Monday, February 13, 2012 – evening (last post)
Sr. Marilee and I came into the Alaska Airlines Board Room to relax and await our flights. What a surprise. “John Howie” was there in the Board room with his chef making crab cakes. (Special promotion put on by the Board Room.) I was feeling a little underdressed in my hip-hugger pants, tank top and Tevas. By way of apology (for my appearance) . . . I told John Howie and his Chef that we had just returned from El Salvador. The chef w/ John Howie was staring at me and I felt “oh gosh, I must look really tatty.” Later, I wandered back for another crab cake and the young man who was staring at me said “you just got back from El Salvador?” So we struck up a conversation. Turns out this young man is Salvadoran, and from a town called: Ilobasco. We had a nice conversation. He wishes to be American, but is not yet. He travelled here when he was 17 and has been in the states for 20 years. He would then have left El Salvador in 1992 (the year before I arrived in Ketchikan). I told Marilee the story and we Googled Ilobasco. As it turns out, all the little porcelain eggs that I bought for my teams are from the town of Ilobasco, known for its miniature clay figures. Had I not met Santos, I would likely not have known that. We are a small world, and we need to join hands.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
We meet in the Hotel Novo Lobby at 4:45. My roommates and I are all up at 3:20 AM. I’m not sure how that happened, but I for one did not sleep well, awaiting that early i-alarm. We board the bus and are ready for travel. Our flight leaves at 7:30 AM. Two more persons have become very ill during the night. This intestinal bug has tapped on the shoulder of everyone in our Paz Salud group it seems.
These past 10 days have been simply remarkable. I look at my right wrist and see the thin plastic bracelet I bought from a boy Friday night at the pupusa restaurant. Imagine an 8-year old boy with a grave face, round, dark tired eyes as deep as the history of El Salvador. Working still, offering items for sale such as children’s books and stuffed animals, although it is 9 PM. I select a bracelet which is $1 and I give him $2. He smiles slightly and nods shyly. On the way out of the restaurant, I bend over and give this child a $5 bill. His eyes wide, he now smiles broadly and says gracias, gracias.
On the flight from Houston to Seattle, I look down at the brightly lime-colored bracelet again. Inscribed on it: mi penzamiento. Translated, the phrase means: my thoughts. I started these writings ten days ago for a blog I entitled: Meandros de PeaceHealth Barbara Part of my job is to be the Journalista. They are my thoughts and as I recall the child’s face, I realize that what the child has given to me is far more than I could ever give him. I am grateful and hopeful for the country of El Salvador.
We meet in the Hotel Novo Lobby at 4:45. My roommates and I are all up at 3:20 AM. I’m not sure how that happened, but I for one did not sleep well, awaiting that early i-alarm. We board the bus and are ready for travel. Our flight leaves at 7:30 AM. Two more persons have become very ill during the night. This intestinal bug has tapped on the shoulder of everyone in our Paz Salud group it seems.
These past 10 days have been simply remarkable. I look at my right wrist and see the thin plastic bracelet I bought from a boy Friday night at the pupusa restaurant. Imagine an 8-year old boy with a grave face, round, dark tired eyes as deep as the history of El Salvador. Working still, offering items for sale such as children’s books and stuffed animals, although it is 9 PM. I select a bracelet which is $1 and I give him $2. He smiles slightly and nods shyly. On the way out of the restaurant, I bend over and give this child a $5 bill. His eyes wide, he now smiles broadly and says gracias, gracias.
On the flight from Houston to Seattle, I look down at the brightly lime-colored bracelet again. Inscribed on it: mi penzamiento. Translated, the phrase means: my thoughts. I started these writings ten days ago for a blog I entitled: Meandros de PeaceHealth Barbara Part of my job is to be the Journalista. They are my thoughts and as I recall the child’s face, I realize that what the child has given to me is far more than I could ever give him. I am grateful and hopeful for the country of El Salvador.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Our final day and we will go to Suchitoto to the Centre Arte para la Paz, http://capsuchitoto.org/en/ Sr. Susan’s home and a visit to the marketplace. We are greeted by Sr. Peggy, a Sister of Charity. With a PhD in Theology, she has worked in El Salvador for the last 30+ years. She is brilliant and humble, and so warm and welcoming. She asks us to tell her our name, the city of our birth, and a “recent birth” experience that we want to share. Each Paz Salud volunteer weaves a story. And it is interesting and humbling to hear what people have to say. Each speaks with humility and sincerity. We have grown closer as a group by now. Some volunteers have been deeply candid with me in sharing stories of their own life and relationship struggles. When I am entrusted with candor, I am honored. I do not repeat these stories but I carry them in my heart and if I ever encounter these friends and colleagues again, I will feel closer having been so enriched.
Sr. Peggy paraphrases something from a book entitled: Honey from a Stone, talking about “shared disturbances” and a sentence that reads: all of our knowledge is a little island in the sea where greater mystery laps at the shore. So true, and now I recall a phrase that I mentioned to a few persons, spoken by Michelangelo, who said: there are more things in heaven and earth than in your philosophy. Sr. Peggy says we are all swimming and looking for metaphors to guide us. Sr. Peggy also quotes, Toni Morrison (author) who stated that our national creed could have been: “life, liberty and the pursuit of meaningfulness” (vs. happiness), for it is what is meaningful that helps us do our best work. And, a wonderful quote from Sr Peggy: “the difference between a rut and a grave is about three feet.” Sr. Peggy concludes by sending us forth to be “good virgins.” She spoke of the Goddesses and how they were like virgins. As virgins we have no pre-conceived ideas, we simply are.
We tour the small museum and see a 60 Minutes segment from the 1980s and coverage of the Civil War in El Salvador. Suchitoto was a rebel stronghold during the War. We also tour the grounds and see the new buildings for classrooms and community celebrations. When I last saw the Centre, it was in far-worse shape. Amazing transformations are taking place and much of theel work is donations-based.
And, wandering into a classroom with music wafting into the courtyard, we are also gifted to a quartet of guitars; a master and his three students, and three musical pieces. As always, the music, especially the voice, evokes an emotion that lives deep in my own soul and has a direct link to my tear ducts in expression. Clear voice stirs my emotions like no other form of art.
Our final day and we will go to Suchitoto to the Centre Arte para la Paz, http://capsuchitoto.org/en/ Sr. Susan’s home and a visit to the marketplace. We are greeted by Sr. Peggy, a Sister of Charity. With a PhD in Theology, she has worked in El Salvador for the last 30+ years. She is brilliant and humble, and so warm and welcoming. She asks us to tell her our name, the city of our birth, and a “recent birth” experience that we want to share. Each Paz Salud volunteer weaves a story. And it is interesting and humbling to hear what people have to say. Each speaks with humility and sincerity. We have grown closer as a group by now. Some volunteers have been deeply candid with me in sharing stories of their own life and relationship struggles. When I am entrusted with candor, I am honored. I do not repeat these stories but I carry them in my heart and if I ever encounter these friends and colleagues again, I will feel closer having been so enriched.
Sr. Peggy paraphrases something from a book entitled: Honey from a Stone, talking about “shared disturbances” and a sentence that reads: all of our knowledge is a little island in the sea where greater mystery laps at the shore. So true, and now I recall a phrase that I mentioned to a few persons, spoken by Michelangelo, who said: there are more things in heaven and earth than in your philosophy. Sr. Peggy says we are all swimming and looking for metaphors to guide us. Sr. Peggy also quotes, Toni Morrison (author) who stated that our national creed could have been: “life, liberty and the pursuit of meaningfulness” (vs. happiness), for it is what is meaningful that helps us do our best work. And, a wonderful quote from Sr Peggy: “the difference between a rut and a grave is about three feet.” Sr. Peggy concludes by sending us forth to be “good virgins.” She spoke of the Goddesses and how they were like virgins. As virgins we have no pre-conceived ideas, we simply are.
We tour the small museum and see a 60 Minutes segment from the 1980s and coverage of the Civil War in El Salvador. Suchitoto was a rebel stronghold during the War. We also tour the grounds and see the new buildings for classrooms and community celebrations. When I last saw the Centre, it was in far-worse shape. Amazing transformations are taking place and much of theel work is donations-based.
And, wandering into a classroom with music wafting into the courtyard, we are also gifted to a quartet of guitars; a master and his three students, and three musical pieces. As always, the music, especially the voice, evokes an emotion that lives deep in my own soul and has a direct link to my tear ducts in expression. Clear voice stirs my emotions like no other form of art.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
We board the bus at 8:30 AM. We are headed for a day of learning more about El Salvador, Romero, and sightseeing. I am not going to write at length regarding this day or tomorrow. The intent for these two days is to debrief, de-stress and enjoy learning more about this wonderful country, its people and history and to enjoy some of its products in the marketplace.
We began at the complex housing the chapel where Father Oscar Romero was murdered, as well as the “hospice hospital.” I had seen the murder-scene photographs in the Church in San Jose Villanueva, (as I mentioned earlier). In the congregation that day was a photo-journalist and he had taken a series of haunting and horrifying photographs. I recalled the photographs I had seen as I walked through the church. I viewed the alter where Romero was shot in the aorta and simply bled out through every orifice. Common thought is that he knew he would be murdered that day and that perhaps it was inevitable. Thus, he commanded that he be alone on the alter and have no one serving with him at that service. I believe he made this decision to preserve lives in the chapel. He was the only person killed that day in the church however, at his funeral; gunman on the roof of the government building opened fire on the thousands of people who had come to pay respect to Romero and many, many were killed that day. I read one description of piles of shoes left (lost) in the melee’ that occurred as Salvadorans fled for their lives.
We next toured Romero’s house, which has been preserved intact. Even the car he drove, sits under an awning-carport in the driveway. A young Sister talks to us before we tour the home. She goes around the circle after explaining about Romero and his life and asks the group to state one word that describes how Romero delivered his ministry. I choose the word love and one other person did as well. There were a variety of word-descriptors and I was amazed that every word was different from the last. Words like humility, compassion, charity, tolerance and peace. Once inside the humble home we went room by room, and the space did not appear to be more than 800 sq feet in total. One room; used for receiving persons when Romero lived there, now housed behind glass, the robes and clothes that Romero wore that day. They hung just as when removed from his dead body, never laundered ; stained with blood now so faded, it might have been spilled coffee. In this room, the Sister asks us to recall the word we used earlier to describe Romero and then she asks us to think about how that descriptor came into the decisions that Romero made the day he was murdered. She asks us whether we felt that Romero knew he was going to die that day? Several people spoke, it was emotional for many and there were a few eyes where the tears came. The Sister urges us to take the word we described for Romero and incorporate it into our daily lives going forward. One physician comes to be and holds me closely in a hug and another pats my shoulder and says “did you see me crying too?”
Romero’s death did nothing to appease or stop the violence however, the Civil War in El Salvador escalated from that point forward. (Romero was killed on March 16, 1980.)
Our next stop was the Jesuit; University of Central America (UCA). UCA was also a place of massacre and violence. One night six priests, a housekeeper and her young daughter were murdered in the night. Although not discussed today, the housekeeper had been shot in the vagina. I recall this from my last visit. The cruelties and hatred ran deep and long during the civil war. The room where the Housekeeper and her daughter were murdered was left as it was and we circulate into this area and then stand in the sun by the rose garden. The place where the dead bodies had been dragged is now a rose garden, tended to by the Housekeepers husband until his death very recently. Ironically, the Housekeeper and her daughter had been brought to UCA by the Jesuits to help keep her safe. There is a small museum there and the group continues to learn. We also visit the chapel and a small UCA bookstore. Intellectuals were murdered because it sent a message to the people to repress their learning, for if they tried to better themselves, they too would be killed.
