Antigua, NO this does not mean the island

Not only is this my first time in Guatemala, but it is also my first time out of the country. With that comes awe at nearly every city I visit, be it in a good way or a bad way. It was no different with Antigua. Antigua was unlike any city I have visited so far in Guatemala. Guatemala City is fast paced, dirty and feels terribly dangerous. Panajachel reeks of tourism and has little personality of its own. Chichicastenango is busy, touristy, and expensive and even has a bit of its own history with some colossal and gorgeous churches. Santa Cruz and Tzununá are hamlets off to themselves, as self-sufficient and as private as they can be with the resources available to them.

Antigua is an entirely different beast. It is quiet and busy at the same time; it is a tourist town, but also a hometown. There, tourists pack the market, but locals also go to buy their necessities. It is one of the more modern cities in Guatemala, yet its history is vibrant in its churches, parks and ruins. Despite its reputation as one of the most dangerous towns in Guatemala, Antigua gives a sense of security and comfort, which may be part of the reason for its danger. The city almost gave a sense of being back in the States (apart from the shotgun guard) with many restaurants and stores I hadn’t seen since leaving Miami. For this reason I liked and disliked the city at the same time. It threw me off to see so many ‘Western’ influences in Antigua, yet despite that, the city was able to maintain its own personality and vividness as a part of a Central American country.

The colonial and indigenous influence is seen in the contrast of everything that is Antigua. Its colonial influence can be seen in every church and monastery that stands in Antigua and even those that have collapsed. Colonialism has a hand in everything that is in Antigua, especially the shops and restaurants around town (McDonald’s). Even the markets geared towards tourists have that colonial touch, where women wear the traje to give tourists the ‘authentic’ touch, but the woman typically wear more modern clothes when not working. The people walking around town have a much more westernized style of dress and living. There are still the chicken buses of Guatemala in and out of town, but I almost get the sense that what was once indigenous is now hidden from view, leaving only to display a modernized city.

Antigua is practically as much in contrast with Santa Cruz as Columbia, South Carolina. The abundance and plenty in Antigua is unequalled. There is actually nightlife after 9 pm besides a few drunks meandering through the streets. Cars are parked everywhere, lining every street, advertising Antigua’s ever ironic modernity.

I found it impossible to get a sense of Antigua in just three days, every time I thought I knew about the city it would surprise me with what was around the corner. I found one thing for sure though; you can never be bored in Antigua.

Rain Rain Go AWAY

After I finished working on Spanish in the clinic I was running back and forth trying to stay underneath the awning of the wash basin for as long as possible. In aonly five or so seconds between the awnings I became fairly soaked. There were drops of water permeating almost every inch of my clothes. There was only an inch of my clothes. There was only an inch separating every dark blotches that vary between the size of a quarter to a dime. There there seems to be no small raindrops. When I watched the rain begin out on the basketball court, it seemed that there were even larger raindrops practically the size of a baseball. It took me only two minutes to cause every inch of the court to be darker gray with the color of wet cement. On the walk back to the clinic I stopped onto the road of squarish cement blocks. The water was rushing down the sides of the road where gullies cause deeper water. I splashed into water practically two inches deep and immediately felt the rush of water soaking my shoe. On the next step I felt the slosh of a soaked sock in my shoe. I had a flashback to the days of soccer pratice and tryouts with the drenched fields, avoiding the puddles, but not always being so lucky as to avoid them. I remember my blue, red and black socks being soaked as I sloshed off the field. Getting in the car as I peeled off the layers of socks almost wanting to leave them on to keep the warmth but knowing if I did, they would gradually get colder until I couldn’t get warm without the steaing water of a shower. Back in the street in Santa Cruz all I could hope for was the warmth of hot air blasting on my frozen toes.

There was nobody in the street to see my sloshing expedition through the streets/. It was silent apart from the drips of rain on the surrounding tin roofs. The store that is usually sitting open with its bags of processed food was closed down with wooden boards across the front. The children were all in the school, no PE for the kids the rest of the day. The library is silent as usually. The dogs, absent from the streets hiding out underneath the awnings throughout town. This is not the vivid Santa Cruz I usually know. It is a different type of tranquil, transformed by the rain.

