I’m in Houston, Bush Int’l Airport. I thought BUSH stood for something, but no, they actually mean George. They actually have a statue of him standing here, a coat over his shoulder, a constipated look on his face.
The trip is almost over. Yesterday, my connecting flight missed the plane by 2 minutes. As a line of passengers screamed and complained after we were unable to board the next flight (3 hours later), a kind lady took me aside. I guess she sensed that I was on the verge of tears, full of exhaustion and concern for safety. “Are you traveling alone?” she asked. ”You look very young. “I remember what its like to be young. And I wouldn’t feel safe if you were to spend the night here’.” (Another Continental worker had booked me for a 10:30 am flight the next morning.) The woman rebooked me for a 755 departure to JFK, and hooked me up with hotel, and dinner and breakfast vouchers. I had prayed feverishly, so I guess she was my angel.
I missed the airport shuttle in the morning, too, but thank the Lord, another one came 15 minutes later.
A man a couple of seats away, a big, red, blonde man, paired with an obese woman in a flower shirt, is giving a couple of college students (freshmen, I think) advice on going to New York.
“You going to New York? Wear a hat, sunglasses. Never look anybody in the eye. You ever been to New York?”
“No,” they murmur.
“Well, you just go down to Penn Station and you look around. There’s a lot of people with sunglasses doing shady things. Oh,” he continues, “and never ever look up.”
I can’t take it anymore.
“It’s not that bad, sir” I interrupt.
He looks at me. “Well, you gotta understand, when I went down there before Giuliani was mayor, the crime rate was over 70%.”
“That was a long time ago,” I say.
“Well,” he drawls, and looks away.
The college couple keeps on about something about NYU. The man is quiet. I think I am sorry to curb his enthusiasm, but there’s no reason to go scaring people. Even if he has a point.
Ah, New York, New York. Here I come!
9.08.2008
Wrapping Up
I spent the next couple of days finishing up work on the nutrition project. Of the 200 printed surveys, roughly 160 were completed, and I had time to type up the data on half of them. The four communities analyzed were Ojo de Agua, Corral de Piedras (Los Reyes), Jamaica and San Isidro de la Estacada. I coded for age; literacy level; access to a scale; most frequent consumption of which protein, carbohydrate, fruit, or vegetable; use of which type of cooking fat; favorite food; soda as a favorite drink; frequency of lack of money to buy food; and commonness of disorders or diseases such as diabetes, malnutrition, obesity, heart burn and high blood pressure.
My findings were pretty intuitive, and consistent with other nutrition studies, according to Mary Murrell. Soda was a favorite for many of the families, no one ate fish or seafood, even chicken consumption was infrequent due to lack of money, and communities with lesser protein consumption also tended to use lard in place of vegetable oil. Almost everyone lacked money to buy food “at times”, and not uncommon was a family with an overweight parent and malnutritioned children.
I presented these findings to ECOSS, the group who administered most of the questionnaires. Most interesting, to them, was the “What would you like to learn about nutrition” portion of the questionnaire. Women wanted to learn new cooking techniques, to know how to feed their kids well and economically, and to know what kind of food products contained protein and vitamins. I really believe this information can be very useful to the workshops ECOSS presents. It can also help TEATRO. I sat down with Conchita, the TEATRO coordinator, to advise her on the new nutrition-themed play the group was working on.
In addition to presenting ECOSS with the findings, I bought them cake. Praise the Lord, I ran into Jose, Ana Pena’s husband, on the way to the pasteleria, and he gave me a lift back to CASA. Mexican cakes are huge and heavy. Just as I was cutting up the cake, Tim and Mallory walked in with a big cake – and a pineapple – for me! Lourdes joined us also, and the chicos de TEATRO came in, too. It was a bittersweet end, as we all exchanged email addresses and agreed to meet up in the evening for dinner.
My findings were pretty intuitive, and consistent with other nutrition studies, according to Mary Murrell. Soda was a favorite for many of the families, no one ate fish or seafood, even chicken consumption was infrequent due to lack of money, and communities with lesser protein consumption also tended to use lard in place of vegetable oil. Almost everyone lacked money to buy food “at times”, and not uncommon was a family with an overweight parent and malnutritioned children.
I presented these findings to ECOSS, the group who administered most of the questionnaires. Most interesting, to them, was the “What would you like to learn about nutrition” portion of the questionnaire. Women wanted to learn new cooking techniques, to know how to feed their kids well and economically, and to know what kind of food products contained protein and vitamins. I really believe this information can be very useful to the workshops ECOSS presents. It can also help TEATRO. I sat down with Conchita, the TEATRO coordinator, to advise her on the new nutrition-themed play the group was working on.
In addition to presenting ECOSS with the findings, I bought them cake. Praise the Lord, I ran into Jose, Ana Pena’s husband, on the way to the pasteleria, and he gave me a lift back to CASA. Mexican cakes are huge and heavy. Just as I was cutting up the cake, Tim and Mallory walked in with a big cake – and a pineapple – for me! Lourdes joined us also, and the chicos de TEATRO came in, too. It was a bittersweet end, as we all exchanged email addresses and agreed to meet up in the evening for dinner.
Tamal Comes and Goes
Sunday, August 10. I wake up early. I straighten up what’s left to be straightened up. Thank God for Dona Lou’s cleaning yesterday. The kitchen is sparkling. I thrown on some sweatpants. I run to the polleria. He still hasn’t called (of course he hasn’t called, that would be responsible). I come back, check in with the airport shuttle cab. They picked him up an hour ago. I knew that, I say to myself, as I finish up my makeup. I say a prayer as I step into my wedge heels, the first time I have worn them all summer. Good that they are useful now. I go outside, greeting Christina on the way. I sit outside the gate, waiting. I come back after 5 minutes. As soon as I am ready to boil some cinnamon and grapefruit peels (the chicken stinks), I hear it. Beep. Beeep. “Estacey!” Christina calls. “They’re here.” Yes, yes I know that. I titter-totter faster than I thought I could. The van pulls up. The driver gets out. He is up front. Why is he still sitting? Hurry up, hurry up, get out. Finally, he does, a giant smile on his face. We embrace for a long time, to t. Jamal comes home.
