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.