June 8-June 16Xela, Quetzaltenango GuatemalaI promised a post on my happenings of significance here in Xela and I´m sorry it took so long but I´m on it now.Old MacDonald had a farm, ¡¡¡GI GI Oh!!!The first couple days I had in Xela were basically spent going to school and sleeping. I went back over a map and figured out that I´ve covered about 800 miles between leaving Roatan (my first stop in the Bay Islands of Honduras) and arriving in Xela. Keep in mind that I left Roatan on a Tuesday, and I arrived in Xela on the following monday. 800 miles is a significant distance to travel in Central America in a week, when you consider the types of vehicles I´ve rode in. I would love to try to take photos of samples of all of them and post them some time for you. I could write an entire entry about not only the types of rides I´ve taken,but also the places I´ve ridden (cabs of trucks... ROOFs of busses). For now let it suffice to say I´m safe and sound.Thursday the 8th in Xela will live in infamy as the day my GI tract caved in to the massive assault that a central american diet has pounded it with. I´ve really been trying to eat food like the locals do and for the most part it´s been very good and highly economical. However, the thing people say about them eating a lot of rice and beans here is absolutely true... emphasis on BEANS. Plus, since my arrival in Xela my señora has basically been cooking me eggs and beans for breakfast and dinner, with almost NO variation. Sometimes, infrequently, we get a bit of meat at dinner, but it´s usually the eggs and beans, coffee to drink, and fried corn tamales to scoop it all up with. The strange thing is I believe my GI problems might have begun with some stale popcorn I ate at a bar with my beer. At least that´s what I was burping up all thursday night and friday daytime, when I was entirely unable to eat. Needless to say, me and my filthy toilet became really good friends during that time. I won´t go into detail but I´ll just say that it´s pretty bad when you´re not sure which is more urgent, the need to face the toilet forwards on your knees, or backwards sitting down.I´ll say in all honesty that things for my intestines have just not been the same since then. I usually have a very strong stomach and I can handle most things- whether its seeing someones bowels dissected in a surgery, or eating something really bizarre. In 10 days things have gotten better... "solidified" a bit you might say, but I do still have the urgent need to find a bathroom at times, and that´s a totally bizarre feeling for me since I´ve never really had that happen to me at home. I still think I would have beat Dave and Jesse on their GI bet if I was in on it,because I got to CA a couple of weeks before they got to India.Weekend 1, Lago Atitlan and the Baptism
So I´ve written a bit about the lake before. Myself and Meena and Michelle decided to head to San Marcos or San Pedro (La Laguna) on Lago Atitlan and we got up early Saturday and before we knew it we were on a bus for San Marcos. Not San Marcos La Laguna, just San Marcos- which is 2 hours from Xela in the opposite direction from the lake. It was a bit annoying but we took it in good humor. I say it all the time because it´s true, "it´s always an adventure in Central America." We spent the night in Panajachel and went to San Pedro La Laguna on Sunday. The girls bought a bunch of T Shirts and jewelry at the pana street stalls, where you can really negotiate with the people and get goods for a few dollars or even less. San Pedro was really really cool- it´s a lakeside town that´s much more lusch and tropical than Xela. Even though we´re still at 5500 feet, the fact that we´ve descended from 8000 feet apparently makes a big difference for plant an animal life.
San Pedro is really interesting because its such an anomoly (sp). During the 60s and 70s there was a huge exodus of hippies from the states who moved to CA to become loafers and ex-pats and live the slow life down here. San Pedro La Laguna is one of the places they settled en masse, and you see lots of people with dreadlocks and hippie clothing who contrast very humorously against the largely Mayan people who inhabit the lake- the women with their colorful flowing long Quiche dresses, who carry enormous baskets on their heads and take them off to offer to sell you coconut or banana or chocolate bread for a few pesos. We only stayed a few hours, but I did return (and will remark more in a separate post).
When I got back home I was in the midst of a truly chaotic scene, even relative to the baseline level of chaos at which my home in Xela exists normally. My señora had told me there would be a baptism and it was a HUGE fiesta. There must have been 40 people in my home, all dressed up a touch, and I came in a bit sweaty, wearing my traveling clothes and certainly looking a bit out of place. I high tailed it to my room, changed into jeans (which passes for semi formal in Guatemala), put on a shirt with a collar, gave myself a quick wipe down and a squirt of cologne and made my grand appearance. I met cousins and uncles and sisters and in laws and it was crazy. There were about 15 kids hanging out from age 2 (the baptized little boy) up to age 19, and they all took to me just like my little brother and cousin have who live with me in Xela. I found myself teaching "war" (the card game) to 5 kids, playing "monstros" in the courtyard, and engaged in infinite games of hide and seek. Kids have always taken to me and I see that streak hasn´t changed.
The cutest thing was that the 7 year old girl who was the older sister of the baptized boy absolutely fell in love with me from the sight. I know some of my girlfriends have told me about being enamored with an older man at that age, and I could just see it in her eyes and her behavior that she was trying so hard to impress me and enchant me. She insisted on being on my team in every game we played, and she would rearrange everyone else if she had to. She kept bringing me water and asking if I needed anything. She was dressed to the nines, like her little brother, in a beautiful white dress (he was wearing a little white suit, custom tailored for a 2 year old). She was so set on winning every single game that I caught her cheating on numerous occassions (especially during war).
The party was great. The niño got tons of gifts and was happy. The food was amazing, and there was so much of it... and cake too! It was just a really interesting experience overall. Even the dogs seemed happy for a change.