After what my mom predicted as a “passionate reunion,” we dined at Taco’s Don Felix, a few blocks from my house. Jamal was amazed by the roads, which he described as horrible. I told him I like the cobble stone foot massage. The next day, we explored the center, the Jardin, the park, and the churches. I finally took him to Milagros, a very good restaurant, which I visited with Kelsey, Noe, Salus and Andres. We had chalked up the walls in the smoking room, with colorful “Noe + Kelsey” and “Salus y Stacey: te amo” messages. Naturally, one of mine was “I heart Jamal” – and I finally got to show it off. We walked back smiling, he with a corn mask in his hand, I with new earrings.
For the next 8 days, Jamal visited CASA, videotaping the youth center and the hospital, and interviewing the staff. I translated. I actually learned a lot from Maricruz, the director, as well as Isabella, one of the midwives. On Thursday, he accompanied me, Bibianna and Karina to Corral de Piedras, where we listened to a radio novella about midwifery and violence prevention, promoted the midwifery school and made a cake! The week after, we spent time at the hospital, where we ran into the very pregnant owner of Garrison and Garrison, the gringo bookstore, and her Mexican pareja. They invited us to a private pregnancy class later that afternoon. Isabella ran the class, which 6 or 7 women attended. She explained the entire birthing process, listened to the babies’ heart rates, and showed a video of her sister’s water birth. I really admired her gentle, feminine aura – something I will try to emulate.
In addition to exploring CASA and San Miguel, Jamal and I spent much time just enjoying each other’s company. Friday night, we attended Kelsey’s goodbye party. We had a blast, despite the sadness of her leaving. Many people from CASA showed up, including Baby and Choche, as well as Noe’s friends, all the interns, and Mallory’s boyfriend, Daniel. Choche, who has cooked at our houses half a dozen times, prepared chicken rice tacos, and especially for me, calabaza (no oil, no bread, he beamed). I cannot wait until he comes to New York. Even the language barrier was not a problem, as Daniel spoke English with Jamal, so the guys bonded on the balcony. After much toasts of “Salud!” we danced the night away.
On Saturday, we walked around the Charco del Ingenio, the botanical garden. The location includes wetlands, a canyon, and the largest cactus exhibit I have ever been. We spent hours walking around, relishing in the natural beauty and the sheer variety of plant and animal life. Iguanas ran, ducks swam, bees buzzed, and ants did their thing as we strolled through the ecosystem. Naturally, I managed to get a cactus barb in my toe, but Jamal, armed with borrowed tweezers, pulled it out. My hero.
Sunday was filled with sadness, as the interns and the boyfriends gathered at Kelsey’s for a more intimate goodbye. We made enmoladas and watched YouTube videos, and danced a bit. No one, especially not Noe, was in a partying mood. Dear Kelsey left the next day.
On Tuesday, Jamal’s last night, I prepared a big dinner of spicy chicken, butter-roasted potatoes, and seasoned string beans. We spent the rest of the night working on his book, and he left early on Wednesday morning, forgetting his flip flops and the rest of the chicken, but vowing to come back.
After what my mom predicted as a “passionate reunion,” we dined at Taco’s Don Felix, a few blocks from my house. Jamal was amazed by the roads, which he described as horrible. I told him I like the cobble stone foot massage. The next day, we explored the center, the Jardin, the park, and the churches. I finally took him to Milagros, a very good restaurant, which I visited with Kelsey, Noe, Salus and Andres. We had chalked up the walls in the smoking room, with colorful “Noe + Kelsey” and “Salus y Stacey: te amo” messages. Naturally, one of mine was “I heart Jamal” – and I finally got to show it off. We walked back smiling, he with a corn mask in his hand, I with new earrings.
For the next 8 days, Jamal visited CASA, videotaping the youth center and the hospital, and interviewing the staff. I translated. I actually learned a lot from Maricruz, the director, as well as Isabella, one of the midwives. On Thursday, he accompanied me, Bibianna and Karina to Corral de Piedras, where we listened to a radio novella about midwifery and violence prevention, promoted the midwifery school and made a cake! The week after, we spent time at the hospital, where we ran into the very pregnant owner of Garrison and Garrison, the gringo bookstore, and her Mexican pareja. They invited us to a private pregnancy class later that afternoon. Isabella ran the class, which 6 or 7 women attended. She explained the entire birthing process, listened to the babies’ heart rates, and showed a video of her sister’s water birth. I really admired her gentle, feminine aura – something I will try to emulate.
In addition to exploring CASA and San Miguel, Jamal and I spent much time just enjoying each other’s company. Friday night, we attended Kelsey’s goodbye party. We had a blast, despite the sadness of her leaving. Many people from CASA showed up, including Baby and Choche, as well as Noe’s friends, all the interns, and Mallory’s boyfriend, Daniel. Choche, who has cooked at our houses half a dozen times, prepared chicken rice tacos, and especially for me, calabaza (no oil, no bread, he beamed). I cannot wait until he comes to New York. Even the language barrier was not a problem, as Daniel spoke English with Jamal, so the guys bonded on the balcony. After much toasts of “Salud!” we danced the night away.
On Saturday, we walked around the Charco del Ingenio, the botanical garden. The location includes wetlands, a canyon, and the largest cactus exhibit I have ever been. We spent hours walking around, relishing in the natural beauty and the sheer variety of plant and animal life. Iguanas ran, ducks swam, bees buzzed, and ants did their thing as we strolled through the ecosystem. Naturally, I managed to get a cactus barb in my toe, but Jamal, armed with borrowed tweezers, pulled it out. My hero.
Sunday was filled with sadness, as the interns and the boyfriends gathered at Kelsey’s for a more intimate goodbye. We made enmoladas and watched YouTube videos, and danced a bit. No one, especially not Noe, was in a partying mood. Dear Kelsey left the next day.