For the afternoon, we visit Fernando Llort’s gallery and then on to the open-air market. And Sr. Susan takes a few of us to get the best coffee beans in El Salvador
Our day ends with pizza dinner at Centro de Intercambio y Solidaridad (CIS). www.cis-elsalvador.org The group’s leader “Leslie” speaks with us, explaining the organization and her long-standing (since college and she must be in her late 50s) interest in El Salvador. I photograph the sign on the inside of the door which speaks of reminders of using the keyhole to view out before opening the door and not opening the door to anyone unknown. Main goals of the organization include the economic empowerment of women. Projects have included indigo dyeing (indigo was once El Salvador’s greatest export, now surpassed by coffee and sugar), dairy and chickens. More and more women are becoming educated and/or receiving the skills training to become more self-sufficient. Under the current FMNL, every business with more than 14 employees pays into a State-based tax which has a mandate to give the dollars to educational programs (of which CIS benefits). Another CIS imperative regards performing “election observations.”
We board the bus at 8:30 AM. We are headed for a day of learning more about El Salvador, Romero, and sightseeing. I am not going to write at length regarding this day or tomorrow. The intent for these two days is to debrief, de-stress and enjoy learning more about this wonderful country, its people and history and to enjoy some of its products in the marketplace.
We began at the complex housing the chapel where Father Oscar Romero was murdered, as well as the “hospice hospital.” I had seen the murder-scene photographs in the Church in San Jose Villanueva, (as I mentioned earlier). In the congregation that day was a photo-journalist and he had taken a series of haunting and horrifying photographs. I recalled the photographs I had seen as I walked through the church. I viewed the alter where Romero was shot in the aorta and simply bled out through every orifice. Common thought is that he knew he would be murdered that day and that perhaps it was inevitable. Thus, he commanded that he be alone on the alter and have no one serving with him at that service. I believe he made this decision to preserve lives in the chapel. He was the only person killed that day in the church however, at his funeral; gunman on the roof of the government building opened fire on the thousands of people who had come to pay respect to Romero and many, many were killed that day. I read one description of piles of shoes left (lost) in the melee’ that occurred as Salvadorans fled for their lives.
We next toured Romero’s house, which has been preserved intact. Even the car he drove, sits under an awning-carport in the driveway. A young Sister talks to us before we tour the home. She goes around the circle after explaining about Romero and his life and asks the group to state one word that describes how Romero delivered his ministry. I choose the word love and one other person did as well. There were a variety of word-descriptors and I was amazed that every word was different from the last. Words like humility, compassion, charity, tolerance and peace. Once inside the humble home we went room by room, and the space did not appear to be more than 800 sq feet in total. One room; used for receiving persons when Romero lived there, now housed behind glass, the robes and clothes that Romero wore that day. They hung just as when removed from his dead body, never laundered ; stained with blood now so faded, it might have been spilled coffee. In this room, the Sister asks us to recall the word we used earlier to describe Romero and then she asks us to think about how that descriptor came into the decisions that Romero made the day he was murdered. She asks us whether we felt that Romero knew he was going to die that day? Several people spoke, it was emotional for many and there were a few eyes where the tears came. The Sister urges us to take the word we described for Romero and incorporate it into our daily lives going forward. One physician comes to be and holds me closely in a hug and another pats my shoulder and says “did you see me crying too?”
Romero’s death did nothing to appease or stop the violence however, the Civil War in El Salvador escalated from that point forward. (Romero was killed on March 16, 1980.)
Our next stop was the Jesuit; University of Central America (UCA). UCA was also a place of massacre and violence. One night six priests, a housekeeper and her young daughter were murdered in the night. Although not discussed today, the housekeeper had been shot in the vagina. I recall this from my last visit. The cruelties and hatred ran deep and long during the civil war. The room where the Housekeeper and her daughter were murdered was left as it was and we circulate into this area and then stand in the sun by the rose garden. The place where the dead bodies had been dragged is now a rose garden, tended to by the Housekeepers husband until his death very recently. Ironically, the Housekeeper and her daughter had been brought to UCA by the Jesuits to help keep her safe. There is a small museum there and the group continues to learn. We also visit the chapel and a small UCA bookstore. Intellectuals were murdered because it sent a message to the people to repress their learning, for if they tried to better themselves, they too would be killed.
For the afternoon, we visit Fernando Llort’s gallery and then on to the open-air market. And Sr. Susan takes a few of us to get the best coffee beans in El Salvador
Our day ends with pizza dinner at Centro de Intercambio y Solidaridad (CIS). www.cis-elsalvador.org The group’s leader “Leslie” speaks with us, explaining the organization and her long-standing (since college and she must be in her late 50s) interest in El Salvador. I photograph the sign on the inside of the door which speaks of reminders of using the keyhole to view out before opening the door and not opening the door to anyone unknown. Main goals of the organization include the economic empowerment of women. Projects have included indigo dyeing (indigo was once El Salvador’s greatest export, now surpassed by coffee and sugar), dairy and chickens. More and more women are becoming educated and/or receiving the skills training to become more self-sufficient. Under the current FMNL, every business with more than 14 employees pays into a State-based tax which has a mandate to give the dollars to educational programs (of which CIS benefits). Another CIS imperative regards performing “election observations.”
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
It is now 2 PM and we still have several patients to see. Ojas 1 still has the patients. Almost all Salvadorans want to go to the eye clinic and they wait so patiently. At the very point that I write this, a young girl of about 8 sits by my side. She emits an audible “wow” as I opened the computer. And as I type, her eyes went very large and she is amazed to see the words flowing from my fingers, onto my screen. I don’t think she has even seen a computer. Also, she points to the photo I have taped to my laptop, my Father and I. I tell her mi Padre and she nods and smiles. It is quickly apparent that I cannot sit in this place and work on my notes, so I give up and show her the computer and let her type her name. Now a little boy flanks my other side and he does the same (types his name). I ask them questions and we go back and forth between the two of them: names of mother and father, city they live in, names of animals and the sounds they make. Then two older children, the very pale-skinned ones come over and watch. The boy is about 17, when I hand him the computer to type his name, he handles it like he knows what he is doing and types expertly. This indicates to me that he uses a computer.
By 3 PM, we are taking down the clinic. There were several patients and clinics still busy at 2 PM, but things were starting to slow. The Pharmacy looks almost 100% intact however, and I wonder how they will be able to get everything done in time for the ceremony.
Father Mario Cruz has planned a ceremony for the Paz Salud volunteers. He starts the ceremony a little earlier than Kathy Garcia would have liked, but as in each day; we run later than planned due to patient volume. He opens the ceremony with a local San Salvador dance group who have travelled to the village: Yaxanutal Ballet Folklorico. A hand-lettered paper banner has been placed on the back of the stage wall and it reads:
Muchas Gracias Paz Salud por su solidaridad que dios los bendiga. Translated this is roughly (Google again): Thank you very much PeaceHealth for your solidarity. God Bless.
Father Mario Cruz speaks and thanks everyone. What he says is translated in English by Elba, one of the Paz Salud volunteers. Father reads each person’s name and they are called to the front of the stage area and each receives: a small hand-painted piece of Salvadoran art, which incorporates a feather into the scene; a certificate, and necklace that is a polished nut with an image of Romero painted upon it, hanging from a black string.
Both Kathy and Sr. Susan speak and praises, thanks and information is translated also in Spanish. All of our Salvadoran clinic volunteers are in the audience. Kathy tells the audience that this is the 11th year that PeaceHealth has provided clinics in El Salvador. The clinic this week provided care to 1649 patients. Of those, 5 were transported to a hospital. Sr. Susan talks about and demonstrates the water filter system. Another 80 families in the village will receive these water filters and also the education on use and maintenance. Prior to receiving the filters, each family member will be tested for parasites and if they are present, the individual(s) will be treated prior to receiving the filters for the home. After the ceremony ends, we have cake and ice cream.
So ends our week in clinic. The classrooms were put back together, desks in place, the courtyard swept and the school again becomes a school in preparation for the next week. People say goodbye, and tears and hugs abound. I share email and Facebook with two new Salvadoran friends and so do others. Goodbye San Jose Villanueva; you will remain fresh in our minds for several days or even weeks, but in the heart forever.
By 3 PM, we are taking down the clinic. There were several patients and clinics still busy at 2 PM, but things were starting to slow. The Pharmacy looks almost 100% intact however, and I wonder how they will be able to get everything done in time for the ceremony.
Father Mario Cruz has planned a ceremony for the Paz Salud volunteers. He starts the ceremony a little earlier than Kathy Garcia would have liked, but as in each day; we run later than planned due to patient volume. He opens the ceremony with a local San Salvador dance group who have travelled to the village: Yaxanutal Ballet Folklorico. A hand-lettered paper banner has been placed on the back of the stage wall and it reads:
Muchas Gracias Paz Salud por su solidaridad que dios los bendiga. Translated this is roughly (Google again): Thank you very much PeaceHealth for your solidarity. God Bless.
Father Mario Cruz speaks and thanks everyone. What he says is translated in English by Elba, one of the Paz Salud volunteers. Father reads each person’s name and they are called to the front of the stage area and each receives: a small hand-painted piece of Salvadoran art, which incorporates a feather into the scene; a certificate, and necklace that is a polished nut with an image of Romero painted upon it, hanging from a black string.
Both Kathy and Sr. Susan speak and praises, thanks and information is translated also in Spanish. All of our Salvadoran clinic volunteers are in the audience. Kathy tells the audience that this is the 11th year that PeaceHealth has provided clinics in El Salvador. The clinic this week provided care to 1649 patients. Of those, 5 were transported to a hospital. Sr. Susan talks about and demonstrates the water filter system. Another 80 families in the village will receive these water filters and also the education on use and maintenance. Prior to receiving the filters, each family member will be tested for parasites and if they are present, the individual(s) will be treated prior to receiving the filters for the home. After the ceremony ends, we have cake and ice cream.
So ends our week in clinic. The classrooms were put back together, desks in place, the courtyard swept and the school again becomes a school in preparation for the next week. People say goodbye, and tears and hugs abound. I share email and Facebook with two new Salvadoran friends and so do others. Goodbye San Jose Villanueva; you will remain fresh in our minds for several days or even weeks, but in the heart forever.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
There are new kids here today from the International University. Every one of them is helpful and kind. One in particular, I’ve come to know is Ale (pronounced “alley”). We hope to stay in touch with one another. She comes to the States and has relatives on the east and west coasts.
I realized today that what I have been doing all week is living fully in the moment and accepting each person and event that comes my way. I guess I don’t always do that at home and work, always pushing for more time or working like a mad-woman trying to accomplish just one more project or email at work and doing exactly the same at home on weekends. No down time in my life – just a crazy pursuit. It is different here because I am here – simply put. I am in each moment with few forward anticipations.
The crowds are starting to thin somewhat, but Ojas 1 (visual acuity) has a full house. I saw (and photographed) an older woman with a huge goiter on her neck. It was the size of a mango, hanging off the right side of her chin/neck and looked painful, or at least limiting. I’m not sure what we might do with her, perhaps a referral to a San Salvador hospital? I do not know if it is operable. Saw another campesino with a machete. I thought the machetes might be for agriculture, but earlier this week, I learned that one of the campesinos says he has it for protection. He told an interpreter that he lives in a “bad area.”
All the clinics are busy.
Deb, the CNM and my roommate sees a woman who is term and is having cramping. Deb doesn’t think she is in labor but is going to check. Every once in a while, I peer carefully around the blue-tarp room divider in Mujeres (Women’s Clinic) and get some shots of CNM Deb and her interpreter Pam, at work.
Some More Observations:
· All the children can attend public school. And they all wear matching uniforms. Navy blue uniforms for boys and girls, modest closed toes shoes and white socks (“knee high” socks for the girls).
· The public transportation are all “school bus” style, but painted very bright, what I might call “Hispanic colors” as always they are brilliant bright colors. The destination or route is painted on the front of the bus. These I see, run between San Jose Villanueva, Santa Clara and Santa Tecla villages. The buses all have symbols of Jesus or Guadalupe, as well as cartoony figures.
· Music in the church’s play center-stage. There are band sets and microphones in the San Jose Villanueva Sanctuary her at Clinic as well and it was used on Sunday!
· One of the popular hydrations for the people of the village, sold by the vendors, is something (sugary it appears by its color) frozen in a light-weight plastic baggie, tubular in nature and wrapped at the top. Held in the hand, as it melts, the person sucks off the juice from the top of the baggie.
· Today, I see more of the Paz Salud volunteers out taking photos from their personal cameras or smart-phones. They show each other the photos and delight in their catches.
