Expect The Unexpected

I have been living in El Salvador for almost a year now. I had two months of Spanish classes, but other than that my language learning has been very hands on and not so much hitting the books. I am not fluent, but I am light years ahead of where I was when I first got here. I feel pretty confident with the Spanish I know, and most people go easy when speaking to me. I appreciate this. But everyone has miscommunications in any language, fluent or not. (Remember the time I thought I was going fishing with people in my community? And I show up at their house only to sit with them for 7 hours and then be asked to kill a chicken for their entertainment? Classic.)

It had been a while since I had had a serious translation confusion. This brings us to last month. I was visiting my friend, Joelle, in her site. She lives very close to me, only two communities up from mine, so I visit her often. She lives with her host family, and when Joelle left the room they called me over and in hushed voices told me of their plan to throw Joelle a surprise party for her birthday that was coming up. They asked me to invite our other friend Carolyn. I told them I was in. I explained the plan to Carolyn and she said she was in as well.

A week ago I was in Joelle's site again for an unrelated birthday party. Again when Joelle had left me, her host family came up to me and we confirmed the plans. Carolyn and I would head to the community around 4pm on Friday, bake a cake with a woman, Judith, in the community and then head to the surprise party. This whole time Joelle is in the dark. Everyone was so good about keeping the secret.

Friday rolls around, and Carolyn and I take Joelle out to lunch in Santa Ana. She thinks this is the end of the birthday celebrations. Joelle heads home. Around 4pm Carolyn and I head to Joelle's site. We are lucky and get a ride all the way to the house where we are making the cake. Judith shows us in and tells us to put our bags in the bedroom. This was weird, but we just figured she wanted us to get them out of the way. We are hanging out making the cake and talking about the lunar eclipse that is going to happen the next morning. We want more information so I call my mom. While she is telling me the results of her lunar eclipse google search, Carolyn is chatting with Judith. All of a sudden Carolyn shoots me a look and mouths 'I need to tell you something!' I hang up with my mom. Carolyn informs me that while talking to Judith about the eclipse, Judith says that we are going to be able to see it as we will be up at 4am the next morning. Needless to say we were confused.

I decided to call Joelle's host family and clear the matter up. I call and Carlos answers. I tell him that Carolyn and I want to know what time the party is starting. He tells me 4 am. This is the first time I have heard this. Apparently the plan the whole time was for Carolyn and I to stay the night at Judith's house and then get up in time to wake her up by singing at 4am. I am sitting there on the phone thinking to myself, I know my Spanish isn't great, but I really didn't think it was this bad.  

So for lack of any other plan, we spent the night at Judith's. She had known what was going on the whole time, so the only people that were surprised by this were Carolyn and I. We had pupusas for dinner and went to bed early. We got up and by 4am we were headed, with other members of the community, to Joelle's house. Once we got there, we were greeted by Joelle's host family. We stood out side her door at 4:10 and started singing. There were about 20 people there. Carlos played the guitar. Another man played the base guitar. Another man shot off fireworks. All while we were singing a very long birthday wake up song outside her door. Joelle emerged from her room and was appropriately shocked to see Carolyn and I standing there with her community.

When the song finished, we all sat down and had cake and coffee and told her the story. Carolyn had to catch a bus back to her site at 9. So we walked her down to the bus stop. I stayed another night and celebrated with Joelle for the rest of day. I may never figure out how that miscommunication occurred, maybe I should crack my Spanish books open again....

Tis The Season

It has been three weeks since my last post. There are reasons. Good reasons. My beautiful computer finally sighed it's last breath, leaving me all alone. And as I have discussed before I dislike internet cafes in this country. But I have sucked it up and am at one now. I hope you all forgive my absence and enjoyed my last post. (And for all who were wondering, my dad did confirm a toilet paper competition of sorts at the beginning of my parents marriage.)  Lets begin by talking about my Thanksgiving, or Accion de Gracias (quite the literal translation).

Leslie and my one curl. 

I celebrated Thanksgiving this year in San Salvador, the capital of El
Salvador. The American embassy has a great relationship with Peace Corps in El Salvador, and every year volunteers get invited to spend Turkey day with the American families who work at the embassy and live in the capital. So I headed to the capital to stuff my face with turkey and pie in an air conditioned house and speak English. Hello nirvana? Is that you who was knocking on my door? Yeah I think it was. It was a fantastic weekend. We started off by celebrating my friend Alexandra's birthday. On Thanksgiving morning Joelle, Mike and I met up with Leslie, the embassy worker we would be staying with. Leslie is about my age and had a fantastic apartment. She was so kind and hospitable the whole time we were there. We did some cooking (I made an apple pie, which was so fantastic. I miss having an oven and being able to bake whenever I want.) We took our pies, cranberry sauce and potatoes to Leslie's friend Gerldine's house for dinner. She had prepared the turkey, stuffing, salad, more potatoes and lots of wine. It was a great evening.

