Abacaxi

Guest post by Andrew H:

The story of Guatemala and all of Central America today is a sad one. From what I’ve seen, Guatemala is a dualistic country with breathtaking scenery, amazing food, incredibly wealthy families, terrible poverty, and illogical routines. Guatemala is a land of untapped potential. Take for example the movement of goods and equipment. Countless times I have seen people making long trips carrying hundreds of pounds, traveling on the side of the road or through towns. These trips would take little manpower and between 5 and 10 minutes with the aid of a pickup truck. But because of the extreme poverty there is no pickup truck… and maybe, even if there were a pickup truck, it wouldn’t be used (this last part is more of a joke with a slight hint of truth).

While it may seem odd, there is twisted reasoning behind this seeming lack of common sense. Here in guatemala, people enjoy tradition and seizing the moment; they do not enjoy planning ahead or searching for ways to make their job easier or more efficient. It seems like everything goes at a snails pace. I can’t even begin to enumerate the number of times I have waited forever for service in an empty restaurant. Yesterday, in fact, while in Antigua, I was eating with Tony and Mariana and ordered a plato tipico (a typical dish of grilled chicken, beans, guacamole, tortillas, and rice). What I should have realized before ordering, however, is that the word tipico also extends to the service that one experiences throughout much of Guatemala; the food arrived promptly about an hour later. This experience simply mimics others such as ordering the simplest breakfast item on the menu at a gas station convenience store called “On the Run” (I joked with Tony that this is where the Narcos must eat breakfast… stressing the importance of good translation). After a 10 minute ordeal that nearly exhausted all of my patience, I had a delicious egg and cheese croissant. While I would like to say that I will never again attempt to get breakfast there, my acculturation is leading me to disregard the knowledge that I need to plan for breakfast in favor of more sleep.

For those of you who are wondering about the title, check out George Lopez’s stand up act (around 1:20 starts the reference):

hi pai!

just got back into town from a town called solola. we were on the
campus of the universidad del valle. the town is on lake atitlan, a
massive lake surrounded by huge, 12000 foot volcanoes. beautiful
place. also very poor. minimal infrastructure. block houses. arid
cornfields. trash and dust.

the people are very friendly but, weary of strangers. the people
bombed out a police station a few months ago after police shot and
killed a bus driver.

we had a good trip. this team was from cascade, oregon and a little
spoiled in terms of location. solola is three hours from gautemala
city, nice campus, hot water, wireless internet, computer lab! i mean,
they were spoiled. usually, the locations we go to you are lucky to
have water, much less hot and the bathroom is falling apart. tiles
torn off the walls, mold, unknown sticky stuff on the walls in your
bedroom. but oh well. went great.

didnt spend much time in the hospital as other teams, namely because i
didnt know many docs. [redacted] i mean, i felt like
during lunch i was walking through weaver street, ahaha.

one little girl with burns on her face and hands came to get her
fingers separated surgically as they healed and stuck together after
she got burned. she was 11 and when she was four her house caught fire
in the city and she wasnt old enough to get out. someone had
intentionally set their house on fire. it was one of the first times i
truly felt empathetic toward a patient and it really got to me. she
was only 11 and it was sad. but she was so upbeat and smiled all the
time and we became good friends over the week. her name was raquel.

the trip was over before we new it. we took the team down to the lake
town called Panajachel. super hippy. [redacted] but it was great, im trying to upload the pics, will do
it when i get home.

right now im pretty tired but blaire arrives friday for our tejutla
trip! thatll be great. hope all is well with you, lets hear an update
from you! abrazos.

I thought that I had been out of the loop on news, sports, or any other major happening that we like to know about. Being out in the field for almost four months and having tiny glimpses of what passes for news these days made me realize, that in fact, I haven´t missed anything at all. After reading Esquire´s article on doing without, it´s been refreshing to know that I don´t have to sit down and find out what the President said today, or where Tiger Wood´s penis has been this week, or anything really. Working out in the field and meeting people with genuine issues, serious health risks and traveling to different places every week is living the news. Instead of reading in the newspaper or even online, blogs, this blog even, that Guatemala has a shit health care system, I´m living it.

You come to realize that the 91 year old lady with the prolapsed uterus and the desperate look in her eyes, knowing that this is the only doctor she has ever seen, ever, in 91 years, is what matters. Tha you can give here what she needs. And not reading about it. Doing something about it, instead.