· I’ve never seen a more photographable population. They are perfect subjects in part, because they are willing!
I realized today that what I have been doing all week is living fully in the moment and accepting each person and event that comes my way. I guess I don’t always do that at home and work, always pushing for more time or working like a mad-woman trying to accomplish just one more project or email at work and doing exactly the same at home on weekends. No down time in my life – just a crazy pursuit. It is different here because I am here – simply put. I am in each moment with few forward anticipations.
The crowds are starting to thin somewhat, but Ojas 1 (visual acuity) has a full house. I saw (and photographed) an older woman with a huge goiter on her neck. It was the size of a mango, hanging off the right side of her chin/neck and looked painful, or at least limiting. I’m not sure what we might do with her, perhaps a referral to a San Salvador hospital? I do not know if it is operable. Saw another campesino with a machete. I thought the machetes might be for agriculture, but earlier this week, I learned that one of the campesinos says he has it for protection. He told an interpreter that he lives in a “bad area.”
All the clinics are busy.
Deb, the CNM and my roommate sees a woman who is term and is having cramping. Deb doesn’t think she is in labor but is going to check. Every once in a while, I peer carefully around the blue-tarp room divider in Mujeres (Women’s Clinic) and get some shots of CNM Deb and her interpreter Pam, at work.
Some More Observations:
· All the children can attend public school. And they all wear matching uniforms. Navy blue uniforms for boys and girls, modest closed toes shoes and white socks (“knee high” socks for the girls).
· The public transportation are all “school bus” style, but painted very bright, what I might call “Hispanic colors” as always they are brilliant bright colors. The destination or route is painted on the front of the bus. These I see, run between San Jose Villanueva, Santa Clara and Santa Tecla villages. The buses all have symbols of Jesus or Guadalupe, as well as cartoony figures.
· Music in the church’s play center-stage. There are band sets and microphones in the San Jose Villanueva Sanctuary her at Clinic as well and it was used on Sunday!
· One of the popular hydrations for the people of the village, sold by the vendors, is something (sugary it appears by its color) frozen in a light-weight plastic baggie, tubular in nature and wrapped at the top. Held in the hand, as it melts, the person sucks off the juice from the top of the baggie.
· Today, I see more of the Paz Salud volunteers out taking photos from their personal cameras or smart-phones. They show each other the photos and delight in their catches.
· I’ve never seen a more photographable population. They are perfect subjects in part, because they are willing!
Friday, February 10, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
We start today by being on the bus at 7:15 AM as usual. We expect to see 200 patients today. I finished packing (we go to the hotel in San Salvador tonight) and I spent the last 15 minutes before boarding, by walking around Centro Salesiano Ayaguala. I go into the Church which is open. Young people are entering at shortly after 7 AM, I suspect that Mass starts at 7:30 AM. It is not clear whether school is held in the Church or if they are bussed here for Mass and then on to public schools? The church is a lovely sanctuary. There are “Stations of the Cross” very large stained-glass windows on both sides of the church. And there are two, finely-done mosaics of glass tiles (tiny tiles used - no more than 1/2 inch), one of a female and one of a male, both appear to be some sort of saint. The music also drew me to the Sanctuary. The students have a drum set, piano and a microphone where music is played.
We start today by being on the bus at 7:15 AM as usual. We expect to see 200 patients today. I finished packing (we go to the hotel in San Salvador tonight) and I spent the last 15 minutes before boarding, by walking around Centro Salesiano Ayaguala. I go into the Church which is open. Young people are entering at shortly after 7 AM, I suspect that Mass starts at 7:30 AM. It is not clear whether school is held in the Church or if they are bussed here for Mass and then on to public schools? The church is a lovely sanctuary. There are “Stations of the Cross” very large stained-glass windows on both sides of the church. And there are two, finely-done mosaics of glass tiles (tiny tiles used - no more than 1/2 inch), one of a female and one of a male, both appear to be some sort of saint. The music also drew me to the Sanctuary. The students have a drum set, piano and a microphone where music is played.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Thursday, (continued):
Today was the fourth day of Clinic. Kathy states that we saw 340 patients, and more visits of course due to multiple clinics. Some vignettes: an 88-year old woman who walked for three miles to get here and then sat another three hours waiting for her sponsor, who did not show up (more on that later); a 96-year-old man; an old woman with a hole (old healed wound) in her forehead; a pregnant woman due to deliver on February 22nd and at least one patient who had to be transported to a hospital. Then later, debriefing before we left clinic, I heard sad stories repeated by the providers. The story of a 17-year-old with a once-preventable eye condition that has resulted in permanent cognitive deficits. And another of an 11-year old who has been clearly abused, apparently by his mother.
As I write this, I watch Salvadorans (likely employed by the Church) do what they have done every night this week: sweep and clean. The dust is phenomenal and everywhere. All the cement and the brick surround for the trees are covered in dirt. There are two gorgeous ficas, two coconut palms and two trees with large leaves that I cannot name. This large courtyard is never really cleaned and washed down with water. The six big trees and palms must have very deep roots for they look healthy, but the two to three-foot berth under each raised bed is pure dusty dirt. And the hanging baskets are sad-looking, just a few in number, several empty of a plant and having seen more than one season; the plastic bags to hold the water in the baskets are tattered. I see a child scavenging in the trash tonight for recyclables for which he can make money. This church school in this poor village must run on a shoe-string budget. Padre (Father) Cruz, however is everywhere. I see him often and he ministers in an admirable way. He is a very personable man who seems to have the gift of being a priest in a moral way. He speaks no English and I am sadly unable to communicate with him except in very limited phrases. He expresses genuine love toward the people here, moving among us all day. And, he is very kind to share his wireless with us. His wide veranda overlooking the courtyard is shady cool and “connected.” The cooks use Padre Cruz’ kitchen to feed Paz Salud every day.
I have so much to say today, these blogs are getting longer. Each day is better. Each day I am more comfortable in my role and have more fun. I seem to be a “Pied Piper” with the children and they clamor for photos when they see me photographing one child. One girl of about twelve actually helped me organize kids and poses. Maybe she has done this before but she was remarkable. When I show the children their digital image, they always giggle and often laugh uncontrollably, pointing to themselves in the tiny screen and making surely delightful commentary, of which I cannot understand a word. One boy of about four, came over to me when I was sitting in a school desk side-ways and wiggled his body into the seat beside me, making it a bit cramped for both of us and jostling me as I tried to photograph. He left on his own accord and I enjoyed him while he was there.
At one point outside of the eye clinic, I photographed a woman of about 45. She tried to talk to me but I could not understand her of course. So as Sr. Susan was walking by, I asked her to interpret. The woman was asking if I could send her the photo of her that I took. She meant by mail of course, not email. So, I took her address, but I will send the photo to Sr. Susan who promises to get it to her. Sr. Susan does so many nice things for the people of El Salvador. She loves them deeply, and so do I.
I photographed a woman who has been working on a shoe. I have not seen many Salvadorans working on something or reading as you often see in America as people wait. The clinic is predominantly women and children. I think there is not much "busy work" while waiting because the culture is deeply into socialization and they spend time talking with one another and tending to the children. But, back to the woman sewing a shoe. Sr. Amalia helped me interpret. She works for a factory in El Salvador. The shoes are sold in San Salvador. This woman is paid $4.50 for 12 pairs of completed shoes! My goodness, she probably needs to work to make her day’s wages to support her family.
Then there was an older woman, sitting in the school desks awaiting her turn (long wait for Ojas), who brought a towel and laid her head upon it as she waited. She was old, grayed hair, dignified, and sitting upon a hard child’s desk, waiting patiently.
Some more observations:
· Toilet paper does not go into the toilet – the septic systems cannot accommodate, there are unlined trashcans. (Hey, it is not that unusual. I once stayed in an old hotel in San Francisco, when I was taking a class at UCSF – same protocol with toilet paper!)
· No drinking fountains in this very hot and dry country.
· Vendors sell mostly junk food and sugary drinks.
· Few patients brought water with them to clinic.
· I note that the flies are worse today, I wonder why? It is warmer.
A story: One of the first persons I photographed was an elderly woman sitting in the shade on the steps of the church. I first encountered her at about 7:45 AM. I saw her occasionally thereafter as I circulated. At almost 10:30, I noticed she was still there. So, I asked Sr. Amalia to intervene. As we learned, this woman was waiting for her “sponsor” so she could gain entry to the clinic. I brought her some water which she gratefully accepted. We got her processed and into clinic. And, I continued to see her that day. Later, Sr. Marilee came to get me and said, “Barb, there is this great old woman in the clinic, she is 88 and you’ve got to photograph her.” I asked “is she in a purple dress, I think I have about a hundred photos of her already.” And it was her. Well then I learned, she had walked 3 miles to get to clinic and when all was done, she was going to walk three miles home. And, she had nothing to eat and little hydration all these hours. I was worried and asked the translator to ask some questions. Could she take the bus, did she know how to take the bus? The translator said; yes she knew how, but did not have any money. So, I went to get Sr. Susan and explained the situation. Sr. Susan gave her two dollars to get home. I am grateful and so is Sr. Susan. I also gave her two packages of peanut butter crackers, one of which she started eating immediately. And, she tied up the money in her dirty hanky. She was grateful for the money. I’d have given her money too, but Sr. says it is not allowed; so many in need.
Today there was a vendor display for a smokeless stove. In this rural country, there are respiratory illnesses and many are borne of cooking over a smoky wood-fire. According to Sr. Susan, it is exciting that this vendor has finally elected to present at the clinic and hopefully spur interest in the technology, although I wonder how many in this poor village could even afford to buy the stove.
And, did I mention the modified wheelchair? An old woman was sitting in a wheelchair. But the seat and back of the chair was a plastic outdoor (you may know them as a “deck chair”) chair. I learned that the wheelchair was given to her, but it was so heavy and hard for attendants to pick up, so they “modified” the wheelchair. The people of El Salvador are industrious and innovative. The young man attending her today was not a relative, just a kind neighbor who brought her to clinic. It appears that she cannot walk at all.
Today was the fourth day of Clinic. Kathy states that we saw 340 patients, and more visits of course due to multiple clinics. Some vignettes: an 88-year old woman who walked for three miles to get here and then sat another three hours waiting for her sponsor, who did not show up (more on that later); a 96-year-old man; an old woman with a hole (old healed wound) in her forehead; a pregnant woman due to deliver on February 22nd and at least one patient who had to be transported to a hospital. Then later, debriefing before we left clinic, I heard sad stories repeated by the providers. The story of a 17-year-old with a once-preventable eye condition that has resulted in permanent cognitive deficits. And another of an 11-year old who has been clearly abused, apparently by his mother.
As I write this, I watch Salvadorans (likely employed by the Church) do what they have done every night this week: sweep and clean. The dust is phenomenal and everywhere. All the cement and the brick surround for the trees are covered in dirt. There are two gorgeous ficas, two coconut palms and two trees with large leaves that I cannot name. This large courtyard is never really cleaned and washed down with water. The six big trees and palms must have very deep roots for they look healthy, but the two to three-foot berth under each raised bed is pure dusty dirt. And the hanging baskets are sad-looking, just a few in number, several empty of a plant and having seen more than one season; the plastic bags to hold the water in the baskets are tattered. I see a child scavenging in the trash tonight for recyclables for which he can make money. This church school in this poor village must run on a shoe-string budget. Padre (Father) Cruz, however is everywhere. I see him often and he ministers in an admirable way. He is a very personable man who seems to have the gift of being a priest in a moral way. He speaks no English and I am sadly unable to communicate with him except in very limited phrases. He expresses genuine love toward the people here, moving among us all day. And, he is very kind to share his wireless with us. His wide veranda overlooking the courtyard is shady cool and “connected.” The cooks use Padre Cruz’ kitchen to feed Paz Salud every day.
