People- Hondurans and gringos alike- often ask me why I decided to do Peace Corps. Believe it or not, it isn’t that alluring $200 and change monthly salary. That question always puts me in a semi-bind because there’s no single answer, rather a hodge-podge of reasons and principles and things I even struggle to identify at times. And if it’s people from my community doing the asking, I always feel uncomfortable throwing out an answer along the lines of “to help people in need”. While that reply may fly when talking to fellow gringos back home in gringolandia, here I can’t help but feel that a response like that is akin to pointing at said person and being like “Yo, look. You’re poor, and that’s whack and I’m here to help because I’m white and have all the answers.” Let’s not lie; Honduras (and the developing world in general) has had beyond enough of that paternalistic bullshit shoved down their throats over the course of history. Being down here you don’t have to look far to see the repercussions that has had, so why perpetuate it, right?
But, at the same time, sharing what I have is a big part of why I’m here. As a United Statesian (just coined that term), I often overlook how fortunate I am to have been born in the country I did and grown up under the circumstances that I did with the amenities and opportunities I had. Quick anecdote- before coming to Hondu, I volunteered with the IRC (International Rescue Committee) at an after school program for recently arrived refugee students from over thirteen countries. One day, I sat down with a new student, a 17 year-old Somali girl named Sahara, to try and begin the reading process in English (as sounds and the alphabet are different than her native Somali and Arabic). At one point she was practicing pronunciation of an English word and I consulted a Somali-English dictionary we had there to show her the word in her own language so she could attach some meaning to it and as I pointed to it, she just stared blankly for a while and looked up at me expressionless. Another Somali girl that was watching us interrupted and started talking to the girl in Somali and after a while told me that, at seventeen, Sahara had never learned to read. She hadn’t so much as set foot inside of a classroom. That hit me hard. I had always viewed things like learning to read and going to school as a given, a definite part of reality, if I even thought about it at all. And all that day all I could think about is how damn fortunate I am in so many ways, many of which I will never fully be conscious of, and how infrequently I step back and truly recognize that fortune and embrace it. Being here makes me do that. It makes me so grateful that I went to school in institutions where (most of) my teachers were genuinely interested in my education and didn’t strike for 110 of the 200 days that they were supposed to give classes (actual statistic from 2009 school year in Honduras), where I didn’t have to drop out of school because my family couldn’t afford to buy the uniform and school supplies required to go, where my mom told me that one day I would have a period instead of it just coming and me thinking I was going to bleed out and die at the tender age of thirteen, where diligence and a strong work ethic are highly regarded and not every single thing in life was exclusively up to God’s will, where I can sit in a meeting full of men and be considered their equal and not some gringa there to serve solely as eye candy and the root of remarks that make me want to strangle all in attendance (truth be told, after three seasons of Dexter I feel entirely capable of doing away with them in a much more unique, personally fulfilling, and discrete fashion than run-of-the-mill strangulation).
Sometimes I find myself thinking that perhaps I could be making a more tangible, sustainable difference in these people’s lives if I had, say, years of teaching under my belt or a Masters in Public Health or a degree in Civil Engineering complete with years of experience designing water systems. But I don’t, and that's cool. What I do have, in addition to a couple of degrees in fields that I probably wouldn’t choose to study if I had to do it all over again, is this wonderfully chaotic fusion of the opportunities and experiences that have made up my life, qualities of the people who have been a part of it, and the acknowledgement that, to borrow from the words of Sheryl WuDunn, I have “won the lottery of life” and have a personal responsibility to share that, in some way, with people that have not been dealt an equally favorable hand. This is how I am currently fulfilling that responsibility. For now....
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Visit to Los Junise
I’m fresh off the boat (or plane) from the USA and, after being told by a good friend that reading my first (and only) two blog entries was like seeing the first two Star Wars and left him pining for more, here I am once again.