 Melida

The next day I headed to the Embassy for a craft fair. My host mom, Melida, made a bunch of dulces for me to sell for her. I will write another post about dulce making at a later time. We did ok, but did not quite sell out all of the sweets. Turns out Americans don't care for sweets that consist of mostly sugar. Go figure. No worries though, Melida was more than grateful for all that I did sell.

When I got back to my community, a friend of mine gave me a call and asked if I wanted a Christmas tree from his property. I said yes, and he delivered it to my house the next weekend. My host sisters, Josslyn and Katherine, and I decorated it with construction paper. I also attempted to make a popcorn string, but gave up quickly. Those things are deceivingly hard to make. So even though it is 80 deg outside right now, this tree makes it feel a little more like Christmas.

Speaking of being 80 deg, it is now the dry season. I officially love the month of December in El Salvador. It is hot enough during the day to dry my clothes the same day I wash them, but chilly at night.  I will say though it really does not feel like Christmas time. School is out for 'summer vacation' and it is hot all day making today feel more like June 12th than December 12th. Two weeks ago I got the worst sunburn I have had in years. Like the deep red, blistering kind of sunburn. Not pleasant. And now my body is quitando a layer of skin. Again not pleasant and not very wintery. On the other hand I have a pine tree on my front porch and just got sent a vanilla sugar cookie candle which help create a Christmas ambiance.

In kind of related news, I am coming home soon! One week from today I will be headed to San Salvador to catch my 2am flight back to the Oosa. I am very excited. I will be with my family in northern, pan handle Florida for most of my trip. We are also going to make a trip to Atlanta to visit our family up there. If you will be in either location let me know!

More posts to come as soon as I feel like heading to an internet cafe again....

More Than You Wanted To Know

Growing up my family has always used Quilted Norther toilet paper. I don't know why, but we always have. Was there some type of toilet paper competition at the beginning of my parent's marriage and Quilted Northern won? What were the criteria for this competition? Smell? Texture? Thickness? Cost? Who knows, and I am certainly not asking for the details. I have never really given this much though, not even in college when I was living in an apartment with two other girls. Truth be told we never really bought toilet paper that often because people bought it for us. It was almost as if our parents and well meaning relatives were afraid that we would forget to buy it for ourselves (what with all of the studying going on and all).

So now that I am living alone here in El Salvador, I have come to the conclusion that there is NO good toilet paper in this country. First of all 99% of toilet paper down here is scented. Gag me. You are literally going to put poop on this paper, giving it a scent is not going to cover it up. Also the scents are never as pleasant as the companies who produce them think they are. I have to hold my nose whenever I go down that isle at the store.

Also down here there is no medium type of toilet paper. You can either buy the expensive kind (for $3.99 a 4 pack) or the cheap kind (for .80c a 4 pack). Now let me just stop your scoffing right there. A dollar a role does not seem that bad, but remember that my budget is $50 a week. I have to make that stretch as far as I can.

So a couple of weeks ago, I had a little time so, I decided to compare every type of toilet paper the grocery store near me carried. This is a very important issue to me. I spent 20-30 min in the isle and I could only find ONE type that was not scented. ONE. I mean, clearly this is what people want, but really?? The unscented type I found was really cheap quality, but at least textured. So I settled on that, but when I went back last week, they were out! Such a dilemma. I just don't know what I am going to do if they don't restock.

(Semi-related side story: As I was examining all of the different toilet papers, an employee came up to me. I thought he was going to ask me if I needed any help or tell me other customers were weirded out that I was spending so much time in the isle or accuse me of trying to steal toilet paper or something. I was ready for, yet another, awkward and embarrassing conversation as I tried to explain what I was doing. Turns out this kid wanted to know if I spoke english, and if so if he could speak to me in english to see how his pronunciation was. Keep in mind I am holding like four types of toilet paper while speaking to this kid in english. I kept wondering when he was going to tell me that I needed to leave the isle. It never happened, he just wanted to speak english. I was back at the grocery store yesterday and he came up to me while I was looking for cinnamon and goes 'HELLO' and scared the bajesus out of me.)

Thank you for listening to my toilet paper rant. Aren't you glad you stopped by today?

Word of the day- Toilet Paper = Papel Higiénico

Hoja: A Memory

So after 9 beautiful, chaos filled months together, my time with Hoja has come to an end. It culminated when she chewed my host mom's cell phone in to 128 pieces. I was already thinking about finding a new home for her as her behavior was still out of control and I am headed stateside for the Christmas season, but this just pushed it over the edge. I told my host family I needed a new home for her, and they agreed to help me find one. An hour later, my host dad told me he found a family to take her in, and he would take her the next morning when he left for the corn fields. This husband of this family works in the mountains and my host dad said he would take Hoja with him so that she could run all day and be too exhausted at the end of the day to cause any trouble. So my host dad took her the next morning and all that his story implies. I am just going to let it go, because as much as it pains me to think of the reality of her fate, life is just different down here. Especially for a dog. There are no animal shelters or websites dedicated to finding dogs new homes. If a dog is misbehaving, it is taken care of in a very country sort of way. So this post is a dedication to the adorable, mischievous life of Hoja. 