I have so much to say today, these blogs are getting longer. Each day is better. Each day I am more comfortable in my role and have more fun. I seem to be a “Pied Piper” with the children and they clamor for photos when they see me photographing one child. One girl of about twelve actually helped me organize kids and poses. Maybe she has done this before but she was remarkable. When I show the children their digital image, they always giggle and often laugh uncontrollably, pointing to themselves in the tiny screen and making surely delightful commentary, of which I cannot understand a word. One boy of about four, came over to me when I was sitting in a school desk side-ways and wiggled his body into the seat beside me, making it a bit cramped for both of us and jostling me as I tried to photograph. He left on his own accord and I enjoyed him while he was there.
At one point outside of the eye clinic, I photographed a woman of about 45. She tried to talk to me but I could not understand her of course. So as Sr. Susan was walking by, I asked her to interpret. The woman was asking if I could send her the photo of her that I took. She meant by mail of course, not email. So, I took her address, but I will send the photo to Sr. Susan who promises to get it to her. Sr. Susan does so many nice things for the people of El Salvador. She loves them deeply, and so do I.
I photographed a woman who has been working on a shoe. I have not seen many Salvadorans working on something or reading as you often see in America as people wait. The clinic is predominantly women and children. I think there is not much "busy work" while waiting because the culture is deeply into socialization and they spend time talking with one another and tending to the children. But, back to the woman sewing a shoe. Sr. Amalia helped me interpret. She works for a factory in El Salvador. The shoes are sold in San Salvador. This woman is paid $4.50 for 12 pairs of completed shoes! My goodness, she probably needs to work to make her day’s wages to support her family.
Then there was an older woman, sitting in the school desks awaiting her turn (long wait for Ojas), who brought a towel and laid her head upon it as she waited. She was old, grayed hair, dignified, and sitting upon a hard child’s desk, waiting patiently.
Some more observations:
· Toilet paper does not go into the toilet – the septic systems cannot accommodate, there are unlined trashcans. (Hey, it is not that unusual. I once stayed in an old hotel in San Francisco, when I was taking a class at UCSF – same protocol with toilet paper!)
· No drinking fountains in this very hot and dry country.
· Vendors sell mostly junk food and sugary drinks.
· Few patients brought water with them to clinic.
· I note that the flies are worse today, I wonder why? It is warmer.
A story: One of the first persons I photographed was an elderly woman sitting in the shade on the steps of the church. I first encountered her at about 7:45 AM. I saw her occasionally thereafter as I circulated. At almost 10:30, I noticed she was still there. So, I asked Sr. Amalia to intervene. As we learned, this woman was waiting for her “sponsor” so she could gain entry to the clinic. I brought her some water which she gratefully accepted. We got her processed and into clinic. And, I continued to see her that day. Later, Sr. Marilee came to get me and said, “Barb, there is this great old woman in the clinic, she is 88 and you’ve got to photograph her.” I asked “is she in a purple dress, I think I have about a hundred photos of her already.” And it was her. Well then I learned, she had walked 3 miles to get to clinic and when all was done, she was going to walk three miles home. And, she had nothing to eat and little hydration all these hours. I was worried and asked the translator to ask some questions. Could she take the bus, did she know how to take the bus? The translator said; yes she knew how, but did not have any money. So, I went to get Sr. Susan and explained the situation. Sr. Susan gave her two dollars to get home. I am grateful and so is Sr. Susan. I also gave her two packages of peanut butter crackers, one of which she started eating immediately. And, she tied up the money in her dirty hanky. She was grateful for the money. I’d have given her money too, but Sr. says it is not allowed; so many in need.
Today there was a vendor display for a smokeless stove. In this rural country, there are respiratory illnesses and many are borne of cooking over a smoky wood-fire. According to Sr. Susan, it is exciting that this vendor has finally elected to present at the clinic and hopefully spur interest in the technology, although I wonder how many in this poor village could even afford to buy the stove.
And, did I mention the modified wheelchair? An old woman was sitting in a wheelchair. But the seat and back of the chair was a plastic outdoor (you may know them as a “deck chair”) chair. I learned that the wheelchair was given to her, but it was so heavy and hard for attendants to pick up, so they “modified” the wheelchair. The people of El Salvador are industrious and innovative. The young man attending her today was not a relative, just a kind neighbor who brought her to clinic. It appears that she cannot walk at all.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Tuesday, February 9, 2012
Translating the Romero homily section with two Spanish-speaking persons is far better than Google, which loses something in the translation. Here is what Romero said in a little more accurate rendition (my apologies for my ignorance show above):
I do not consider myself a judge or an enemy. I am just the pastor’s brother, the friend of these people who know their sufferings, their hunger, their anxieties. And on behalf of those voices, I raise my voice to say: do not idolize the wealth system; do not protect it in this manner, so that you let others die of hunger.
I do not consider myself a judge or an enemy. I am just the pastor’s brother, the friend of these people who know their sufferings, their hunger, their anxieties. And on behalf of those voices, I raise my voice to say: do not idolize the wealth system; do not protect it in this manner, so that you let others die of hunger.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
On the way into Centro Salesiano Ayaguala (our retreat house), there is a washed-out portion of the road. The blacktop is ragged and below the edges there is only space. The drop is easily 25 to 30 feet. Below are fields of cultivated coffee beans. The day I stopped to take photos of the road, there were two campesinos in the field of coffee beans, working. I raised my arm and waved and yelled holla to them, they waved back. Luckily for us, traversing this every day, there is an area cut into the other side and our bus has plenty of room to clear the drop off. The weight of the bus on the edge would tumble us to be certain were Hernan to get too close, but he cuts a wide, wide arc. I was able, yesterday, on this same road, to take a photograph of a man carrying many sticks on his back. I can see his strong biceps bulging and I know the weight is heavy on his back. He is not a big man but carries the load with expertise. He is gracious to allow my photographs.
Last night at dinner, I had a conversation with Dale. He has practiced pediatric medicine his entire life and is now retired. He hopes his wife will travel with him next year to El Salvador (he will not tell her about the scorpion in Andrea’s suitcase. Yesterday he was able to visit with a Salvadoran family who he has helped to sponsor. A few years ago, he referred the young girl to an El Salvadoran children’s hospital. The child had Lupus and has since died. Lupus in children is quite deadly. He has stayed in contact with and sponsored financially, this family. He helped buy them a new home and also they bought the mother a sewing machine and taught her to sew so she would have a skill that could help support the family. The “father” is long absent. The family missed the girl who dies and Dale has tears in his eyes as he tells the story of the family to me (or maybe my tears seem to be his because my eyes are blurry. I took several photos and will send them to Dale.
Thoughts on the clinics:
· The Farmacia has blaring music. Melissa likes to listen to music and has an e-collection that is quite diverse.
· The room dividers in clinic are blue tarps.
· On the streets outside the school/church, there is often blaring voices. I finally peeked through the scalloped bricks to see a man walking the street below carrying a megaphone and shouting. I asked Sister Amalia what he was saying and she stated it was all religious. He is an evangelist sort of person.
· The sound of loud clanky cowbells. All the street vendors use these bells and ring them to call attention to their products.
· No soap in the bathroom (unisex) and no sanitizer. A fundamental thing to prevent the spread of infection and yet, no exists and we are holding clinic, seeing hundreds of patients.
Another reflection: in the church on the grounds where we hold clinic, are a series of black and white photos in 8x10 size. I started to look at them closely and realized they are of the murder of Monsenor Oscar Romero in 1980. He was killed while giving the homily. The photographs (in black and white) are quite graphic; he was shot in the face. A feeling of deep horror came over me as I went through the sequences. There fifteen framed photographs. Sister Susan tells me that there happened to be a reported in the church and he captured the event.
Monsenor Romero:
No me consideren ni juez ni enemigo. Soy simplemente el pastor, el hermano, el amigo de este pueblo, que sabe de sus sufrimientos, de sus hambres, de sus angustias. Y en nombre de esas voces, yo levanto mi voz para decir: no idolatren sis riquezas, no las salven de manerea que dejen morir de hambre a los demas. (Homilia 6 de enero de 1980.)
Translated:
I do not consider or judge or enemy. I'm just the pastor's brother, the friend of these people who know their sufferings, their hunger, their anxieties. And on behalf of those voices, I raise my voice to say: do not idolize wealth system, not to stop manerea saved from starving others. (Homily January 6, 1980.)
On the way into Centro Salesiano Ayaguala (our retreat house), there is a washed-out portion of the road. The blacktop is ragged and below the edges there is only space. The drop is easily 25 to 30 feet. Below are fields of cultivated coffee beans. The day I stopped to take photos of the road, there were two campesinos in the field of coffee beans, working. I raised my arm and waved and yelled holla to them, they waved back. Luckily for us, traversing this every day, there is an area cut into the other side and our bus has plenty of room to clear the drop off. The weight of the bus on the edge would tumble us to be certain were Hernan to get too close, but he cuts a wide, wide arc. I was able, yesterday, on this same road, to take a photograph of a man carrying many sticks on his back. I can see his strong biceps bulging and I know the weight is heavy on his back. He is not a big man but carries the load with expertise. He is gracious to allow my photographs.
Last night at dinner, I had a conversation with Dale. He has practiced pediatric medicine his entire life and is now retired. He hopes his wife will travel with him next year to El Salvador (he will not tell her about the scorpion in Andrea’s suitcase. Yesterday he was able to visit with a Salvadoran family who he has helped to sponsor. A few years ago, he referred the young girl to an El Salvadoran children’s hospital. The child had Lupus and has since died. Lupus in children is quite deadly. He has stayed in contact with and sponsored financially, this family. He helped buy them a new home and also they bought the mother a sewing machine and taught her to sew so she would have a skill that could help support the family. The “father” is long absent. The family missed the girl who dies and Dale has tears in his eyes as he tells the story of the family to me (or maybe my tears seem to be his because my eyes are blurry. I took several photos and will send them to Dale.
Thoughts on the clinics:
· The Farmacia has blaring music. Melissa likes to listen to music and has an e-collection that is quite diverse.
· The room dividers in clinic are blue tarps.
· On the streets outside the school/church, there is often blaring voices. I finally peeked through the scalloped bricks to see a man walking the street below carrying a megaphone and shouting. I asked Sister Amalia what he was saying and she stated it was all religious. He is an evangelist sort of person.
· The sound of loud clanky cowbells. All the street vendors use these bells and ring them to call attention to their products.
· No soap in the bathroom (unisex) and no sanitizer. A fundamental thing to prevent the spread of infection and yet, no exists and we are holding clinic, seeing hundreds of patients.
Another reflection: in the church on the grounds where we hold clinic, are a series of black and white photos in 8x10 size. I started to look at them closely and realized they are of the murder of Monsenor Oscar Romero in 1980. He was killed while giving the homily. The photographs (in black and white) are quite graphic; he was shot in the face. A feeling of deep horror came over me as I went through the sequences. There fifteen framed photographs. Sister Susan tells me that there happened to be a reported in the church and he captured the event.
Monsenor Romero:
No me consideren ni juez ni enemigo. Soy simplemente el pastor, el hermano, el amigo de este pueblo, que sabe de sus sufrimientos, de sus hambres, de sus angustias. Y en nombre de esas voces, yo levanto mi voz para decir: no idolatren sis riquezas, no las salven de manerea que dejen morir de hambre a los demas. (Homilia 6 de enero de 1980.)
Translated:
I do not consider or judge or enemy. I'm just the pastor's brother, the friend of these people who know their sufferings, their hunger, their anxieties. And on behalf of those voices, I raise my voice to say: do not idolize wealth system, not to stop manerea saved from starving others. (Homily January 6, 1980.)
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
I am grateful to Andrea who has helped me and others stay connected or has taught us something about using our Apple or other application technology while so far from the networks we know. It won’t be a stretch to jump back and forth between PC and i-Pad once I know how to do everything and have it cemented into the memory bank. This is my first travel trip with my new i-pad. I am fine with photo downloads and have plenty of memory left (9GBs), but I am not skilled in the ways of using the internet, but have done fine with my Paz Salud laptop for posting the blogs (thank goodness for copy/paste) which is a “bubble” in the i-pod. Those of readers who have i-pod, know what the bubble is.
