Yikes! No March Post

Yikes! I did not post at all in March. And my February post is sorta boring. This past two months have been ** amazing ** as all my months on the island are. Remember, amazing is not synonymous with positive.

I often sit on the stoop of my house, looking out at the lush, furry green pines around tiny little valley (more like a huge gorge) and ponder the jagged, steep and short strokes of mountain which make my 360 degree view. In the mornings, I count the sheep and goats and call back to the kids as they bleat their way up and down the loma.

I make myself coffee, and watch my hummingbirds dart through the guineo -banana trees, which are just large plants, actually. Fog rolls up the valley and pours through the windows of my house, like a smoke machine. I scramble to move paper out of moisture's way, and often admire the clouds - I like to look out at those times and note that the house is in a cloud layer, remember that if I can't see sixty feet out, passersby on the closest dirt road can't see my house through the cloud.

Two hummingbirds on one side of my house and two on the other, I know their spots, recognize them distinctly and it's loud when they come inside the house. I spy on them, they spy on me. In the afternoons, small children come to visit. I wish they would bathe first, but they only seem to think of that on Sundays, ok, fine. We play and color, and I feel the tugging of precious time when I see their worn and torn and sewn again sandals outside my door. I'm knitting a lot and playing DS Lite a lot since it rains every day.

Our concrete floors are a blessing with all the dirt we track in from the path. If it's hot I lay on them to get cool. If its cold, I pick up the laundry bag and my shoes and lay them on shelves or moisture collects under them. Our solar panel has been generous lately and Ben and I like to watch 'The Office' before bed.

'The Office' reminds me of life in America: the cars, the vending machines, the sensible clothing, the extra calories, the bosses, and time clocks. When I watch the show, I remember real estate or working for AI, and I don't feel so claustrophobic about Peace Corps. My community frightens me sometimes with its way of always knowing exactly where I am and what I'm doing. And I'm irked when someone I've never met approaches me in town by name. At the very least, I am always conspicuous when I am with Ben. But then I imagine all the hours I spent behind a desk scheduling tee times and chasing property managers and escrow managers on the phone. In conclusion, I'm more myself out in my yard, showing kids a map of the world and trying (endlessly) to teach them to identify the DR on it.

Our community is a trip. Meaning, it seems like something that could only exist in a drug-induced state. But no, its true. Our community partner, Fernando, is always complaining that his riñones - kidneys- hurt, usually while stroking a cock. If he's not plucking its butt or peppering its skin with tobacco, he's usually cutting some giggly part off. I don't watch cock fights, never have, don't want to, am not expected to (as a female), and I know it's an unfortunate practice. In Fernando's defense, I believe that cocks like to be tough and enjoy fighting, they do it spontaneously all the time - although, without the razor blades attached to their hind quarters. (See - trip alert- the image of a cock with razor blades attached to its claws should sound pretty out there to the American sensibility).

Fernando. I do wonder if he has a kidney problem. This may be related to the massive amounts of alcohol he drinks or to lifting and carrying huge sack of coffee about. I, for one, was unconvinced that kidneys could be painful. I was set straight when my 16-yr. old neighbor Miguelina had a kidney infection recently. She was complaining that her kidneys hurt and I told her to stop carrying so much water and give her muscles a rest. I was totally wrong, and three bags of IV fluid better, she's okay. I told her to stop with the big plates of salami.

Ben and I and the niños built a clay oven. It's his story, so ask him about it sometime. It includes his carrying over a hundred pounds of clay to our house in a 5 gallon bucket.

I let the girls put rollers in my hair. I taught them to knit, and they finished the job with a hair net. The next day when I went out with pelo suelto - hair down - I felt like a princess.

A family and I were finally able to get their kids declared as citizens this month. I also baked some cakes on my easy-bake oven.

The youth group and I finished our Escojo Mi Vida - Healthy Choices - curriculum and it was supremely disappointing to see what they learned. Better something than nothing, I guess. They were also so dame, dame dame algo - give me, give me, give me more - about it, having my hair done was the best part. God, I am so glad this is over, despite how much I love teaching sexual health and how much I love making posters. Wow, this format was not for me.

I do like my health community women's group. They are nice and don't usually demand anything but my participation. I taught them to make floor cleaner and they just love me now.

Our campo got cell phone signal - so, yes, most of my neighbors are still teary with joy that they can make phone calls for the first time from home. This is something I have obviously taken for granted my whole life, including Peace Corps. I can always afford to go to town and make calls, and I hate to talk on the phone so no calls to the house is, ideal. My neighbors could never even afford to go to town to call, and so, don't really even know if they like the phone or not. My little 16-year old neighbor, Miguelina, is excited because now her mom, who works in the US, can call her.

We translated on a second med mission, this one was plastic surgery. The team was from Albany Med in New York and we mostly worked on scar repair, cleft palates and tumor removals. I like being in surgery. I find it doesn't unnerve me. Some notable cases were: cutting out raised scars and repairing the face of a woman who had had acid thrown at her, repairing the tendons in the hand of a man who had had them severed in a machete accident, and cutting free the arms of a girl who had been in a bad fire and whose arms had grown a skin scar web, making it impossible for her to extend her arms.

On the one hand, I felt pride being able to help these people receive services. On the other, I went to pat the little girl with the arm burns as she left, fully freed arms totally bandaged up in over 200 stitches per arm. I went to pat her on the head and wish her my love and I realized that most of her hair burned off, too and she's mostly bald. 7 years old, little chance of ever having hair, little chance of so many things and still the head held high and strong. I'm so obviously not the one to be admired for courage. Her name is Dilexis.

I can't remember if I reported on the first med mission, but it was a head and neck surgery team from Loyola in Chicago. That was were Benja found his calling and were I realized that I have to do this nursing thing that's been in my head since last May.

We graduated a bunch of kids from our computer classes. It's still guandules season, and I like that. But the mangoes are almost here, and the avocados too. Yesterday I had my first guava of the year... I'll be happy to branch out again from banana, pineapple, cherry, strawberry, and papaya.

Ben has a cold, and I'm all kinds of sick, but no worries. For those with whom I have not spoken in some time, we'll be home soon.

I am posting my pictures on Picassa now.