I know that I´m jumping between two worlds here. The difference between arguing and doing. I no longer care what the news has to say. The talking heads don´t provide solutions or insight. And what do you do at work? Talk about the talk? How about doing?

I pick up bits and pieces of news here and there. Though, like the Esquire article says, I havent missed much at all.

I´d rather be out in the sunlight and struggling to explain the mother with a child who has burn scars, and another child with Down´s syndrome, that there is no answer as to why your son has Down´s. She asked me if there was a pill I could give her to cure it. No, i sighed. There is not.

I´d rather be tired, flea-infested and sunburnt knowing that day, I helped at least one person. One person. If I could help that one girl have a friend in the recovery room, if i could help that one farmer with his medication or simply listen to a battered wife, then I believe I have done something.

In knowing that, I feel kind of angry when I see posts that someone made debating how they don´t like any of the American Idols, or whether the news debates if the President was too nice, or too harsh, or how the season finale ended. It puts things in perspective and reveals what´s truly valuable.

Believe me that taking ten seconds out of your ´hectic´day to turn to someone and listen, or help them up the stairs or God forbid smile, will help someone. Live on a dollar for just one day, and tell me you wouldn´t like it when someone just came and talked to you, because they thought it just might be nice.

Today was a particularly odd day for Guatemala city. It was foggy, raining, cold (50F) and windy as all hell. Normally, it would be a welcome respite from the heat, dust and smog that chokes the city. I didn’t even want to think what it would do to the traffic in one of the worst traffic congestion-prone cities I have ever been it. I mean, between the traffic circles, idiotic drivers, two-lane roads that turn into one-lane roads with two-way traffic, plumes of diesel, it’s great fun.

Today we had to walk to the nearby gas station to meet Danny to carpool to work. It was misting and not so bad. But, Andrew had to lug his suitcase down the road as he was going on the advance team to Solola. It’s big and unwieldy but it’s got wheels.

So we’re lugging all this stuff down the road and eventually we need to cross the street. Normally you just pick a break in traffic and frogger your ass to the other side. However, since it was raining, traffic was just a stream of cars racing by. We waited. We waited. After about seven minutes of waiting for a break in traffic Andrew turns to me and says,
“This is probably what Purgatory is like.”
We laughed, waited another minute and managed to race to the other side.

About 20 minutes, later as we neared the office, the traffic was at a standstill. The road was a parking lot. Our lane was not moving at all. A massive red bus with, I swear, its bumper trailing and scraping the ground, simply went down the the other lane into oncoming traffic. Naturally, we followed it. Turns out, the traffic was backed up because a chicken bus had broken down and instead of moving it they had gotten out and made coffee. The driver and his buddies were literally standing in front of the bus sipping coffee and having a grand old time. I guess it never occurred to them to, you know, move.

We just finished with our second medical team of the year. The mission was to Huehuetenango and we saw around 1500 patients over five days. However, we, the team coordinators, don’t know what a day off is and have been pretty tired. I got gravely ill for a few days and came down with strep throat, coughing, pink eye, athlete’s foot and a busted knee. Andrew got fleas. But, all in all it was a phenomenal trip. Journal entries and pictures are soon to follow. As soon as I muster up the energy. I can only imagine how old explorers managed through disease. Shackleton, Cook, Lewis and Clark. They must have been made of steel and cojones.

“Q-tip? Here’s a Q-tip. Spend less Q’s.” — Andrew Heiser

I am constantly envious of all the travel blogs and pictures, tweets and stories from people who get to travel around the world. I raid travel sites like Matador and Backpacking, eager for that next fix. The heart of the matter is that while I feel that most travelers are out there on their own time and money, using both in any way they want, I have responsibilities and time constraints. Not that I am complaining. Quite the opposite is true. I have been remarkably lucky. It has just taken a while for me to realize it.

Traveling for me has always been an understated, eventful, yet entirely fun enterprise my entire life. The thing I believe that sets me apart from most travelers and even my compatriots is that I have lived, for several years, in places that people consider travel destinations. Some beaches in Mexico where I spent weekends off from school with my family were considered sparsely populated backpacking paradises by travelers. Snorkeling at “our” island getaway in Belize was another typical weekend for us. And again, back then I had no idea that these white-sand, single-palm spits of land were lusted after by travelers. To me it was just another day. I know I sound like some spoiled ass raving about how great these things are, but the truth is that we weren’t wealthy by any standard. My parents just liked to see what was out there. My dad especially. If he had three days off you could bet your ass we’d be at the beach. Damned if he’d be stuck in the house for three days.