And what an amazing day it has been. I have had so much fun. I cannot find anyone who does not want their photo taken and no one who will not return my smile and wave, unless they are a shy, shy child. I wrote notes in my notebook all day long. I photographed early, the people at the gate. They are let in carefully and apparently, only on referral. I saw a very few more blonde-reddish haired persons, (all children). And outside the gate this morning I saw my first “dyed red-blonde” head, a middle aged woman, clearly Hispanic with painted on eyebrows. The natural haircolor is best, like everywhere! I also saw an old woman, the “one with the fluffy hair and the bad eye” standing outside the gate. She was here all day yesterday, but I don’t think she came back in today as I did not see her here today.
I met more of the students from International University today. I didn’t see David today, but he is a rocket scientist (as they say). They are all amazing! So, so bright, all very good English and all goal-oriented. Their lives sit before them and for the most part they only need by willing to make every dream come true. They, these kids are the more fortunate ones here, and our ministry is with the poor. Sebastian and Ali come in together. He is the artist who also wants to be a something else but does not know yet. I asked him if he brought his art to show me and he said ahhhhhh, I forgot. Today was Sebastian’s last day at the clinic. Ali piped up and said, I’ll bring some of his art, I have to stop by his house anyway. And I reminded her at the end of the day – I hope she remembers. I scored points with Sebastian. He was wearing a Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon 1972 concert shirt. I told Sebastian I saw Pink Floyd in concern at Arizona State University in 1974. He said “REALLLLLLY???” J And Ali said; you were a little wild once? And I smiled and said yes. Smiles. I also met Carlos, the remarkable red-headed student who speaks four languages. He is from El Salvador but has lived in Switzerland for several years. He gets his hair color from his mom and he is remarkably a straight shooter kid. I asked him whether he had decided what he wants to do when he grows up and he said “no, I am interested in so many things I cannot decide.” Well, no hurry, he is a junior! One more student story: I met Aldo too. He is at the same International School. There are several international schools: German, English, British and French. The grades are all under one roof; from kinder-5 to 12th grade. The schools are all in San Salvador and are considered the best schools. Aldo wants to be a doctor and will likely go to school in San Salvador or another Central-American school. He remarks that getting into med school in the states is very hard. And, he loves his country and wants to be a doctor here. Admirable, as his country needs him. I am bold and tell him he reminds me of a Greek God. He is dark with curly hair all in a tousle and has very fine features. I tell him he is very handsome and he blushes but accepts the compliment.
And today I met a campesino who I photographed of course. He was wearing a big cowboy hat that had emblazoned the words: RODEO, Texas. Through an interpreter (Carlos from Honduras) I asked him about his hat. I was curious whether he purchased the hat or perhaps it was a gift. He bought it because he likes rodeo and bull fights. I learn through the interpreter that he is quite a good rider of horses. A rodeo in Spanish is called: Jaripeo (pronounced hairy-pay-o). This man is Pedro Lopez and he is happy to have his picture taken.
Regarding immunizations and infant mortality, Deb tells me that she has gathered information on this subject. The vaccinations given the El Salvadoran children mimic that of the United States. And there are government-owned clinics that travel to the rural areas and give the vaccinations. And there is education of the what and when of vaccination. I am grateful for this.
This trip has helped me gain new respect for the MDs. Because of the job that I have, my profession in healthcare quality and safety, I often have to focus on the things that go wrong. American healthcare can do much harm. That said, I reflect back on the comments from the student and others on the difficulty of school and I think that perhaps staying in one native land is the very best thing. Western medicine is mostly exclusive to other “non-traditional” forms of healing and that may be less so in other developing nations, where belief and ritual can heal mightily. And speaking of doctors, the three El Salvadoran doctors who held the government clinic on the other side, do not speak any English.
The day ended by 7 PM; the Ojas clinic had many patients. The Catholic Church started playing church music from the bell tower at about 6 PM. It was very loud and very lovely, and a great end to the clinic day and likely a challenge to the providers left in Ojas (yes, it was loud).
Today the providers and volunteers saw 350 patients, which translate to much more given the multiple clinic visits.
And what an amazing day it has been. I have had so much fun. I cannot find anyone who does not want their photo taken and no one who will not return my smile and wave, unless they are a shy, shy child. I wrote notes in my notebook all day long. I photographed early, the people at the gate. They are let in carefully and apparently, only on referral. I saw a very few more blonde-reddish haired persons, (all children). And outside the gate this morning I saw my first “dyed red-blonde” head, a middle aged woman, clearly Hispanic with painted on eyebrows. The natural haircolor is best, like everywhere! I also saw an old woman, the “one with the fluffy hair and the bad eye” standing outside the gate. She was here all day yesterday, but I don’t think she came back in today as I did not see her here today.
I met more of the students from International University today. I didn’t see David today, but he is a rocket scientist (as they say). They are all amazing! So, so bright, all very good English and all goal-oriented. Their lives sit before them and for the most part they only need by willing to make every dream come true. They, these kids are the more fortunate ones here, and our ministry is with the poor. Sebastian and Ali come in together. He is the artist who also wants to be a something else but does not know yet. I asked him if he brought his art to show me and he said ahhhhhh, I forgot. Today was Sebastian’s last day at the clinic. Ali piped up and said, I’ll bring some of his art, I have to stop by his house anyway. And I reminded her at the end of the day – I hope she remembers. I scored points with Sebastian. He was wearing a Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon 1972 concert shirt. I told Sebastian I saw Pink Floyd in concern at Arizona State University in 1974. He said “REALLLLLLY???” J And Ali said; you were a little wild once? And I smiled and said yes. Smiles. I also met Carlos, the remarkable red-headed student who speaks four languages. He is from El Salvador but has lived in Switzerland for several years. He gets his hair color from his mom and he is remarkably a straight shooter kid. I asked him whether he had decided what he wants to do when he grows up and he said “no, I am interested in so many things I cannot decide.” Well, no hurry, he is a junior! One more student story: I met Aldo too. He is at the same International School. There are several international schools: German, English, British and French. The grades are all under one roof; from kinder-5 to 12th grade. The schools are all in San Salvador and are considered the best schools. Aldo wants to be a doctor and will likely go to school in San Salvador or another Central-American school. He remarks that getting into med school in the states is very hard. And, he loves his country and wants to be a doctor here. Admirable, as his country needs him. I am bold and tell him he reminds me of a Greek God. He is dark with curly hair all in a tousle and has very fine features. I tell him he is very handsome and he blushes but accepts the compliment.
And today I met a campesino who I photographed of course. He was wearing a big cowboy hat that had emblazoned the words: RODEO, Texas. Through an interpreter (Carlos from Honduras) I asked him about his hat. I was curious whether he purchased the hat or perhaps it was a gift. He bought it because he likes rodeo and bull fights. I learn through the interpreter that he is quite a good rider of horses. A rodeo in Spanish is called: Jaripeo (pronounced hairy-pay-o). This man is Pedro Lopez and he is happy to have his picture taken.
Regarding immunizations and infant mortality, Deb tells me that she has gathered information on this subject. The vaccinations given the El Salvadoran children mimic that of the United States. And there are government-owned clinics that travel to the rural areas and give the vaccinations. And there is education of the what and when of vaccination. I am grateful for this.
This trip has helped me gain new respect for the MDs. Because of the job that I have, my profession in healthcare quality and safety, I often have to focus on the things that go wrong. American healthcare can do much harm. That said, I reflect back on the comments from the student and others on the difficulty of school and I think that perhaps staying in one native land is the very best thing. Western medicine is mostly exclusive to other “non-traditional” forms of healing and that may be less so in other developing nations, where belief and ritual can heal mightily. And speaking of doctors, the three El Salvadoran doctors who held the government clinic on the other side, do not speak any English.
The day ended by 7 PM; the Ojas clinic had many patients. The Catholic Church started playing church music from the bell tower at about 6 PM. It was very loud and very lovely, and a great end to the clinic day and likely a challenge to the providers left in Ojas (yes, it was loud).
Today the providers and volunteers saw 350 patients, which translate to much more given the multiple clinic visits.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The day started with a surprise for Andrea. She found a scorpion in her suitcase. The scorpion had crawled between layers of clothes and Andrea says she it touched it twice as she put her hand into the suitcase to get an item of clothing, before realizing what it was. Had she been stung by the scorpion, she would have had a terrible, terrible day. The scorpion variety that are common in Arizona, if one is stung, it is rarely deadly, but they are quite toxic and one will get very ill. Last night I was ill from another sort of bug, and it was a long night. I woke exhausted. I started some Cipro and that seemed to help, but I remained exhausted during the day, sleeping sitting up for a few hours when I wasn’t wandering and taking photographs. As I may have mentioned earlier, the groups enter the clinics in two waves. A morning wave and a mid-day wave. Today we saw 350 patients, but this translates to more visits because many of these patients go to two or three clinics. It takes a couple of days, but I am getting into the groove and more comfortable with taking pictures of people’s souls. Many of the Salvadorians seems shy and especially the elderly seem resigned and sad. But when I smile, wave, and use the terms sympatico and bonita, I elicit broad recognition and smiles. Amongst the children, there seems to be cooperation and exuberance but little fighting. Like the range of personality types, some are shy, some show-offs, some quiet and some yelling to have their pictures taken. At one point today, Lorne came to get me and said; “come take a picture of this man, he has a machete.” The old campesinos carry the machetes; many wear cowboy hats and most are the deep color of coffee beans having spent so many years in the sun. Many of the older women like to touch and hold hands freely expressing hugs and arms around the waist. All watch out for the children and the elderly. As the man with the machete left the general medicine clinic he walked to the waiting line for the eye clinic. I found a volunteer student who could speak to the campesinos. He got him to leave his spot in the eye line (his desk) and come into the compound courtyard, so I could photograph him. He was very stoic. After we finished the photographing and before be re-sheathed his machete, I ran my fingers down the blade. Like the one I saw yesterday, that machete had fought many fields. The machete and the cowboy hat; the trademarks of a campesino.
The sea of human faces is a rich box of chocolates. Some are dark and very dark and some are light and very light. Some of the Salvadorians that are quite dark seem Indian. One child today was clearly Salvadorian but had reddish-blonde hair, the only one I have noted thus far. Most heads of hair are quite dark, silky or curly and thick. Unlike American teenagers, I have not seen any girl who has tried to color her hair.
By 5:15 PM there are far fewer people, but I can tell by those left, that it will be another later night. I look around the compound and see many of the same faces that I saw earlier in the day. One physician mentioned “this is like a normal day at home: 8:00 AM – about 6:30, except that I am actually getting lunch.” And, the physicians and providers are seeing many more patients than usual. It is likely a long day for many of the patients too.
In terms of the Salvadorians, I think I can tell those without running water, for they are the most “grubby.” In fact, without running water, much of the town is grubby. It is a dusty place and I look at the feet of the people and see feet that look as though they have not been washed often. I mention this as an observation not as a criticism. I have great fondness for these people that spend lives eked out with little but the love and the getting by they must do. Like people everywhere though, they must have their rituals and their celebrations. Many Salvadorians, even when I say “no hablo espanol” continue to talk rapidly and in several sentences. Perhaps they do not understand that I am so ignorant of their language. Eventually, I shrug and we all laugh and that is the end of the non-communication, except for the smiles. J Another observation today; most Salvadorians have cell phones and they seem to use them like Americans. I see and talking, especially among the youth, texting.
In the eye clinic, it is just a rich experience for me to watch the faces of the Salvadorans who are trying on glasses. For some, they may be truly seeing for the first time. A volunteer holds up the mirror for the patient trying on the glasses and I see delight on their faces. Delight for visual acuity and delight for the way the glasses look on their faces. Some try on several pairs, as we would in America, until we find the fit and the style.
In the clinic today, there was an armed policeman. He was friendly, but his rifle strapped across his chest somewhat intimidating. He means to protect. He smiles and is friendly. Sr. Amelia tells me that she spoke with him and he said “the government sent me to protect Sr. Susan.” And she notes, that he follows her around the clinic. If Sr. Susan moves, so does the policeman. Someone says that a psychiatrist was murdered recently. El Salvador does have one of the highest per capita murder rates. Perhaps the policeman protects us all.
