Friday, July 6, 2012

Kiptopeke State Park

Kiptopeke State Park is probably known for its artificial reef, the World War concrete ships.

Dr. Charles Johnson (General Practice, Richmond) and me at the VSU Cares MOM Project in Petersburg, VA.


During the month of June, I have continued working in the microbiology lab (mostly growing biofilms and analyzing the gene expression of various strains), settling into my home (painting my room and tending to the garden), and adapting to life in Richmond. There have been some ups and downs (on the day I successfully isolated RNA from biofilms, I got into my first bike accident on the way home), but I've also had some excitement (my housemate reported me missing while I was at a two day dental service trip with the MOM Project). During the last week in June, I went camping with my family on the Eastern Shore and had the opportunity of visiting the Eastern Shore Rural Health System community health clinic and interview their medical director. Pictures throughout this post retell some of the camping trip. Enjoy! : )

Andrew, my nephew, found my headlight a necessary accessory during his pretend play on a chilly morning.

Ellie, my niece, points to a cicada perched on her shoe.

Bon voyage--a fishing expedition with grandfather.

My brother and his wife didn't join us on the camping trip but their girls made for great camping company.

Andrew with my parents.

What would a walk without grandfather be?

Ellie scurries ahead to our 'photo shoot' location on the ocean shore near the pier.

...while mommy (my sister) and daddy snap a picture, reminiscing pre-parenthood days.

It is often hard to keep kids in a carriage, but Merrari and Lorena found every opportunity to ride it a treat.

Skipping along with grandpa...

On the dock...

Smiles and sunshine!

Hermanas y amigas: Merrari was born in El Salvador and her younger sister, Lorena, in Virginia.

Ellie never misses an opportunity to entertain all those around.

The sun continues to set on the pier.

...only so many smiles and then comes teasing.

Diva shadows!

Still on the go...

The family

Mom and me

Sparklers on the shore

A shore silhouette 

Andrew caught a few of his first fish on boating trips with grandpa.

Lorena and Merarri share a floaty to navigate the waves.

Ellie and Anastasia at the campsite

The recently purchased van gave my dad an electrical puzzle.

And so the camp photos come to a close.

I am looking forward to participating in the Wise County MOM Project dental service event in July and will continue working in the research lab until August. I hope to report more about the city next month. What's new with you and yours?...do send a comment or email update : )







Sunday, June 3, 2012

Richmond, VA: arriving and settling


I met my first USA sunrise upon retuning from Peru on my undergraduate campus before a science department senior breakfast.

Although it is difficult to acknowledge, a whole month has rushed by since I returned from Latin America. I was welcomed home by graduation weekend at EMU and my parents’ move into a new home. The following two weeks, I enjoyed visiting the preschool where I worked for 2.5 years to share my experience with children and participating in several weddings as a flutist and bridesmaid. I also embraced spending time with family in anticipation for my move to work in a research lab at the dental school. The past two weeks, I have been adapting to life in Richmond and volunteering in a microbiology lab. I was happy to start a garden and will soon welcome a kitten into our home. The transition from Latin America to home and now a new home has given me the opportunity to transfer and unpack many articles of my past, such as books, binders, old papers, cards, and letters. It is delightful to read my old papers and see the little girl that I used to be shine through.

Eastern Mennonite University's lawn was prepared for graduation on the morning of my return.

As mentioned when I started my weblog, I hoped to find tulips blooming upon my return to EMU...unfortunately the usual crimson tulips were replaced with rose bushes, but I found this lonely tulip in the 'Peace Garden' behind the science building.

The sun rises above the Valley in Harrisonburg, VA.


I enjoyed the short reunion with classmates and professors at the science department senior breakfast.

Tough  and fun classes have brought our small biology/chemistry department close together. Some students will be off to graduate and professional schools, some are working, and some are waiting for the next step.

Some wonderful, coffee-happy professors.

My mom and me in front of the lovely Suter Science Center (facing the library--also a great place).


Weddings: a memoir to celebrate five years

My best friend from my teenage years was married on May 19th. Five years ago on the same day, I had also been a bridesmaid for my sister. Being a 14 year-old at the time, my sister's distancing was a difficult experience for me. Sharing a narrative I wrote in the ninth grade recounting this experience, I would like to honor my sister and all the 'big sisters' (and brothers) in my life that have and still are lending their mentoring hand and heart. ...And thus I present the 'people paper' entitled "Losing a Protégée:"

My friend Alina and me at her surprise bridal shower.

And us on the big day.


