings and plethora of little shops and restaurants. A morning at the mercado, asking for bargains on everything from a hammock to earrings to a knock-off Toy Story 3 as others shopped for pillowcases and table runners. An afternoon on active Vulcán Pacaya, complete with the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen, marshmallow-roasting over lava, racing i.e. slipping up to the top just so we could say we did, and then hiking back down by headlamp/flashlight, led the whole way by our feisty and nimble lead "tigre," aka our guide Sergio. A night of wandering indecision before finally settling into a 10:30 pm dinner and topping it off with dancing at a nightclub. Aggressive Latin men included, of course.
A morning by myself in a beautifully decorated coffee shop with a tie-dye papier maché ceiling and painted walls, quietly listening to music and writing in my journal while enjoying a mocha and a huge slice of carrot cake. My best morning, obviously :) And in the afternoon, riding in the bed of a truck with our dresses flying in the air, only to hike down a slippery mud slope in our dresses and flip flops to arrive at the promised Earth Lodge, a peaceful and tranquil avocado farm where we spent the afternoon lounging in hammocks overlooking Guatemala City and Vulcán Agua, the evening feasting on turkey, stuffing, and "pumpkin" (ocote) pie for Canadian Thanksgiving, and the night sitting by the fireplace, talking and laughing with hippies from all over the world who had alternately lived in Korea, Brazil, Palestine, and Saudi Arabia. Made me wonder if I could/would ever live like that, constantly moving and traveling just to shake things up, meet new people, and share new experiences.
Another quiet day to myself, spent wandering alone and getting lost in the streets of Antigua, people-watching in the park, writing and drawing in coffee shops, chatting with random locals in restaurants, telling the same woman again and again no, I would not like to buy your tapestry... A glorious hour in a different park, listening to music as I watched dads walk alongside their daughters, young teenage lovers playing tonsil hockey against a tree, and one lone old man, sitting quietly by himself on a fountain. And finally, our final night spent at none other but the Jungle Party Inn. A hostel that had hanging multi-colored lamps to set a disco atmosphere, but lacked locks on its doors; had hot showers and internet, but no towels or outlets; and of course, a record number of bitchy receptionists. But only a few hours later, at 3 am, we were back on our way to begin our 32-hour viaje back to Santa Lucía. Fret not, we had misadventures there as well--our bus almost left Liz at a random Texaco stop in Siguatepeque, and then we ran over a cow...
But! Now we're back. Back to the frontera, where there are definitely no other gringos or chinitas walkin the streets, where anything but a 4WD truck or bus on the dirt roads would make us look twice, where we sleep with the sounds of roosters by night and work with the sounds of cows by day, where ants crawl into my clothes and bite me in awkward places, where mis Marías get jealous after seeing me hug Don Luís...
It's good to be back :)
After a week away--over three days of traveling and then three days in Antigua--it's weird to be back, thrown back into a routine that...never really existed? We've moved from the downstairs dorms up into the apartments, which means that I now have a corner of a room that isn't really mine, except on the days/weekends that I come back from Conce. But weird living sitch aside, it really is nice to be back and in one place for at least a few days at a time.
 |
| cobblestone streets of antigua! |
 |
| sergio roasting our marshmallows over lava |
 |
| sunset on top of vulcán pacaya |
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| "pastel capitalista", mocha, and journal (me in a nutshell) |
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| my new friends! byrón, juan carlos, y josé campo de fútbol, earth lodge |
But! Now we're back. Back to the frontera, where there are definitely no other gringos or chinitas walkin the streets, where anything but a 4WD truck or bus on the dirt roads would make us look twice, where we sleep with the sounds of roosters by night and work with the sounds of cows by day, where ants crawl into my clothes and bite me in awkward places, where mis Marías get jealous after seeing me hug Don Luís...