The waiting lines for the eye clinic are five rows of school-child desks about twelve deep. As we are in a church-school compound, it is what we have for seats in one area. In the Pediatric clinic, one child I am photographing bursts into wailing tears when I take his photo. Who knows why he cries, but odd things can frighten children. I hope this is not a lasting memory for this boy. The Pediatrician Norm says “it’s amazing; they have the same problems that I see at home.” Childhood sickness, not eating right, not growing right. One young mother of sixteen (who looks twelve) has a one-month old baby. She needs formula because she has no milk, too young perhaps. It may be the first of many babies if she does not use birth control. Sister Amalie tells me that there are many broken families. Some of the men come to America for work to support the families in El Salvador, and start new families in America.
I finish the day by finally eating a little dinner and then I write in the Meanderings/journal blog. We were to have our group photo on Monday at the end of the day, but we ran out of time (translate light). We were to do this tomorrow morning but Sister Susan must go very early to the clinic to figure out some of the plans for Wednesday. Apparently, and news to Kathy, a government organization was scheduled to deliver a clinic to the people (maybe a select population) in another area of the compound. She is not sure how these folks are to be registered/directed. So group photo on Thursday AM scheduled instead.
The day started with a surprise for Andrea. She found a scorpion in her suitcase. The scorpion had crawled between layers of clothes and Andrea says she it touched it twice as she put her hand into the suitcase to get an item of clothing, before realizing what it was. Had she been stung by the scorpion, she would have had a terrible, terrible day. The scorpion variety that are common in Arizona, if one is stung, it is rarely deadly, but they are quite toxic and one will get very ill. Last night I was ill from another sort of bug, and it was a long night. I woke exhausted. I started some Cipro and that seemed to help, but I remained exhausted during the day, sleeping sitting up for a few hours when I wasn’t wandering and taking photographs. As I may have mentioned earlier, the groups enter the clinics in two waves. A morning wave and a mid-day wave. Today we saw 350 patients, but this translates to more visits because many of these patients go to two or three clinics. It takes a couple of days, but I am getting into the groove and more comfortable with taking pictures of people’s souls. Many of the Salvadorians seems shy and especially the elderly seem resigned and sad. But when I smile, wave, and use the terms sympatico and bonita, I elicit broad recognition and smiles. Amongst the children, there seems to be cooperation and exuberance but little fighting. Like the range of personality types, some are shy, some show-offs, some quiet and some yelling to have their pictures taken. At one point today, Lorne came to get me and said; “come take a picture of this man, he has a machete.” The old campesinos carry the machetes; many wear cowboy hats and most are the deep color of coffee beans having spent so many years in the sun. Many of the older women like to touch and hold hands freely expressing hugs and arms around the waist. All watch out for the children and the elderly. As the man with the machete left the general medicine clinic he walked to the waiting line for the eye clinic. I found a volunteer student who could speak to the campesinos. He got him to leave his spot in the eye line (his desk) and come into the compound courtyard, so I could photograph him. He was very stoic. After we finished the photographing and before be re-sheathed his machete, I ran my fingers down the blade. Like the one I saw yesterday, that machete had fought many fields. The machete and the cowboy hat; the trademarks of a campesino.
The sea of human faces is a rich box of chocolates. Some are dark and very dark and some are light and very light. Some of the Salvadorians that are quite dark seem Indian. One child today was clearly Salvadorian but had reddish-blonde hair, the only one I have noted thus far. Most heads of hair are quite dark, silky or curly and thick. Unlike American teenagers, I have not seen any girl who has tried to color her hair.
By 5:15 PM there are far fewer people, but I can tell by those left, that it will be another later night. I look around the compound and see many of the same faces that I saw earlier in the day. One physician mentioned “this is like a normal day at home: 8:00 AM – about 6:30, except that I am actually getting lunch.” And, the physicians and providers are seeing many more patients than usual. It is likely a long day for many of the patients too.
In terms of the Salvadorians, I think I can tell those without running water, for they are the most “grubby.” In fact, without running water, much of the town is grubby. It is a dusty place and I look at the feet of the people and see feet that look as though they have not been washed often. I mention this as an observation not as a criticism. I have great fondness for these people that spend lives eked out with little but the love and the getting by they must do. Like people everywhere though, they must have their rituals and their celebrations. Many Salvadorians, even when I say “no hablo espanol” continue to talk rapidly and in several sentences. Perhaps they do not understand that I am so ignorant of their language. Eventually, I shrug and we all laugh and that is the end of the non-communication, except for the smiles. J Another observation today; most Salvadorians have cell phones and they seem to use them like Americans. I see and talking, especially among the youth, texting.
In the eye clinic, it is just a rich experience for me to watch the faces of the Salvadorans who are trying on glasses. For some, they may be truly seeing for the first time. A volunteer holds up the mirror for the patient trying on the glasses and I see delight on their faces. Delight for visual acuity and delight for the way the glasses look on their faces. Some try on several pairs, as we would in America, until we find the fit and the style.
In the clinic today, there was an armed policeman. He was friendly, but his rifle strapped across his chest somewhat intimidating. He means to protect. He smiles and is friendly. Sr. Amelia tells me that she spoke with him and he said “the government sent me to protect Sr. Susan.” And she notes, that he follows her around the clinic. If Sr. Susan moves, so does the policeman. Someone says that a psychiatrist was murdered recently. El Salvador does have one of the highest per capita murder rates. Perhaps the policeman protects us all.
The waiting lines for the eye clinic are five rows of school-child desks about twelve deep. As we are in a church-school compound, it is what we have for seats in one area. In the Pediatric clinic, one child I am photographing bursts into wailing tears when I take his photo. Who knows why he cries, but odd things can frighten children. I hope this is not a lasting memory for this boy. The Pediatrician Norm says “it’s amazing; they have the same problems that I see at home.” Childhood sickness, not eating right, not growing right. One young mother of sixteen (who looks twelve) has a one-month old baby. She needs formula because she has no milk, too young perhaps. It may be the first of many babies if she does not use birth control. Sister Amalie tells me that there are many broken families. Some of the men come to America for work to support the families in El Salvador, and start new families in America.
I finish the day by finally eating a little dinner and then I write in the Meanderings/journal blog. We were to have our group photo on Monday at the end of the day, but we ran out of time (translate light). We were to do this tomorrow morning but Sister Susan must go very early to the clinic to figure out some of the plans for Wednesday. Apparently, and news to Kathy, a government organization was scheduled to deliver a clinic to the people (maybe a select population) in another area of the compound. She is not sure how these folks are to be registered/directed. So group photo on Thursday AM scheduled instead.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Monday, February 6, 2012
Clinics this week and Pas Salud volunteers:
Ojas 1: Visual acuity exams were done by several El Salvadoran volunteers, including Sebastian, Giselle, and Gabriel.
Ojas 2: Eye Exams are staffed with three optometrists: Bob, Ken and Walt. Also in clinic were Andrea (volunteer and technical expert!), and two student volunteers.
Ojas 3: Eyeglass Clinic is staffed with Heather (optometrist), Margaret (interpreter), Mary (RN), Sr. Marilee, and Leanne. Central American volunteers included Rosa and Carlos ( from Honduras).
Farmacia: In the Pharmacy is Melissa (MD), Moises (RN), Kathy Garcia, and two young students who speak perfect English; Sebastian and David. Also staffing the Farmacia was Clara, El Salvadoran doctora-candidate. The two high school students sit and package hundreds of Tylenol paid relievers. Melissa has Central American music blasting from the miniscule speaker attached to her i-phone.
Medicina General: In Family Practice is Jon (MD), Lorne (MD), Charlotte (MD), Britt (med student) and Blanca, Elba and Fidel; interpreters. Also volunteering were El Salvadorans: Jieme and doctora Anglina
Mujeres: In Women’s Health is Deb (CNM), Pam (interpreter) and Anna (interpreter). Salvador, a Salvadorian Radiologist helping to direct traffic. And finally;
Ninos: Peds was staffed by Norm, Dale, and interpreters Pat and Lysette.
Sisters: Susan and Amalia were everywhere, helping, coaching, answering questions and being generally omnipotent (thankfully)!
Later in the afternoon on Monday, I met Michael (last name omitted). He stated that he started a NGO (non-governmental organization) in San Joe Villanueva ten years ago. He states he was here during the Peace Corp forty years ago, and then ten years ago, he returned to San Jose Villanueva to renew his marriage vows and has been here ever since. He drove past and stopped twice on Sunday as our group hiked up the hill. He has some distain for groups like ours that come in only twice a year, but also states he is Catholic and the churches endorse and support these missions. He was kind and congenial but talked about groups like ours “sweeping in like Santa Claus from the great white north to rescue us.” While I had similar thoughts during the 2005 Mission trip, I have changed my mind somewhat. Part of what we do is education. Education is never wasted! And while the pharmaceuticals handed out, even if only vitamins, are short-lived, we may actually cure a deficit with the right combination; but we also give HOPE to people. We are kind and loving and with the exam and the short-lived drugs, comes the education and the teachings that hopefully, one more iteration, helps cement the standards such as follow-up with a local clinic or use the water filters to help eliminate water-borne parasites.
Michael also talks about how unsafe it can be here while at the same time, espousing great love for the local people. He drove up and down the street twice while we were out walking and he stops. He likes to give advice to Americans. He tells me that just across the street from the Centro Salesiano Ayaguala compound, there is a very bad gang and that two bodies found in the woods recently, right across the highway. Apparently, Michael coordinates many water and septic projects with groups such as Engineers without borders.
Clinic went until 6:30, most of the clinics had closed by about 5:45, but Anos’ still had several patients to go. Although it was Anos that kept us here late and we had to see all the patients; both Women’s Health (Mujeres) and Ojas #2 fit in just a few more patients. We were back at the Compound at 7 PM and the caregivers are relaxed and happy. On the bus home, Kathy spoke for the first 10 minutes on the bus and debriefed the caregivers. Once Kathy finished, the bus erupted in a deafening din of shared experiences from the day. For me, I am tired and sleep sitting up for a short period of time.
Ojas 1: Visual acuity exams were done by several El Salvadoran volunteers, including Sebastian, Giselle, and Gabriel.
Ojas 2: Eye Exams are staffed with three optometrists: Bob, Ken and Walt. Also in clinic were Andrea (volunteer and technical expert!), and two student volunteers.
Ojas 3: Eyeglass Clinic is staffed with Heather (optometrist), Margaret (interpreter), Mary (RN), Sr. Marilee, and Leanne. Central American volunteers included Rosa and Carlos ( from Honduras).
Farmacia: In the Pharmacy is Melissa (MD), Moises (RN), Kathy Garcia, and two young students who speak perfect English; Sebastian and David. Also staffing the Farmacia was Clara, El Salvadoran doctora-candidate. The two high school students sit and package hundreds of Tylenol paid relievers. Melissa has Central American music blasting from the miniscule speaker attached to her i-phone.
Medicina General: In Family Practice is Jon (MD), Lorne (MD), Charlotte (MD), Britt (med student) and Blanca, Elba and Fidel; interpreters. Also volunteering were El Salvadorans: Jieme and doctora Anglina
Mujeres: In Women’s Health is Deb (CNM), Pam (interpreter) and Anna (interpreter). Salvador, a Salvadorian Radiologist helping to direct traffic. And finally;
Ninos: Peds was staffed by Norm, Dale, and interpreters Pat and Lysette.
Sisters: Susan and Amalia were everywhere, helping, coaching, answering questions and being generally omnipotent (thankfully)!
Later in the afternoon on Monday, I met Michael (last name omitted). He stated that he started a NGO (non-governmental organization) in San Joe Villanueva ten years ago. He states he was here during the Peace Corp forty years ago, and then ten years ago, he returned to San Jose Villanueva to renew his marriage vows and has been here ever since. He drove past and stopped twice on Sunday as our group hiked up the hill. He has some distain for groups like ours that come in only twice a year, but also states he is Catholic and the churches endorse and support these missions. He was kind and congenial but talked about groups like ours “sweeping in like Santa Claus from the great white north to rescue us.” While I had similar thoughts during the 2005 Mission trip, I have changed my mind somewhat. Part of what we do is education. Education is never wasted! And while the pharmaceuticals handed out, even if only vitamins, are short-lived, we may actually cure a deficit with the right combination; but we also give HOPE to people. We are kind and loving and with the exam and the short-lived drugs, comes the education and the teachings that hopefully, one more iteration, helps cement the standards such as follow-up with a local clinic or use the water filters to help eliminate water-borne parasites.