*****
Hearing the returned honeymooners giggling behind me, I slid down into the beige leather seat of the black Camry that sped down I-81. No longer having endurance to hold back the radioactive feelings fusing together in me, I felt  a heavy tear erupt down my tensely strained face, leading the way for many to follow. "How could she? We had so much left to do. What do I do with all the accumulated characteristic snapshots that I have strived to emulate? Who will tread the way for me in choosing and following new paths? What will replace watching her ambition that has driven me? How will I climb out of my pits of confusion alone?" This steaming pot was me a week after my sister's wedding, being hit with the realization of her marriage's consequences and their effect on my life. Picking the couple up at Dulles Airport with my brother-in-law's sister, I experienced anxiety and bitterness about greeting the newlyweds. After getting to the car, I was drowned with the tsunami belief that declared every good feeling, moment and lesson that I had shared with my sister concluded and unrepeatable.

I sank yet deeper into the seat as the memories took form. I was two years younger and eager to get on the road. My older sister was taking me to see Shenandoah University, a school she was interested in. The trip would take two hours and we would tour the school for the day. Throughout a usual week, she could have been found in one of three places: her room, high school, or the community college. None of these places had any morsel of time for her naive, immature, annoying little sister. But a fresh breeze blew across the Valley this morning. Dressed in my beige corduroy matching jeans and jacket, with my favorite tee underneath, I knelt to tie my new white Nikes as the departure was eminent. Such attire was necessary for the rare occasion: my sister was spending time with me...a whole day, at that! In the car, we took a quick picture on her cell phone before taking off. Looking at the picture, one could see two similarly shaped faces, carefreely anticipating a fun day. One of the girls seemed comfortable with herself, yet awaiting something new and promising. The other, a mirror image of the first, smiled nervously, her less-than-perfect bangs hanging into her dancing blue eyes. As we pulled out of our house's driveway, I took a moment to study my sister, savoring the moment. Concentrating on backing out onto the busy street, she did not notice my scrutiny. Turning this way and that, to check the traffic, her styled chestnut shoulder-length hair twisted and swayed in response to her movements. Switching gears, from reverse to drive, she conveniently turned on the nearby CD player with her swift, manicured fingers. Moving to the start of "So Happy Together," she began to softly mouth the words along with the song, feeling its excitement. Two hours flew by and we turned into the university parking lot. As we stepped out of the car, we felt the chilly breeze that flew across the duck-filled pond to sweep the drive-accumulated warmth off our stiff bodies. The day held lots of potential for memory-making and adventure. After outrunning a rampage of attacking geese and taking pictures on many of bridges and docks, we toured the university campus and even had lunch in their cafeteria. All throughout the process, I could not believe that such a fun and beautiful place could be the setting in which one could obtain an education. After returning home after that excursion, I realized that I had brought back more than a cold and algae-stained pants: my sister had opened up a new world of possibilities for me. Days and years after the trip, I have dreamt about the vast possibilities for my future.

Throughout my flashback, I did not notice the flooding stream on my face become a sticky, faint trace. Before I could realize and grieve my tragedy anew, more memories fluttered in. I could once again hear the discussion my parents led with my sister. "Are you sure you want to do this? It will take up a lot of your time and stress you out," my parents were referring to her decision to begin taking courses at the community college at age fifteen, while still in high school. The lanky figure, resting her elongated face in her arms that were propped on the table, nodded in agreement to an action she believed was something she truly wanted to do. A snapshot of a shivering girl under a tree-dimmed, streetlamp-lit sidewalk flashed in my mind. The overwhelming books became visible when we approached her with our headlights. I accompanied my parents many times when they drove her to her night classes. I remembered her worrying about those that mocked her for her nonconformist decisions and actions. Seeing her hardships made me want to decide whether I wanted to be so emotionally swayed by others' opinions or adamantly pursue what is outside of the mundane. With this new understanding, a fire of ambition and confidence, fueled by my sister's modeling, was built and began to burn. Her ambition and courage to be different drove me to be genuinely striving in all that I do, not being swayed by others' judgements.

