August 2006
My Spanish speaking ability didn’t really improve until I started working at the health clinic in town about a week before we left. There, I fetched medical records, weighed and measured a lot of pregnant women, babies and children, took files to either the doctor, the nurse or the obstetrician, and return
ed the files to their proper folders at the end of the day. There were five “technical nurses” that I worked with: Sandra, Claudia, Manuela, Alcidez, and Gina.
Photo: Marissa tending child with inhaler at health clinic. © Center for Amazon Community Ecology
They were all very sweet and I spent a good chunk of time teaching them various English words. Alcidez taught me how to give injections—I never quite got around to doing it completely by myself; he always had to do the sticking part. I watched him pull a tooth and couldn’t help wincing through all of the cracking, twisting and yanking. He also had to lance a large boil on top of a little girl’s head and I could hear her screaming three rooms away. Manuela was the youngest at 22, and she took me swimming several times. We usually bought either bread
or watermelon on the way. Sandra, Claudia and Gina thought that I never ate because they kept exclaiming, “que flaquita!” (“she’s so skinny!”).
Photo: Alcidez fumigating health records at Jenaro Herrera clinic. © C. Plowden/Center for Amazon Community Ecology
One of the biggest cultural shocks for me was when fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen year old girls would come in at eight months pregnant. One sixteen year old, Lourdes, gave birth around 5 am two hours before I came in. I got to hold the infant while she was using the bathroom and it was a li
ttle weird looking at a life form that would have been the exact same if it was my baby. She was so little, her skin was still wrinkled and papery and she only had the 3 or 4 main lines on her palms.
Photo: Young mother and baby at health clinic. © Marissa Plowden/Center for Amazon Community Ecology
These sort of experiences made me wonder if motherhood is viewed the same in Jenaro Herrera as at home. Most of the time, accounts of new mothers describe when they first hold their new born as truly a miracle and they could never imagine loving anything/one more. Here, children and babies are handled a lot more casually. A knock on the head with knuckles if they are crying for no reason other than attention; younger ones who can’t walk are picked up their arms. Did a mother of sixteen there resent her tiny daughter? As an incoming high school junior, I was constantly being directed towards thoughts of my future, whether by my own volition or otherwise. While previously I had been somewhat indifferent and almost resistant to the topic, I was now more forcibly reminded of how many opportunities I have for the future. In this case, indecision is a blessing, because here, options are severely limited.
By the end of the stay I was bug bitten and really ready for a hot shower and some ice cream. I also knew that I was going to miss the people in Jenaro Herrera greatly, along with the food and the completely clear night sky. One of the last days that I was walking home from the clinic, random people whom I had never been introduced to were yelling my name
from the sides of the road and I couldn’t help laughing. Twice (on different days) I was offered a ride back to the IIAP center by people in motorcars or on motorcycles.
Photo: Motorcar in Jenaro Herrera. © C. Plowden/Center for Amazon Community Ecology
Our last day was a whirlwind of desperate packing and last minute data compilation. The trip home went very smoothly and it felt a little surreal to be back in my own house and bed, sitting in front of a computer with wood floors, hot water and electricity that worked all the time. Everyone kept asking me, “When are you coming back?
” I never knew how to answer, but it appears that I will be able to continue this particular exotic leg of my life this coming summer.
Photo: Marissa and nurses of Jenaro Herrera health clinic. © C. Plowden/Center for Amazon Community Ecology
My Spanish speaking ability didn’t really improve until I started working at the health clinic in town about a week before we left. There, I fetched medical records, weighed and measured a lot of pregnant women, babies and children, took files to either the doctor, the nurse or the obstetrician, and return
ed the files to their proper folders at the end of the day. There were five “technical nurses” that I worked with: Sandra, Claudia, Manuela, Alcidez, and Gina.Photo: Marissa tending child with inhaler at health clinic. © Center for Amazon Community Ecology
They were all very sweet and I spent a good chunk of time teaching them various English words. Alcidez taught me how to give injections—I never quite got around to doing it completely by myself; he always had to do the sticking part. I watched him pull a tooth and couldn’t help wincing through all of the cracking, twisting and yanking. He also had to lance a large boil on top of a little girl’s head and I could hear her screaming three rooms away. Manuela was the youngest at 22, and she took me swimming several times. We usually bought either bread
or watermelon on the way. Sandra, Claudia and Gina thought that I never ate because they kept exclaiming, “que flaquita!” (“she’s so skinny!”).Photo: Alcidez fumigating health records at Jenaro Herrera clinic. © C. Plowden/Center for Amazon Community Ecology
One of the biggest cultural shocks for me was when fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen year old girls would come in at eight months pregnant. One sixteen year old, Lourdes, gave birth around 5 am two hours before I came in. I got to hold the infant while she was using the bathroom and it was a li
ttle weird looking at a life form that would have been the exact same if it was my baby. She was so little, her skin was still wrinkled and papery and she only had the 3 or 4 main lines on her palms.Photo: Young mother and baby at health clinic. © Marissa Plowden/Center for Amazon Community Ecology
These sort of experiences made me wonder if motherhood is viewed the same in Jenaro Herrera as at home. Most of the time, accounts of new mothers describe when they first hold their new born as truly a miracle and they could never imagine loving anything/one more. Here, children and babies are handled a lot more casually. A knock on the head with knuckles if they are crying for no reason other than attention; younger ones who can’t walk are picked up their arms. Did a mother of sixteen there resent her tiny daughter? As an incoming high school junior, I was constantly being directed towards thoughts of my future, whether by my own volition or otherwise. While previously I had been somewhat indifferent and almost resistant to the topic, I was now more forcibly reminded of how many opportunities I have for the future. In this case, indecision is a blessing, because here, options are severely limited.
By the end of the stay I was bug bitten and really ready for a hot shower and some ice cream. I also knew that I was going to miss the people in Jenaro Herrera greatly, along with the food and the completely clear night sky. One of the last days that I was walking home from the clinic, random people whom I had never been introduced to were yelling my name
from the sides of the road and I couldn’t help laughing. Twice (on different days) I was offered a ride back to the IIAP center by people in motorcars or on motorcycles.Photo: Motorcar in Jenaro Herrera. © C. Plowden/Center for Amazon Community Ecology
Our last day was a whirlwind of desperate packing and last minute data compilation. The trip home went very smoothly and it felt a little surreal to be back in my own house and bed, sitting in front of a computer with wood floors, hot water and electricity that worked all the time. Everyone kept asking me, “When are you coming back?
” I never knew how to answer, but it appears that I will be able to continue this particular exotic leg of my life this coming summer.Photo: Marissa and nurses of Jenaro Herrera health clinic. © C. Plowden/Center for Amazon Community Ecology
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