On Tuesday, Jamal’s last night, I prepared a big dinner of spicy chicken, butter-roasted potatoes, and seasoned string beans. We spent the rest of the night working on his book, and he left early on Wednesday morning, forgetting his flip flops and the rest of the chicken, but vowing to come back.
8.01.2008
A Much Needed Getaway
If I have learned one thing, its that Mexico is definitely not Spain. Sure, there are several similarities between my study abroad in Salamanca last year and working in San Miguel de Allende - language, food shopping, and making new friends being the top 3. But Salamanca was a carefree world of its own, filled with fun and discoveries. I am having much fun and making many discoveries in San Miguel. But this summer is also filled with challenges, with stark realities staring me in the face. Poverty, theft, frustration, denial.
Thus, I was ripe and ready for a break from San Miguel. Early Saturday morning, Kelsey and I headed out to Guanajuato, the university town I have heard so much about, the capital city of Guanajuato State. I arrived at the bus station huffing and puffing, the last person to board at 8:42 am, after leaving late and managing to lose my way on the way there (this is not hard - I constantly discover new streets and alleyways, especially when all I want to do is get from point A to point B hasslefree).
Not 90 minutes later, Guanajuato waved, Hola! The colorful houses literally sit on top of each other in this Toledo-like city, which is more mountainous and larger than SMA. Tourists and townsfolk alike wonder the callejons, as well as the underground tunnels, carved straight out of the rocky base. Lincoln Tunnel ain't got nothing on these drivers.
We booked a 3-hour-long tourist tour, and I was initially disappointed, because I had no desire to sit in another bus. But it turned out to be worth it. Our first stop was the Pipila, a gigantic monument from which you can see the entire city as a valley, surrounded by mountains. What a view. We then stopped off at a giftshop (I should have known, darn commercialism) and a sweets store (free samples galore), before heading to a basilica. The gilded carvings, we found out, were all done by Native American labor. Our next stop was a bit of an unwanted surprise - we entered a sunny garden, with beautiful purple orchids and quaint coffee tables. Our guide, a pretty girl with almond eyes, wore an unbecoming black robe, with her sneakers and jeans sneaking out from under. Wtf? I thought - and then it dawned on me: we were in for a your of an inquisition age torture chamber, complete with 4 mummified bodies and all the torture equipment you want. If this was not creepy enough, the crowd was full of children and toddlers. As we progressed deeper underground, the guide became more and more, um, passionate. I think she took great pleasure in showing how the torture machines worked, violently clanging the clasps on to the dummies. I nearly forgot about her sneakers. I was relieved when our bus drove away, babies crying, old ladies stuffing themselves with sweets. How anyone could eat after that, I still don't know. But they saved the best for last. Guanajuato, prior to becoming a tourist attraction, was a mining town in the 1800s. So, we descended into a mine. Ever since I read Tom Sawyer, I have had a fear of underground caves and tunnels, but fears are to be overcome, no? In any case, the quartz formations, the stallelites (right spelling?) and even the dripping water all testified to the beauty and creation of nature. And we got to climb into one of the rail carts. I still shudder, though, thinking of all the people who died just for some rich lady to have a fancy engagement ring. I have been set on no diamonds for a while, but now I think I may say goodbye to gold and silver as well.
After lunch, we visited the childhood home of Diego Rivera, and then met up with Sandra, TEATRO's acting teacher. She and her husband guided us to the Callejon de Los Besos, a street that gets so narrow that balconies touch. The legend goes that two star-crossed lovers who lived across the street from each other were forbidden to marry by their families, but they would meet on their balconies to kiss and talk. Ahhh... the Mexican Romeo and Juliet. We then went to the Teatro Juarez, a beautiful structure with Arabic-influenced interior, rumored to be one of the three best theaters in all of Mexico.
That ended the tour of the Centro for the day, as Sandra and her husband drove us over to a beautiful dam with a waterfall and a spectacular mountain view. (Tragically, one of the walls broke in 1905, flooding the entire city - there are still signs marking the waterlevel in the streets). Another creepy and true story - they used to let the prisoners out once a year during the holidays and drop them down the waterfall, giving them freedom if they survived. Ouch.
Kelsey headed back to San Miguel, but the rest of us went to another panaroma viewing site, this time from the other side of the city. Free of tourists, full of cactus, and with nothing but sky and mountains all around, a profound peace enveloped us. Even the increased chilliness of the air seemed irrelevant. I felt good. The site also had a rock theater carved out, and housed a still functioning mine. It reminded me of childhood summers in Sevastopol.
We ate delicious Michoacan fare at the couple's favorite restaurant, and retreated to their house for the night. Their beagle, Fido, jumped on his masters as soon as we entered. Sandra is really wonderful - she lent me two books on immigration, and gave me a long tour of her warm, tastefully decorated home, explaining every piece about which I was curious. I especially loved their selection of teas, their sun-themed furniture, and the fact that the dog house was smack in the middle of the backyard. After a good night's rest, I descended for breakfast, and we chatted about New York, Guanajuato, theater and my Ukraine-ness over eggs and mango and papaya.
They dropped me off back at the centro, and I took my time exploring the area on my own. I first stopped at the Alhondiga, an important war site now converted into a museum, housing Aztec art, colonial / revolutionary historical objects, and numerous murals and gigantic head sculptures of the revolutionary heroes. I wondered around for two hours, before heading off for a quiet lunch at a cafe, and continuing to the Iconographic Museum - 20 rooms full of nothing but Don Quijote paintings and scuptures! What a place - so many brush strokes, colors, and all different, all unique to the artist's point of view. I got to room 17 before being kicked out, as the museum closed early on Sundays. My last location, not including aimless wandering, was the screening of the winners of the Expression in Corte film festival. The movie featured the life of a young Mexican gang member, the HIV+ girl he falls in love with and their struggles to get lifted. The only person in the whole movie who had her stuff together was a transsexual named Lulu. I cried.
Emerging outside from the literal darkness of the theater, I walked around for about half an hour before haling a cab to the bus station. This time, I got there half an hour early - and fell into an exhausted, satisfied sleep as the wheels rolled on, carrying me back to San Miguel.