Realizing that her college days were over and no more of its challenges would come her way made me remember that my observing her in this setting was also complete. Turning towards the window of the car to stare out into the dreary sky, I tried to think of something that would comfort me. What came to mind was a distant memory of one of the numerous times that I had a 'dead end' problem. In those events, I would wander around the house like a zombie, seeking comfort and a solution. Being regularly cumbered with schoolwork, my sister did not have less stress on her shoulders. One particular predicament that she found time to help me with involved choosing friends. Being a somewhat quiet child, I was not constantly going to friends' houses or parties. That spring, however, I was 'cordially invited,' as the invite read, to attend a birthday party. After attending the gathering, I did not react as I thought I would. The party was fun, no doubt, but I wondered if I wanted to be a part of that sort of rowdy society. You may think it absurd for an eleven year-old to so think, but it was a real crisis to me. Having a moment to examine my situation, my sister called for a trip to the ice-cream shop. There, she distracted me from my problem and described something from her life. Whether it was her daily schedule or an interesting detail from one of her classes, I listened with wide eyes, not wanting to miss a detail. Once her turn was over, I explained my problem, which now seemed only trivial. She listened with all seriousness, never laughing at my childish views. Both participating in the solution, we decided that there was no reason for me to form friendships with people that were not pleasant to be around. Being a great counselor in times of confusion, similar scenes occurred many times throughout the years and have been helpful and special to us both.

We pulled off the interstate into an Applebee's when I snapped out of my trance. "Hey Luba, we bought you a surprise in Haiti," my sister announced as she climbed out of the car.

"Really?" I tried to sound more happy than surprised as I quickly wiped the remaining dampness off my face. Receiving my gift, I became conscious of a new fact: yes, my sister was married and moved away, but I had so many memories to refer to when in doubt. The gifted wooden flute and maracas proved that our time together was not over, just that a new phase had begun, perhaps one that would be even better than the first.
*****

It is easy to forget (or leave un-noticed) all of the mentors, role-models, and encouragers that influence a person in certain ways that distinguish their path. I hope to stay intentionally conscious of the people and relationships that have brought me (and are still bringing me) to the blessed existence that I (will) lead.

The beginning of my Richmond garden--coffee grinds and corn shucks on card board. The lasagna garden has been covered with composted horse manure and it appears that plants are thriving.






Thursday, April 26, 2012

Looking back, moving forward...


Over the weekend, my host family visited their home-town, Calzada, for lunch. Near the plaza (as in all Spanish settlements) stands the Catholic church. In the background the famous Morro de Calzada is seen—one can hike up this touristic attraction.

Francis, my host family, their granddaughter, grandmother, and daughter, Janet, with her baby boy.

…and their ruso-americana daughter.

Luana, a granddaughter of my host family, started to talk just as I arrived in the family and mastered my name quickly (likely because she loves grapes, ‘uvas’--Luba).

Wrapping up…or rather packing up:
Wondering how to best conclude my internship postings, I decided to revisit my prior postings, journal entries, and notes from books that I have read to provide an overview of my journey during the past four months. From a few recurring topics, I have chosen to describe how I have gone about experiencing community and defining medical missions/health development (neither of which started or will end within the duration of my internship). Reflecting overall, I conclude by sharing my anticipations for the immediate future. It has been a pleasure to thus contemplate my time in Latin America and I am hopeful that sharing in my expedition has been a constructive experience for you.

The church hosted a picnic to raise money for a radio station. One chef prepared ‘una entrada de sandia,’ a watermelon entre with beet-colored mashed potatoes and avocado.

One church member readies to enjoy her ‘causa rellena,’ a stuffed mashed potato roll.

A layered Jello cake is sold.

In the evening, I settled on my mosquito net-covered bed to prepare an overview of my four months in Latin America.