June 6

Tonight I made the mistake of dipping a tea packet in lemonade because I thought it was hot water as I was talking to my family. The family laughed at me and Marta said I was probably thinking about my boyfriend. When I told them I didn’t have one she said she would look for one for me. I had heard a comment earlier involving me and a boyfriend, but this was the first time I had been told up front that they were interested in finding me one. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to get me to date Andres, but they probably think he is too young for me. And so it begins…

June 11
Today Andres was a bit distracted and was staring off into space most of the day. Marta kept joking to me that he was thinking about his novia all day. He kept looking away and blushing, so we kept picking at him since he didn’t deny anything. Later in the day after the political rally he joked that it was a girl from Tzununa. It has become a fun joke among the family to say one is distracted by their novio whenever they make a simple mistake. 

 

Clinic Day 1

So, I haven't had any access to internet for about a week, sorry I haven't been able to keep you updated. In the sake of saving time, I am going to simply posted an amended version of the notes I take during the day from class. I don't know how well posting pictures will go since the internet here is rather Jurassic.
This is about the first day in the clinic, my thoughts on ideas for my project and some medicine that I learned in a few hours.

Day one of the clinic

 When we arrived in San Marcos, we had to drive to San Pablo because it was too expensive to continue all the way by boat. Some men were working in the road and took their jolly sweet time to get out of the way of the middle of the road with their truck. Once at the clinic the ‘Salud’ doctors were in the room we should have been using. It seems that in San Pablo it’s not of huge importance to have a clinic to everyone who is not sitting and waiting. It’s possible that the people simply don’t know the clinic workers. Because of the meeting all of the pregnant women have

The following is simply a progression of my thoughts as I worked in the clinic today.

In the clinic the local women doing reception had papers strewn everywhere on a foldout table we brought from the clinic in Santa Cruz. There is another list besides what these women fill out for histories that includes the medicines that have been passed out to the visitors of the clinic. Men and women constantly surrounded the check-in table during the busy hours. People are constantly filling up the room to be seen until around 2:30 or 3 when things started to quiet down.

During one visit, a little girl was sick with diarrhea. The mother gave her daughter Gatorade which she was supposed to wait to do until the medicine had taken effect. I am unsure whether this was a miscommunication or the woman did not understand because she did not speak Spanish. The daughter proceeded to throw up the drink immediately. I later learned that she has a history of not keeping down liquids when she is medicated. She received a shot simply sitting on her mother’s lap. Later in the day older patients laid down on an exam table and went through the long process of removing their skirts to receive shots.

The pediatrician at one point early in the visits was asked ‘Do you have gloves?’ her response ‘I don’t have anything!’ Gloves were brought to her from the stash, but the process of examination is incredibly different in this country and region. The clinic was held in the public health center and was by no means sterile. The pediatrician is much the same as a doctor from the States, even though she is from Guatemala and received her medical degree in Guate City. She is incredibly intelligent and dedicated to her people. Children here also receive small ‘premios’ to distract them from the examination and calm them down a bit. Mothers in Guate are much the same as well. They both want drugs to cure their children of crying , however with the lack of education in Guate it is more understandable for the women to mistake it as magic.

The woman here in San Pablo wear much more colorful clothing, especially faldas, than the women in Santa Cruz. Maria, the new Suhtihil translator, explained to me that it is la vestido de la pueblo. In Santa Cruz the traditional garments include a black skirt usually with a red and blue striped shirt. Maria said the color of Santa Cruz was verde. I think it is incredibly beneficial to the community to hire locals to work as translators and transcribers in the clinic. I feel that it is so much more effective when they are taking histories because they can be much more in depth with their questions and they are receiving an education at the same time. This method is highly beneficial for the community.

Doctors in this clinic do an extremely good job of consulting each other and solving problems together. They are not afraid to ask each other for help when they need it. In the check-in process, by now most of the workers know exactly what the doctors want and can ask more specific questions so that if the doctor is busy histories can be taken. This speeds up the entire process a great deal.

To consult for information the doctor uses an almost antiquated or at least well broken in book by the looks of its pages. She said it would be wonderful to have a desk reference, preferably in Spanish for the doctors on the iPad. It may be best to have both languages if at all possible.

There are many prevalent problems in Guatemala. Many children are stricken with scabies and cause their entire family to be afflicted. Rhotovirus is also common. It is incredibly common to be afflicted with diarrhea. Supplementation with zinc has shown an improved survival of children with a diarrheal virus. The pediatrician believes that scabies is epidemic in Guatemala.

