Ecuador: Tuesday and More Impressions

I hope the previous post, recounting Monday's events, provided you with a clear image of the Ecuadorian people and the conditions we worked in, as well the setup of the clinic. Those details took up a good chunk of space, I know, but from now on the posts should be more concise. Key word: should.

Tuesday.

Another early morning, even earlier than the one previous. To try and prevent another "late departure" like the one on Monday, the Medlife staff served breakfast at 5:30 instead of 6.

I rolled out of bed right at 5:30, not bothering to shower until after I had eaten. Eddie slept soundly on my right -- not unusual since he was always the last of us to wake in the morning. However, when I tried to rouse him, Pete stopped me.

"Yo," Pete said in a half whisper, "didn't you hear Eddie last night?"

Tired and confused, I rubbed my eyes and matched Pete's volume with my reply. "No. What happened?"

"He got up in the middle of the night and puked his guts out. Must've been something he ate."

I grunted and looked at Eddie. His contorted face suggested a rough night. I felt bad. He stirred.

"Eddie?" I asked. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," he mumbled. "I don't think I'll make it to clinic today."

I nodded and thought, I don't think you'll make it out of bed today.

Pete and I went to breakfast -- the same offering as on Monday and Sunday. Still satisfying. And full of coffee...

Went back to the room, showered, dressed, went to the lobby, told Martha and Gabriella about Eddie's sickness, waited for the bus like a zombie without any flesh to run after. The bus came quickly (only 40 minutes late!) and we set off for our next destination. I thought we were going back to the same place as Monday. Not so. We were to hold clinic at a school amid mountains.

Pete and I had a lively conversation on the bus, considering the hour and our lack of sleep. Once again, the views from the bus dropped my jaw. Gaping gorges, voluminous valleys, monstrous mountains covered in crops. Sheep and cow grazed side by side. The sun peeked through the clouds occasionally, lighting up the scenery like someone turning the brightness up on their computer.

The bus rolled as we climbed and climbed, elevating about 1200 meters higher than Riobamaba (Riobamba sits at about 2600 m, while the school rests at roughly 3800, or 12,500 feet.)

There is just slightest hint of a rainbow that I failed to adequately capture in the middle of the screen.

To reach the school, the bus had to veer off the main road to traverse some more...precarious paths. One such path had students gasping and grasping for their lives -- the "road" offered just enough width to accommodate the bus; the windows on our left gave us a great view of a sheer 30 ft drop. I like to imagine that Luis, our bus driver, guffawed at his passengers' tension. The dude was a pro and I had complete faith in him. Of course, he tackled the path and we eventually rolled to a stop in a grassy field that appeared to be another community center or market square of some kind, this community being much larger and more populous than Monday's. I took this picture stepping off of the bus:

The Teaser Pic from the last post.

We filed out of the bus and were each instructed to grab a box of equipment pertaining to our station -- we had to trek what I later estimated to be about 5 blocks, slightly uphill, to reach the school. Not knowing the distance, I grabbed a fairly heavy box and lugged it alone. My forearms and biceps did not hesitate to voice their objections to this idea.

I half set, half dropped my box to the earth when we finally came to a halt inside the school grounds. A fairly high cement wall with a black metal gate surrounded the sloped compound -- it rested along the side of a mountain. Simple, one-storied rectangular buildings with gray walls, black roofs, and black bars across the window panes, lay in a somewhat organized fashion, creating rows of unequal altitude that lined the walkways (one could almost call them streets) of the campus. The walkways were a mixture of green grass and brown mud, with makeshift steps worn into the earth that allowed the students to gain access to the elevated row of buildings. Stray dogs approached us, tails wagging earnestly, probably attracted to the myriad of foreign scents their noses were telling them about. 

