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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)