First bath. Adorbs. 

Being bi-lingual is hard. Even harder when
you're just a little puppy. Gotta study hard.

Chores are also hard. For some reason she
 loved sleeping on this broom. 

All the sibs. She was one of 7. 

Doesn't every dog go through a chicken
eating phase? No? Hello?

Always on the look out. 

Bonding with Clay.

Holding court.

Look at that belly! So many spots :)

Rocco and Hoja: siblings, best friends.

Life is so hard when you are genetically
disposed to cause mischief.

I miss ya already, little buddy.

Mischief managed. 

Why Didn't I Go To School In Georgia?

One of the many questions I was asked in a recent conversation was why I did not attend college in Georgia. Strange right? This conversation has to be one of the stranger ones I have had in country. I was waiting for the bus last week with a woman from my community and her sister. The sister is from El Salvador but lives in Athens, Georgia. She is a legal US resident, (I find I don't meet too many people who are legal residents, so it is always a surprise when I do.) visiting El Salvador because her brother died a few weeks ago. She has lived in Athens for 28 years. She does not speak very good English, so our conversation was in Spanish. I will now give you our dialogue (in English) for your reading pleasure. We will call her Rosa.

(Conversation started as soon as the sisters came up to the bus stop.)
Rosa: Who are you here visiting?
Me: No one, I live here.
R: But why are are you HERE?
Me: I am waiting for the bus to go to the pueblo to buy groceries....
R: OK but you're not visiting any one?
Me: No, I work here, and am living in in this town (Her sister confirms this)
R: But WHY would you EVER want to live in El Salvador? You actually LIKE it here??
Me: I do like it here, and work brought me here. But yes I do like it.
R: I prefer the US. It's much better. Who do you work for?
Me: Peace Corps, it is a government organization that works in development
R: I have never heard of it, but you must make a lot of money. How much do you make?
Me: I actually don't make that much, just enough for housing and food
R: Ok but how much do you make? (she was very persistent on this question, and I was very persistent in not answering it.)
Me: Enough to live on. (This went on and on, she just did not want to drop it.)
R: Where do you live in the community.
Me: (I tell her)
R: Do you live with your husband?
Me: I don't have a husband, I live alone.
R: YOU LIVE ALONE? (She looks at her sister) SHE LIVES ALONE?! (She looks back at me) YOU LIVE ALONE?!
(Side note: people think it is really scary to live alone, and no one can ever believe that I do.)
R: Well I have a nephew you can marry, so don't worry about living alone and not being married yet.
Me: I wasn't, and no thank you.
R: Oh is it because you have a boy friend or because you don't like latin men?
Me: No, I have no problem with latin men, I just don't think I want to marry your nephew.
R: That's fine, we will find you someone.
Me: .......
R: So are you still in school?
Me: No, I graduated.
R: Which school in Georgia did you go to?
Me: (Confused) Um, I did not go to school in Georgia, I went to school in Massachusetts.
R: But why? All of the best schools in the country are in Georgia. Are you not smart enough to go to one of them?
Me: (Unsure of how to respond as I can see she will not be convinced that there are other good schools in the country.)
R: No matter. Have you ever lived in Georgia?
Me: No, but I have family in Atlanta.
R: Oh that's nice, Athens is better. Great colleges there too.
Me: Ok....
R: So you really live alone??

The conversation went on like this for 30 min, as the bus was late. I am pretty used to people being forward with their inquires here, but she was the most forward. And possibly the most amusing. Her shock at just about everything I said was so genuine as was her insistence that she was always right. She is here until mid January, I can only hope there will be more of this to come.

Life Is Calling... Haiti: Pati De

Life Is Calling is a series of reader submissions. It is an attempt to allow people to tell their personal stories and experiences about life as a recent college graduate conquering the real world. If you would like to submit a story to this series, shoot me an e-mail or leave a comment with your e-mail. Today’s post is the second of two by Zach, who is currently volunteering at a clinic in Haiti. You can find his first post here.

Life is Calling...

Homebound

Now that I am home, I find myself thinking about the people I left behind. And truly, I feel as though I have left them behind. I sit here at my desk, surrounded by items that I have gone without for 7 weeks. I have electricity and air conditioning. More importantly, I have food and water.  All of these things are in abundance and I feel so spoiled.  

You know how as a child you think the world stops if you are not in the immediate vicinity? Obviously the world keeps turning, and everybody keeps living, but it takes you a while to get out of that self-centered world view. I'm not a child anymore, and I know that in the hours I spend writing this, my friends in Haiti are looking for food, for water, for shelter, for money, for a child. Maybe during a keystroke one of them is reaching for a cup of water. Or during a phone call maybe one of the girls is putting her hair into a new style. They are living their lives in parallel with mine but without me next to them.