The students adhered to an informal but comfortable-looking dress code -- green track jackets with the school's name and logo stitched over the heart, with matching sweatpants. Surprisingly, many of the girls also wore these suits, although some (the youngest ones, interestingly) still displayed the brightly pastel outfits of traditional dress. The lower row of buildings looked out upon back-to-back, truncated, cement soccer courts. Both courts had games going in full swing -- older kids (probably in high school; the school held class for all grades, I presumed) played on the more more proper court while younger kids went at it on the other, which also doubled as a volleyball court, as evidenced by the handwoven net looming over the pavement. 

The high school court. I don't think school was in session on this day -- they were just waiting for the clinic to start. Students and mountains looked on as the competition heated up. 

Some sort of PA system had been set up near the soccer courts, with a voice blasting away Spanish way too fast for me to comprehend any of it. The grounds smelled of mud, dew, and, faintly, sewage. Most of all it smelled of imminent rain.

(Indeed, throughout that day the weather totally sucked. In the beginning it was nice, mildly sunny and breezy. But as the day went on, capricious rains and biting winds plagued us. I came prepared, however, wearing pants, a sweatshirt and a windbreaker on top of it all. A prudent decision.)

I had been assigned education again that morning, this time working with Pete and Ryan from Harvard. Luckily, Ryan could actually converse with people in Spanish, although he was not fluent. Furthermore, we were to only educate/treat kids at this clinic (the adults we would see Wednesday), and obviously the kids spoke more plainly than their elders. Ryan had no trouble talking to them.

We set up the apparatus as Pete and I formally introduced ourselves to Ryan. A genuinely nice guy, Ryan. Most all of the other Medlifers were, something I'll talk about later. Once ready, we waited patiently for the kids to gather 'round, grab a seat, and learn how to brush their teeth.

Great picture taken by Ishaan from Harvard (he literally just uploaded it to Facebook). The kids and their parents huddled together to watch the tooth-brushing video. Some people might describe the kids as "adorbs." I agree.

This is one of mine. Not really comparable to Luis's but I still like it. At that altitude, the residents were subjected to some harsh winds and fickle rains, hence the extensively bundled nature of the kids in this picture. 

Throughout that morning, the kids came in groups of 20-30, most likely according to their age/grade, starting with the youngest (as above). Teachers would herd them in and sit them down while Pete, Ryan, and I smiled on. We'd say "Buenos días," and they'd respond with a child's hallmark shyness, letting out a (somewhat) collective "Buenos días." Their teacher would smirk at their timidity and urge them to say it again, louder, and prouder, "BUEN-OS, DEE-AS!" I had to laugh to keep my heart from melting.

This was another aspect of their culture that fascinated me: their kids were just like our kids in America. Energetic but shy, curious and questioning, adventurous and fearless, using the same childish mannerisms, speech inflections, and behaviors that I've seen thousands of times in the States. I first noticed this when playing soccer on Monday; whenever one of the kids received the ball and starting dribble across the field, his teammates would instantly shout his name -- "Juanito! JUAN-EE-TO!" -- and yearn for the ball. Any of you who played soccer, basketball, or football at a young age should recognize this playtime nuance. Observing those traits in the Ecuadorian kids made me fully understand what I'd only read about in my various Bio and Psych classes -- we humans are products of our environment. Our genes only differentiate us so much; what really causes us to diverge from each other is our cultural and ecological upbringing, like identical blocks of marble sculpted by different artists.

When we played the videos for them, every kid, no matter their age or gender, fixed their eyes on the projection, completely rapt by the dentist before them and his perfectly articulated Spanish. I couldn't believe how well-behaved they all were. Maybe they had never seen a video like this before, or a projector, or a computer, and all of the technology captivated them. Hard to tell, but whatever the reason, I was pleasantly surprised and respected their culture that much more.

After a couple of hours, the last group -- sixth graders -- finished watching the video. They told us (Ryan) that they had already brushed their teeth, however, thus they remained in their seats and begged us to play another video for them. We (Ryan) tried to tell them the other videos were meant only for adults and that they wouldn't have any fun watching them. They were unconvinced and commandeered the computer in an attempt to play another video. I laughed as I watched them struggle to use the track pad, but they learned quickly and I had to prevent them from clicking on the pap smear video. Then, an idea struck me.

