My arrival.

"The true meaning of life is to plant trees, 

under whose shade you do not expect to sit"

- Nelson Henderson

This blog is way over due...

There is just no easy way to describe how wonderful this country is, how different it is, how interesting it is... I am hoping to share some things with you through my blog to give you some perspective on how much my life has changed since I have moved here.

As I lay swaying side to side in the hammock on our balcony writing this, I peer out toward the mountain tops that frame the city of Tegucigalpa. The city is essentially in a valley, surrounded by luscious green mountainous terrain. Small huts, with aluminum paneling as roofs and drapes serving as doors, decorate these hill sides and men on horseback trot

down the dirt roads alongside the on-foot travelers. Women walk with baskets of fruit or fabric balanced on their heads; men carry barrels of chopped wood under their arms as they balance on bicycles; mothers and children wash their clothes against the rocks in nearby streams; and the skinniest dogs I've ever seen roam the streets in search of a bite to eat.

My first week here, I was on a medical brigade. All of the NYU students and I stayed in a compound in a town called Flor Azul. From the compound, you could look out over over a beautiful valley of farmland, with divided dark and light green patches that creating a patchwork out of the terrain before another mountain rose up out of the earth. It was a such an open view that we could see the rainstorms coming in from miles away, like walls that closed in over the valley below. It was beautiful; a truly inspiring location to journal.

Our first day we visited an orphanage in Nuevo Paraiso where we played with the children all day. There I met Fanny. She was a beautiful 9 year old girl who I now write to- she asked me to be her godmother, which melted my heart. She said she loved my hair color and we drew pictures together and played on the swings. She was so sweet and her innocense is something that I admire in the children here. They have such a different out look on life than American children do, with their video games and material things. She taught me a lot in just the few hours we spent together.

The next day was our first brigade. The night before, and every night thereafter,

we spent hours packing up medications and organizing supplies so that our busy days would run as smoothly as possible. We woke up every morning at about 5:30am, got the trucks packed up, and then hit the (dirt) road for the village, avoiding the cattle crossings and the roaming dogs along the way. By the time we would arrive, hundreds and hundreds of people would already be waiting for us. As we pulled up in our bus full of eager students, followed by trucks full of doctors and medications, it was an incredible rush to feel how needed we were. These people waited all day long for us, in their finest clothes, never pushing or getting impatient, always thanking us profusely and shaking our hands in gratitude.

During the four days of brigading, I worked in the gynecology station assisting in pap-smears, in the dental station, assisting with tooth extractions, and in the in-take and triage station, taking vitals and interviewing patients. It was such a wonderful experience to be able to speak with the people. It was incredible to hear the common hardships that these people encounter on a daily basis and the things they deal with all the time, simply 

because they have no choice. I've never seen children with parasites or skin infections before but it was so common in these communities. In the States, we have the luxury of running to the doctor when something bothers us- imagine having a UTI or strep throat, and all you have is home remedies to resort to. 
The dental station was probably the most impacting for me. It was truly heartbreaking to see how many children had to get their teeth extracted because of decay and infection. At one point I teared up as I was holding a child's hands as he screamed while the dentist extracted one of his molars. It is so sad how these children have never even been given a toothbrush before. So much infection could be avoided just by brushing their teeth but they simply do not have access to common hygienic supplies.

This is something that we are trying to change with the "charla". After the patients are treated, we teach them in groups about general hygiene and sanitation. We hand out toothbrushes to the children and demonstrate how to brush their teeth. We give out bars of soap and teach them to wash their hands before they eat and after going to the bathroom... things that we don't even think about in the States.  
I feel like the kids grow up very fast here. Even on the brigade the women are not nearly as protective of their children as women in the States are. Children wandered a lot on their own, finding very innovative ways to  

entertain themselves- playing soccer with empty soda liters, clattering sticks against a fence. There are always kids on the side of the roads, selling beans or corn to passer-byers, or wandering around the gas stations selling plantain chips or eagerly washing car windows for a few lempiras. 

It is an understatement to say that it is different here. I am living in the capital city now but the poverty is still apparent. What is even more apparent is the disparity in this country. There are such economical extremes within the same city. In Tegucigalpa, you can see children twirling batons in the street for cash and a mall with stores like United Colors of Benetton, all withing the same block. It is a dangerous city- the middle class homes are lined with 12ft gates and our own apartment has twisted barbed wire outside our balcony. But looking past the danger, this place is absolutely beautiful and I admire the unadorned and simple living of the people. I learn something new about life everyday here. And I love it.