The End of Week 1 in Chiapas

We're back in San Cris for a night, after finishing the adoption study in Naranjatik and collecting the particulate matter pumps from houses in Quexalhukum. It feels really good to shower even though Jackie and I just left San Cris yesterday. We are going to celebrate the Fourth of July tonight. This means beer and/or wine and/or carne asada, depending on which of the four of us you ask.

Our first week in Quexalhukum is over. It went by slowly, or rather so much happened that time didn't exactly fly by. I think we were all a little homesick, but really glad to be here having this experience. For me, I never could have imagined the kinds of challenges and learning opportunities this project would present, but I'm so grateful for them.

There hasn't been too much time for reflection since we've had pretty much constant work and issues with our equipment, but a lot that happened made me think about all the things we discussed before we left: social justice, public health, the effects of imperialism, indigenous rights. Meeting Manuelito in Acteal, the 22-year-old who survived the 1997 massacre because the dead bodies of his family members fell on top of him, was definitely one of those moments that struck me. Anna and CB talked to Alberto, one of the health promoters, about the massacre. 45 people died and the community put the dead bodies into coffins and traveled all the way to Tuxtla with them to show everyone what had occurred. How is it possible that this happened, and life is still going on? Atrocities like this have occurred and are taking place right now, so it's nothing new. Life goes on, injustice or no injustice. But it made me realize right now that to get the most out of & put the most into this experience, and to truly integrate myself into this project and the people we are sharing it with, I have to understand this history and what it means to the people who it affected. It's a profound task.

Other random thoughts...drinking among men in the community seems to be a common issue. While hanging out in the casa de salud in Q, we have been approached on many occasions by drunk men. Today, on the way to San Cris from Yabteclum, we saw a little girl waklking with her dad who was clearly drunk. She was basically supporting him as he staggered. We were approached by another drunk man last Sunday, who chatted to us in front of his undoubtedly embarrassed wife and three daughters. Anna and CB went to do the adoption study in a home in Q yesterday and found that the senora of the casa was hiding in the bushes from her drunk husband. This is sort of a gross generalization, but it made me think, no wonder Muhammad Yunus decided it should be the women who get microcredit and not the men.

We ate higado del toro (bull's liver) for dinner last night, which is supposed to be special (any kind of meat dish is very special). It was quite an experience. In an attempt to be more self-sufficient up in Q, Jackie and I bought a pot, a pan, and utensils so we can cook breakfast for ourselves and eat pbj's for lunch. Today we broke out the pan and Jackie made scrambled eggs with canned meat and instant coffee. I had eggs and tuna and that will probably be the last time that happens. The rest had eggs and vienna sausage. I think we are all decidedly over the canned meat and huevos plan. But with some sugar, salt, pepper and onions, I think we'll be able to make some truly edible meals with that handy hot plate. As soon as the electricity gets fixed again.