It’s hard to say exactly what I was expecting from my first time back in ‘Los Junise’ (how everyone here pronounces a combination of 'United' and 'States') after a year in my Honduran backwater. I’m not sure how many times I’ve heard that story of the Peace Corps Volunteer who’s just returned from a small rural village in -insert African country here- and walks into an American supermarket for the first time and just freezes up and panics when she sees twenty different varieties of, say, gluten, casein, & soy free cheddar 'cheese' spread after 27 months of eating local, seasonal, ethnic foods. That is definitely not my situation. My town is a thirty-minute bus ride from Santa Rosa de Copán, home to three supermarkets (albeit ones that are owned by narcos and Walmart, but supermarkets nonetheless) selling unconventional products like nori, couscous and bacon bits. On top of that, every single house I have been to in the aldeas (small villages) of my town has cable television and, more often than not, a bitchin’ stereo system (how else are you gonna blast that Pitbull!?), regardless that many lack latrines and sleep around seven people in a single room. That said, I wasn’t expecting to be completely stupefied upon arrival. Here are some of my observations and thoughts about the homeland:
- We have delicious beer.
- There’s so much diversity! Immediately upon arriving to the Miami airport I saw: African Americans, Latinos, openly gay couples, Asian Americans, you name it! LOVE IT!!
-I had forgotten how thorough and personal the customer service system in restaurants is. Having the server come to your table four times throughout a meal to ask how everything is, make small talk about how the reason she’s running around from table to table is so she won’t have to go to the gym later, recommend to your grandmother precisely which beer from the beer list would best suit her palate, etc. was very different than how it tends to goes down here: sit down at a comedor (which is usually just a room in someone’s home with plastic tables and chairs), wait around 20 minutes until the owner finishes socializing with her sister and realizes you’re there, decide which item of the three available that day you want, wait another 30 minutes for that food (which is probably slightly different than what you actually asked for) to come, go back into the kitchen to pay because the owner has since forgotten that you were there. The gringos are just working for that tip, I guess.
- Cleanliness. I delighted in the mere presence of trashcans and the fact that I didn’t see a single article of trash thrown out of a vehicle window or have to inhale the smoke of any blazing piles of trash!
- I had forgotten how late it gets dark. Here, because of our proximity to the equator, it gets dark at around 6:30 PM all year round.
- Creativity! There are no shortage of interesting, unique, beautiful spaces (be it restaurants, stores, art museums, cafes, bars, whatever) in our cities and equally interesting, unique, and beautiful people occupying them, especially in San Francisco. Kind of blew my mind after being in a town that has little else aside from around 700 pulperías (small stores) that all have identical merchandise.
-Superfluity. Prime example: in San Francisco I saw a billboard for a hotel called Wag that is exclusively for cats and dogs, complete with “open-air, loft-style facilities with fun play areas, swimming pools and peaceful private rooms for snoozing”. No joke. Also, smartphones are blowing up (I’m not hating on them but is it really necessary to have all of those features/apps/I don’t even know what on your phone?). Not that I gave a damn but people were most definitely eyeing my phone (see below) when I would bust it out to call/text someone (yes haters, believe it or not, you can text with my phone). Truth be told, they probably just wanted to play Snake.
- Around ten people commented that my intonation when speaking English is totally different/apparently hilarious from having spoken predominately Spanish for a year. I don’t hear it, but I’ll take it.
- On our way to Lompico/Santa Cruz, Bryan and I stopped by a little place on the 1 that sells organic strawberries and instead of someone behind the counter manning (or womanning, if you will) the cash register, they had an open tray of money where customers leave what they owe, and take change if they need it. Talk about an honor system! On top of that, there was a 10% discount if you roll up on your bike…BUT only if you have your helmet on, of course. None of that (organic produce, that much trust, discounts if you bike, helmets) would ever go down in Honduras. But then again, would it anywhere other than Northern California??
- And, as a final note that most definitely adheres to that ‘save the best for last’ notion, I have the most badass, strong, smart, hilarious, creative and beautiful people in my life. My soul peeps. You know who you are ☺
Over and out, JP
It’s hard to say exactly what I was expecting from my first time back in ‘Los Junise’ (how everyone here pronounces a combination of 'United' and 'States') after a year in my Honduran backwater. I’m not sure how many times I’ve heard that story of the Peace Corps Volunteer who’s just returned from a small rural village in -insert African country here- and walks into an American supermarket for the first time and just freezes up and panics when she sees twenty different varieties of, say, gluten, casein, & soy free cheddar 'cheese' spread after 27 months of eating local, seasonal, ethnic foods. That is definitely not my situation. My town is a thirty-minute bus ride from Santa Rosa de Copán, home to three supermarkets (albeit ones that are owned by narcos and Walmart, but supermarkets nonetheless) selling unconventional products like nori, couscous and bacon bits. On top of that, every single house I have been to in the aldeas (small villages) of my town has cable television and, more often than not, a bitchin’ stereo system (how else are you gonna blast that Pitbull!?), regardless that many lack latrines and sleep around seven people in a single room. That said, I wasn’t expecting to be completely stupefied upon arrival. Here are some of my observations and thoughts about the homeland:
- We have delicious beer.
