Saturday, January 8, 2011

San Juan Mirador

Today we went to a small community called San Juan Mirador. There is one small road leading through it, with homes on either side, a short walk down the hill. The true sense of the word "community" is apparent immediately. Kids running around freely, women washing clothes together in a large, long communal sink basin, everyone (chickens included) lingering in their yards or roaming in and out of eachother's homes. All of the doors are open. The concept of privacy is very different than what we are used to, where it's not uncommon to have no idea who your neighbors are. We rarely see men on these visits because they are all out picking coffee or working elsewhere. We do see them walking home along the road on our drive back into San Lucas. We were told not to take any photos in this town because people there believe that a photograph of them would "capture their soul". Kids were still asking us to bring our cameras out left and right, so I'm not sure how much of that was true.



All of our exams were done inside the women's own homes today. The two I saw were both tiny one room houses with nothing more than a bed, dresser, and armoir. Dirt floors. Maybe one tiny window. It's so humbling spending time in a home of a family that is not even half the size of my bedroom, my own privilege glaring back at me. The houses are well cared for, swept, with everything in its right place. I am trying to be aware of our presence and its connotations for these women. We are coming from a place of power as "the expert" and I want to be cognizant of not portraying some sense of authority or hierarchy ... simple things like sitting down at her level instead of towering over her while she sits on her bed. Looking her in the eye and smiling. Laughing at my horrible Spanish accent.

The most difficult for me at this point is talking about the children they have lost. I don't know the appropriate thing to say, especially in another language. Women here aren't supposed to express emotion over losing a child. Death, even from something like a congenital defect, is often blamed on the mother - she must have sinned during her pregnancy, she didn't pray hard enough, or she has a hex on her. How do you respect her culture when you think it is okay to grieve and don't believe in a vengeful god or witchcraft (unless we are talking about doom metal) and can see she is in obvious pain when talking about it? It reminds me of something I read in Pathologies of Power by Paul Farmer, one of our assigned readings for this trip ...

"Although trained in anthropology, I, like most anthropologists, do not embrace the rigidly particularist and relativist tendencies popularly associated with the discipline. That is, I believe that violations of human dignity are not to be accepted merely because they are buttressed by local ideology or longstanding tradition."

The kids today were so exhausting. There were a ton of little boys, who were adorable, but way more aggressive, forward, and sneaky! than the girls. They climb all over the truck asking for gifts and games. I made the mistake of handing out some stickers and was completely bum-rushed and swarmed. Probably the closest I will ever get to feeling like Michael Jackson. Besides my nose job and red leather fetish.

goofin'

Friday, January 7, 2011

First day of work & the sweet taste of freedom

Today we drove out to a small clinic that served three communities - Tierra Santa, Totolya, and Por Venir. The clinic has two small exam rooms, a waiting area, and another small room with a sink and storage. From the moment we got there, women began to fill the waiting area, along with their children. The girls (there are 10 of us nursing students on the trip, along with two maternity professors) split into pairs of two and rotated between collecting medical histories, performing basic prenatal exams (blood pressure, hemoglobin, fetal sounds, & fundal height), and playing outside with the kids.

Truck life





Everyone here is so beautiful - big brown eyes, smooth dark skin, and glossy long hair that would make Cher totally believe in life after love. The women (and little girls, for the most part) wear long patterned skirts, colorful woven blouses, and embroidered cloth belts cinched tightly around their waist. And everybody is short, in part due to malnutrition. You can really see the stunted growth and development in the children, where you could easily mistake a 10 year old for 5 or 6. The irony is they start having babies so young ... and their poor nutritional state has an effect on their childbirths and children's health. The cycle continues.