Sometimes it can be difficult for the visiting doctors because their Spanish is limited or the patient speaks a predominantly Mayan language. Suhtihil is the Mayan language of San Pablo. Here diabetics can only be checked once a week. If their sugar is out of control, they can only get it controlled if/when they go to the clinics once a week.

Compliance varies among patients. It is difficult to tell whether patients are compliant in general because it is so difficult to follow up with most patients. Addresses are not very explicit in Guatemala and doctors cannot help patients that do not come to the clinic because they usually can’t find them. The pediatrician is under the impression that compliance is good from what she has seen. There are, however, many reasons why a patient would not be compliant. The parent may think the medicine doesn’t work, sometimes kids vomit the medicine and it doesn’t get into their system or the medication has to be taken daily and they find that too annoying to deal with. Dr. Sinkinson was under the opposite opinion, especially with one respiratory patient who only takes medicines when acute problems present.

One ninety-year old Suhtihil woman who distrusted the clinic put purple ant poison in her wound to heal it.

When the pregnant women returned they were everywhere! The youngest I saw was only 14 years old, and her grandmother had just been in with another pregnant granddaughter. Nursing is not a private thing in Guatemala. Mothers probably see it as a necessity and it is not at all taboo to do in public with company you do not know. It is likely seen as a beautiful and necessary bond between mother and child.

Questions that arose about the project during the clinic visit:

Since prescriptions and information are all written on a sheet and calculations are generally done on a small calculator, will it be better to use during visits or to check patients in, or to compile information afterwards?

Is it possible to get a reference in both languages for the doctors who are rusty on their Spanish and one in Spanish so that they can still explain to the patients about what the medicine does?

Would it be beneficial to have a picture associated with a patient’s file to more easily identify them?

En la casa:

I think my family really wants me to learn Kaqchikel. They keep asking me, but I always respond I don’t know enough Spanish yet! They have taught me a couple words and I want to continue to learn.

I noticed that there are toothbrushes for everyone in the family by the sink. I thought that maybe because Marta is a dental assistant, she had encouraged them all to do so. I asked Cecilia if everyone in town did the same and she said yes. This is probably one of a number of good influences the clinic has had on the community. A doctor and dentist available in the same place have allowed the people of Santa Cruz to become more educated about health and sanitation. I would be interested to see if there is any data that indicates whether there really has been such an increase of health and sanitation in the community.

Santa Cruz La Laguna

 Mi Casa

First View

My first impression of the house was: ‘oh my god I’m going to be living here for the next seven and a half weeks!’ Flies seemingly permeated every inch of the house. Just past the gate fence and the wooden gate in the house, I could see a few people eating at a small table and I thought, ‘how on earth are we supposed to all eat together around that tiny table.’ It could barely pass for a night-stand. In the line of site of the doorway are two doorways, inside of one I could see an old dirty fridge., while the other was difficult to see inside. On the left side is a small wooden wall that sticks out, obscuring the view of the stone sink. To the immediate left of the doorway is a tiny opening; about the size a German shepherd would barely fit through standing up. I later learned this was the temascal.

Mi cuadro

My room is the first room in the house. There is a red stripe along the bottom of the wall all the way around the room, but it is mostly blanco. There are two paintings on my wall, one by Andres M. I think my host brother painted both. I’m not sure which Andres it was though. In my room there is also the same goldenrod and rojo tile that goes throughout the entire house. A purple trash can with a white lid sits under the open window, where the flies continue to seep through. The shutters made of wood are surrounded by a pink flowery curtain that hangs by a string nailed into the wall on two sides. One wall has plaster missing and cement bricks can be seen for almost the whole height of the wall. In the corner sits a twin bed with a pink, blue and white plaid blanket with two small and one bigger pillow. The blanket has little tassels on two sides. Next to my bed is my dresser with a lock on it. At first I didn’t think I would need to use it until Cruz came into my room and wanted to organize my clothes for me, which I had to let her do. Next to my dresser is a table with a blue plaid tablecloth. Later, it would be accompanied by a table with a more traditional cloth on it. That is set underneath the small pegs for hanging my things.