- There’s so much diversity! Immediately upon arriving to the Miami airport I saw: African Americans, Latinos, openly gay couples, Asian Americans, you name it! LOVE IT!!
-I had forgotten how thorough and personal the customer service system in restaurants is. Having the server come to your table four times throughout a meal to ask how everything is, make small talk about how the reason she’s running around from table to table is so she won’t have to go to the gym later, recommend to your grandmother precisely which beer from the beer list would best suit her palate, etc. was very different than how it tends to goes down here: sit down at a comedor (which is usually just a room in someone’s home with plastic tables and chairs), wait around 20 minutes until the owner finishes socializing with her sister and realizes you’re there, decide which item of the three available that day you want, wait another 30 minutes for that food (which is probably slightly different than what you actually asked for) to come, go back into the kitchen to pay because the owner has since forgotten that you were there. The gringos are just working for that tip, I guess.
- Cleanliness. I delighted in the mere presence of trashcans and the fact that I didn’t see a single article of trash thrown out of a vehicle window or have to inhale the smoke of any blazing piles of trash!
- I had forgotten how late it gets dark. Here, because of our proximity to the equator, it gets dark at around 6:30 PM all year round.
- Creativity! There are no shortage of interesting, unique, beautiful spaces (be it restaurants, stores, art museums, cafes, bars, whatever) in our cities and equally interesting, unique, and beautiful people occupying them, especially in San Francisco. Kind of blew my mind after being in a town that has little else aside from around 700 pulperías (small stores) that all have identical merchandise.
-Superfluity. Prime example: in San Francisco I saw a billboard for a hotel called Wag that is exclusively for cats and dogs, complete with “open-air, loft-style facilities with fun play areas, swimming pools and peaceful private rooms for snoozing”. No joke. Also, smartphones are blowing up (I’m not hating on them but is it really necessary to have all of those features/apps/I don’t even know what on your phone?). Not that I gave a damn but people were most definitely eyeing my phone (see below) when I would bust it out to call/text someone (yes haters, believe it or not, you can text with my phone). Truth be told, they probably just wanted to play Snake.
- On our way to Lompico/Santa Cruz, Bryan and I stopped by a little place on the 1 that sells organic strawberries and instead of someone behind the counter manning (or womanning, if you will) the cash register, they had an open tray of money where customers leave what they owe, and take change if they need it. Talk about an honor system! On top of that, there was a 10% discount if you roll up on your bike…BUT only if you have your helmet on, of course. None of that (organic produce, that much trust, discounts if you bike, helmets) would ever go down in Honduras. But then again, would it anywhere other than Northern California??
- And, as a final note that most definitely adheres to that ‘save the best for last’ notion, I have the most badass, strong, smart, hilarious, creative and beautiful people in my life. My soul peeps. You know who you are ☺
Over and out, JP
Monday, May 16, 2011
ya basta with the bad press...
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/11/us/11corps.html?_r=1&src=me&ref=general
This article was recently brought to my attention by a good friend of mine, curious to hear the two cents of a current volunteer. Shortly thereafter, my parents brought it up- concerned, naturally, about my safety. After reading the article, I read each one of the two hundred something comments that followed at the time, the vast majority of which were posted by either current or Returned Peace Corps Volunteers. Here are my thoughts…
The issue of sexual assault within our institution and Honduras has been a recurrent talking point for many of us, especially following ABC's 20/20 piece ran in January about several female volunteers who were sexually assaulted during their services (if you haven’t seen it, I recommend watching it… all three parts can be found on YouTube). The piece abruptly and, in my opinion, unfairly ends with one of those women asserting that she has young daughters herself, and that she would absolutely never allow them to apply to Peace Corps. While I recognize that what these women went through is inconceivably difficult, and even more so if you don’t have a receptive support system to go back to, I feel like the program showed an extremely biased, one-sided vision of how Peace Corps is. The fine folks over at ABC did absolutely nothing in the way of expressing admiration for the organization, its volunteers, and the experience they walk away with, which, according to countless individuals, is one of the most positive and enriching of their entire lives. They failed to mention the powerful relationships volunteers forge with their neighbors and community members, which undoubtedly do more to fortify the good name of Americans than other foreign ventures of The United States, and at a fraction of the price. This seems like an appropriate moment to mention that in its entire 50-year history, we have spent less money on the Peace Corps than one percent of the defense budget for just this year. How reassuring to see that our nation’s priorities are in the right place.
