Not much to report, but I know my dad is looking for a post to know that I am, indeed, alive :). Today was my last day in Santa Maria Colotepec, and I have next week off due to Semana Santa (their holy week before Easter) and Sage is coming today! She will be here until Tuesday, and I'm looking forward to having a piece of home here in Puerto.
I will post more when I have any updates!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Star Light, Star Bright
It's been a beautiful weekend. Friday night, Sol and Roger invited me, Jade, and Alex (the three tenants) to come with their family to a 'meet and greet' at a hotel in La Punta. I wasn't clear on what 'meet and greet' means, but apparently it means that all the guests stand in a circle, and each person introduces themselves and tells where their from and why they are here. It was a little strange, but actually quite a good party trick because after everyone went up to everyone else, with like a ton to talk about. I met a couple yoga instructors, and a local minister at the Surfers for Christ church (kay), and Catfish Keith, who is apparently some sort of pseudo-famous blues player, and before I knew it my 'chill' weekend turned into a full social calender.
However, Jade, Alex, and I decided to ditch all the plans, and head to Chacahua Lagoons National Park. It was like planes, trains, and automobiles trying to get there (ok, well more like bus, taxi, boat) but totally worth it. Chacahua is known for it's gorgeous lagoon, home to tons of birds and wildlife, which you have to boat through in order to get to the beach, which is known for surfing and not much else. Like, it is really known for 'not much else' - it's a place you go to get down to basics and get away from it all by staying in a bungalow on the deserted beach.
The absolute kicker for me was walking home from dinner to the bungalow and looking up at the night sky. It was breath-taking, there were so many twinkling stars. I literally laid down on the beach and just gazed up for a while, listening to the ocean in the background. I remembered when I was like 4 or so, my mom gave me a purple satin star to hang over my bed (I'm pretty sure it had pink and turquoise little stars hanging from it, my other two favorite colors) to wish upon. As I laid there on the beach, I felt the magic of that purple star exploded times infinity, that little girl and me reunited in our unfolding life and all things possible.
However, Jade, Alex, and I decided to ditch all the plans, and head to Chacahua Lagoons National Park. It was like planes, trains, and automobiles trying to get there (ok, well more like bus, taxi, boat) but totally worth it. Chacahua is known for it's gorgeous lagoon, home to tons of birds and wildlife, which you have to boat through in order to get to the beach, which is known for surfing and not much else. Like, it is really known for 'not much else' - it's a place you go to get down to basics and get away from it all by staying in a bungalow on the deserted beach.
 |
| Lagoon boat ride to get to beach, going through Mangrove canal. |
 |
| View through our bungalow window where we stayed. |
The absolute kicker for me was walking home from dinner to the bungalow and looking up at the night sky. It was breath-taking, there were so many twinkling stars. I literally laid down on the beach and just gazed up for a while, listening to the ocean in the background. I remembered when I was like 4 or so, my mom gave me a purple satin star to hang over my bed (I'm pretty sure it had pink and turquoise little stars hanging from it, my other two favorite colors) to wish upon. As I laid there on the beach, I felt the magic of that purple star exploded times infinity, that little girl and me reunited in our unfolding life and all things possible.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Day 23 and Counting...
It's the end of my third week in the health centers. I'm still going to yoga, going to the beach, eating fresh fish and fruit, going to my little cafe, having Spanish lessons...
But this week the novelty sort of wore off, and I was left missing the comforts of home, e.g. hot showers (oh, I don't think I've mentioned we have no hot water in my house?). I realized this week how incredibly uncomfortable are some of my situations here: for example, starting each new week in a different clinic - it's like starting a new job every week, with all new people, all new (unknown) tasks, and all in a freaking different language. I started thinking, that's it, this is too hard, why do I make everything so HARD on myself - the rest of the world comes to Mexico and chills the f-ck out, while I am working my ass off . That's it, I'm booking an early ticket home.
OK, so I thought all that for about an afternoon, and then I got over it, and realized that this is exactly what I signed up for: personal challenge, growth, sticking out a commitment to myself, learning a language, getting out of my comfort zone, and I remain so blessed for this opportunity, and decided to flip my perspective into a list of all the things I appreciate about home, all the things I have to be grateful for, and will look forward to coming back to, in due time.
And I still get to go surfing in the warm Pacific Ocean waters this weekend, so I am just going to shut up now.