Experiencing community:
Upon beginning my internship, my concept of community with clinicians and my host families was functionally based. I thought I was going to do volunteer work and would for this reason find a space of acceptance and appreciation amongst the surrounding people. I found this to be somewhat true during the first week or two, when I was introduced as "the gringa dental student from the US, volunteering at the clinic for two months." However, when the daily and weekly tasks of my service were no longer novel and I had been introduced to many, it seemed necessary to go beyond my role and function as a volunteer to belong or be amidst for an extended period of time. Finding that my pale skin and blue eyes would prompt any passerby to reaffirm the racial boundaries that seemingly kept me from connecting with my surroundings, I found it useful to observe, during a church worship song, how identical our basic human needs were, those of relationship (to a self, a higher being, and each other) regardless of ethnicity. On this basis, as well as becoming a recorder teacher, I found it easier to interact and connect with locals such that when weekly brigades from the States came, I felt more at ease alongside the locals. Passing through Argentina in my transition from Honduras to Peru, I reconsidered what it means to be an immigrant and to belong to a culture in a sectored heterogeneous society (mixed salad not melting pot). Trying to frame myself within a specific race, socio-economic status, and set of beliefs seemed unnaturally forceful to me. Rejecting one cultural heritage for another felt too reductive to define my complexly integrated legacy. Despite my inability (or unwillingness) to identify with a social group or culture, in each location that I visited, I was comforted by and grateful for the undemanding and unconditional membership within a host family. Here, the basic stability of home life was provided,  no matter what social interactions went on (or lacked) outside of the house. Even so, I felt the difference between being a host daughter and recalling what it means to be a daughter. Experiencing a variety of worship styles, my idea of fellowship has also diversified. Consistent reminders of cultural and racial differences have persisted and leave me suggesting that serving one's neighbor need not take place abroad and may be more effectively done at home. Nonetheless, my resistance to upholding clear cultural boundaries insists, with the observation that supporting these divides usually involves hints of mutual exclusivity and condescension or even contempt or disdain for the 'outie.' I find disparagement of lower classes especially tragic; how can anyone who has any ounce of human warmth be so cold and ignorant towards people who have so much need or poverty (relational and material)?...Perhaps this is our own poverty...and we don't even know it--in fact we think we are rich and have no want. But we know not that we are poor, blind, and naked, needing to receive an offered remedy if we would only acknowledge our need for it. During the past four months, I have passively and actively interacted with many diverse people. I have enjoyed experiencing a connective resonance while working in a team whose members share similar passions and motivations; I hope to be fortunate to belong to many such groups in my future as a health care professional. My practical definition of community has shifted from function, an outward motion of doing, to existence, a receiving motion of being. I hope the relational connections that I have formed remain in my memory as an important part of my experience and that I continue interacting within a diverse community as I return to the States. I will conclude my overview of experiencing community with a quote from one of my journal entries: "What did I do for four months, after all? Most simply and truly said, I lived and existed in a different place where people live and exist just as anywhere else."

The entrance to the clinic.

The San Lucas Association crew.

Giving several more talks about oral infection and hygiene in schools.

…and my hands after twelve such ‘chalk talks.’

To schools in the city, my tooth model accompanied me.

Defining medical missions/health development:
A few of the foremost of my intentions in seeking an opportunity to intern with dental/medical missions in Latin America were to learn how medicine blends with missions, how (dental) health care needs were addressed in other countries, and how any one specific health organization functions. Underlying these conceptual goals, I simply wanted to lend my hands to improve health; that is, I wanted to do something to resolve the health needs I assumed would exist. Thus, my initial definition of medical missions emphasized works, echoing and emulating the evangelical phrase, "what would Jesus do?" Seeing the incompleteness of a treatment for individuals with many ailments, I still consoled myself that 'truth' or 'good' was worth doing in any amount or to any extent. Noticing the seemingly futile cycles of medical care (involving treatment of symptoms and recurrent ailment) and the insufficiency of mass material donations in alleviating material poverty, I began to wonder about appropriate relative placing of clinicians to the roles of public/community health workers in addressing problems of poverty and disease. Participating in several brigades, I sought to gauge the effectiveness and differentiate between techniques of health projects emphasizing either treatment or education, one of which often targets symptoms while the other questions root causes of disease. Observing nutritional industrialization in villages (manifesting itself through wrapper-polluted roads/streams and oral/bodily health problems) I hoped that those working for both ecological and physical health improvement would turn their attention to the origin and progression instead of the manifestation of ecological and physical disorders. Working with the community health development director in Peru's San Lucas clinic, I was taken by surprise during my first week in a village; I was expecting to do something for the village's health development, but it seemed that the only things we were doing included talking, eating rice, and waiting for the rain to pause. The sustainable community-initiated development that we were encouraging, to me, was a new form of "doing" missions or health development. The lack of doing things suggested that being a part of a community's development is more effective in the long run. In the two months that I have worked alongside these Peruvian development projects, I feel as if I have only gotten a glimpse of the arduous and lengthy process that lasting development entails, involving educating, motivating, guiding, and repeating these steps indefinitely, until the community is empowered to identify and meet its own needs. The clinic's cleft lip/palate program caused me to question my initial inference about 'good' or 'truth' being justified in itself. The complex preparation before and extensive (speech, psychological, etc) therapy after the surgery diminished the value of a brigade-based plastic restoration on its own. It seems that financial/medical resources and the genuine desire to be helpful must be wisely channeled so that 'good' is not done poorly or incompletely. Partnering with the city school system and the local dental university in the San Lucas clinic-initiated oral health project, I have realized that my oral infection and hygiene workshops/lessons would do little for the children were it not for the commitment of the university to examine each student's mouth and offer treatment as well as the classroom initiatives that include oral hygiene practice as part of the daily rubric. Crossing paths with a Peruvian medical brigade group that visits remote villages, while I continued participating in community development efforts, I questioned the effectiveness of treatment-emphasized health care for regions generally isolated from these services. Yes, it might be effective to treat diarrhea with a parasiticide, but is it not more effective (in the long run, that is) to equip the people to prevent infection through teaching simple methods of boiling water and adequately disposing of waste? So it would seem; however it appears that the medical and political spheres have convinced themselves and the affected populations that self-empowerment is inferior to a box of tablets, making enduring and sound community development more difficult. In these four months, I feel that I have only gotten a taste of what sustainable medical missions and/or health development means. Two themes that have continually emerged include addressing the root causes of disease instead of its manifestations and being a part of long lasting development instead of doing what seems most logical and ideal. These repeated themes seem basic, almost intuitive, but are also complex. I will quote Wendell Berry to try to illustrate this irony: "All things are connected; the context of everything is everything else" (Agriculture from the Roots Up, 2004). Berry calls those seeking to resolve agricultural problems to look at the local water instead of balance sheets. Likewise in health development, little progress is made towards improvement by tallying the number of infections or even handing out chemical "cures." It is necessary to do something basic (not technologically or chemically advanced): go study the affected region--all of its complex interactions of people and place--and fully explore and understand the progression of events that results in what we call disease. Taking the "from the roots up" approach, one is well-equipped to work to achieve lasting health. My hope is to continue learning about and participating in health development efforts that have shown to promise sustainable effectiveness to cure (or rather assure continual prevention) of disease.