Several of those who left comments as well as the author herself mention a “blame the victim” culture that exists within Peace Corps as an institution. Countless fellow PCVs have informed me that our former Country Director, whom I had very minimal contact with as she was replaced only two months into my service, was no exception to this rule. When female volunteers came to her to report sexual assaults, she would inquire into and criticize what they were wearing at the time, or condemn them for being at that particular place in that moment. Obviously, this is deeply flawed not only due to the profound effects it will have on volunteers’ psyches, but also because they will inevitably feel dissuaded from reporting incidents in the future (not only sexual assaults but any security incidents). Peace Corps currently supports some 8,600 volunteers in 76 countries, and after seeing how much one volunteer’s life and work differs from another’s within the same country, I cannot begin to imagine the disparities, administrative ones included, that exist from country to country. Clearly, I can only speak from what has been my own experience. I feel like the staff here in Honduras- I speak primarily of our Safety and Security Coordinator and our new Country Director- are extremely approachable, receptive to our feedback and genuinely care about us as Volunteers. I am confident that they have done everything in their power to inform us and keep us informed of possible risks and how to avoid them (someone left a comment criticizing how our training places too much emphasis on preventive measures such as this, but what other option is there… tell us what we could have done after the fact??), place us in safe communities, and apprise us of the support systems that exist both within country and in Washington were something to happen to us. And the few people I know who, for whatever reasons, have had to turn to such networks have felt extremely supported. All I know is that I feel very safe here. And I support any legislation that is going to fortify the organization by making us safer and better seeing to the needs of those who have been subjected to such unimaginable acts. I just sincerely hope that all this bad press doesn’t eat away at and lead to (even more) funding cuts because Peace Corps is by leaps and bounds The United State's smartest investment in soft power, and we really are accomplishing wonderful things in our respective corners of the world.
That post was a little on the heavy side, I promise something más leve next time around. Over and out…
This article was recently brought to my attention by a good friend of mine, curious to hear the two cents of a current volunteer. Shortly thereafter, my parents brought it up- concerned, naturally, about my safety. After reading the article, I read each one of the two hundred something comments that followed at the time, the vast majority of which were posted by either current or Returned Peace Corps Volunteers. Here are my thoughts…
The issue of sexual assault within our institution and Honduras has been a recurrent talking point for many of us, especially following ABC's 20/20 piece ran in January about several female volunteers who were sexually assaulted during their services (if you haven’t seen it, I recommend watching it… all three parts can be found on YouTube). The piece abruptly and, in my opinion, unfairly ends with one of those women asserting that she has young daughters herself, and that she would absolutely never allow them to apply to Peace Corps. While I recognize that what these women went through is inconceivably difficult, and even more so if you don’t have a receptive support system to go back to, I feel like the program showed an extremely biased, one-sided vision of how Peace Corps is. The fine folks over at ABC did absolutely nothing in the way of expressing admiration for the organization, its volunteers, and the experience they walk away with, which, according to countless individuals, is one of the most positive and enriching of their entire lives. They failed to mention the powerful relationships volunteers forge with their neighbors and community members, which undoubtedly do more to fortify the good name of Americans than other foreign ventures of The United States, and at a fraction of the price. This seems like an appropriate moment to mention that in its entire 50-year history, we have spent less money on the Peace Corps than one percent of the defense budget for just this year. How reassuring to see that our nation’s priorities are in the right place.