"Mira," I said to them as I pulled up a fresh canvas of Microsoft Paint. I showed them how to use the track pad to paint with the colored brush and create drawings. They practically slapped my hand out of the way and started going to town. It amazed me how fast they picked up the concepts -- they even taught themselves how to use shapes, the fill-in bucket, and the eraser. I would occasionally show them how to use these tools more effectively, but they became a self-sustaining group within minutes. I stood back and enjoyed the show...and took pictures.

One of my favorites taken while on the trip. The MS painters. Very cool. Currently my Facebook cover photo.

Ryan watching the kids create on the projector. I like this picture a lot too.

I also snuck some pictures of the kids brushing their teeth.

The better of the two I took. Luis took some better ones.

Keon (far left) and Michael from Harvard (on Keon's right) showing the kids how it's done.

Lunchtime came, meaning I had to shut down the computer the kids were still toying with. Reluctantly, I did so, and Pete, Ryan, and I got some grub. I wasn't that hungry, ate light, downed a bottle of water, and headed to my next station -- the doctor.

Medlife photo of the doctor station. 

A bunch of other students filled the room, most of them USC kids. I grabbed a face mask and introduced myself to some of them. They had already eaten, and their presence left me nothing to do but observe, which I did with great interest. A nurse managed the fidgety line of kids at the door of the classroom. Two doctors worked on either side of the room. I observed the doctor with the least amount of students around her. She sat on a kid-sized chair in front of a matching table cluttered with various apparatus, calling out the names of the next patient in line. The little ones would then shuffle over to the doctor's mini-station, some shy, some afraid, some smiling, some with parents at their sides, and some (the babies) slung over their mother's shoulder.

The kids would sit down and the doctor would ask them questions I didn't understand. She gave them each a physical, checked their throats, ears, heartbeats, and lungs. The babies she would lay on a bed next to her and examine there. Most of the kids had parasites from unclean food and water. Another common ailment was a facial fungus or bacteria of some kind (I never really learned what it was), spawned from intense UV rays, unforgiving winds, and abundant moisture (from being among the clouds). 

One poor baby was severely dehydrated, so much so that, as she wailed at the doctor for separating her from her mother, she did not produce any tears. I nearly produced some for her. 

After about an hour of observation, the line of kids ended and the doctors packed up their things. I still had time to kill so I wandered around the campus, looking for stations that could use some help. I ended up at the pharmacy, where Michelle from Canada and Pete sat on tiny benches and filled out prescriptions for the kids, at the guidance of bus driver Luis, not photographer Luis. I knew there was more to him than his mad driving skillz. Dude was a pro. 

I offered my assistance. They were running low on child-vitamin rations, so I went to work making little baggies of ten candy vitamins, complete with a label -- written in my neatest, most legible hand -- that read Vitaminas niñas. Tomar una cada día. (Child Vitamins. Take one every day.)  

This is what the pharmacy looked like; I don't have any photos of the one I helped out at. From left to right, Tri from USC, a dude from Georgia whom I never caught the name of, and Matt from USC. Also, more adorable children.

Chloe from Penn State sauntered into the pharmacy after a while, offering her services. We still needed bags of vitamins and labels, so I had her write the labels while I filled the bags. The four of us talked and smiled at the stream of kids until that stream slowed to a trickle and stopped. Clinic was over at that point since pharmacy was the last station patients would attend. We packed up the pharmaceutical stuff and made our way off the campus, lugging boxes and bags once more. Fortunately, a pickup truck awaited us outside the school's gate. We happily filled it to the brim with the heaviest of our burdens.

On the jaunt back I fell in beside Mayumi from Harvard (whom I hadn't met until then) and felt compelled to strike up conversation. Naturally, she was super nice. 