I know that eventually my mind will forget certain details about my time in Haiti. Faces will be blurred, events will become distorted. But the feelings associated with the memories of those faces, those events, will manifest themselves in my life as it passes. Out of all the senses, the sense of smell is the one most connected with memory. I know that soon enough, I will smell an avocado and be brought back to when I shared them for breakfast. I will smell burning rubber and be brought back to Cite Soleil. I will smell....something, and be transported back to the foot of the dead boy's bed. 

That’s the thing with memories, you never know what will trigger the ones buried in your subconscious.  

While at the orphanage, I read Mother Teresa's biography. In her first iteration of the Missionaries of Charity, she wanted her Sisters in Christ to live without any benefit of society, like the diseased, dying, and malnourished that they would be helping. She eventually realized that this was not possible. In order to help the distressed thousands, she and her organization would have to be at their very best. They would have to provide for themselves first, and then provide for the poorest of the poor. However, they wouldn't overindulge in any aspect of life, out of respect for those who had nothing.  

I've realized that even though I have more than those living in Haiti or throughout the world, I can choose to use what I have for their benefit. I won't overindulge out of respect for those that have nothing. I will not withhold assistance when it costs me nothing, I will be as altruistic as possible. So to do those things, I think I will become a Doctor. It might take me a while, but after this....I think it'll be worth the time spent. 

I Guess It Rains Down In Afffrrr...El Saaalvador

SO standfast has finally been lifted. I hopped the first bust to town this morning as I could not wait to enjoy the beautiful sunny day I had been presented with. I did my shopping, I drank my liquado, I visited my seamstress. All in all a good day. When I returned home, I found an e-mail from my country director. I thought I would share it with you. (You know for those of you who do not follow Salvadorian news.)

Following is an update on the situation:

• The water levels in the rivers are quickly receding.
• Access (by vehicle or on foot) to most communities is possible to most places in the country.
• Currently 49,000-50,000 people who were evacuated are in shelters.
• The World Food Program (WFP) is providing 14,000 metric tons of food; they say the food shortages should not be a problem.  However, it is the timely distribution which is crucial.  Distributions are still underway to the affected areas.  Proteccion Civil is in charge.  Make sure your communities contact them to be on the list.  We have sent our list to USAID and they forwarded them on the Proteccion Civil people in San Salvador but the request should also come from the communities as well.
• Two out of the three major border crossings between Guatemala and El Salvador are closed.  The one that is open is very backed up with traffic.  You may see shortages in your local markets and stores for a while.
• The port of Acajutla is open but due to high tides, the ships carrying can’t come in yet.
• A large number of the crops (corn and beans) that have been already harvested are wet and are in danger of rotting if they can not be dried before the onset of mold and fungus.  I suspect that prices will increase.
• The UN reports that there are 3,943 houses at risk; 489 houses partially damaged; and 85 completely damaged (Note: these are initial assessments-- more are likely to be reported as assessment continues)
• The UN and other sources report that there are about 300,000 people in the country that have been affected by the storm.  The reconstruction will be a lengthy process.
• The government’s health system has been greatly strained.  Due to all the flooding and lack hygiene at the shelters and in coastal areas, it is expected that the state of public health will be negatively affected.  We should see increases in diarrhea, dengue, child hood diseases, etc), especially in the flooded coastal zones.  Please take appropriate precautions.

What will be the US Government’s response?  The US Government is happy with the way that the Salvadoran authorities have handled the situation.  They were proactive in early evacuations which many feel saved many lives.

A number of you have reported specific needs and damages in your respective communities and surrounding areas.  Please don’t expect to see any Embassy truck delivering aid directly to your communities.  The Embassy has been asked by the government to provide any and all donations to the Government-run Operations Centerlocated at CIFCO (the fair grounds in San Salvador).  So we are working behind the scenes in support of the government.

The first main US response will be the arrival of a large cargo plane (from Miami) that is expected to arrive to the country within a day or two bringing the following goods among others:

·         Hygiene kits for a family of 5 that will last for two weeks ($10,000 value)

·         Collapsible jerry cans to be used to carry and store clean water (10,000 units)

·         Kitchen kits (Some PCVs helped with the preparations of some kits but more will arrive with the plane)

·         100 large rolls of plastic sheeting to be used to cover roofs, the ground, etc

·         Blankets (2,300 units)

(These items will be put into the CIFCO pipeline and sent out to the affected districts.)

In addition, the Ministry of Public works has requested NASA to help provide specific satellite images of the areas most affected.  This will aid in assessing the damage and making plans for further assistance in reconstruction.  USAID has also responded by some initial purchases of food, mattresses and blankets and they are assessing and looking for funds for what can be done as part of the reconstruction phase.  The USmilitary is working closely with the local military providing them fuel for the trucks involved in the food distribution process and also purchasing needed supplies to complement what is needed for the CIPFO distributions.

I was *very* lucky that my corner of the country was not terribly effected. It rained a lot, but everyone still has their homes. Even if we all might have suffered a small bout of cabin fever. 