Michael also talks about how unsafe it can be here while at the same time, espousing great love for the local people. He drove up and down the street twice while we were out walking and he stops. He likes to give advice to Americans. He tells me that just across the street from the Centro Salesiano Ayaguala compound, there is a very bad gang and that two bodies found in the woods recently, right across the highway. Apparently, Michael coordinates many water and septic projects with groups such as Engineers without borders.
Clinic went until 6:30, most of the clinics had closed by about 5:45, but Anos’ still had several patients to go. Although it was Anos that kept us here late and we had to see all the patients; both Women’s Health (Mujeres) and Ojas #2 fit in just a few more patients. We were back at the Compound at 7 PM and the caregivers are relaxed and happy. On the bus home, Kathy spoke for the first 10 minutes on the bus and debriefed the caregivers. Once Kathy finished, the bus erupted in a deafening din of shared experiences from the day. For me, I am tired and sleep sitting up for a short period of time.
Monday, February 6, 2012
PS on the Footnotes
Sorry, I erroneously eliminated my footnote sources from the 2/4/12 Meanderings post earlier this afternoon:
(a) Footnote: Bureau of Western Hemisphere Affairs (11/10/2011)
(b) Footnote: Sr. Susan Dewitt, PeaceHealth
See you later, Senora Barbara
(a) Footnote: Bureau of Western Hemisphere Affairs (11/10/2011)
(b) Footnote: Sr. Susan Dewitt, PeaceHealth
See you later, Senora Barbara
Monday, February 6, 2012
Breakfast at the usual 6:30 AM for the week and all are on the bus by 7:15. Today, we all wear our Paz Salud shirts. It is quite windy here today and that helps cool us down. The line did not seem as long as when I was here (different clinic location) in 2005. The local teams have well-coordinated the Mission clinic, according to Kathy Garcia. The rooms are warm but all have fans, some installed for the schoolrooms. I have my first moment of panic, my complex camera has me feeling insecure and it takes a bit of tenacity to start photographing the doctors, the patients, the waiting Salvadorians. For the most part, the children love to be photographed and to look at what I have on the small screen. The older, rural campesinos sometimes look away or down, but their weary life-worn faces are interesting to me and I want to capture their spirits. If I say sympatico (handsome) or bonito (pretty) I can sometimes bring them out of their shyness. I simply have to be bold and take photo after photo. I elected to leave my i-pad (for photo downloads) and my laptop at the retreat house, but decided that I need to download photos and Herman (pronounced air-non) is traversing back and forth, so I take a trip with him.
Now at 1 PM, Sr. Susan says that we have already seen 250 patients.
Now at 1 PM, Sr. Susan says that we have already seen 250 patients.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Breakfast starts at 6:30 am today, this is the most leisurely day we will have this week. We must be on the bus at 9:15, and we will travel to the area where the clinic is to be held. Mass is at 10:00 for those who wish, on the same grounds as the clinic. The sun slowly comes up, it is cool and overcast this morning, but bright sun by 8:30. We board the bus at 0915 and head for the San José Villanueva school and church. San José Villanueva had a population of about 13,500 in the 2007 census and is likely larger now. Several volunteers decided to walk among the main street in the village and about two-thirds of the volunteers went to mass. The mass was held in Spanish, so I decided that I would walk instead. By 11:00, we were back at the school/church and ready to set up for the day. We gathered in the church and the priest welcomed us in Spanish, with Moises interpreting. From there we had to unload the large van with all our tubs and supplies. Although the van was quite full, we unloaded quickly. We set up clinics in the various schoolrooms, of which there were five, about 300 sq feet each. We have two pediatric clinics, family practice, women’s health, pharmacy and a breakroom for the Paz Salud volunteers.
Lunch was served at about 12:30. Kathy Garcia remarked to the volunteers that the local Salvadorans had been taught in the methods of proper and safe food handling and that eating the food during the day was not going to be problematic for us. Last trip I was sick for one day, so I am not anxious to relive that experience. Lunch was chicken cooked outside on a big open-flame grill, a beet-potato-carrot salad that was positively ravishing dark pink in color (the beets), rice with corn, and fresh melons. For dessert, I saw bowls of ice cream being served. The afternoon was long and hot, but a glimpse into what the next five days would hold for us. One of the aspects of this mission trip that will remain in my memory for a long time may be the music. Throughout the entire afternoon, several groups were conducting mass in the church. Sister Amalia remarked on the music and called it the evangelical Catholic. At one point, I was so drawn to the church, that I stepped inside for a few minutes and was transformed. The deep and riveting music caught my soul and as I watched many, many (maybe two hundred person in the church) Salvadorans sing, sway, and gesture to the music. From the smallest child to the oldest person, they all were engaged in the music, smiling and clapping. After standing in the doorway for a few minutes, I moved inside the heavy doors and stood. In a few minutes, a very old and tiny woman dressed all in white (one of the sisters I believe) came up to me and gestured that I come in to a bench. I shook my head no, but she insisted, so I entered and stood for a few minutes. The power and the beauty of the music so moved me that soon my eyes filled with tears, and then they streamed down my face. What is it about churches? I am often moved to tears with the music.
Most of the afternoon for several of the volunteers was spent decanting the vitamins. We had tub after tub of vitamins, all of which had to be opened, measured and poured into small plastic bags which we hand-tied. There must have been a million vitamins: children, adults and pre-natal. Each person whom is seen in the clinic in the next five days will be sent home with vitamins. We worked at this project, about ten of us until 5:30 when the last bottle was emptied and packaged.
And, the providers set up their clinic space, blue tarps marking exam rooms. The pharmacia was quite the project too. Melissa, Moises and Kathy spend the balance of the day getting the pharmacy into ship shape.
We are back at the compound by 6:30 for dinner and a debrief for the providers. Melissa and Kathy are leading the team. A very detailed inventory of the pharmacy exists and Kathy says this is the first time ever. Melissa is an MD not a Pharmacist, but she is willing and certainly capable to do the job of pharmacist.
I will also remember the children from today. Most like to be photographed and like even better when I can show them the small postage-sized stamp that has captured their image. They laugh and giggle. Some of them want to touch me, one little boy pats me and puts his arm around my waist. I want to gather them up in one big embrace.
I ended my day by watching flash after flash in the sky – a brilliant electrical storm without thunder, but in rapid fire for quite a long time (hour or more).
Lunch was served at about 12:30. Kathy Garcia remarked to the volunteers that the local Salvadorans had been taught in the methods of proper and safe food handling and that eating the food during the day was not going to be problematic for us. Last trip I was sick for one day, so I am not anxious to relive that experience. Lunch was chicken cooked outside on a big open-flame grill, a beet-potato-carrot salad that was positively ravishing dark pink in color (the beets), rice with corn, and fresh melons. For dessert, I saw bowls of ice cream being served. The afternoon was long and hot, but a glimpse into what the next five days would hold for us. One of the aspects of this mission trip that will remain in my memory for a long time may be the music. Throughout the entire afternoon, several groups were conducting mass in the church. Sister Amalia remarked on the music and called it the evangelical Catholic. At one point, I was so drawn to the church, that I stepped inside for a few minutes and was transformed. The deep and riveting music caught my soul and as I watched many, many (maybe two hundred person in the church) Salvadorans sing, sway, and gesture to the music. From the smallest child to the oldest person, they all were engaged in the music, smiling and clapping. After standing in the doorway for a few minutes, I moved inside the heavy doors and stood. In a few minutes, a very old and tiny woman dressed all in white (one of the sisters I believe) came up to me and gestured that I come in to a bench. I shook my head no, but she insisted, so I entered and stood for a few minutes. The power and the beauty of the music so moved me that soon my eyes filled with tears, and then they streamed down my face. What is it about churches? I am often moved to tears with the music.
Most of the afternoon for several of the volunteers was spent decanting the vitamins. We had tub after tub of vitamins, all of which had to be opened, measured and poured into small plastic bags which we hand-tied. There must have been a million vitamins: children, adults and pre-natal. Each person whom is seen in the clinic in the next five days will be sent home with vitamins. We worked at this project, about ten of us until 5:30 when the last bottle was emptied and packaged.
And, the providers set up their clinic space, blue tarps marking exam rooms. The pharmacia was quite the project too. Melissa, Moises and Kathy spend the balance of the day getting the pharmacy into ship shape.
We are back at the compound by 6:30 for dinner and a debrief for the providers. Melissa and Kathy are leading the team. A very detailed inventory of the pharmacy exists and Kathy says this is the first time ever. Melissa is an MD not a Pharmacist, but she is willing and certainly capable to do the job of pharmacist.
I will also remember the children from today. Most like to be photographed and like even better when I can show them the small postage-sized stamp that has captured their image. They laugh and giggle. Some of them want to touch me, one little boy pats me and puts his arm around my waist. I want to gather them up in one big embrace.
I ended my day by watching flash after flash in the sky – a brilliant electrical storm without thunder, but in rapid fire for quite a long time (hour or more).
Saturday 2/4/12
San José Villanueva Paz Salud Medical Mission, February 4 – 13, 2012
http://www.pazsalud.org/
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Paz Salud (PeaceHealth) medical mission leaves Seattle International Airport at 0800. It is a time of day, having arisen at 0400 for most of us (if not earlier) we would otherwise be working, starting Saturday house duties, catching up, snoozing, or some other activity that we look to renew or refresh our spirits over the weekend. Instead, 30 of us, wearing the bright yellow lanyards with our names, eagerly await the flight to Houston. From Houston, we will traverse to San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador.
I start my day working; it is one of my passions, my own deep pathos as well. Perhaps the rain has caused me to stay inside my shell (like a turtle) more than I might if I lived in a sunnier/warmer climate. I have said the only thing that cures my addition to work is sunshine. I shall see plenty of that in the next few days. Regardless, I have email to catch up with as usual, and a few small projects/communications that needed to come off my plate given that work connectivity will be nil for the next 10 days. I work at the airport too, for about an hour, after meeting a few fellow travelers early at the Continental counter. The blue Rubbermaid tubs, filled with supplies and vitamins are piled one on top of the other, so I recognize my group quickly. I am non-clinical and along for the role of photo-journalist. May I live up to my own expectations and those of Kathy Garcia.
The day dawned beautiful and sunny, almost warm for a Northwest place in the winter. The sun was not high in the sky, but filled my eyes with light as we taxied down the runway and gave birth to flight. Occasionally the wing would block the sun’s brilliance as we gained altitude. As always, I finger my Guadalupe (the Mexican Virgin Mary) who protects us as we lift. And internally, I say the words to the Lord’s Prayer, slipping into Our Mother who art in heaven… (once a feminist, always a feminist).
It appears from the in-flight magazine that we will fly over the following states once we leave Washington: Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado, and Oklahoma, then into Texas. From Houston, we will fly to San Salvador crossing, perhaps Mexico (the tip where Merida is located) and Honduras or Guatemala. At one moment not too far into the flight I look down and see sparsely populated miles of pure-brown, rolling terrain. The next moment I look down and see all white, snow abounding on low areas as well as mountains. I am doing all my catch-up reading on El Salvador once I know we are firmly air-bound. The flight to Houston is four hours and the flight to San Salvador; three hours. Flying is a lovely experience for the views. I sit next to a Salvadoran woman living in Eugene and working as a caregiver at PeaceHealth. Her name is Elba and she has a Paz Salud lanyard on. She is travelling with her elderly mother who is introduced as Angelina. She is a tiny frail woman, her beautiful face lined with the years of time and experience. Mrs. Angelina wears a pretty, lacey embroidered dress and a ski cap to keep her head warm. The wedding band on her left ring finger is well worn, smoothed with the touches of each year. I shake her cold hand and tell her my name. I respect the daughter’s kind attention to her mother. This is the way that it is supposed to be.
Before I sign off this entry, a few facts about El Salvador (see footnote a):
· The population is about 6.1 million.