Thus, I was ripe and ready for a break from San Miguel. Early Saturday morning, Kelsey and I headed out to Guanajuato, the university town I have heard so much about, the capital city of Guanajuato State. I arrived at the bus station huffing and puffing, the last person to board at 8:42 am, after leaving late and managing to lose my way on the way there (this is not hard - I constantly discover new streets and alleyways, especially when all I want to do is get from point A to point B hasslefree).
Not 90 minutes later, Guanajuato waved, Hola! The colorful houses literally sit on top of each other in this Toledo-like city, which is more mountainous and larger than SMA. Tourists and townsfolk alike wonder the callejons, as well as the underground tunnels, carved straight out of the rocky base. Lincoln Tunnel ain't got nothing on these drivers.
We booked a 3-hour-long tourist tour, and I was initially disappointed, because I had no desire to sit in another bus. But it turned out to be worth it. Our first stop was the Pipila, a gigantic monument from which you can see the entire city as a valley, surrounded by mountains. What a view. We then stopped off at a giftshop (I should have known, darn commercialism) and a sweets store (free samples galore), before heading to a basilica. The gilded carvings, we found out, were all done by Native American labor. Our next stop was a bit of an unwanted surprise - we entered a sunny garden, with beautiful purple orchids and quaint coffee tables. Our guide, a pretty girl with almond eyes, wore an unbecoming black robe, with her sneakers and jeans sneaking out from under. Wtf? I thought - and then it dawned on me: we were in for a your of an inquisition age torture chamber, complete with 4 mummified bodies and all the torture equipment you want. If this was not creepy enough, the crowd was full of children and toddlers. As we progressed deeper underground, the guide became more and more, um, passionate. I think she took great pleasure in showing how the torture machines worked, violently clanging the clasps on to the dummies. I nearly forgot about her sneakers. I was relieved when our bus drove away, babies crying, old ladies stuffing themselves with sweets. How anyone could eat after that, I still don't know. But they saved the best for last. Guanajuato, prior to becoming a tourist attraction, was a mining town in the 1800s. So, we descended into a mine. Ever since I read Tom Sawyer, I have had a fear of underground caves and tunnels, but fears are to be overcome, no? In any case, the quartz formations, the stallelites (right spelling?) and even the dripping water all testified to the beauty and creation of nature. And we got to climb into one of the rail carts. I still shudder, though, thinking of all the people who died just for some rich lady to have a fancy engagement ring. I have been set on no diamonds for a while, but now I think I may say goodbye to gold and silver as well.
After lunch, we visited the childhood home of Diego Rivera, and then met up with Sandra, TEATRO's acting teacher. She and her husband guided us to the Callejon de Los Besos, a street that gets so narrow that balconies touch. The legend goes that two star-crossed lovers who lived across the street from each other were forbidden to marry by their families, but they would meet on their balconies to kiss and talk. Ahhh... the Mexican Romeo and Juliet. We then went to the Teatro Juarez, a beautiful structure with Arabic-influenced interior, rumored to be one of the three best theaters in all of Mexico.
That ended the tour of the Centro for the day, as Sandra and her husband drove us over to a beautiful dam with a waterfall and a spectacular mountain view. (Tragically, one of the walls broke in 1905, flooding the entire city - there are still signs marking the waterlevel in the streets). Another creepy and true story - they used to let the prisoners out once a year during the holidays and drop them down the waterfall, giving them freedom if they survived. Ouch.
Kelsey headed back to San Miguel, but the rest of us went to another panaroma viewing site, this time from the other side of the city. Free of tourists, full of cactus, and with nothing but sky and mountains all around, a profound peace enveloped us. Even the increased chilliness of the air seemed irrelevant. I felt good. The site also had a rock theater carved out, and housed a still functioning mine. It reminded me of childhood summers in Sevastopol.
We ate delicious Michoacan fare at the couple's favorite restaurant, and retreated to their house for the night. Their beagle, Fido, jumped on his masters as soon as we entered. Sandra is really wonderful - she lent me two books on immigration, and gave me a long tour of her warm, tastefully decorated home, explaining every piece about which I was curious. I especially loved their selection of teas, their sun-themed furniture, and the fact that the dog house was smack in the middle of the backyard. After a good night's rest, I descended for breakfast, and we chatted about New York, Guanajuato, theater and my Ukraine-ness over eggs and mango and papaya.
They dropped me off back at the centro, and I took my time exploring the area on my own. I first stopped at the Alhondiga, an important war site now converted into a museum, housing Aztec art, colonial / revolutionary historical objects, and numerous murals and gigantic head sculptures of the revolutionary heroes. I wondered around for two hours, before heading off for a quiet lunch at a cafe, and continuing to the Iconographic Museum - 20 rooms full of nothing but Don Quijote paintings and scuptures! What a place - so many brush strokes, colors, and all different, all unique to the artist's point of view. I got to room 17 before being kicked out, as the museum closed early on Sundays. My last location, not including aimless wandering, was the screening of the winners of the Expression in Corte film festival. The movie featured the life of a young Mexican gang member, the HIV+ girl he falls in love with and their struggles to get lifted. The only person in the whole movie who had her stuff together was a transsexual named Lulu. I cried.
Emerging outside from the literal darkness of the theater, I walked around for about half an hour before haling a cab to the bus station. This time, I got there half an hour early - and fell into an exhausted, satisfied sleep as the wheels rolled on, carrying me back to San Miguel.
7.28.2008
Clinical Discoveries
In addition to the nutrition project progressing, this week was filled with visitors and discoverie at CASA.
The breath-taking CASA rooftop
On Monday, I gave a tour of CASA and of the CASA clinic to one of Nadines friends, who was here for the week to become acquainted with the youth center. The intent was good, but I am really seeing why so many of the Mexicans dont like American tourists. The woman took pictures of people without asking, as if she were at an exhibit or a zoo, and got really close to people in order to speak to them, all in their faces. Sometimes she even spoke to them in English. I know she does not speak Spanish herself, which always complicates matters, but still. This aggravated my already existing annoyance with Americans, which blossomed fully when a podologist vistited and changed many of the patients names into English, which caused great confusion when we gave out the athletes foot medicine.