How To Make A Perfectly Sane Person Go Crazy

Tomorrow is day 7 of Peace Corps activated standfast. I might loose my mind. Standfast means that, because of some type of threat, volunteers are not allowed to leave their sites. We have been having crazy amounts of rain this past week. More than 30 people in El Salvador have been killed, and over 20,000 people are displaced and living in shelters due to the heavy rain.

Things are not good. But there are only so many times I can watch While You Were Sleeping (the only dvd that works in my dvd drive any more) without going insane. I mean it is a fantastic movie, and Sandra Bullock is great, but lets get real. Also my iTunes is being bunk and won't let me download anything. Que triste, no? And the rain does not make it conducive for meandering around my community looking for amusement. Very muddy. So I am stuck in my house, watching Sandra Bullock pretend to be the fiance of someone she has never met, who is in a coma, whilst falling in love with coma guy's brother. (Who thinks this stuff up?) Or I am reading. I am definitely not being productive or studying for the GRE. Nope, none of that tomfoolery here.

We got an e-mail from our security department telling us that we will not be able to travel to Nicaragua until early December because they are holding their elections this November. This really throws off all of my plans. I was so looking forward to an early November, political rally themed trip to Nicaragua. Damn. Peace Corps Nicaragua is going to be on a political themed standfast from October 26- November 12. People, that is over two weeks that they will not be allowed to leave their sites... for any reason! (Well except a real emergency.) At least they have some warning, so they can stock up on movies and good snacks.

I have been at this for a week, and my one movie and lack of any good snacks is really starting to get to me. It is also starting to make me a little more creative. Who would have known peanut butter would be good on a tortilla? Also I am in search of stellar clothes that I can have remade down here. Have I mentioned how much I love my seamstress, Elsa? She is fantastic. I had a skirt made last week for 3 bucks! I have a few ideas for future items. I need to take pictures so I can post them here.



Today is the 7 year anniversary of my friend Laura Lynam's death. She was tragically killed in a car crash in 2004. She was 17. She was a stellar rower, great student and all around fantastic person She will always be in my thoughts and is missed by many.

What Can YOU Tell ME About YOUR Water?

Water is, by far, my biggest hardship in my site. Water is brought to my site though a very intricate series of garden hoses that start at the river and run though my town. But do not be tricked, like I was, into thinking the hoses start in my town. Oh no they start in the town above mine. Why is this? Pretty sure the town above mine pollutes the river just as much as we do. And shall we even mention the pig farm runoff that comes from the two towns up?

Step One: Connect hoses at host families house

Step Two: Connect second set of hoses 

When I need water for my pila, I go next door to my host families house and connect their hose to one that runs to my house. As I am walking back to my house I connect another hose that will either run to my pila or to a barrel at their house. I then get back to my house and make sure there is some type of filter (read: old rag) over the end of my hose because ants have been known to build their nest inside and, come-on, it’s river water, it for sure needs to be filtered. I then wait until my pila is full. This does not usually take a long time, maybe 30 min. A full pila will last me about 4 days.

Ok so when it rains really hard (or if some animal decides the hoses look fun to play with), often the hoses will come apart. My host dad will start walking along the hose until he finds the problem. This takes any where from 30 min to 3 hours depending on how far away the break is. And depending on how busy my host dad is, it can take several days for him to go find the problem.

I did a charla with my Women’s Group a couple of weeks ago about water and the importance of clean water. I took a bucket of water (that represented the river that runs though my town) and added bleach and laundry detergent, explaining that these things are added to the river water every time someone does their laundry. I added a bag of dirt showing how, especially during the rainy season, erosion causes the river to become extra saturated with dirt. I then added some plastic trash, because the river is everyone’s trashcan, right? And lastly I added cow manure, because, well, the cows go wild here and poop where they please.

I don’t want to gross anyone out, but I really want you to get a true sense of my water situation down here. One third of my community is also lacking in latrines. The majority of these families live down by the river and do not have sufficient space for a latrine. Guess where they go… If you guessed El Rio, you are correct. So just add that to the menagerie of things already polluting the river. Yum.    

A couple of weeks ago I had two volunteers tell me they would have ETed (early terminated their service) if they had been placed in my site. Lets recap: Pig farm run off, laundry in the river, trash, human waste, dirt, and a series of unreliable garden hoses that bring the water to my pila... sometimes. Fantastic.

My pila water today.

 Today I have water, and it is brown. Yesterday I did not have water, my pila was empty. I spent four days with out water and now that I have it I cannot even pretend it is clean. This is my reality for two years, but for the people in my community it has been a reality their whole lives. This is the water most people in my community drink. I am lucky enough to be able to afford clean drinking water. Unless something is done, it will continue to be their reality.

I am looking into a water project or at least a water filter project. Both are expensive and a water project usually takes a minimum of 3 years. So we will see.