We give prenatal vitamins to all the moms and iron to those with anemia, which seems to be a large majority of women. Meat is expensive and not commonly included in their diets, so the only source of iron most people get is from black beans. For a healthy, well nourished person in an altitude this high, their body would naturally compensate and you would actually see an elevated hemoglobin level. However, because of their nutritional status, it is common to see hemoglobins around 7-8, rather than in the normal 12-16 range. This puts women at a huge risk for post-partum hemorrhage and death. So... we give the iron pills, which hopefully they take, but who knows.

The kids are so much fun. We brought coloring books, bubbles, books, balls, and a couple other toys for them to play with. They are seriously so happy sitting and coloring for hours. Little boys asking for besos and shamelessly flirting. The harsh divide between gender roles is immediately apparent. Little girls dress just like their mothers and you see girls who can't be more than 5 around town carrying baskets on top of their heads, with younger siblings in tow. Boys are in jeans and t-shirts and act much more aggressive and confident. It's interesting to see how socialization plays such a huge impact on people's expectations, traits, and mindset about life and their role in it. We learned about a Mayan ritual that perfectly reflects this division. After birth, if they've had a boy, they throw the placenta of the baby up into a tree so that he will be brave and adventurous. If they've had a girl, the placenta goes into a cooking pot. So she'll be good in the kitchen.

When we got back into town, Dr. Chaperone walked us around and showed us some of the landmarks to orient us, as though the town isn't tiny and incredibly simple to navigate. Hopefully this means she is going to let us off our short leash and allow us to explore a bit in our free time (about 2 hours between getting home from clinic and eating dinner in the parish at 6). She is definitely a bit of a control freak and has difficulty letting go. Just smiling and nodding a lot and trying to use this time without phones and constant internet to allow for some simplicity in my life and immerse myself in the experience. Did I mention we can't leave the hotel after 9pm? It's a little odd to have "rules" again and be babysat, but there is also something sort of nice in the structure and habit of it all.

Michelle, Alaina, Christen, & Sandra

Barbie girl in a Barbie world



Represent, baby baby


Que colores

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Guatemala City > San Lucas Toliman

We arrived in Guatemala City last night, by way of Dallas. Our hotel, Chalet Suizo, is a small, simple place with a courtyard in the center for parking, twin beds and shared bathrooms in the hall. We were picked up at the airport in two large vans, one for our luggage complete with Jesus stickers on the rear window and one to pack in all the girls, everyone chattering and taking a million photographs. Our driver, Julio, pointed things out along the way - a huge decorated Christmas tree with the national beer logo (a rooster, naturally) on top, a replica of the Eiffel Tower, statues, and city courtyards. It was awesome driving in at night because everything is still lit with Christmas lights... so gorgeous.


After breakfast this morning, we snuck up to the roof of the hotel... Clothes hanging out to dry, stacks of mattresses, tile rooftops, overgrown weeds, views of the city, and the sun already shining everywhere. Then it was back into the vans for a gorgeous (and hot) drive to San Lucas Toliman, where we are staying for the next two weeks.








We got into San Lucas around 11 and were briefly welcomed and given some ground rules ("Be in your rooms by 9pm! Don't walk to the lake after dark. Just don't.") by Chris, one of the long-term volunteers at the parish. Then we had some time to un-pack and relax at the hotel until lunch. The hotel is amazing - epic views of Lake Atitlan and the mountain range surrounding the area (including 3 volcanoes...steamy). Big fluffy clouds roll in over the hills, but the skies above are crystal clear and the sun is scorchin'. Everything is green and lush. The buildings are so colorful - turquoise, orange, blue, pink... The result is a vibrant and gorgeous environment. There is something so beautiful in the decay, too. Chipped wooden doorways, dirt roads, stray dogs, and rusted metal rooftops. It's hard to remember that so much poverty and hardship exists against such a truly breathtaking backdrop.









We had our lunch in "the library", a large common room/mess-hall at the parish, where we will be served all our meals while we are here. Dish-duty is split among the various volunteer groups and today it was SF, so we set to washing the dishes, cleaning up the food, and wiping down the tables. It feels like summer camp. There are two or three other groups here currently, but as far as I know, we are the only ones doing medical work right now.