Other than that, my week was mostly spent signing up owners to get their dogs vaccinated. The way people treat their dogs here is awful - I literally heard dogs scream this week, a sound I've never heard before, by the way the dogs were handled (in some cases carried upside down by a leg). I was so upset, and all the people around me were laughing. Before I knew it, the words, "Para mi, no es chistoso" came out of my mouth (to me, it's not funny), and everyone stopped laughing. In retrospect, I realize I have no right to judge; the dogs here are raised outside - they don't sleep in the house, and are not used to being handled, so are really freaked out and are not able to be carried the normal way. It's a cultural norm. But it's just so sad - all these dogs that I thought were strays, street dogs, actually have owners. They are just totally neglected.
On our way to one of the pueblitos to vaccinate (think, like, 15 households in the whole village), we had to cross the river of Santa Maria Colotepec (the town I'm working in this week) in our ambulance. They were all so proud of the river, like, wait until you see the river! We got to the river, and I was looking for a bridge, as we continued to drive, not over it, but through it, if that gives you any indication of how impressive this river is (it's like 5 inches deep). Anyway, it was cute how excited they were, and, yes, the river was pretty.
In addition to the dogs, I'm now a pro at all vital signs, including how to measure someone's blood sugar (like, I poked someone and actually drew blood). Yes, I'm being safe, mom. :) Leaving the injections to the pros, however.
I also felt like I was reaching a stagnant point with my Spanish this week, like, I felt like I wasn't getting any better. And then today all the sudden, this afternoon actually, it feels good, like flowing, and I think it just needed to reach a tipping point of saturation or something. And, of course, I need to remember to be easy on myself, and know that being surrounded by Spanish all day long - at work, in my house, on the street, in Spanish class, has to be doing something. Bueno, like the Mexicans say: Tranquila, todo bien.
But this week the novelty sort of wore off, and I was left missing the comforts of home, e.g. hot showers (oh, I don't think I've mentioned we have no hot water in my house?). I realized this week how incredibly uncomfortable are some of my situations here: for example, starting each new week in a different clinic - it's like starting a new job every week, with all new people, all new (unknown) tasks, and all in a freaking different language. I started thinking, that's it, this is too hard, why do I make everything so HARD on myself - the rest of the world comes to Mexico and chills the f-ck out, while I am working my ass off . That's it, I'm booking an early ticket home.
OK, so I thought all that for about an afternoon, and then I got over it, and realized that this is exactly what I signed up for: personal challenge, growth, sticking out a commitment to myself, learning a language, getting out of my comfort zone, and I remain so blessed for this opportunity, and decided to flip my perspective into a list of all the things I appreciate about home, all the things I have to be grateful for, and will look forward to coming back to, in due time.
And I still get to go surfing in the warm Pacific Ocean waters this weekend, so I am just going to shut up now.
Other than that, my week was mostly spent signing up owners to get their dogs vaccinated. The way people treat their dogs here is awful - I literally heard dogs scream this week, a sound I've never heard before, by the way the dogs were handled (in some cases carried upside down by a leg). I was so upset, and all the people around me were laughing. Before I knew it, the words, "Para mi, no es chistoso" came out of my mouth (to me, it's not funny), and everyone stopped laughing. In retrospect, I realize I have no right to judge; the dogs here are raised outside - they don't sleep in the house, and are not used to being handled, so are really freaked out and are not able to be carried the normal way. It's a cultural norm. But it's just so sad - all these dogs that I thought were strays, street dogs, actually have owners. They are just totally neglected.
On our way to one of the pueblitos to vaccinate (think, like, 15 households in the whole village), we had to cross the river of Santa Maria Colotepec (the town I'm working in this week) in our ambulance. They were all so proud of the river, like, wait until you see the river! We got to the river, and I was looking for a bridge, as we continued to drive, not over it, but through it, if that gives you any indication of how impressive this river is (it's like 5 inches deep). Anyway, it was cute how excited they were, and, yes, the river was pretty.
In addition to the dogs, I'm now a pro at all vital signs, including how to measure someone's blood sugar (like, I poked someone and actually drew blood). Yes, I'm being safe, mom. :) Leaving the injections to the pros, however.
I also felt like I was reaching a stagnant point with my Spanish this week, like, I felt like I wasn't getting any better. And then today all the sudden, this afternoon actually, it feels good, like flowing, and I think it just needed to reach a tipping point of saturation or something. And, of course, I need to remember to be easy on myself, and know that being surrounded by Spanish all day long - at work, in my house, on the street, in Spanish class, has to be doing something. Bueno, like the Mexicans say: Tranquila, todo bien.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
El Temblor...I'm Alive!