New Week, New Things
I got a new teacher to start the week and I was stoked, because he was actually a really cool guy. The world cup is underway and it´s mania here and my last teacher HATED soccer and got pissed when I wanted to take a break to check the score of the game. Not so with the new maistro. We spent a week pounding the grammar and I think that it was a great refresher, because I´ve learned all those tenses and participles and stuff at Tufts, but just needed to shake the rust off. I also decided to use my time last week to get involved a little more in volunteering here in Xela, since the school wasn´t exactly rushing to put me in a clinical medicine setting. I met this great girl here from Germany named Fili who has been here for 7 months volunteering with orphans (huerfanos en Español) and I arranged for her to take me to see them last Thursday.
My experience at the orphanage was truly amazing. The one I visited, Hogar de Quetzaltenango, is one of 5 orphanages run by the Government of Guatemala, in the entire country. Five. There are mission groups and private orphanages, but this was the only public one in Xela. I didn´t know what to expect, but Fili told me there is a clinic there and I decided to bring the medicines I had brought for working in a clinic in Xela. Having already decided not to continue for a 3rd week of school, I thought the orphanage might be the best place for me to leave the loads of antifungals, creams, antibiotics, painkillers, allergy meds, and band aids I managed to collect up before the trip. Not knowing what to expect, and in the spirit of professionalism, I wore slacks and a tie, and I brought my white coat. I was greeted by the nurse upon my arrival who told me there were some medical students from the University of San Carlos in Xela who would be coming later. I gave her all the meds and she seemed genuinely pleased, but there weren´t really any sick kids at the moment so she told me I could just go out into the courtyard with Fili.
We were mobbed by the orphans, many of whom already knew fili from her time there. All the boys wore collared t shirts with Hogar de Quetzaltenango on the breast. They all had shaved heads. All the girls wore overalls with the same logo on them, but they were permitted to keep their hair, it appeared, as long as it was shorter than shoulder length. Instantly I began to see many parallels between the children of the orphanage and the dogs which live so pitifully in my house. The children aren´t permitted to leave the orphanage, which is walled by razor wire, although some escape from time to time. They are starved for affection and are left unsupervised for hours on end. They did appear to be sufficiently nourashed, though there wasn´t a plump one among them. On the ground level was an open central courtyard with jungle gyms where dozens of kids were playing, climbing, shooting marbles, and imitating their favorite soccer players. Out back there is an open air cement yard with two soccer goals, one on either end. Every boy in the hogar of sufficient size was out back playing, and they all desire to be stars in the Copa Mundial (world cup) one day. I was awed by how good some of the boys were. There were 7 or 8 year olds who were taking some of the 15 and 16 year olds to school on the "soccer field."
The children were beautiful and it was hard to suppress the emotions that are brought out by such a place. If you didn´t grab one of them and hug them, they would walk up and if they were little would just jump into your arms and make you hold them. The bigger kids would pick my arm up and put it around their neck across the other shoulder, and would grasp my hands or just hug me. It was so obvious that all they wanted was a little bit of love, and I tried to spend every minute there loving on every kid I could get my hands on. There were 15 year olds watching over 10 year olds, 10 year olds watching over 6 year olds, and 6 year olds watching over 2 year olds. There were kids crying everywhere, for countless reasons. Nobody knew my name, but they all wanted hugs and kisses first, and second they wanted to know my name and where I was from and how long I was staying for and when I was coming back... these questions were fired off in Spanish in rapid succession, of course.
Fili and I spent the morning there, for 3-4 hours, just basically talking with the kids. Playing with them, loving them, comforting them, hearing their stories, and telling them ours when they asked. They are so strong and so resillient and so determined to survive, it´s amazing. Things that stand out in my mind the most:
-A little girl, age unknown, who has clearly been abused physically and probably sexually. She´s said to be age 2 or 3 but she´s sized like a 1 year old. She can´t talk except for indecipherable babble which she spews to women, but refuses to speak to men. She has muscles which feel soft as gelatin under her skin, and bones which are as soft as muscle. She can hardly walk on her own, but can when she tries. She can contort herself like a pretzel with no pain. She moves and looks like a rag doll. I heard she´s in the process of being adopted by an American missionary who met her indecember.
-A young boy, maybe 12 years old, who plays soccer with more passion than anyone in the hogar, and who wants to be a professional goalie. He escaped the orphanage a few days before and made it back to the house where his parents had expelled him from. Upon seeing his face his dad beat the shit out of him and sent him back to the orphanage. Even with massive bruises all over his legs and back he still played the position of portero (goalie) with outstanding skill.
-Another boy, age 14, of remarkable intelligence. I made the mistake of bringing a nalgene full of water to the orphanage. He wanted it so badly and I had to almost fight him for it when I left. He doesn´t want to go home because his mother beats him.
I saw kids with scars all over their heads, arms, and legs. Cigarette burns on their heads and on the backs of their legs, and on their backs. I didn´t allow my emotion to overwhelm me, but the things I saw have only reinforced what I already know, which is that I´m so lucky to be American, and to be born to great parents and a family that has loved me and nurtured me and supported me always. And I also know that socially I am indebted to this great fortune which was bestowed upon me since my conception, and one day as a doctor I will absolutely work hard to pay back this debt, in whatever capacity I can. And I hope that for at least a short while, if not longer, I will have the opportunity to return to the third world, and pay it back to those here who have even less than the poorest of poor in our country do. I guess we´ll see.
Morning photos from the roof of our hostel (above) and on the shore of the lake (below)
