no where to run

Today I gave a difficult charla on a very delicate subject—la violencia intrafamiliar, or domestic violence.  I was speaking to the local midwives.  What I was hoping to do more than anything was to just start a conversation about a problem that thrives in secrecy.  As trusted community leaders and health workers in the most remote and underserved areas, these women have a great opportunity to provide counsel to women in distress. 

 

First I told them a story of a fictional couple named Laura and Luis.  Laura began to suffer from Luis’ beatings, threats and intimidation when she became pregnant.  Things got worse and worse until she realized he was a threat not only to her, but to their children as well.  She finally decided to make a plan.  I asked them what a woman in her situation could do. 

 

“Nothing,” they all said.  “She just has to suffer through it.”  There’s an old saying in Guatemala “Si te casas, te aguantas” “If you marry, you put up with it.”  They didn’t like the idea of calling the police or going to the justice of the peace, because of what an irate husband could do. 

 

One midwife shared a terrifying story.  She had a patient who she knew was being abused by her husband, and sadly, the baby was stillborn.  She wanted to go to the justice of the peace about it.  But then the husband began to threaten her, “No matter where you go, no matter what path you take, I’ll find you—and then I’ll kill you,” he told her.  So, the midwife kept her mouth shut about that and decided not to ask so many questions next time. 

 

I encouraged them to look for skills they have already, like cooking, sewing or making handicrafts to earn money outside of the husband, but they were skeptical.  Even as I suggested different approaches, my solutions sounded a little lame. 

 

The midwives even refused to be convinced that violence is never the fault of the victim!  This is perhaps the most important point I wanted to impart. 

 

Basically, it made me realize how entrenched this problem is here.  These women were almost scared to talk about domestic violence in a closed-door room with a group of their friends.  The funny thing is, despite their dismal outlook for women of their generation currently in abusive relationships, they all knew the solution.  Education.  The problems that came up during the charla were always that an illiterate woman with no education and no job training is trapped.  The good news is, the next generation is changing.  More girls are enrolled in schools than the past generation, and thanks to welfare programs like Mi Familia Progresa, enrollment is way up.  

zancudos

I write to you tonight as the cool mist from the first rain of the year is dissipating out over the village, finally relieving the stifling heat and humidity of the past two months.  It is 3:18 a.m.  

Those of you who know me well know that Peace Corps has pushed my bedtime back from around 10:00 pm to 8:00, the same bedtime I had when I was 6 years old.  So what am I doing awake at the witching hour?  

Over the past two weeks or so, I have begun to look forward to bedtime with all the anticipation of a root canal.  What used to be a time to relax and let go of the stress of the day has become my personal hell.  You see, up until today, it is hotter than Hell at night, an unbearable humidity that leaves me sweating til about 2 a.m.  But far worse than the heat are what seems to me like the millions of mosquitoes that come out to play as soon as I turn off the lights.  When it first goes dark, I can hear the chorus of a legion of them whining high above my head.  Within about 10 minutes, the high-pitched drone I've come to dread is a whine in my inner ear, and they are starting to nip at any exposed skin.  While I usually cover up pretty well, they feast on my face, fingers and toes.  

So between the heat, the itching, and the buzzing, the eight hours of restorative sleep I used to enjoy have become an intolerable stretch of tossing, turning, slapping, cursing and scheming of ways to get a Peace Corps-issued mosquito net out here without actually having to go to the office (an 8 hour camioneta ride).  

If you're worried about diseases that the little buggers carry, don't.  I'm taking my malaria medicine every day, and the species that carries Dengue only go on the hunt during the day.  If you're worried about my sanity (even "harshly interrogated" terrorists are allowed to sleep more consecutive days than me--Uncle Sam lets them doze off after 11 days, if you're interested) that is probably a valid concern, and all I can say is, We're working on that.

easter

I know it has been a couple of weeks since Easter, but I wanted to share my holiday experience with you all.  First, I was invited to spend Easter with my friend Elvira in an aldea of a town called Aguacatán.  

I had one jar of peach and pecan preserves from Mercier's that I brought back with me from Christmas to share with the special people in my life.  I put the jam and a small American chocolate bar in a gift bag and presented it to the woman who I assumed to be the lady of the house.  "What?  Do you want to give that to my mother?"  Elvira asked me.  

"Um...yes..."  I said.  

"Oh!  This is my aunt!"  

Whoops.  Elvira introduced me to her mom, and I gave the gift, with a cheesy introduction about it being a present from my family to hers, to thank her for allowing me to stay, etc.  She curiously pulled the jam out of the bag.  

"Is this...food?" she asked.  "Oh, I see.  It's medicine.  Or is it food?"

"Ah...it's food.  It's jam!  You can, you know, put it on bread, or something."

"Hmm...I've never seen anything like this.  But...thanks."  

Well, I thought.  That couldn't have gone any worse.  

Luckily, the weekend got much better from there.  Elvira, who has seven brothers and sisters, is a part of a large, happy and kind family.  It was a real honor to share this most important holiday in Guatemala with them.  

I'm still not sure why, but they celebrate the most on Thursday and Friday.  Thursday is the "dia de comer," the day when neighbors exchange loaves of homemade bread and a dish of sweet, stewed fruit that they only make once a year.  

Friday we went down into the town proper to watch processions.  For anyone not familiar with the Easter traditions of Spain, Portugal and their "subsidiaries," on Easter, many people dress up in a loose interpretation of what the people of Jesus' time would wear--robes, romanesque helmets, etc.  Then they carry large, Easter-themed parade floats through town on their shoulders, flanked by incense swinging youths.  

Resurrection Sunday, which gets all the attention back in the States, is much less of a big deal here, though I'm not sure why.

But this family brought up an interesting question for me.  So, in my project, there are three main technologies we try to bring to people (and two others that are not done as much):  cement floors, better stoves, and latrines.  Now, this family had a latrine and a better stove.  But they were lacking a cement floor, which is, for many people, where you start.  Having a dirt floor makes contamination in the kitchen and all around the house so much more of a problem.  However, this family has invested so much in their children.  My friend Elvira is a nurse.  Her older brother is a teacher who once gained a scholarship for international travel and has visited Norway.  All of the younger children are in school and are motivated to do well.  They have adequate nutrition and good hygiene.  So I ask myself...how much would this family benefit from a cement floor?  Obviously they are way ahead of many other rural families when it comes to education, hygiene and nutrition.  Would it be better if they sold their pig, horse or sheep to purchase a cement floor?  Or if one of their kids had to drop out of school to finance it?  I am inclined to say no.  

This family was a great example to me of how complicated development is.  Having technology does not guarantee better health, and the lack of technology does not damn you to a life of diarrhea and respiratory infection.  

It's more complex than that.