All anyone is talking about today is the 7.6 earthquake that happened early this afternoon on the border of my state (Oaxaca) and Guerrero. In the Puerto area, we only felt something more like a tremor. I was in the health clinic in Santa Maria Colotepec (about 30 mins outside of Puerto) when it happened, and we had to evacuate the building after the room shook. I think the phone lines might have been down (or flooded) for a bit, but everyone here is ok!
Not to be overshadowed, my day today at the clinic was amazing. I learned how to take someone's blood pressure, and how and where (upper left quadrant so as to avoid the sciatic nerve) to actually administer a shot in someone's bum (I really hope they don't ask me to actually do one). Even cooler, I got to find a fetal heart beat in a pregnant woman, and I now know all the signs of problems with a pregnancy, and how to calculate a Probable Date of Birth given the start of the women's last menstrual cycle. Tomorrow we are doing dog vaccines at the clinic! I hope I get to do a couple of those actually.
To top it all off, I just finished playing a game of Spanish Pictionary with Maria Paz (the 5 year old that lives in my house). She was a worthy opponent, if that tells you anything of my Pictionary skills.
Not to be overshadowed, my day today at the clinic was amazing. I learned how to take someone's blood pressure, and how and where (upper left quadrant so as to avoid the sciatic nerve) to actually administer a shot in someone's bum (I really hope they don't ask me to actually do one). Even cooler, I got to find a fetal heart beat in a pregnant woman, and I now know all the signs of problems with a pregnancy, and how to calculate a Probable Date of Birth given the start of the women's last menstrual cycle. Tomorrow we are doing dog vaccines at the clinic! I hope I get to do a couple of those actually.
To top it all off, I just finished playing a game of Spanish Pictionary with Maria Paz (the 5 year old that lives in my house). She was a worthy opponent, if that tells you anything of my Pictionary skills.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Deserted Beaches, Ancient Midwives, and Spiritual Water-Skiing
Thursday was my last day in the field with tropical insects. We visited homes to help teach the locals how to prevent the spread of disease and ended the day on a stunning deserted beach near Chila, with some prickly local foliage. :)
Friday afternoon, Sol took me to a pueblo to visit with a 'partera', the traditional mid-wife of the Mexican culture. A partera uses only natural herbs to heal her patients, and specializes in pregnancy and childbirth. About 20 years ago, the government recognized that parteras were too deeply ingrained in Mexican culture to ignore, and so they began a certification process that allows a partera to be covered under their social healthcare insurance, and a women will only receive a birth certificate for her child if he is delivered by a doctor or certified midwife. This helped reduce the tetanus that was transmitted by cutting the umbilical cord with dirty knives, etc. Absolutely every woman in Mexico, insurance or not, is covered 100% when pregnant, so midwivery is becoming a dying vocation, because women now just go to the hospital (where Cesareans are the prominent method for childbirth). Their will be no one to carry on the wisdom of this particular midwife:
She is 90 years old, and still in practice, and started working in the trade at 20. She has delivered just about every person in her pueblo, plus many more come to see her, including a local religious sect called Los Hermanos (the Brothers), which from what I gather is like a Mormon fundamentalist group who allow no medicinal assistance, even herbal. They pray fiercely over the delivering mother, who sometimes dies from dehydration because no water may be given during the birth.
According to my partera, no woman or child has ever died in her care. She has 11 children herself, 2 of which she delivered BY HERSELF. No husband, no mother even, to help her. She has 40 grandkids, and 40 great grandkids, and she doesn't know how many great, great ones. She is the god mother of 100 babies. She talked about how in the old days she would make house calls and have to walk to Puerto...the walk was three hours there and back on the beach, which at that time was filled with wild animals, including jaguars, wild boars, and crocodiles.
Here are photos of her, including her hair which is down to her knees (the other woman in that photo is Sol, my house mom). The bed you see is the delivery bed, where women will traditionally hold a rope hanging from the ceiling while squatting to deliver the baby. The shack you see is the room that the delivery bed is in.