My parents never stayed in resorts or signed us up for tours or took a cruise and I guess I should thank them for it. It’s broadened my sense of awareness of the vastness of amazing things that are off the map and outside the all-inclusive. It has made me aware of the poverty that plagues most of our planet, the immense kindness of people and the smells and sounds of everyday life in towns, markets, beaches and restaurants. It has also made me aware that I am not your average traveler.

In the broadest sense of the term, a traveler leaves home, whatever and/or wherever that may be, to seek out the new in other places. Home is a term I have always struggled to comprehend. In my own experience, I was born in California, but left before I really knew it or even remembered it, I was six when we left. From there my family moved to Belize. We first lived in a large house near a park downtown on the water. Then moved on to a large tract of land outside the city. We stayed for three years. Then it was on to Miami for several years. Then to Mexico for six years. We lived in Guadalajara and my affection for the city has never waned. After that, we settled in North Carolina. Then I went to university in the Blue Ridge mountains and later took a job in Guatemala. The concept of home and hometown then are concepts that I have tried to pin down. Naturally, being foreign, both literally and figuratively, has been something I have learned to live with. Returning to the States from Mexico after six years was more of a culture shock than going to Mexico in the first place. I felt more comfortable sitting with the Latino kids during lunch than my fellow Americans I was expected to integrate with.

And that’s just the thing. Comfort. Levels and degrees of comfort. It’s the thesis of the Economist article linked above. Comfort in foreign lands and mentalities. Where I must disagree with the article is that the author assumes that the traveler identifies with a “home” land in the first place to become a foreigner in lands abroad. But, what if the traveler doesn’t feel at “home” where he is expected to feel at home before ever leaving or ever even realizing the expectations? I believe it is a point well-missed in this article, with the author’s stabs at mentioning our continuing globalization and the trampling of borders. Even the phrase overseas is a bit self-centered. Overseas compared to what? Home? What if one doesn’t identify with any home in the sense of the word. What if every place felt foreign?

Traveling is about that sense of foreignness that makes it appealing in the first place. Then, we decide to return “home,” if we choose to. But, what does the word really mean? A place? A mentality? People? Experiences? A combination of many factors?

These factors are things I struggle to put together in my own life and try and define. Travel has led me to a job in Guatemala. While I work everyday in my small way to help the poor of the country I feel the incessant jealousy for the traveler on his own time and money. The ability to see and travel and experience things at one’s leisure. This job, however, has allowed me to travel within the country and to some of the most remote settings here. I certainly would almost never have gone to those places of my own accord. I have to remind myself that I have had opportunities not a lot of people get. Travel for me has been living in one country to the next and never really the backpack-toting type of travel. Although, I have traveled around Mexico on my own, explored Guatemala, and flew unaccompanied at age nine, I don’t expect to be as experienced in solo travel as others. The only thing I can say is that I have had extensive experience traveling in the countries I have lived and not the extensive experience I wish I had on my own in other countries. Soon enough.

The job I have here in Guate is a confluence of all the aspects of travel that I admire. I’m immersed in the culture–business and traditional, I get to see new places all the time and I live here. It’s something I wish for every traveler to enjoy. Though, the prospect of traveling on my own often occupies my thoughts. The clubs in Barca, the beaches of Panama, family in Brazil, the wine of southern Chile, the archipelagos of Mozambique all call to me. And knowing that no matter where I go that I will always be the outsider, is an exciting, if not daunting, experience.

On the other hand, the drain, mentally and physically of constantly immersing and emerging in and out of different cultures, groups and languages is greatly demanding and exhausting, but I feel that the effort is well worth the rewards. Intimately knowing and understanding or at least trying to understand and immerse in a different culture is a truly amazing experience. One that I am accustomed to.

However, I am in no way diminishing the dreams and goals of those travelers who wish to travel to all of their desired destinations and immersing themselves in whatever way they feel they want to. Be that sitting on the beach, drinking, clubbing, eating great street food, music, volunteering or sightseeing. Hell, I want to. On my own time. However, having a great job precludes me from doing a few things until I have a weekend off and can move around. I am very lucky that I get to see as much of Guatemala as I do for work. We travel to some pretty remote highland towns like Nebaj (home to a great Peace Corps R&R spot), Teujtla, Solola and Uspantan, among others. And as much as I have made friends and gotten to know the culture, attitudes, history, lexicon, slang and language of the place, it still doesn’t feel like “home.” I don’t know if it should. I live here. Does that constitute a home? Or do I just reside? Perhaps it may have something to do with my level of immersion, reluctance maybe, or still that feeling of being a foreigner that may never leave me.