So many sweet old toyota trucks here. Makes me think of Stick and Cirrus.



After lunch, Chris sat us down to discuss the parish, their values, and the work they have done, as well as some basic information about the community/culture and expectations for us within it. I like that they focus on working alongside with people and learning from them, rather than coming in from the perspective of trying to "fix" things from a superior, privileged, Other standpoint. At the same time, it felt somewhat of a practiced and old speech for him and I got the feeling he was tired of giving it.

I'm feeling a little uncomfortable and conflicted about being a part of a trip hosted through a church. I'm so far removed from anything religious and tend to view organized religion and some of the work done in it's name with a skeptical eye. Like, "Hey Guatemala! Wassup? Need some schools? A hospital? Not even remotely a big deal! All you have to do is pray to our God on the regs and we will totes help you, ya dig?" At the same time, they are doing some incredible things for the community and seem to be a respected part of it. At least, they make sure to say they are... all. the. time. I just feel like it's such a fine line when people come into another country with "the answers" to "their problems". Like I said, they do address this issue upfront, which gives me hope that I'm not implicitly part of some Master Plan to bring the world to Jesus or that we are giving ourselves some huge pat on the back, while the people we think we are serving roll their eyes. In a world that is increasingly more interconnected and a global economy where it seems we step on anyone's back to save or earn a dollar, there HAVE to be people working to build systems that honor basic human rights, so I'm not arguing for apathy by any means. I'm babbling and don't know how to word what I am trying to say ... How do the so called "privileged" developed country citizens do this in a way that still respects and integrates the culture, customs, lifestyle, and values of those they are trying to fight for?

Anyway, after our church schpiel, we were piled into the back of two pick-up trucks and taken on a tour of town and the various project sites the parish has built here. Our first stop was a women's center, which is still under construction. Women in Guatemala continue to have fewer rights than men so the center aims to be a place where women can learn skills in the hope of providing them with more independence and education. In the future, they plan to build a second level that can house women who are victims of domestic violence. Like everywhere else here, the center is in a beautiful setting - alive with plants everywhere, green and lush and gorgeous. With that said, the center is a long walk from town, which brings up the question of how it will be accessed and who it will serve. The skills they claim they want to teach the women (woodworking, weaving, etc) are already common knowledge among most women. Although there is potential for it being a positive place for displaced women to find community and resources, I'm not really sure if the idea is fully realized yet.


Our next stop was a small hospital. I can't describe how simple this space is compared to what we know in America. The closest big-city hospital is at least two hours away. They perform surgeries, host eye clinics, provide care for diabetic patients, deliver babies, etc. There is one ultrasound and one x-ray machine. It's bare basics... and very humbling. It made me so appreciative of the medical services we have come to expect stateside.




Next we were taken to a site where they process coffee beans. The parish has done a lot to support the local economy and coffee-growers, purchasing their beans at a price high above what they were previously able to sell them for. Fair trade, holla. Our tour guide, Julio, explained that they are in the process of some coffee experiments, one of them being wine made out of coffee - can anyone say the new Four Loko?! Cha-Ching. We tasted the current batch - it was sort of a sweet plum flavor, sticky, with a coffee aftertaste. HELLO. I'll take two, sir. Unfortunately, it's not for sale yet, but look for it at your local fraternity soon.



Finally, we came back to the parish, where several schools have been built. Education is offered for a low price or provided free if families aren't able to pay (there aren't "public" schools in Guatemala - you have to pay a tuition, which comes to around $200/year, but is largely unaffordable for many people). Adults can also attend the schools to learn to read and write. A sweet basketball court and soccer field are also "on campus" for improvement of sports skillz.

I am definitely at the point in the trip where my eyes don't feel big enough to take everything in and my chest is barely containing my heart because it's so gosh-darned full. I'm very happy to be here.