Finally, yesterday I went to my friend Casey's house, which is about 12 km outside of town on the Laguna de Manialtepec, a mixed fresh and salt body of warm water surrounded by mangroves. She is engaged to a guy from Mexico City, and they live on a sprawling property, with their main house and two bungalows for rent (but which are hardly rented). They have beach front property and in the afternoon, before a delicious meal of fresh camarones empanizados (fried shrimp :), we got our work out in on the paddle boards. Paddle boarding was so fun, as you use your core to balance and your upper body strength to row. Then, the crown jewel of my week, I got to water ski in the lagoon. I had the hugest smile on my face as I carved through the wake with the sun setting and the mountains in the background. I was like, holy sh*t, I'm water-skiing on a lagoon in southern Mexico...thank you, God. So incredibly present for the experience, and so, so grateful.
Friday afternoon, Sol took me to a pueblo to visit with a 'partera', the traditional mid-wife of the Mexican culture. A partera uses only natural herbs to heal her patients, and specializes in pregnancy and childbirth. About 20 years ago, the government recognized that parteras were too deeply ingrained in Mexican culture to ignore, and so they began a certification process that allows a partera to be covered under their social healthcare insurance, and a women will only receive a birth certificate for her child if he is delivered by a doctor or certified midwife. This helped reduce the tetanus that was transmitted by cutting the umbilical cord with dirty knives, etc. Absolutely every woman in Mexico, insurance or not, is covered 100% when pregnant, so midwivery is becoming a dying vocation, because women now just go to the hospital (where Cesareans are the prominent method for childbirth). Their will be no one to carry on the wisdom of this particular midwife:
She is 90 years old, and still in practice, and started working in the trade at 20. She has delivered just about every person in her pueblo, plus many more come to see her, including a local religious sect called Los Hermanos (the Brothers), which from what I gather is like a Mormon fundamentalist group who allow no medicinal assistance, even herbal. They pray fiercely over the delivering mother, who sometimes dies from dehydration because no water may be given during the birth.
According to my partera, no woman or child has ever died in her care. She has 11 children herself, 2 of which she delivered BY HERSELF. No husband, no mother even, to help her. She has 40 grandkids, and 40 great grandkids, and she doesn't know how many great, great ones. She is the god mother of 100 babies. She talked about how in the old days she would make house calls and have to walk to Puerto...the walk was three hours there and back on the beach, which at that time was filled with wild animals, including jaguars, wild boars, and crocodiles.
Here are photos of her, including her hair which is down to her knees (the other woman in that photo is Sol, my house mom). The bed you see is the delivery bed, where women will traditionally hold a rope hanging from the ceiling while squatting to deliver the baby. The shack you see is the room that the delivery bed is in.
Finally, yesterday I went to my friend Casey's house, which is about 12 km outside of town on the Laguna de Manialtepec, a mixed fresh and salt body of warm water surrounded by mangroves. She is engaged to a guy from Mexico City, and they live on a sprawling property, with their main house and two bungalows for rent (but which are hardly rented). They have beach front property and in the afternoon, before a delicious meal of fresh camarones empanizados (fried shrimp :), we got our work out in on the paddle boards. Paddle boarding was so fun, as you use your core to balance and your upper body strength to row. Then, the crown jewel of my week, I got to water ski in the lagoon. I had the hugest smile on my face as I carved through the wake with the sun setting and the mountains in the background. I was like, holy sh*t, I'm water-skiing on a lagoon in southern Mexico...thank you, God. So incredibly present for the experience, and so, so grateful.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Chinche-Hunting
Today we went chinche hunting. Why we are hunting for an bug that can give us a deadly tropical disease I have no idea, but Norberto (the retired insect-enthusiast) is determined. Of course, HE has close-toed shoes on. We hike up into the forest, with Norberto and his machete, and watch as he searches for the mysterious chinche. After about a half hour, we sit down and make ourselves comfortable as he continues his relentless search (we couldn't have helped him even if we wanted to, because there was only one machete, obvi). Two hours later, the search turns to mangoes, and the next thing you know we are picking fresh mangoes from a tree and eating them like lollipops, and Norberto is using his machete to cut open coconuts for us. We like this kind of hunting much better. :)
After we finish the hunt with no mention of our failure to find the chinche, we go to a little boy's home who has the disease of chagas. He basically has a death sentence, with a life expectancy of only about 15 more years, as he has already had the disease for five. He is only 7. We ask his grandmother about healthcare, and she explains there is no reason to even go, all they do is wait for hours, the doctors may not even show up, and they can't afford it anyway since the government took away their welfare. Of course she has chickens running around the yard and a gnarly-looking goat. At the end of our morning on a whim I ask Norberto if I can come to his Catholic mass on Sunday and he says yes. So I have that going for me, which is nice.
