Monthly Archives: September 2009

Tiptoeing through political tension

The toque de queda is not 24 hours these days, but it is still imposed nightly, arbitrarily it seems, 6 pm to 6 am yesterday, or 9 pm to 7 am tonight.  Most commerce here in La Paz is back to its usual pace.  The de facto government in Tegus is still rattling swords at the Brazilians, making unenforcable threats.  I think they know that if they storm the Brazilian embassy to arrest President Zelaya the mierda will hit the fan, not only internationally but locally.  Meanwhile, my chicken pen for the orphans has hit bureaucratic obstacles; perhaps a metaphor for the national condition.  Tuesday I leave for the mountain aldeas with profesores from the Instituto Lorenzo Cervantes to supervise final year secondary students preparing for their Bachillerato en Salud Comunitaria diplomas present information from an HIV/AIDS workshop I prepared for them that they in turn will present to their mountain student peers.  Wednesday I leave for a 4-day taller in La Esperanza, Intibuca to be focused on Maternal Health and Child Malnutrition in Honduras.  Kwashiorkor and Marasmus syndrome are not unknown here.  That information I will put to good use, along with my three Honduran counterparts attending with me, in follow-up visits for children diagnosed with malnutrition and discharged from the hospital to the rural aldeas where ignorance and illiteracy run rampant.  After I return, I hope to post photos from my week-long mountain trip to the mountain aldeas above Comayagua last week, as well as pics from the taller at Intibuca.  Life goes on, while the politicos make fools of themselves.

Toque de Queda

The day before yesterday, Monday September 21, 2009, President Mel Zelaya returned to Honduras overland, by stealth, and ensconced himself in the Brazilian Embassy.  At first denying that Zelaya was in the country, the de facto government that deposed him subsequently imposed a 24-hour toque de queda (curfew) on the country that remains in effect today, demanding that Brazil hand Zelaya over for arrest by Honduran authorities.  The airports are closed, buses aren’t running, all the country’s teachers (Zelaya supporters) are on strike, hospitals are not open for business, and most commercial establishments are shut.  The country is at a stop.  The de facto government has erected roadblocks around the country to prevent Zelaya’s supporters from converging on the capital.  The Brazilian Embassy is surrounded by armed troops who are dispersing the gathering crowds with tear gas and water cannon.  Demonstrators are being beaten and arrested.  The embassy’s water, phone service and electricity have been cut off.  All food and medical services have been blockaded.  Here in La Paz the situation is quiet but the country is paralyzed by the political turmoil.  Our three supermarkets are closed as well as most businesses and no buses or taxis are operating.  The situation is volatile.

Partying With the Cuban Doctors

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The above melange of pics is from two separate parties with a group of Cuban doctors.  After Hurricane Mitch devastated Honduras’ infrastructure in 1998 and caused tens of thousands of deaths, Cuba sent in teams of medical professionals to help with the rebuilding of the country.  Many are still there.  They are sent by their government for two years of volunteer service and earn far less than the pittance of a stipend that Peace Corps Volunteers earn.  In any event, 7 doctors assigned to aldeas around the La Paz municipio are friends of my host family and occasionally they gather for fun-filled get-togethers dedicated to good eating and dancing.  The first party occured my first weekend in town, and the second was last night (Saturday).  The pics above are 8 of 50.  My friend Taylor took most of them: also Caterin, the little dimpled pixie, a neighbor.  Dr. Ishmael, the gentleman concocting the beautiful tomato and veggie salad is a surgeon with more than 40 years experience.  He is so skilled that the U.S. Air Force surgeons attached to Palmerola Air Force Base nearby come to our La Paz hospital to learn from him.  Other specialties are Pediatrics, Plastic Surgery, Rheumatology, and General Practice.  All free, courtesy of the Cuban government.  In the morning I leave for the mountain aldeas accompanying a brigada from a U.S. university for a week.  A new health clinic is being opened in one of the aldeas.

A Chicken Pen for the Kids’ Chickens

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Sister Edith agreed with me that the first goal on the agenda should be the penning of the chickens in a secure enclosure.  The chickens running loose are everywhere and eat everything in sight – they ocassionally pick the tortillas from the youngest childrens’ hands when the kids are at table.  They also shit and lay eggs anywhere they want.  Who knows where they roost, as there is sure to be a pile of feces down below; if I wanted to find out.   Once the chickens are penned we can work on a garden to provide sustenance, and chicken products can be harvested, not to mention the improvement in hygiene.  The two middle pics in the second row show an expanse of corn the Sister planted before the chickens were donated.  Next to that is the site we have cleared to put our new chicken coop.  I am only able to work at the orfanato on Saturdays as I have started working at the local colegio giving classes and at the city hospital following up on malnourished children in the rural aldeas when they are released from their inpatient hospitalizations.  There is much work to be done.

el orfanato

I stood outside the orphanage for a few moments to take in the crumbling building and see what changes had been made in the three months that I had been gone.  Except for the missing huge pile of dirt in the front yard everything looked the same as when I left.  I knocked on the front door and a child peeked out the tiny imbedded window.  “Es Fortunato!” I heard from inside and the door popped open.  A few of the kids came rushing out of the newly created dining room as I entered, Hermana Edith following with a smile, the children asking questions and hugging and asking if I remembered their names.  I told the nun that I had encountered Ana,  Merlin, and Nicole carrying buckets full of corn kernels out on the street, as I stood amid a pile of shucked corn husks scattered on the floor.  Yes, she replied, they were on their way to the miller’s; they would return with flour to make corn tamales, their dinner for the day.  Someone had donated a pile of ear corn, she said, inviting me inside.  I told Hermana Edith that I had been reassigned to La Paz and would be here for two years and that I intended to resume my volunteer activities at the orphanage.  The interior of the orfanato had been made habitable in one corner of the large abandoned building.  They had a kitchen, a bathing area and bathroom, two large bedrooms of sorts, and a room where makeshift cubicles had been installed containing clothing for each child.  The children led me around, proudly showing off their meager accomodations, the  partially painted walls crumbled and flaking from 25 years of neglect.  I learned that someone had donated a few baby chickens that were now everywhere underfoot and had promptly eaten the garden the nun had planted from the seeds I had given her when I left for La Masica, including all the seeds.  I told her I would return on the weekend to make plans and left, a lump crowding my throat.