Two-fer: Hoja sitting by a retired wood burning oven
 and the excess hose for when sections  need
 to be replaced 

Also there is a country wide shortage of this stuff called Abate. You put Abate in your pila to keep mosquitos from laying their eggs, as pilas are the epitome of stagnant water. So, because dengue is such a huge problem here and we are still in the rainy season, the health department is fumigating communities. My community was fumigated a couple of days ago, it was kind of surreal that people are allowed to remain in the communities while this is going on. Also that the men fumigating did not wear gas masks, while they fumigated in and outside peoples homes. Another crazy observation is that people did not leave their homes or even stop what they were doing while their homes were being fumigated. No reason to stop making tortillas just because someone is pumping hazardous chemicals into your home. I would have left my town, but we are on day five of standfast. Peace Corps activates standfast when there is some kind of threat. The current threat is rain. It has been raining nonstop for the past 5 days. Not so much where I am, but other parts of the country are completely flooded. So no leaving site, even if it is full of toxic chemicals. Don't worry I was told the side effects are mild, just lightheadedness and vomiting...

Is their house on fire? Nope, just fumigating...

Take this picture and now imagine my entire
community looking like this.

Life is Calling... Haiti

Life Is Calling is a series of reader submissions. It is an attempt to allow people to tell their personal stories and experiences about life as a recent college graduate conquering the real world. If you would like to submit a story to this series, shoot me an e-mail or leave a comment with your e-mail. Today’s post is the first of two by Zach, who is currently volunteering at a clinic in Haiti. 

Life is Calling...

September 17, 2011

A boy died today. He had a temp of 110 degrees farenheit and was probably a lost cause before his mom brought him in. Nobody knew what to do, not even the 'doctor' that was there. He just stood there looking for a femoral and carotid pulse the whole time. I tried to take over and instructed the sisters to start an IV to cool him down. I didn't really know what to do either. I was thrown off - way off - by the lack of supplies and resources. I wanted a bag valve mask, some oxygen, even just a mask would suffice. They didn't have one or even know what I was talking about. It took me too long to realize that the boy wasn't even breathing, too long to listen for a heart beat myself and subsequently find none. I started CPR and the women looked at me as if I was dumb. All this took about 10 minutes. Having gone without oxygen for that long, the boy would have been brain dead even if we managed to get him back. It was too hectic to even think. There were wound care patients lining the walls, staring at us move about frantically. A baby in the next bed with ulcers on her face screaming. 15 people in a 20x20 foot room with two beds, a work table, and expired supplies lining the walls is not an area conducive to saving lives.

I told a sister to take over CPR, she had no idea what to do. After instructing her, I got some epinephrine and injected him with it. All while the doctor played dumb, still looking for a pulse.  I eventually went to the head of the baby to inspect his pupils and basically do anything I could think of in futility.  After working this kid for the better part of 30 minutes I finally looked at the doctor, who didn't speak any english, and said to him in my best creole something to the tune of: "Sir, it is bad.  The baby is finished. Dead" At that point we called it.  We had taken off his shirt and pants, everything but his diaper.  He was probably 7 years old. Everybody dispersed except a portugese nun and I. I started to dress him again and she followed my lead. She buttoned his shirt when I cradled his head and lifted him up. She started cutting his nails, making him look more presentable, giving some dignity back. His eyes were glassy, with a hint of blue around the whites. Contrary to popular belief, one cannot close the eyelids of the dead. They tend to move back to the position they were in when death came. In this case, his were half open, enough to see that his eyes were brown. His mouth was slightly open too, where some froth was resting. The nuns had tried to get a line in his scalp and removed half of the hair on his head to look for what was not there. So while he looked.... presentable, he head was a mass of knotted hair, bare scalp and skin.  I crossed his hands over his chest. 

At this point I don't think the mother knew.  All the sisters were busy helping others, so I brought the mother in to see him and found a sister to translate what I was saying to her, that her child was dead. She went in, saw that his eyes were half open and tried to close them herself, crying the whole time. She went back to sit down and I brought her water. She stopped crying and calmed down and remained calm until we had to remove her son. I had him covered in a translucent surgeons gown. It was very eerie since you could see his body outlined throughout. A priest came, or a brother or something, and put a trash bag over the boy. Actually he put the bag over his head, so that his legs were sticking out. He picked him up and brought him out, carrying him like a heavy box. Not like the dead boy he was actually carrying. He went by the mother, who upon seeing her son in the black trash bag erupted in screams. She calmed down sooner or later, but I was busy. I had to get back to work.

September 19, 2011

I have been thinking a lot about this boy, whose name I don't know. Also about the other children here who have died because of fever. I was working in a clinic today, and saw about 100 patients. The only one I remember is a 3 year old kid whose care I was charged with. He came in with a fever of 104 - high, but not about to kill him. He stayed all day and the fever refused to come down despite many rounds of ibuprofen, acetaminophen (both orally and rectally), cooling compresses and starting him on an antibiotic. All I was thinking about was having another kid die from an uncontrolled fever. At the end of the day, I consulted with the doctor - who I had been doing so with the whole day. We sent the child to get a malaria test in the morning. But that was the morning. He had all night to get through. Eventually his mom took him home, against our advice of taking him to a hospital. I hope I see him tomorrow morning.

