Dos Semanas

This second week has flown by. I've gotten more used to the routine of life and going to work although I'm still overwhelmed by the amount of discipline needed to do everything I need or want to accomplish in a day.

The clinic has been going well, and I've especially enjoyed getting to know more people there. From the ladies at the clinic, to Orlando, to Hector who goes to Teletón for therapy, to Daniel who I met at church, life gets easier here as I get to know more people and actually grow relationships.

At Teletón:

o This past week was the first time I started taking pictures because I didn’t want to be a tourist, but now that I’m making more relationships I feel better about it.

o I actually saw them use an ice pack this week when a girl’s back was hurting and also noticed for the first time the freezer where they keep the ice packs.

o The lady’s at work continue to make me laugh with their constant comments about me having pretty eyes and being handsome. They often accuse each other of flirting with me. Apparently because I have blond hair and blue eyes, I am a rare specimen at Santa Rosa. I have noticed this as well from the catcalls I’ve been receiving from middle school girls on the street. I’m flattered, but it gets tiring being gawked at daily.

On Sunday I traveled with some of Dr. Ventura’s nieces to Ocotepeque, a city in the western part of the country. Although a smaller city than Santa Rosa, it was nice to have some time outside of the city and to be able to see more of Honduras. We only had an hour in the city before the bus was heading back, but it was still fun. Then when we got back, I had the famous Atol Chuco which has been described to me as a soup made from fermented corn, and it tasted as such. It is considered a delicacy, but it just left me with the bitter aftertaste similar to that of a sugar-fied cereal (but lacking any of the sugary goodness during consumption).

It has continued to be a struggle though to learn how to live here. I don't know if I put this in any other posts, but I discovered a few days into the trip that this is the first time I've ever lived on my own...and I'm doing it in another country. This past week I took a few steps at integrating myself into the culture more and more. One day this looked like buying one avocado at the "terminal" which is just a bunch of little open-air shops where all of the cross-country buses stop at in Santa Rosa. Another day it meant getting coffee at a café and journaling there for a while. The biggest step has been actually going to the grocery store and buying food for myself. I was not brave enough to buy things that I would have to cook yet. That is one of my goals for next week, but I did get bread and peanut butter and mora (raspberry) jelly to make my own lunches when I go to Teletón. Fortunately, I have been able to have a lot of leeway here with money because buying food on the street or from local restaurants has proved to cost about $2-3 maximum. I think this is also a good connection with the culture since everything I'm buying to eat is a typical Honduran dish. We will see how good I am at recreating those typical dishes on my own.

This post is something I’ve been working on over the weekend so here’s a more recent inclusion:

Today (Monday) I actually bought some food to cook with. For about 13 dollars US I bought a loaf of bread, a bag of rice, a bag of black beans, a small food container to bring lunches to work, a bag of granola, two nectarines, a plum, a pear, four garlic things, two green peppers, tortillas, and a clump of herbs (probably some kind of parsley). I’m going to experiment this week with some fun recipes. I hope to make guacamole as well :)

My trip has been a much different experience than anything I've ever had in a foreign country. This is not a missions/service learning trip where the activities are planned out. This is not a study abroad (at least not now that the class on disabilities has ended) where I am taking classes and having cultural experiences. I am simply living here on my own. This is the first trip where I've been extremely capable of distance myself from the culture whenever I would like. Although this has been nice since it's the first time in a while that I've had a lot of time to myself, it has been difficult to be disciplined to not disengage. But at the same time, I often do not know how to engage the culture other than eating at local restaurants and walking around town. I am not living with a Honduran family where I learn what normal life looks like in comparison with the U.S. I do not have a schedule other than Teletón where there is an organized, semi-normal medical environment. Yet, I know that the people are where the cultural is rooted and through my growing relationships, I feel like I am getting at least some perspective.

Now a snippet from my journal on Friday:

Today I saw my first mother cry. Everyday in the children’s therapy there is at least one child that undergoes painful therapy. They kick and scream and cry, pleading for it to stop. Some I know will never walk or be able to use their legs of arms without the treatment and others I am not knowledgeable enough about to know how necessary the therapy is. But this was the first time I saw one of the mothers cry. Usually they just stand and watch and talk to Claudia as she does the therapy. This daughter had what may be Spina Bifida, a heart condition, and/or deformities in both her legs and her left hand. She begins with heat packs and then moves into therapy where the point is to give her mobility in her limbs so she will be more capable of walking with her orthotics. Her right leg is very contorted but her left is close to normal with a large bump where her kneecap might be. Her left hand also has had surgery on it to separate two fingers that were fused together. Both of her lefts are what Claudia works on to open the joints up and increase her range of motion.

Even while she was only going through the heat, her mother was leaning over her crying. I only noticed because when she stood up she wiped tears off her face. Then when Claudia was doing the therapy and she was yelling in pain saying “I hurt,” “I don’t want it,” “no more,” and “Mamá,” her mother was tearing up again.

Thursdays and Fridays are hard for me because these past two weeks I’ve gradually gotten less sleep as the week has gone on and then add that to a 6 hour day of solely observing crying babies in the same room. It is also hard to watch the kids cry in pain. My heart aches while watching the ones that I know are in actual pain.

Things that I am thankful for:

o U.S. plumbing that keeps the sewer and waste smells from returning through the drains. They don't have that here.

o A language (English) with which I can intellectually speak to others with. I have been growing in the language, but it is still frequently frustrating.

o Having the money to eat out each day if I choose. People watching and cultural immersion are easiest when I actually have something to do and am not the lone "gringo" watching people.

o Having a lot of funny interactions with the ladies that I work with.

~Bennett