The wooden door has a brand new lock that is the same as the doors in the clinic as well as the rest of the house. My ceiling is wooden and barren apart from the single light-bulb in the center of the room. There are two sets of outlets for my electricity, and both are hanging from wires attached somewhere in the ceiling. The light switch looks something like a computer mouse.

Rute q’aq’

Further down the main hallway of the house is what could be called the kitchen. This is where Cruz generally spends her days. The first thing I see on the table is a thick white mixture in a bowl that I can tell is some kind of dough. I have come to know this dough well because the tortillas it makes accompany nearly every meal. The tortillas are slowly worked into circles and placed on a white ceramic surface above burners. Near the floor is the same type of surface, only it is fueled by firewood. Against the wall on shelves above the stove lies several ingredients for cooking, most of which I don’t recognize. Sugar is among these ingredients in a huge container. Meals take place around a plastic foldout table that has obviously within a very short time before my arrival. When I sit at my end of the table, the green sticker that came on the brand new table is still present. The plastic outdoors we sit in to eat are filthy. Covered in grime from several years of use. They lie in stark contrast to the rosada walls with a grey cement stripe through the middle. Behind a red bug curtain with flowers is the bed of Andres the younger. His clothes seem to be piled up on a chair with a cooler underneath. The TV is above the dresser and has a screen half the size of my computer. This is where we watch movies in Spanish on Sunday nights. There are two other bedrooms, the one with two refrigerators belongs to Jose and Cruz. There is also a table with some sort of device for preparing fruit or something that I have never seen before.

The other room belongs to Cecilia, and has a small bed that everyone seems to sit on and hang out on when the family is talking to each other. Across from Cecilia’s room is the bathroom with a brand new door of new wood and a door with old wood that has broken pieces at the bottom. The toilet is in the brand new bathroom, the size of an Italian shower (ie…I can barely fit). Next to the toilet is the stone sink, one side to fill completely with water that I could sit inside with plenty of room. It is probably bigger in width on both sides that the room with the toilet. Attached on the other side of the sink is a surface with bumps that are the same as the public washbasin just outside our door. Cecilia’s room is in the center of the house, and seems to be the place where

Community

Outside the ruchi’ jay

The public washbasin has 4 sinks per side in a square shape with a faucet that is always on in the center. There is a little tienda next to the washbasin that sells small bagged snacks and a couple drinks. Directly past the washbasinis the clinic with two levels, each of a different color. Atop the clinic a new level is going up that is currently rebar sticking up into the sky.  The clinic, library, school, Catholic church and Salón politica all surround the basketball court at the center of town. There is not much else in town other than four more Evangelical churches and the Amigos de Santa Cruz. Everywhere else are houses made of various materials in various states of cleanliness and strange attachments. Dogs permeate the streets almost as much as the flies did my house. Up the hill a ways is the water take that my host mom took me to. I think it is now antiquated that most people have running water.

Pueblo

Throughout a walk through town one can see various paint colors supporting the different political parties for the elections. If you are not careful, one of the four or five trucks or the three Tuk-Tuks may run you over. Santa Cruz itself is a ways up the mountain with an amazing view of the lake on un día claro. There is a split in the road that takes you to the muelle or the ritzier hotel side of Santa Cruz where the soccer field likes down the mountain.

Muelle

If you take the road to the muelle you find the gringo tourist hotels at the bottom of the hill. On the walk down it is easy to see exactly where the ex-pats and gringos live in the nicer houses that are made completely of the same materials instead of strewn together with whatever is available. The colors of the hotels attempt to scream Central American, but the people sitting in them and those serving them helps one to realize who is really in control of the hotel. My house seems a bit less modern than some of those around it.

At the very bottom of the hill where the muelle is, the Tuk-Tuks are parked and the drivers chat with the boat captains until there is the occasional shout of ‘Pana.’ In the water are the typical blue boats of Lago Atitlan and a dock half underwater.

Day 2

I saved a sheep today! Ok well not really, but it felt like it. On our way to Panajachel the group stopped at a restaurant near Ixmeche for lunch. There was a little playground area there and a couple animals. One of the sheep got his foot all twisted up, so a passerby helped hold the rope while I untangled him. He was a much happier sheep. Of course a worker came and moved him directly afterwards.

Pana is gorgeous. The city is fairly well organized and right on the lake. The mountains in the background are enough to take anyone’s breath away.