We loaded up the bus and set off back for Riobamba. Pete and I climbed on last, forced to sit in the back. I ended up not minding. We were seated very near to Sylvia, Michael, Ryan, Keon, Preston, and Avery, who were discussing riddles and games involving riddles. Pete and I listened and contributed to the discussion a little, until Michael claimed he and Ryan had a telepathic connection. Sylvia, Avery, Pete, and I were all intrigued and implored him to demonstrate. 

Michael said he could communicate with Ryan the name of a famous actor/actress, using only sound of his voice and the snap of his fingers as a means of telepathy...

...I had planned on showing you guys the video I took of this right in the blog, but after hours of thwarted attempts and resulting frustration, I gave up, Instead, here is a link to the Google Drive page where anyone can watch, I think. You may actually need a Google account to access the page but I'm not sure.

https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B1Jjz4RntXksU1ZnVlJtSTk0TFU/edit

Anyway, if you can't watch the video, I'll try and describe it. One of us spectators would come up with the name of a celebrity and would discretely pass it along so everyone but Ryan knew what to listen for. Michael would then "communicate" to Ryan the name of the celebrity, using phrases like "This game is not called snaps," "This game is called snaps," "Concentrate on that image in your head," and sometimes snapping his fingers a certain number of times. After a while, Ryan would say something like, "Okay, yeah, I'm seeing that image." He would then go on to describe the actor/actress and make a consistently accurate guess. 

We onlookers gaped at every right answer, then furiously speculated on Michael and Ryan's methods. Does the first statement deal with gender? Are the snaps related to syllables? After numerous trials with various names (we even tried "Galileo"), we picked up on more and more of their subtleties, until at last Michael revealed the process, something I'm not going to do here (in case I do it to you!).

While I was still bewildered by Snaps, Michael and Avery introduced us to other riddle games that we attempted to solve. Definitely the most fun I've ever had on a bus ride.   

Back at the hotel, we had a little time to freshen up before venturing out in the city for dinner. I took advantage, indulging in a pleasantly warm shower. Pete and I also checked in on Eddie. He looked gaunt and pale, not the least bit healthy. The Medlife staff had provided him with some bottles of Pedialyte to restore all he had regurgitated, though he had barely drank any of it, couldn't keep it down. We wished him well and went down for dinner.

The group gathered in the lobby once more and went for a stroll (or maybe we took the bus? Damn my memory!) to a local establishment that felt like an authentic Ecuadorian restaurant. I dined with Pete, Nicole, Chloe, Tiffany, Suji, Michelle, and Lauren from Howard. The food was excellent, although familiar. Ecuadorians must grow tons of potatoes and rice, because virtually every plate we ate was a slab meat accompanied by rice and potatoes, with some third accessory food (usually either vegetables or beans/lentils). Don't get me wrong, though, the food was delicious. 

I stole this from Nicole's Facebook album, since my picture of this dish did not turn out nearly as well. Mmm...

In addition to the carne, arroz, y patatas, we also were served an Ecuadorian orange soda. I don't have any pictures of it but it was extremely sweet and more lightly carbonated than its American counterparts. In between bites, we discussed everyone's clinic experience from that day, reality TV, and Justin Beiber (Nicole was a big fan, unfortunately). A much better dinner experience than Monday night. Those guys were so much fun.

I cleaned off a few of the girls' plates before we made our way back to the hotel. I honestly can't remember what we did when we got there. I want to say Pete and I hung out in the lobby for a while and talked to some of the other kids before we retired to our room. 

We found Eddie right where we left him, in a sickly heap on his bed. He said he was feeling better. I felt so bad for him, missing out on a day of clinic complete with cute-kid-interaction, formation of new relationships with students, and healthcare experience. Sad. Poor Eddie. 

I think we turned in early that night, hoping to catch up on some sleep. Pete and Eddie had project the next day; the project group didn't leave until 7, so they could sleep in until 6:30! So late!

So ended Tuesday.