On Wednesday, I spent the day at the clinic, but this time at the lab, with Yolanda. I observed urine test analyses from pregnant women, and learned how a centrifuge functions. It was fascinating to see the slides under the microscope! Many of the urine samples had cystals, and Yolanda explained that these form into kidney stones - simply because the women do not drink enough water! Other women suffered from UTIs. In addition, we ran tests for parasites on a man who enlisted for work at a restaurant - and he had salmonella! A lightbulb went on in my head: many of the people working in restaurants in the US are undocumented, hence they do not undergo such testing. Perhaps, if nothing else, the threat of salmonella, which the FDA is so paranoid about, can urge the US government to ease the legalization procedures for immigrants? In any case, it was fascinating to see how the antibodies reacted with the cell proteins... perhaps I will take chemistry in the Spring semester, after all. Yolanda's son was there also - a first year chemistry student at the University of Guanajuato, he told me much about the city, so I became even more excited to visit it.
I came back to CASA after 1, and met a group of high school students from New York City! They visited CASA for 3 days as participants in Global Kids - a program which happens to be right across the street from Baruch. I love my Mexican friends, but what a breath of fresh air, to see Black, Asian and Eastern European faces. Two of them accompanied me on Thursday to Corral de Piedras, and we all ate dinner and played games with the chavos from the summer course on Friday. The summer course kids are wonderful too - so curious, and smart, and uninhibited. I will definitely continue working with young people all my life.
Later on, on Friday, we were supposed to meet with Shelley, who is leaving her post as intern coordinator, and Nadine, but none of us had keys to the office, so we sat on the roof. In the evening, we went to MM Cinemas to see Batman. It was as if someone carved out a piece of Anywhere, USA Mall and dumped it in the middle of Mexico. The shops, the cement, all so neat and corporate... But the movie theater was amazing! And they even give out tomato, onion and chiles as condiments. And the movie - what a performance by Heath Ledger! I just wished I was there with Jamal next to me. I hope we'll go back when he comes to visit.
The breath-taking CASA rooftop
On Monday, I gave a tour of CASA and of the CASA clinic to one of Nadines friends, who was here for the week to become acquainted with the youth center. The intent was good, but I am really seeing why so many of the Mexicans dont like American tourists. The woman took pictures of people without asking, as if she were at an exhibit or a zoo, and got really close to people in order to speak to them, all in their faces. Sometimes she even spoke to them in English. I know she does not speak Spanish herself, which always complicates matters, but still. This aggravated my already existing annoyance with Americans, which blossomed fully when a podologist vistited and changed many of the patients names into English, which caused great confusion when we gave out the athletes foot medicine.
On Wednesday, I spent the day at the clinic, but this time at the lab, with Yolanda. I observed urine test analyses from pregnant women, and learned how a centrifuge functions. It was fascinating to see the slides under the microscope! Many of the urine samples had cystals, and Yolanda explained that these form into kidney stones - simply because the women do not drink enough water! Other women suffered from UTIs. In addition, we ran tests for parasites on a man who enlisted for work at a restaurant - and he had salmonella! A lightbulb went on in my head: many of the people working in restaurants in the US are undocumented, hence they do not undergo such testing. Perhaps, if nothing else, the threat of salmonella, which the FDA is so paranoid about, can urge the US government to ease the legalization procedures for immigrants? In any case, it was fascinating to see how the antibodies reacted with the cell proteins... perhaps I will take chemistry in the Spring semester, after all. Yolanda's son was there also - a first year chemistry student at the University of Guanajuato, he told me much about the city, so I became even more excited to visit it.
I came back to CASA after 1, and met a group of high school students from New York City! They visited CASA for 3 days as participants in Global Kids - a program which happens to be right across the street from Baruch. I love my Mexican friends, but what a breath of fresh air, to see Black, Asian and Eastern European faces. Two of them accompanied me on Thursday to Corral de Piedras, and we all ate dinner and played games with the chavos from the summer course on Friday. The summer course kids are wonderful too - so curious, and smart, and uninhibited. I will definitely continue working with young people all my life.
Later on, on Friday, we were supposed to meet with Shelley, who is leaving her post as intern coordinator, and Nadine, but none of us had keys to the office, so we sat on the roof. In the evening, we went to MM Cinemas to see Batman. It was as if someone carved out a piece of Anywhere, USA Mall and dumped it in the middle of Mexico. The shops, the cement, all so neat and corporate... But the movie theater was amazing! And they even give out tomato, onion and chiles as condiments. And the movie - what a performance by Heath Ledger! I just wished I was there with Jamal next to me. I hope we'll go back when he comes to visit.
Going Nuts, Nutritionally
Lou, who will coordinate the nutrition project
After much research, drafting, revising with everyone from the ECOSS coordinators Delia and Violeta to Mary Murell, and community trials, its full steam ahead for the nutrition questionnaire. These intended to gather nutritional statistics on the communities around San Miguel (there are no such statistics) for the 50,000$ grant request to fund an educational play and radionovella. Apart from screening for a/s/l/h/w/number of kids and their a/s/h/w, the 30 questions focus on nutritional knowledge, attitudes, practices and economic challenges. Inquiries include frequency of consumption for fruits, vegetables, protein, carbs, fats, and beverages; favorite foods; frequency and reasons for lack of money for buying food; and definitions of "eating well." We are distributing 20 questionnaires in 10 of the 21 communities with which ECOSS works. All promotores were briefed last Friday, and instructed to conduct the questionnaires on a one-on-one basis with the women in the communities, as many of them do not read or write.
