My first three weeks In Ollanta

I have been living in Peru for almost 3 weeks now and have not yet uploaded any blog posts.  For that I apologize twofold, for not only have kept you waiting with bated breath, this may also be a slightly wordy post (maybe the understatement of the day).

I arrived in Ollaytantambo January 6^th, after 30 hours of travel time and less than 5 hours of sleep over the preceding 3 days, combined.  Naturally, the first order of business after Awamaki’s volunteer orientation was to attend the bull fights and traditional dance performances, the kick off for the three day bajada de reyes festival.  The excitement didn’t stop there; within the next four days, in addition to putting in a lot of hours working on Awamaki health’s disability campaign (more to come on that later), I attended an after funeral-party in the middle of a cemetery (yes, it actually occurs in real life, not just in zoolander and not only did they have beer, but also a live band who ended every song with the inspector gadget theme music), went salsa/merengue dancing, shopped in the black market in cuzco (a place you can purchase normal household items, food, clothing, random computer parts in addition to stolen goods such as digital cameras, knifes, MSR stoves, money belts, canes, backpacks and much, much more), learned how to dance to the traditional huayno music of Peru, and performed karaoke to Brittney spears ‘hit me baby one more time’.  A fully successful, first few days I would say, now it was time to unpack and settle in. 

I traveled here knowing that I would be working with Awamaki health in the local hospital, potentially in the medical labs and OB departments.  Thus far, the work in the Posta has been less than exciting, although I find it a great opportunity to practice my non-existent Spanish skills while concurrently providing much needed comic relief to the staff and patients.  Mostly, I work in triage and take patient vitals for everyone that comes through to see the doctors.  At this time, there isn’t a huge need in the labs or OB.   However, I arrived during the beginning phases of the long-term disabilities campaign where there is much to be done.  From making house calls to assess an individual’s needs and the potential for Awamaki sponsored assistance to actually be helpful, to entering and organizing patient data into excel spreadsheets for statistical analysis to the follow up visits and providing care, the campaign has kept all of the health volunteers pretty busy.  I have a bunch of stories about home visits, all worthwhile to tell, but for your sake, here are just two:

The other day we visited a 13 year old patient with cerebral palsy.  While the chance is low that you will ever meet him, and there is no such thing as HIPPA here, we will still call him A.  We arrived at his house, just past the turquoise car with plants growing out of it, and waited 15 minutes for his mother to make him presentable before we were allowed in to visit.  His face lit up when we walked into the room and then again every time there was any type of physical contact between him and one of the four volunteers.  Our visit was much too short; it was more of a business trip than a social visit this time.  We took measurements for a wheelchair that is to be built for him and quickly read a book.  His face fell when he realized that we were leaving.  I just wanted to sit next to him, touch him, hold him, read to him and bring to him a bit of the outside world.  On the other hand, I worry about showing him too much of the outside world.  If these visits are not sustainable, what will the 20 year-old, bed-bound, bent, drooling and unable to converse, but mentally competent A think about the taste of the outside world he experienced just that once?  Would it be with fondness of what he experienced, or with envy of what he is missing?  The key to everything we are doing is sustainability and empowerment.  While I want to be the one to interact with him, it needs to be someone that will be here for the rest of his life, not a fleeting, funny-looking white girl.  

On the other hand, the visits can be unsuccessful and mildly odd.  Today I went by myself to a nearby town to provide a social visit for a young patient who doesn’t have the opportunity to leave her house often.   One of the opportunities presented itself today, as I learned from her brother.  She was visiting the town that I live in, and had traveled from to see her.  I can’t help myself but think that was two hours that could have been spent being productive, but that is a mindset that doesn’t work very well here.  It was a mighty nice walk home though I must admit, mud, dogs, and wildly-driven trucks (which spray mud) and all. 

The understatement of the week: My homestay family is amazing!  I am the first Awamaki volunteer that they have had live with them, however as I am learning, they take in many other extended family members and travelers.  We have a constant stream of interesting people though our house, from their grown son who is a chef in Lima, to the family of a American traveler who lived with them for a few weeks last year, to a local man who professes that while he has no biological family left, my host parents have provided him all the love and support that he needs.  Last night at my host-papa’s 56^th birthday party I came to the realization that while Pancha and Arhenio (I’m not sure of his name or spelling actually because the culture here is to call them mama and papa) only have 5 biological children, their family extends much farther than I can even imagine.  These people are so beloved.  And they deserve every ounce of that love.  They are amazing people, loving and kind, smart and hard-working, prosperous and generous.  I feel so lucky to have been included and welcomed into their home. 

Not everything here has been mud and roses for me.  Even through all the amazing experiences, the first two weeks were really rough.  It is a tough transition, doing something that one is good at, comfortable with and making a decent salary at, to a situation where one is not even able to speak the language much less be proficient and professional, constantly unsure of oneself, missing loved ones and friends terribly and not receiving any financial compensation.  My emotions vacillate from day to day and I still have days where I wonder if this was the right decision.  On the other hand, I wanted a life change and a learning experience and that is sure what I was handed here in Ollanta.  I will continue to work, learn, make mistakes, learn some more, play and explore both the world around me and myself until my heart tells me it is time to go home.