Several of those who left comments as well as the author herself mention a “blame the victim” culture that exists within Peace Corps as an institution. Countless fellow PCVs have informed me that our former Country Director, whom I had very minimal contact with as she was replaced only two months into my service, was no exception to this rule. When female volunteers came to her to report sexual assaults, she would inquire into and criticize what they were wearing at the time, or condemn them for being at that particular place in that moment. Obviously, this is deeply flawed not only due to the profound effects it will have on volunteers’ psyches, but also because they will inevitably feel dissuaded from reporting incidents in the future (not only sexual assaults but any security incidents). Peace Corps currently supports some 8,600 volunteers in 76 countries, and after seeing how much one volunteer’s life and work differs from another’s within the same country, I cannot begin to imagine the disparities, administrative ones included, that exist from country to country. Clearly, I can only speak from what has been my own experience. I feel like the staff here in Honduras- I speak primarily of our Safety and Security Coordinator and our new Country Director- are extremely approachable, receptive to our feedback and genuinely care about us as Volunteers. I am confident that they have done everything in their power to inform us and keep us informed of possible risks and how to avoid them (someone left a comment criticizing how our training places too much emphasis on preventive measures such as this, but what other option is there… tell us what we could have done after the fact??), place us in safe communities, and apprise us of the support systems that exist both within country and in Washington were something to happen to us. And the few people I know who, for whatever reasons, have had to turn to such networks have felt extremely supported. All I know is that I feel very safe here. And I support any legislation that is going to fortify the organization by making us safer and better seeing to the needs of those who have been subjected to such unimaginable acts. I just sincerely hope that all this bad press doesn’t eat away at and lead to (even more) funding cuts because Peace Corps is by leaps and bounds The United State's smartest investment in soft power, and we really are accomplishing wonderful things in our respective corners of the world.
That post was a little on the heavy side, I promise something más leve next time around. Over and out…
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Welcome!... and medical brigades
I’ve thrown around the idea of creating a blog since before I arrived in Honduras, and always opted out for whatever reason: the overly public and unrestricted nature of blogs, doubts regarding who would read it in the first place, not wanting to submit to another hipster craze, etc. Now, more than eight months into my experience here, I’ve changed my mind. For starters, I’ve found it difficult to keep my people informed about my life here to the extent that I would like & I can’t emphasize enough how important I feel that is for maintaining healthy relationships, regardless of the miles between friends & family. Also, one of Peace Corps’ three goals is to promote a better understanding of other peoples- in this case Hondurans- on the part of Americans- you, and what better way to do that than to have an ongoing narrative of my adventures (and, inevitably, misadventures) like this available for complete strangers to access? Bienvenidos, pues!
Last week, two (also Peace Corps) friends and I helped out translating with a medical brigade of Texans in a small aldea (village) of Santa Rosa called Yarushin. For those of you who’ve never heard of a medical brigade, in a nutshell, it’s a group of foreigners (usually Americans, Canadians, Europeans, Cubans; often religiously affiliated) who come and offer medical care to people in ‘developing’ countries. To date, I’ve translated in two, and continue to have extremely mixed feelings about them. On the one hand, these people are wonderful in that they’re empathetic, generous and taking the time to come down here and make a difference in peoples’ lives. But, at the same time, I have to ask myself- exactly how much of a difference are they truly making? How it works is: after seeing a nurse who takes their vitals and jots down their symptoms, the person passes through to a room where a ‘doctor’ (in this most recent brigade, the man was a vet… yes, true story) and myself are seated, he reviews their sheet, we have a (very) brief dialogue about those symptoms, and he either prescribes medicine or sends them on to see another doctor (for real this time, not a vet). Okay. So here are my quibbles with this system. First of all, how much can you really learn about a person and their medical history under such circumstances, given that you’re time crunched because you want to ‘help’ every single one of the people who walked however-many-hours from their towns and have been waiting in line since 6 AM? Is it not dangerous to prescribe medicine to people whose medical history you know absolutely nothing about? Second, in the vast majority of the cases, people aren’t actually sick in the moment the brigade comes. Rather, they’re jumping at the opportunity to see a doctor and be given medicine, in many cases, for the first time in their lives. That said, many fabricate symptoms, saying they have headaches or their ‘bones hurt’, and are given medicine regardless. The medicine itself is another issue. After the consult, they pass through to the pharmacy where they’re given all the drugs the veterinarian decided they were in need of, and are hurriedly explained how to take each one. While there are instructions written on each bottle, the vast majority of the people who came out were illiterate, so they will have to rely entirely on that initial explanation- which in most cases included medicines for an entire family (and families in the campo are big)- in order to know how to administer each one to themselves and their children. Hmmm. On top of everything, there’s a good deal that these people overlook on a cultural level considering that they’re here for a matter of days and it’s impossible to learn about peoples’ lifestyle and habits given such a time frame. One example: a mother of several small children came through with some sort of fungus in between her fingers and the doctor/vet’s words of ‘wisdom' were to apply an antifungal cream and refrain from hand-washing clothes. Right. While I am a big proponent of divvying up chores to the men of the household (that is if there are any men in the household), that’s never going to happen in a society where machismo is so present and far-reaching. Punto. At least the kids got hooked up with sweet sunglasses (yes that girl below is wearing blublockers)!!!