On Tuesday, I joined Salus and Bibiana in Ojo de Agua. It takes nearly 2.5 hours to drive there from CASA - the last destination on the convi's route. Therefore, also, we only stayed for one hour, to have time to pick everyone else up. Salus, Bibi and I split up into 3 groups to administer the questionnaires. I got comfortable next to a group of women, sitting on a rock, with the sun grilling my backs. My first participant was a woman in her 60s, who still has some of her younger children (aged 18 ) living at home. The second mother was 54 - with 9 kids, 3 of them teenagers. The third was in her late 20s, her 3 children in her lap. Two of the toddlers played tagged, daring each other to touch me. I poked them back, and they squealed in pleasure. Another little girl played with my straight hair, comparing it to the ringlets of one of her playmates. I gazed at the children with deep eyes and pouty lips, I listened to their mothers tell of how malnutritioned they are, and I learned, for the first time, whan terms like "income gap" and "impoverishment" really look like.
On Thursday, we continued the questionnaires in Corral de Piedras, with Bibi and Choche. Nasim, from Global Kids, joined us, with Toshana, one of his students. Corral de Piedras is one of the largest communities in San Miguel. (We walked around afterwards, enjoying the shade of the trees, the ruins, and even coming upon a circus!) There is also a health center on site, and we walked in on the nurse explaining contraceptive mehtods (many of which were unavailable, due to their high cost). The questionnaire answers here were different - few women talked about malnutrition, many reported Coke to be their drink of choice, and although serveral were overweight, they claimed to be satisfied with their weight. I may be wrong, but it appears to me that those from Ojo de Agua represent a very deep level of poverty, where nearly everything is lacking, while those from Corral have just a little more - but so little, that it is only enough to spend on cheap, filling foods (hence the chips and Coke). Aside from nutrition questionnaires, we also planted trees and distributed pamphlets on exercises. It is good that they were illustrated, since many of the women are illeterate (and therefore, cannot read the ingredients or nutritiona facts on he products they purchase).
However, I am confident that in order for this project to work, we have to start with the CASA promotores themselves. One girl, after rejecting a banana I offered her, smiled and said "The truth is, many Mexicans dont like fruit." Well, I know this can change- in high school, my breakfast included packaged 25 cent brownies all the time, and I have barely touched those for 3 years. To change the situtation in CASA, I am also distributing questionnaires to the promotores, and hope Lou will integrate an institution-wide educational component into this nutrition project.
More Lou______
I received more news on Thursday - after interviewing Lou, Bere, Andres and Yolanda, as well as familiarizing myself with the particulars of the nutrition proposal, I finally submitted my article to Correo, the Guanajuato state-wide publication. Lou and Bere checked it over, and I sent it to America Ortiz, the San Miguel coordinator for Correo, on Tuesday. Surprised that I had not heard anything from her since, I phoned the office - to learn that, indeed, the article was in the day's newspaper. I rummaged through the pages, and found a picture of Lou and of CASA, under the headline "Tiened sobrepeso 30% de ninos and 45% de adoloscentes." Yes, there was my article - under her name!!! I called the office, and the lady sweetly explained to me that she could not change the facts, but since she edite the article, it was hers. No, I said, thats called plagiarism. She asked me to call back, she would check if it would be possible to print it in full form. Enraged, I hung up - but I will be going over there today to straighten it out. Heres the link: http://www.correo-gto.com.mx/notas.asp?id=78268. I guess I got a first hand look at corruption here.
On Friday, I checked back with Delia. We have 2 communities comletely covered, and the rest will be completed this week. After that, time to conduct analysis. I also sent an English language nutrition article to Mary, to publish in Atencion. I think I will also work with Daniel to design a well-illustrated nutrition brochure. Ah, work, work, work.
Update: Good news!
I went to visit Ms. America Ortiz on Monday, who explained to me that she thought what I sent her with a press release. Never mind that I have never seen a press release full of quotes, I still don't understand how that explains her even crediting the photos to herself. But alas! The article was published in complete form, under the heading "Otros Voces" - Other Voices, on Tuesday. Please see link: http://www.correo-gto.com.mx/notas.asp?id=78922
My first Spanish language publication! Praising the Lord and patting myself on the back - like Nadine said, patience and persistence.
7.21.2008
Dolores
Friday night, after running from the rain covered in plastic bags (courtesy of Yolanda's post-pilates kindness) and drying off at my house, Kelsey and I walked over to the CASA hospital. Lock in hand, pocket full of almonds, and Bible in the bag, I prepared for a 12 hour night shift in the maternity ward.
We entered from around the back, as the hospital is only open for emergency for the night. The empty halls, the quiet voices... everything appeared strangely peaceful, blanketed in the night. Nieves, the partera student on duty, directed us upstairs to lock up our things, and we passed the first few hours watching Bad Boys II, with Spanish subtitles. Best movie scene of all time: Will Smith and Martin Lawrence interrogating the 15 year old boyfriend. Pobrecito, Reggie.
The only patient present was a 40 year old woman, with a nino obito - a stillbirth waiting to happen. A resident of the campos, she received virtually no prenatal care. This was her first visit to the hospital. Moreover, the mother of 3 had diabetes. All these factors, expained Dr. Ismael, contributed to the fact that the child had already been dead for 3 days. I did not want to believe it. Are you sure? I asked, hoping for a chance. He just looked at me. The baby's heart had long ceased to beat. They would perform a Cesarian in the morning, if contractions did not start.
Apparently, my plans to see life begin were thwarted by death.
Around 1 am, my mood lifted - someone else came in to give birth! Mauru, the partera on duty (who, in a cool twist of things, is related to Luchi, the woman who runs our favorite lunch place), led us into the room. "Estan aqui para apoyarte," she told the mother-to-be. "They're here to support you." I introduced myself to the girl in the bed, who smiled weakly, fighting off a contaction. Her name is Dolores, and she could not have been more than 15. As I found out while Maura and Nieves filled out her chart, Dolores was actually 17, married, and her husband (also a youngling) was waiting in the hall. Dolores' mother sat in the chair by the bed. Suddenly, another contaction gripped the girl's insides, and she convulsed in the bed. I looked at her mother, who continued sitting, staring off somewhere. I guessed she's been through it many times herself, but I was frantic. Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Instinctively, I walked over to the girl's side, and reached out my hand, which she gripped, tighter and tighter, until the contraction passed. I smiled at her. "Eres muy furte," I told her, "You are very strong." I am still in awe of her strength, a little girl with a little life inside her.