In the end, what I wish for is a balance of the work, travel, live lifestyle for all travelers. But, if that’s not what you’re looking for, then I don’t blame you in the least. The combination of all three, I feel, has added to my quest for the significance of home, foreignness, fun, adventure and understanding.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

Every day at one o’clock on the dot we go out and get something to eat. Getting to the office at 7:30 leaves the stomach growling by 10. I usually bring a lunch and sit in the kitchen with the rest of the people that work in my office. We joke around and if I see someone eating something that I’ve never seen, I ask for a bite. Most people are all too eager to tell me how to make it and let me try some.

But, on those days where we like to get out of the office, which happens quite a bit, we head across the street to get some shucos. Shucos are Guatemala City’s answer to the hot dog. It’s a hoagie bun grilled over coals and then filled with sausage or hot dog. They slap on a hefty amount of guacamole, onions, cilantro, mayonnaise, ketchup, slaw and picante. It’s quick, it’s cheap and it’s damn good.

This is not for the faint of heart though. At lunch time it gets packed and the vendors are throwing around prodigious amounts of meat, tortillas and bread.  If you are squeamish about street food, don’t even bother.  But, for those of you adventurous enough to try one, don’t miss it. You can usually find them on any street corner in Guatemala City but, not anywhere else.

Then of course you have your fruits for dessert. You can get a bag of mixed fruit like apples, mango, pineapple and melon. Add some salt, lime, picante, and chili powder and you have a great afternoon snack to munch on in the office. Either that or the lime, salt and chili peanuts. Just don’t come running to me when you get heartburn–that’s what the micheladas are for.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

THANKSGIVING ARRIVES EARLY IN GUATEMALA

Prosthetics team gifts patients with new limbs and hope, delivers smiles

Robert Dirksen fitting one of many prosthetic limbs during his three days in Guatemala

By Tony de Lima

Nov. 25, 2009

Guatemala City, Guatemala. – Robert Dirksen, a CPO from California and his team, fitted 14 patients with prosthetic limbs in just three days. Volunteering with HELPS International, Dirksen traveled to Guatemala last May on a medical mission trip and took measurements from patients in the small town of Joyabaj in the Guatemalan highlands. He vowed to return to Guatemala in November to fit his patients with brand new prosthetic limbs, some of whom have never walked before.

Dirksen took measurements of a very special boy, Juan Castro, in Joyabaj in May. Juan Castro became an icon and an inspiration for many after a San Diego news crew shared his story in a short documentary called “10 Days in Guatemala.” Juan Castro arrived at the national hospital in Joyabaj on an old plastic tricycle pulled along with a rope by his father. With his legs badly infected and unable to walk since birth due to spina bifida, the HELPS International medical team decided to amputate both his legs and give him a second chance at life.

Dirksen returned, as promised, to Guatemala on November 23 and spent three full days casting molds, taking measurements and building legs and arms for 14 patients, including Juan Castro. He took molds and casts for eight patients to be fitted in May 2010 and repaired nine more prosthetic limbs. Juan Castro spent the three days with Dirksen as he worked on making limbs, waiting eagerly for his turn.

Mardoqueo, a precocious eight year-old, was fitted with two brand-new, carbon fiber and titanium legs. Born without lower legs, Mardoqueo learned to walk, and even run, on his stubs. “I’ve never, ever seen that before,” Dirksen said, after having worked in the prosthetics field for over 20 years.

The day before Thanksgiving, HELPS International hosted an event in their Guatemala office and warehouse to introduce the prosthetics team and patients. Among invited guests were lawmakers, corporate executives, doctors and the national press. Steve Miller, president and founder of HELPS International, was on hand to meet the patients and guests.

Miller thanked Dirksen and his team and said that “they represent all HELPS volunteers.” He thanked his staff for their hard work and urged the national media to commit themselves to covering the “good news” and to give hope and instill pride in all Guatemalans. Miller praised the patients for their courage, determination and hope.

The event concluded with the patients showing off their new limbs. Juan Castro, surrounded by national press, volunteers and guests, took his first steps ever in what was the culmination of months of planning, building and patience. It was a very emotional experience for everyone. The smile on Juan Castro’s face was wide and unwavering. “This is what we came back for. That smile. This is why I do what I do,” Dirksen said, his eyes watering. “We will see him again in May. By then, he’ll be walking to see us.”

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.