People come to Haiti, or any suffering country, with the aim of doing good. But something has to be stressed to those that provide medical care: you can't expect to save everyone. Not because of lack of knowledge or trying, but because things are SO different here. The boy on September 17th, if I had brought him back, what kind of life would he had lived? He would have been brain dead, there are no automated ventilators here that could have kept him alive. He would have brought down everybody around him even further than they already are. There is not much farther down one can go when you are already living in a hut, on the side of the road, with no drinkable water, no toilet to speak of, and not to mention living within spitting distance of tens of thousands of others. What I just described is a tent city here in Port-au-Prince. There are tons of them, and tens of thousands live in them.

So what I've learned is to get some perspective on what is really able to get done here and anywhere really. Lives can be saved, for certain they are saved everyday. But there are lives that cannot be saved, because so many events, situations, and happenings conspire to create something so abhorring, so unfortunate, that I simply cannot hope to overcome. Not just here in Haiti, but everywhere in the world.  It pains me to realize this, and in fact, I don’t believe I fully realize it. I am just beginning to realize what this world can have in store for those who live in it.

Fijese Que

Excuses, we all have them. I have to walk my dog. I need to wash my hair. Peace Corps won't let me.  Whatever your excuses may be, we all use them. Salvadorians are no exception. Here almost all excuses start with the phrase 'Fijese que', which loosely translates to 'It looks like...'. For example, a couple of days ago I ran into a woman who said she was going to come to my woman's group meeting, and then didn't. She had seemed excited about coming when I spoke with her before so I asked her why she did not come. "Fijese que estaba lloviendo muy fuerte, entonces no podía salir la casa." Translation: "I am about to give you a ridiculous excuse, but it was raining very hard, so I could not leave the house." This particular woman lives 4 houses down from me. It takes less than 3min to walk from her house to mine. I wanted to get all up in her grill and confront her about her obvious lack of umbrella, because why else would you not walk down 4 houses to attend my lovely meeting? And you all saw the picture of the women I posted last week, didn't they all look elated to be there?

Last Friday was a parade to celebrate the corn harvest in my pueblo. Many of the local community schools came to walk and represent their areas. That is the extent of my knowledge on the event. My community participated and so did Joelle's, so of course we watched. Some things in this country never cease to perplex me. For example, there was a girl, who was some kind of corn princess (and like 12 years old), and was wearing a midriff-bearing shirt on her corn float. (Picture below.)  

The grocery store in my pueblo has an imported foods section. There are about two dozen items in this section and almost all of them are wildly overpriced. Some things are slightly more odd than others, but most of it is sold in super-sized packs. Like the giant container of candied almonds for $12 or two gallon jugs of cranberry juice for $10 or a three pack of alfredo sauce jars. My favorite part of this section is that they sell pudding packs that are not that expensive. I have never been a pudding fanatic, but I guess because it reminds me of home, I love pudding here. Unfortunately I think I may have hit a wall. A pudding wall. My life is hard (please read on to the next paragraph where my life is actually hard).

I keep promising to tell you all about my water situation in detail. And I promise I will, eventually. I want to dedicate a whole post to it's ridiculousness. But as a teaser, I will tell you that I just went 4 days without having water in my pila. Four days of not washing laundry, not cleaning dishes and worst of all, not bathing. Ugh. You do not have to tell me how gross that is. I am well aware. Today we got water and it is brown. I guess brown water is better than no water? I have bathed, done dishes and washed clothes. I feel as though there is some order in my life again.


People I woke up yesterday morning and found this petrified frog in the middle of my floor. Now I just did a major clean of my house a couple days ago and nothing. Did it fall from the ceiling? Did the wind blow it through my window? Is it actually a ghost of a frog, back to haunt me? I suppose I may never know the answer. It is gross though.

Fijese que I have to go now because.... um I need to wash my hair... again. Deal with it.

Cutie- patuties from my town :)

Corn princess and a 5yo with a beard. 

Love.

Sibling cuddle sesh? 

Life Is Calling... Peace Corps Azerbaijan

Life Is Calling is a series of reader submissions. It is an attempt to allow people to tell their personal stories and experiences about life as a recent college graduate conquering the real world. If you would like to submit a story to this series, shoot me an e-mail or leave a comment with your e-mail. Today’s post is by Jenna, a Peace Corps volunteer serving in Azerbaijan.

Life is Calling...

Azadlıq’  is my new favorite word.  It means ‘freedom” and it’s what I’ve begun to yell- William Wallace style- back in the faces of all the women who tell me “toy olsun,” (may you have a wedding). I hear about this subject more often than I drink tea in this country.  Usually, though, the words come a bit more direct.  For example: “You will marry an Azeri boy while you are here, yes?”  