Throughout the next hour, Dolores' contactions became stronger and stronger. I would hold her hand, and when she gripped the metal bed in pain, tears pouring down her face, I massaged her legs. I have never felt so strong a desire to take away someone's pain, to make it mine if need be, but just to make it stop. I prayed to Jesus for help.
Soon, the medical experts decided that the contractions were too strong for barely 3 cm of dilation. They attempted to hook Dolores up to an IV, giving her medicine to ease the pain. They could hardly find the vein, and blood spilled into the IV . Dolores screwed up her face. More pain. When would it stop? Her entire arm burned, she whispered, and Mauru, concerned, asked if she was allergic to any of the medications. The usual response to an IV insertion was a prickling pain, near the entrance of the needle - not an entire arm burning. Thankfully, Dolores' face soon relaxed - the drugs began to work.
Afterwards, we helped the girl remove her sweat suit, and take a shower. (I have never seen such perfect baby-feeding breasts before - they looked so full of nutrition, as if their only function in all of time was to provide sustenance for a new life. Nieves had to teach the Canadian woman how to "milk" herself - she actually compared it to cow milking - but I was sure this girl would not need a lesson). Dolores was already bleeding some, so Mauru put absorbent pads on the bed. I stepped out after Dolores showered, glad to leave the room, which smelled strongly of blood, and made my head woozy. I cannot imagine a battlefield after battle, and the poor souls who collected their dead, or looked for survivors.
Mauru instructed us to rest, as Dolores would probably not give birth until morning. I tried to fall asleep, but my chair did nothing for welcoming dreams. More than that, the woman next door, the one with the stillbirth, chased away any shut-eye prospects. Dr. Ismael thought she would need a Cesarian, but her contractions began, as her body pushed out the dead baby. After walking around the ward, I passed out around 4 am, to the gut-wrenching screams of "No! No puedo!"
Kelsey and I rose around 7, and again at 9, and waited for Dolores - who was 8 cm dilated - to give birth. For fear of missing it, we breakfasted on whatever was available in the closest open stores (a bland cornmeal soup, a banana). But nothing happened, so we passed the time chatting with the girl in the cafeteria, while waiting for tea, at 1030. Around 1 oclock, with everything still perfectly tranquilo, we ventured out - Kelsey to feed Babi and Noe at CASA, and I to make copies at the papeleria. We checked back at 3, after calling, but still nothing. Leaving our numbers with Maura, we finally went home.
In the evening, I met up with Mallory and her crew, as well as Tim (poor Kelsey was sick). We watched Om Shanti Om, which was being screened in the Jardin. I love open air events. Ironically, in the Festival de los Cortes- the shortfilm festival - this Bollywood selection lasted 3 hours. If you ever argued with friends or lovers over which movie genre to watch, I recommed Om Shanti Om - it has all of them. See it, you'll believe me.
After the movie, we stopped by Momma Mia - the regular spot for extranjeros. I was very excited to see diversity - various Spanish speakers, two Indian woman, a black man. A live music band, Pila Seca, played an alternative rock set. It was a very relaxing way to pass the evening, especially compared to the night before.
I called Mauru on Sunday morning. She informed me that they had performed a Cesarian for Dolores - and, therefore, did not call the interns to observe. Eager to see the baby, I walked over to the hospital, first stopping by an artisan's candle shop and picking out three bright, colorful candles with heart and star designs for the mother and child (as well as a gift for Kathy, who loves candles). This took me a whle - I wanted the perfect gift, cheerful and strong, to welcome the new life. I rang at the side-door entrance, and Mauru admitted me in. I then stepped into Dolores' room.
The furniture had been moved - or maybe it was a different room? I looked to the left, where the bed was previously, and encountered a young man in a chair, Dolores' husband, instead. An older female relative was also present, and, to the right, the bed - where Dolores was breastfeeding her chilid. I handed the present over to the husband, and asked if I could see the newborn. Dolores nodded - she looked exhausted! I came closer, and saw the little screwed newborn face, sucking away. The baby girl was wrapped in a bright yellow blanket, the same color as one of the candles! I thanked them all, wished them blessings, and stepped out of the room.
The next stop of my journey was Kelsey's house. We walked over to the Escuela de Bellas Artes, where we watched 5 or 6 shorts (also part of the Expresion en Cortes). One really stands out in my mind - Sweat, an Asian black and white piece, 10 minutes or so, with perfect transitions and a great angle at life. An hour later, we dined on amazing fish and grilled vegetables at a restaurant on Umaran, where we made certain to inquire about the preparation of the dishes. Who knew grilled red cabbage tasted good? At 5, Kelsey accompanied me back to CASA, to conduct the immigration questionnaire. Good fun - the kids were rather fascinated by us, and shared comments along the lines of, "You know, in America, there are whole groups of people with all blonde hair and blue eyes" and "Yeah, but there are even people who are black, completely black." One very outspoken 13 year old did my hair, and Jessie, one of the PESANE members, shared the alphabet soup pasta and frijoles she prepared for the kids' dinner. Exhausted but happy, we finally went home.
We entered from around the back, as the hospital is only open for emergency for the night. The empty halls, the quiet voices... everything appeared strangely peaceful, blanketed in the night. Nieves, the partera student on duty, directed us upstairs to lock up our things, and we passed the first few hours watching Bad Boys II, with Spanish subtitles. Best movie scene of all time: Will Smith and Martin Lawrence interrogating the 15 year old boyfriend. Pobrecito, Reggie.
The only patient present was a 40 year old woman, with a nino obito - a stillbirth waiting to happen. A resident of the campos, she received virtually no prenatal care. This was her first visit to the hospital. Moreover, the mother of 3 had diabetes. All these factors, expained Dr. Ismael, contributed to the fact that the child had already been dead for 3 days. I did not want to believe it. Are you sure? I asked, hoping for a chance. He just looked at me. The baby's heart had long ceased to beat. They would perform a Cesarian in the morning, if contractions did not start.
Apparently, my plans to see life begin were thwarted by death.