Reading this over, I feel like I come off as detesting the whole concept of medical brigades and that’s not what I’m trying to do, at all. I think they can be worthwhile if organized well, composed of attentive, concerned people and conceived with the right intentions. However, I can’t help but feel that a focus on preventive medicine, piloted by people who have a true understanding of how this place and these people function, would have far more sustainable, visible results. Feel me?
This entry is feeling a little somber and since it’s my first, I’ll leave you with a funny story so people actually choose to follow this blog. Also at the brigade, a woman came in with her young baby, and I asked her how old she was. She told me that she was three months old and when I asked her what her name was, she said that she didn’t have a name. I was totally taken aback and asked why not and the woman explained to me that the Registro Nacional in their town, where you have to take newborn babies to register them and receive a birth certificate, had been out of ink for several months and so they haven’t been able to register a single one. Love it. I’ll leave you with that little taste of efficiency in my neck of the jungle. Peace...
Last week, two (also Peace Corps) friends and I helped out translating with a medical brigade of Texans in a small aldea (village) of Santa Rosa called Yarushin. For those of you who’ve never heard of a medical brigade, in a nutshell, it’s a group of foreigners (usually Americans, Canadians, Europeans, Cubans; often religiously affiliated) who come and offer medical care to people in ‘developing’ countries. To date, I’ve translated in two, and continue to have extremely mixed feelings about them. On the one hand, these people are wonderful in that they’re empathetic, generous and taking the time to come down here and make a difference in peoples’ lives. But, at the same time, I have to ask myself- exactly how much of a difference are they truly making? How it works is: after seeing a nurse who takes their vitals and jots down their symptoms, the person passes through to a room where a ‘doctor’ (in this most recent brigade, the man was a vet… yes, true story) and myself are seated, he reviews their sheet, we have a (very) brief dialogue about those symptoms, and he either prescribes medicine or sends them on to see another doctor (for real this time, not a vet). Okay. So here are my quibbles with this system. First of all, how much can you really learn about a person and their medical history under such circumstances, given that you’re time crunched because you want to ‘help’ every single one of the people who walked however-many-hours from their towns and have been waiting in line since 6 AM? Is it not dangerous to prescribe medicine to people whose medical history you know absolutely nothing about? Second, in the vast majority of the cases, people aren’t actually sick in the moment the brigade comes. Rather, they’re jumping at the opportunity to see a doctor and be given medicine, in many cases, for the first time in their lives. That said, many fabricate symptoms, saying they have headaches or their ‘bones hurt’, and are given medicine regardless. The medicine itself is another issue. After the consult, they pass through to the pharmacy where they’re given all the drugs the veterinarian decided they were in need of, and are hurriedly explained how to take each one. While there are instructions written on each bottle, the vast majority of the people who came out were illiterate, so they will have to rely entirely on that initial explanation- which in most cases included medicines for an entire family (and families in the campo are big)- in order to know how to administer each one to themselves and their children. Hmmm. On top of everything, there’s a good deal that these people overlook on a cultural level considering that they’re here for a matter of days and it’s impossible to learn about peoples’ lifestyle and habits given such a time frame. One example: a mother of several small children came through with some sort of fungus in between her fingers and the doctor/vet’s words of ‘wisdom' were to apply an antifungal cream and refrain from hand-washing clothes. Right. While I am a big proponent of divvying up chores to the men of the household (that is if there are any men in the household), that’s never going to happen in a society where machismo is so present and far-reaching. Punto. At least the kids got hooked up with sweet sunglasses (yes that girl below is wearing blublockers)!!!
This entry is feeling a little somber and since it’s my first, I’ll leave you with a funny story so people actually choose to follow this blog. Also at the brigade, a woman came in with her young baby, and I asked her how old she was. She told me that she was three months old and when I asked her what her name was, she said that she didn’t have a name. I was totally taken aback and asked why not and the woman explained to me that the Registro Nacional in their town, where you have to take newborn babies to register them and receive a birth certificate, had been out of ink for several months and so they haven’t been able to register a single one. Love it. I’ll leave you with that little taste of efficiency in my neck of the jungle. Peace...
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