However, I start crying in frustration in my Spanish class this afternoon because the teacher can't understand something I said. Of course, it is ONE thing, but in my deep desire to be the best Spanish speaker EVER, I have failed myself.
The universe answers by introducing me to four high school Mexican girls on my way home from class. Nervously they ask if they can interview me for a high school project to improve their English skills. In very shaky English we start the interview, and they are so cute, trying so hard to get it right for the video (and, I presume, the grade). Their questions go something like this: Did you eat hot dogs yesterday? Did you have friends? What was your favorite 'some word I can't understand despite the three times we did the interview'? They are super grateful for my time, and it all reminds me to not take myself so f-ing seriously.
After we finish the hunt with no mention of our failure to find the chinche, we go to a little boy's home who has the disease of chagas. He basically has a death sentence, with a life expectancy of only about 15 more years, as he has already had the disease for five. He is only 7. We ask his grandmother about healthcare, and she explains there is no reason to even go, all they do is wait for hours, the doctors may not even show up, and they can't afford it anyway since the government took away their welfare. Of course she has chickens running around the yard and a gnarly-looking goat. At the end of our morning on a whim I ask Norberto if I can come to his Catholic mass on Sunday and he says yes. So I have that going for me, which is nice.
However, I start crying in frustration in my Spanish class this afternoon because the teacher can't understand something I said. Of course, it is ONE thing, but in my deep desire to be the best Spanish speaker EVER, I have failed myself.
The universe answers by introducing me to four high school Mexican girls on my way home from class. Nervously they ask if they can interview me for a high school project to improve their English skills. In very shaky English we start the interview, and they are so cute, trying so hard to get it right for the video (and, I presume, the grade). Their questions go something like this: Did you eat hot dogs yesterday? Did you have friends? What was your favorite 'some word I can't understand despite the three times we did the interview'? They are super grateful for my time, and it all reminds me to not take myself so f-ing seriously.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
More than I ever wanted to know about the life cycle of a mosquito...
This week I am working with La Agencia de Paludismo (Malaria) studying tropical diseases caused by vectors (in this case, mosquitos and an insect the size of a cochroach called a chinche). Yesterday, Maryann and I met with Norberto, who served over 35 years for La Agencia, and is now retired - he has an unbelievable amount of passion for his job and excitement for these insects, and actually called mosquitoes beautiful. We spent four hours discussing their entomology, and how they are controlled by La Agencia to prevent the diseases they cause - namely, Malaria, Dengue, and, to me, the most fascinating...
Chagas is caused by a parasite carried by the chinche, who live off the blood of animals. They are an amazingly designed insect, because they have a special antiseptic that they use to numb their 'victim' before they actually bite, so the animal (or person) can't feel it, during their sleep for example. The chinche removes about a thumbfull of blood and then, with it's belly full, proceeds to defecate as it is feeding, and the parasite lives in the chinche's poop, which then enters the bite wound, and begins to circulate through the blood. The amazing thing about this disease is that, because of the cost of medications, it can only be detected and treated in the first 6 weeks (the person will have symptoms like a mild flu, so it can be hard to diagnose), because after that, the parasite moves to the person's heart to live dormant for about 18 to 20 years, at which time, the parasite flourishes and the person will die from the complications, usually from a heart attack.
Today, we went to a laboratory to see these parasites under a microscope, then we went to have hand made sopes to get ourselves nourished before a trip to the river to find the larvae of mosquitos. Tomorrow we 'get' to find the adults. :)
Chagas is caused by a parasite carried by the chinche, who live off the blood of animals. They are an amazingly designed insect, because they have a special antiseptic that they use to numb their 'victim' before they actually bite, so the animal (or person) can't feel it, during their sleep for example. The chinche removes about a thumbfull of blood and then, with it's belly full, proceeds to defecate as it is feeding, and the parasite lives in the chinche's poop, which then enters the bite wound, and begins to circulate through the blood. The amazing thing about this disease is that, because of the cost of medications, it can only be detected and treated in the first 6 weeks (the person will have symptoms like a mild flu, so it can be hard to diagnose), because after that, the parasite moves to the person's heart to live dormant for about 18 to 20 years, at which time, the parasite flourishes and the person will die from the complications, usually from a heart attack.
Today, we went to a laboratory to see these parasites under a microscope, then we went to have hand made sopes to get ourselves nourished before a trip to the river to find the larvae of mosquitos. Tomorrow we 'get' to find the adults. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)