Around 1 am, my mood lifted - someone else came in to give birth! Mauru, the partera on duty (who, in a cool twist of things, is related to Luchi, the woman who runs our favorite lunch place), led us into the room. "Estan aqui para apoyarte," she told the mother-to-be. "They're here to support you." I introduced myself to the girl in the bed, who smiled weakly, fighting off a contaction. Her name is Dolores, and she could not have been more than 15. As I found out while Maura and Nieves filled out her chart, Dolores was actually 17, married, and her husband (also a youngling) was waiting in the hall. Dolores' mother sat in the chair by the bed. Suddenly, another contaction gripped the girl's insides, and she convulsed in the bed. I looked at her mother, who continued sitting, staring off somewhere. I guessed she's been through it many times herself, but I was frantic. Why wasn't anyone doing anything? Instinctively, I walked over to the girl's side, and reached out my hand, which she gripped, tighter and tighter, until the contraction passed. I smiled at her. "Eres muy furte," I told her, "You are very strong." I am still in awe of her strength, a little girl with a little life inside her.
Throughout the next hour, Dolores' contactions became stronger and stronger. I would hold her hand, and when she gripped the metal bed in pain, tears pouring down her face, I massaged her legs. I have never felt so strong a desire to take away someone's pain, to make it mine if need be, but just to make it stop. I prayed to Jesus for help.
Soon, the medical experts decided that the contractions were too strong for barely 3 cm of dilation. They attempted to hook Dolores up to an IV, giving her medicine to ease the pain. They could hardly find the vein, and blood spilled into the IV . Dolores screwed up her face. More pain. When would it stop? Her entire arm burned, she whispered, and Mauru, concerned, asked if she was allergic to any of the medications. The usual response to an IV insertion was a prickling pain, near the entrance of the needle - not an entire arm burning. Thankfully, Dolores' face soon relaxed - the drugs began to work.
Afterwards, we helped the girl remove her sweat suit, and take a shower. (I have never seen such perfect baby-feeding breasts before - they looked so full of nutrition, as if their only function in all of time was to provide sustenance for a new life. Nieves had to teach the Canadian woman how to "milk" herself - she actually compared it to cow milking - but I was sure this girl would not need a lesson). Dolores was already bleeding some, so Mauru put absorbent pads on the bed. I stepped out after Dolores showered, glad to leave the room, which smelled strongly of blood, and made my head woozy. I cannot imagine a battlefield after battle, and the poor souls who collected their dead, or looked for survivors.
Mauru instructed us to rest, as Dolores would probably not give birth until morning. I tried to fall asleep, but my chair did nothing for welcoming dreams. More than that, the woman next door, the one with the stillbirth, chased away any shut-eye prospects. Dr. Ismael thought she would need a Cesarian, but her contractions began, as her body pushed out the dead baby. After walking around the ward, I passed out around 4 am, to the gut-wrenching screams of "No! No puedo!"
Kelsey and I rose around 7, and again at 9, and waited for Dolores - who was 8 cm dilated - to give birth. For fear of missing it, we breakfasted on whatever was available in the closest open stores (a bland cornmeal soup, a banana). But nothing happened, so we passed the time chatting with the girl in the cafeteria, while waiting for tea, at 1030. Around 1 oclock, with everything still perfectly tranquilo, we ventured out - Kelsey to feed Babi and Noe at CASA, and I to make copies at the papeleria. We checked back at 3, after calling, but still nothing. Leaving our numbers with Maura, we finally went home.
In the evening, I met up with Mallory and her crew, as well as Tim (poor Kelsey was sick). We watched Om Shanti Om, which was being screened in the Jardin. I love open air events. Ironically, in the Festival de los Cortes- the shortfilm festival - this Bollywood selection lasted 3 hours. If you ever argued with friends or lovers over which movie genre to watch, I recommed Om Shanti Om - it has all of them. See it, you'll believe me.
After the movie, we stopped by Momma Mia - the regular spot for extranjeros. I was very excited to see diversity - various Spanish speakers, two Indian woman, a black man. A live music band, Pila Seca, played an alternative rock set. It was a very relaxing way to pass the evening, especially compared to the night before.
I called Mauru on Sunday morning. She informed me that they had performed a Cesarian for Dolores - and, therefore, did not call the interns to observe. Eager to see the baby, I walked over to the hospital, first stopping by an artisan's candle shop and picking out three bright, colorful candles with heart and star designs for the mother and child (as well as a gift for Kathy, who loves candles). This took me a whle - I wanted the perfect gift, cheerful and strong, to welcome the new life. I rang at the side-door entrance, and Mauru admitted me in. I then stepped into Dolores' room.
The furniture had been moved - or maybe it was a different room? I looked to the left, where the bed was previously, and encountered a young man in a chair, Dolores' husband, instead. An older female relative was also present, and, to the right, the bed - where Dolores was breastfeeding her chilid. I handed the present over to the husband, and asked if I could see the newborn. Dolores nodded - she looked exhausted! I came closer, and saw the little screwed newborn face, sucking away. The baby girl was wrapped in a bright yellow blanket, the same color as one of the candles! I thanked them all, wished them blessings, and stepped out of the room.
The next stop of my journey was Kelsey's house. We walked over to the Escuela de Bellas Artes, where we watched 5 or 6 shorts (also part of the Expresion en Cortes). One really stands out in my mind - Sweat, an Asian black and white piece, 10 minutes or so, with perfect transitions and a great angle at life. An hour later, we dined on amazing fish and grilled vegetables at a restaurant on Umaran, where we made certain to inquire about the preparation of the dishes. Who knew grilled red cabbage tasted good? At 5, Kelsey accompanied me back to CASA, to conduct the immigration questionnaire. Good fun - the kids were rather fascinated by us, and shared comments along the lines of, "You know, in America, there are whole groups of people with all blonde hair and blue eyes" and "Yeah, but there are even people who are black, completely black." One very outspoken 13 year old did my hair, and Jessie, one of the PESANE members, shared the alphabet soup pasta and frijoles she prepared for the kids' dinner. Exhausted but happy, we finally went home.
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