Or, my favorite thus far:  “I want to buy her for my son,” said one neighbor to another as I passed on my way home from the school.  I’m not sure when she intends to propose this idea to my host family.  I am sure, though, that once she sees that my dowry currently consists of a giant brown sleeping bag, my GI medical kit, and a mosquito net, she’ll probably decide I’m not worth too many manat after all.  


 I never thought I could ever be misconstrued as “exotic.” Especially not while wearing flannel.  But, three months into my service in Beylagan, I maintain my empathy for the National Zoo pandas.  It’s always fun to get into staring contests with kids on the streets.  Even more fun when I’m in a market and, after a good 20-second-staredown from a fascinated woman, I startle her and make her drop her bag of sweets by saying “Salam.” (Oh my god, the foreigner…it talks!)  Usually, the first question I get is “are you Russian?” I’ll say ‘no’, and then they’ll ask, “But you speak Russian, right?” Again, I’ll say ‘no,’ (or ‘nyet’ just for fun).  Since Beylagan was one of the regions that were more secluded from Soviet influence, not everyone here speaks Russian, as most do in Baku.  But, because the only foreigners they usually come into contact with are Russian, it is only fair to assume that the 5’11”, light-haired newcomer is visiting from Moscow.  Currently, though, my only Russian knowledge consists of borrowed words (words adopted into the Azeri vocabulary throughout the Soviet occupation).  I can say “Pesok” (sugar), “Rakovina” (sink), and “Kalonka” (shower water heater). Obviously, my Russian communication gets me far.   

   My site mate, Myriam, and I were recently discussing an analogy I would love to share with you folks at home so you can better understand the joys of Azeri language acquisition as a Peace Corps Volunteer:   It’s like teething.  It’s painful and you’re at a stage in life when you have a lot of complaints, but you can’t express yourself.  You can make strange sounds and gestures, but you just have to bear it while you sit silently in the corner and your family giggles about how cute and funny you are when you miss your mouth with your spoon full of rice.  But, eventually, your teeth come in.  (New vocabulary, that is).  You can point to things and say their names.  You can even begin to say what you want instead of whining in the direction of your most beloved possession (the shower).  And, one day, you finally grow even more and can construct sentences.  No longer having to rely on interpretive dance, you can say, “Mən sabah dərsim yoxdur. Mən bakıya gedəcəm.” (I have no lessons tomorrow.  I will go to Baku.)  You start to feel like you’re all grown up and it’s time to go to A.M. kindergarten.  But then, an extended family member asks you to explain America’s position on the Qarabağ conflict, and, because you haven’t yet graduated to dancing in political language, you’re back to teething, kicking, and whining in your high chair again, feeling a dunce cap looming over your head.  That is, linguistically, where I am now- somewhere between the six-year-old who doesn’t always make sense but talks a lot anyway and the fourteen-year-old who just wants to be understood.      

  The first day of Novruz is in mid-March, and is every Azeri’s favorite holiday.  Think of Halloween, Easter, Thanksgiving, and Captain Planet rolled into one epic spring kick-off.  On the three Tuesdays leading up to Novruz, then the final Tuesday that begins the holiday, Azeris return to their Zoroastrian roots by honoring the 4 earth elements with a bonfire.  You jump three times over the fire; it is said to be an act of cleansing and a symbol for leaving troubles behind in the previous year.  There is Torpaq Çərşənbə, or “Earth Tuesday.” After my lessons, I helped Sevinj, my host Mom, lay out the Novruz table, which will stay out and be refilled over the next 12 days.  It includes fruit, nuts, paxlava (Azeri baklava) and other assorted national treats, eggs dyed red, and, finally, the Səməni- a round, dinner plate-sized mini garden of newly-sprouted grass.  This is the symbol of Novruz, and the mark of spring’s beginning. 

Throughout the day guests come and go, stopping long enough for tea, or just to leave more paxlava and wish their family and friends ‘Bayramınız Mübarək’ (happy holiday).  When dusk falls, children hit the streets for the Azeri version of Halloween.  They run up to each house, throw their hats the door, and sing Novruz jingles until the family hears them and fills their hats with treats.  When we had our final bonfire and Vidadi, my host Dad, brought home fireworks to launch in the backyard.  To close out the night, as with every other event of any kind in Azerbaijan, there is a feast: a giant pot of rice flavored with saffron, sheep and chicken kebabs from the backyard, peach nectar, and, of course, paxlava, tea, and more paxlava.  And this, friends, is the “small holiday.” The big holiday happens on March 20-21, the first official days of spring.  This has already been one of my favorite experiences in Azerbaijan, and I know I will definitely be bringing Novruz back to the States.  It’s so much fun that I’m quite possibly just as excited about Novruz as I am about St. Patrick’s Day.(We all know that’s saying a lot about Novruz!)

For those of you who may be able to visit me in Azerbaijan over the next 21 months, I have one important piece of advice: come hungry.  There are some wonderful folks here who are eager to share their lovely culture…and send you into a series of food comas that will put turkey tryptophan to shame.(That’s a hint- come visit me :) )