It's good to be back :)
as an aside...
the number of "wow" moments i've had--where i've just been overwhelmed by love, beauty, or just sheer incredulity that i am alive and living this way--and the number of incredible people i have been privileged enough to know, befriend, work with, and/or love are mind-blowing to me.
i realized today that more than anything else, i am just a conglomeration of the people i love and admire. i have always been surrounded by incredible people, all of whom have at least a few big traits i really admire and aspire to. not only am i lucky with the people in my life, but i have also been privileged with incredible experiences that jolt me out of complacency and monotony, helping me realize just how lucky i am to live the life i lead.
anyway, i wanted to share my sentiment because it literally overwhelmed me today. i promise i'll have a more articulate and less random entry up soon enough :)
paz!
paz!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
a work in progress
long overdue for updates and a blog post, but again lacking motivation... so. in short:
what i like about conce:
- peace and quiet
- alone time
- rain
- the woman i always see when i go running, who is always concerned about me getting drenched in the rain
what i don't like about conce:
- too much peace and quiet
- too much alone time
- too much rain
- the old woman i always see when i go walking, who is always gesturing to her teeth and then whispering into my ear asking for money
i really should have made a venn diagram...
anyway. fuller update: i've moved to conce! i have a small room that is all mine, which means that the small corner around my mattress is now adorned with pictures and notes to keep spirits high when i get lonely. as of now it will just be me living by myself in the comedor, which means i have a ton of space and privacy, but also that if there's like, say, a dog that comes barking at me out of nowhere and i scream at the top of my lungs, no one can hear me. not that that's happened.
naaah.
on the whole, things are going pretty well. i'm getting used to the quiet emptiness, though i would really like to make the place a little homier and friendly... working on that. i've become closer to two of the doctors, juan and wilfredo, who promise to be my new friends and sometimes will drink a beer with me (or i'll drink a beer, and they'll drink four or five).
work is rockin' as well. i've mostly wrapped up my vaccination study, and besides faltando some data collection, it seems like our rates and coverage are actually really good around here :) as a bonus, i've won over our health promoters and a few nurses in the health centers, so i'll have at least a couple allies when i start diving into my bigger children's health initiative project. i had some great conversations with suyapa and art about it, just to gauge some ideas, and will continue interviewing various people (doctors, teachers, community health leaders and volunteers, etc.) so i'm pretty excited about that.
for now, i'm back in santa lucía for the week before jetting off to antigua! it's actually really nice to be back. i knew i felt lonelier in conce, but i never realized just how much i missed my daily conversations and routines here. or perhaps it's just the familiarity, the knowledge that i can slip back and comfortably into enjoying good food, drinks, and above all, company. living among people who really understand and empathize with almost every aspect of my personality... that's something really rare, and something i will miss while in conce.
for instance, i had a really good talk with ashley last night, just about our attitudes and feelings about being here now that it's been a few weeks. it seems like our honeymoon period is starting to fade, and we're finally starting to catch up with ourselves in honduras. now that the novelty of being here is wearing off, the me-ness that used to bug me is coming back--my problem of thinking too much, of getting lost in doubts, and other little things. on top of that, it's easy to get lost here in the extreme highs and lows of each day/week. besides our projects, work, and each other, there's little else to do or think about, and i'm starting to see maybe how people here can become so completely absorbed and invested, and consequently more jaded and/or bitter. i don't know if this is a possibility for me too, but i think one struggle for me will be to keep my emotions in check. i feel like in this simple lifestyle, one could really get lost in his/her thoughts and emotions...
anyway, ashley said something last night that i really liked: the idea that we are all works in progress. that we have and will always have inherent characteristics we don't like, but even if we may not always be able to change them (though i always like to think that we can), we can do our best to frame the world in various mindsets, until we find the one that is the both accurate and positive. i like the idea a lot - both as a way to look at ourselves as people, but also at whatever situation we may be stuck in. it always leaves room for improvement, and thus for us to be on the up-and-up.
i like that :)
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