· El Salvador as a country is about the size of Massachusetts (8008 sq. miles).
· Mountains separate the country into three regions, and reportedly the mountains helped make the guerrilla fighters effective for their hiding places and camps during the 1980s civil war. Here the U.S. Government sided with the El Salvadoran government and fought against the FMLN (Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front) now a reformed and ruling political party under President Funes, elected in 2009. Six political parties are represented in the El Salvador legislature. El Salvador participates in several free trade agreements and is in close political favor and alliance with the United States.
· About 77,000, many of them innocent citizens, were killed during the period of civil unrest.
· The Peace Accord was signed in 1992.
· Approximately 22% of El Salvador’s population lives in the U.S.; most formal post-high school education is received in the U.S., and remittances to families from members living in the U.S. supplements the income of many working families.
· The Government is now a republic. President Obama made a trip to San Salvador in spring of 2011.
· The predominant religions: Catholic and Protestant and about 6% of the population are Caucasian.
· The educational system is free to all children through grade 12 (mandatory to 9th grade). Literacy is 86.1% nationally.
· Per capita income $3431 with purchasing parity of $7200.
The following is a direct quote (see footnote b):
· Health care in El Salvador for most people comes through one of two government-run programs. The Ministry of Public Health and Social Welfare is responsible for about 80% of the population, including people who work in the informal economy, campesinos, families living in poverty. ISSS or Seguridad Social is a health insurance program which provides coverage to workers in private enterprise or government employees; ISSS maintains clinics, hospitals and specialty centers and takes care of about 17% of the population. The well-to-do – the remaining 3% of the population - usually go to private doctors and private hospitals.
· San José Villanueva has some large pockets of poverty which are shown in a study of Urban Poverty and Social Exclusion published in 2010. The map shows areas around the town center as having extreme and high levels of poverty, with the town center itself having a moderate level. This year a national newspaper, La Prensa Grafica, described a UN study that showed San José Villanueva as one of seven municipalities in the country with the highest levels of malnutrition among children under 5 years. El Salvador’s national average for malnourished children is 19 % in urban areas, 24 % in the country. In San José Villanueva malnutrition was measured at 38%.
We were delayed at the airport for about an hour and a half, some difficulties with a tub and its match to someone who had already cleared security and customs. The elderly Angelina meets her family at the curbside. All have arrived to honor her. From smaller children, to teenagers to middle-aged parents and siblings. I introduce myself and they all shake my hand. A child of about four or five years of age reaches out her hand and shakes mine. She says “I am pleased to meet you” in perfect English. She is pretty, chubby, dark and wears a chocolate brown sleeveless dress covered with white pom poms. This child is the vision of El Salvador and their hope too. Angelina has taken off her knit cap and sweater and several darkly-colored yellow roses are in her lap. She is surrounded by her family and the smile on her face is richly expressive of her joy. Her hair is still brown with some gray, at least this is what I see. I ask Elba if I may take a family shot and do get a couple taken but the light is low and I don’t have a tripod, so it may be a bit soft around the edges. Later as I watch the family together, I see such joy that their grandmother is with them; they touch her head and stroke her hair. She is visibly happy. As the family gathered, awaiting their transportation, a young member of their family, “Fernando” approaches me. He asks me questions and we talk together. He is explicitly polite and interested in me, as I am in him. He is in University and is studying economics. I remark that he is smart and he replies back, everyone here is smart. He has been to the states to visit his aunt in Oregon, he remarks “it is too cold there.” I am grateful for his outreach, I wish I spoke Spanish, but his English was perfect too.
Paz Salud arrives at the retreat house, officially named: Centro Salesiano Ayaguala, and also called the “compound” at 11:40 PM. Centro Salesiano Ayaguala has lovely, granite tile floors throughout. From where the rooms tee off and up, in its center is a lovely covered but open-air plaza, filled with leather-covered chairs and simple tables topped with what appears to be Guatemalan embroidered cloths. The compound appears to be built on a hill, as some of the rooms are level with grounds. One entire wall of this plaza facing the grounds is up one story and overlooks the valley and here looking out the open wall we are surrounded by the lush tropical environs of the countryside.
The volunteers are given their room assignments with pre-selected roommates. My roommate is a nurse-midwife; Deb, and I her roommate, too . People gather after settling in and soon we hear voices. I exit the room and the open-air plaza “living room” is filled with the volunteers. Beverages and refreshments are out and volunteers are excitedly talking with one another, checking out the wireless status. Sometimes I believe that technology is bestowed by the luck of a draw. Two i-phones have no service, but mine detected a service called “movistar” (purportedly good by someone’s account) and I am able to make a call home. I have turned on the international service for a month. Finally, about 1:30 am, it quiets down and we try to put our grateful hearts to sleep.
http://www.pazsalud.org/
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Paz Salud (PeaceHealth) medical mission leaves Seattle International Airport at 0800. It is a time of day, having arisen at 0400 for most of us (if not earlier) we would otherwise be working, starting Saturday house duties, catching up, snoozing, or some other activity that we look to renew or refresh our spirits over the weekend. Instead, 30 of us, wearing the bright yellow lanyards with our names, eagerly await the flight to Houston. From Houston, we will traverse to San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador.
I start my day working; it is one of my passions, my own deep pathos as well. Perhaps the rain has caused me to stay inside my shell (like a turtle) more than I might if I lived in a sunnier/warmer climate. I have said the only thing that cures my addition to work is sunshine. I shall see plenty of that in the next few days. Regardless, I have email to catch up with as usual, and a few small projects/communications that needed to come off my plate given that work connectivity will be nil for the next 10 days. I work at the airport too, for about an hour, after meeting a few fellow travelers early at the Continental counter. The blue Rubbermaid tubs, filled with supplies and vitamins are piled one on top of the other, so I recognize my group quickly. I am non-clinical and along for the role of photo-journalist. May I live up to my own expectations and those of Kathy Garcia.
The day dawned beautiful and sunny, almost warm for a Northwest place in the winter. The sun was not high in the sky, but filled my eyes with light as we taxied down the runway and gave birth to flight. Occasionally the wing would block the sun’s brilliance as we gained altitude. As always, I finger my Guadalupe (the Mexican Virgin Mary) who protects us as we lift. And internally, I say the words to the Lord’s Prayer, slipping into Our Mother who art in heaven… (once a feminist, always a feminist).
It appears from the in-flight magazine that we will fly over the following states once we leave Washington: Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado, and Oklahoma, then into Texas. From Houston, we will fly to San Salvador crossing, perhaps Mexico (the tip where Merida is located) and Honduras or Guatemala. At one moment not too far into the flight I look down and see sparsely populated miles of pure-brown, rolling terrain. The next moment I look down and see all white, snow abounding on low areas as well as mountains. I am doing all my catch-up reading on El Salvador once I know we are firmly air-bound. The flight to Houston is four hours and the flight to San Salvador; three hours. Flying is a lovely experience for the views. I sit next to a Salvadoran woman living in Eugene and working as a caregiver at PeaceHealth. Her name is Elba and she has a Paz Salud lanyard on. She is travelling with her elderly mother who is introduced as Angelina. She is a tiny frail woman, her beautiful face lined with the years of time and experience. Mrs. Angelina wears a pretty, lacey embroidered dress and a ski cap to keep her head warm. The wedding band on her left ring finger is well worn, smoothed with the touches of each year. I shake her cold hand and tell her my name. I respect the daughter’s kind attention to her mother. This is the way that it is supposed to be.
Before I sign off this entry, a few facts about El Salvador (see footnote a):
· The population is about 6.1 million.
· El Salvador as a country is about the size of Massachusetts (8008 sq. miles).
· Mountains separate the country into three regions, and reportedly the mountains helped make the guerrilla fighters effective for their hiding places and camps during the 1980s civil war. Here the U.S. Government sided with the El Salvadoran government and fought against the FMLN (Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front) now a reformed and ruling political party under President Funes, elected in 2009. Six political parties are represented in the El Salvador legislature. El Salvador participates in several free trade agreements and is in close political favor and alliance with the United States.
· About 77,000, many of them innocent citizens, were killed during the period of civil unrest.
· The Peace Accord was signed in 1992.
· Approximately 22% of El Salvador’s population lives in the U.S.; most formal post-high school education is received in the U.S., and remittances to families from members living in the U.S. supplements the income of many working families.
· The Government is now a republic. President Obama made a trip to San Salvador in spring of 2011.
· The predominant religions: Catholic and Protestant and about 6% of the population are Caucasian.
· The educational system is free to all children through grade 12 (mandatory to 9th grade). Literacy is 86.1% nationally.
· Per capita income $3431 with purchasing parity of $7200.
The following is a direct quote (see footnote b):
· Health care in El Salvador for most people comes through one of two government-run programs. The Ministry of Public Health and Social Welfare is responsible for about 80% of the population, including people who work in the informal economy, campesinos, families living in poverty. ISSS or Seguridad Social is a health insurance program which provides coverage to workers in private enterprise or government employees; ISSS maintains clinics, hospitals and specialty centers and takes care of about 17% of the population. The well-to-do – the remaining 3% of the population - usually go to private doctors and private hospitals.
· San José Villanueva has some large pockets of poverty which are shown in a study of Urban Poverty and Social Exclusion published in 2010. The map shows areas around the town center as having extreme and high levels of poverty, with the town center itself having a moderate level. This year a national newspaper, La Prensa Grafica, described a UN study that showed San José Villanueva as one of seven municipalities in the country with the highest levels of malnutrition among children under 5 years. El Salvador’s national average for malnourished children is 19 % in urban areas, 24 % in the country. In San José Villanueva malnutrition was measured at 38%.
We were delayed at the airport for about an hour and a half, some difficulties with a tub and its match to someone who had already cleared security and customs. The elderly Angelina meets her family at the curbside. All have arrived to honor her. From smaller children, to teenagers to middle-aged parents and siblings. I introduce myself and they all shake my hand. A child of about four or five years of age reaches out her hand and shakes mine. She says “I am pleased to meet you” in perfect English. She is pretty, chubby, dark and wears a chocolate brown sleeveless dress covered with white pom poms. This child is the vision of El Salvador and their hope too. Angelina has taken off her knit cap and sweater and several darkly-colored yellow roses are in her lap. She is surrounded by her family and the smile on her face is richly expressive of her joy. Her hair is still brown with some gray, at least this is what I see. I ask Elba if I may take a family shot and do get a couple taken but the light is low and I don’t have a tripod, so it may be a bit soft around the edges. Later as I watch the family together, I see such joy that their grandmother is with them; they touch her head and stroke her hair. She is visibly happy. As the family gathered, awaiting their transportation, a young member of their family, “Fernando” approaches me. He asks me questions and we talk together. He is explicitly polite and interested in me, as I am in him. He is in University and is studying economics. I remark that he is smart and he replies back, everyone here is smart. He has been to the states to visit his aunt in Oregon, he remarks “it is too cold there.” I am grateful for his outreach, I wish I spoke Spanish, but his English was perfect too.
Paz Salud arrives at the retreat house, officially named: Centro Salesiano Ayaguala, and also called the “compound” at 11:40 PM. Centro Salesiano Ayaguala has lovely, granite tile floors throughout. From where the rooms tee off and up, in its center is a lovely covered but open-air plaza, filled with leather-covered chairs and simple tables topped with what appears to be Guatemalan embroidered cloths. The compound appears to be built on a hill, as some of the rooms are level with grounds. One entire wall of this plaza facing the grounds is up one story and overlooks the valley and here looking out the open wall we are surrounded by the lush tropical environs of the countryside.
The volunteers are given their room assignments with pre-selected roommates. My roommate is a nurse-midwife; Deb, and I her roommate, too . People gather after settling in and soon we hear voices. I exit the room and the open-air plaza “living room” is filled with the volunteers. Beverages and refreshments are out and volunteers are excitedly talking with one another, checking out the wireless status. Sometimes I believe that technology is bestowed by the luck of a draw. Two i-phones have no service, but mine detected a service called “movistar” (purportedly good by someone’s account) and I am able to make a call home. I have turned on the international service for a month. Finally, about 1:30 am, it quiets down and we try to put our grateful hearts to sleep.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
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