Visiting the asylum for the last time with Francis, we entertained the residents with recorder concerts.

Last week, this gentleman told me that he tries to read but doesn’t usually get too far before things start to ‘float apart.’

This señor cares for the baby just as last week.

Several ladies work at the German exercise table with puzzles and muscle stimulators.

Some recorder songs put residents into deep thought or tears, others cause them to clap along.

The asylum nurse, guides residents to her office for the daily blood-pressure check.

This señor sleeps in the same corner just as last week.

Francis solicits a smile from a resident.

Daniel helps his mom peel potatoes for lunch.

Mostly sitting, mostly waiting…

After we played all of the songs that I had notes for and there was still desire to hear more of the recorder, I tried to jot down notes for songs I knew.

Chicks, chickens, and geese roam the yard of the asylum.

Francis teaches Daniel a German song/game about a knight on a horse, falling into the mud.

Daniel is eager to ring the lunch bell.

Integrating and moving forward:
Perhaps because I left wintery Virginia for regions with two seasons characterized by dryness rather than warmth, I haven't fully been able to 'mark the passing times' with changes in season (as I have known them to flow). This has resulted in a perceived paused existence during the past four months. In a way, it has truly been so, as I have stepped out of my usual surroundings and routines into a new context. At any rate, life, as I have come to know it and as it has transformed me in these four months, is coming to a close. The 'resume button' will soon be activated and I will return to my home context. It is no use denying that I am not returning as I had left; neither should I expect to find my home context just as I had left it. I have become accustomed to hand-washing clothes, taking cold showers, eating rice daily, and walking as a mode of transportation. I have experienced different ways of worship, family, and work. I have pondered the varieties of health work, implicating my career goals as a dental health care professional. No doubt, I will move forward in accordance with these influences. It is neither needful nor valuable that I project various aspects of the future, but I hope I will continue seeking that which is prepared for me, and that I keep from operating under a flawed vision of my Father's grace and mercy, awaiting and asking for a rock when He is ready to give me bread...if only I would receive it. In closing of the 'Latin America internship' chapter of my life, I'll offer some literary influences from my journey that haven't been mentioned prior.

Excerts from Sir Gibbie, by George MacDonald...
Whatever is capable of aspiring, must be troubled that it may wake and aspire—then troubled still, that it may hold fast, be itself, and aspire still. (Ch 10)
For he that loves has, as no one else has. It is the divine possession. (Ch 22)
When life begins to speculate upon itself, I suspect it has begun to die.  (Ch 23)
...the time for speaking comes rarely, the time for being never departs. (Ch 48)
...to the true heart every doubt is a door.(Ch 49)

And a quote from Wendell Berry...
Imagination, amply living in a place, brings what we want and what we have ever closer to being the same. (American Imagination and the Civil War, 2007)

It must be rice-harvesting time.

Rioja, Moyobamba’s neighboring city is also part of the river valley.

After roughly 36 hours of travel, starting this afternoon, I will return to my family, home, tea-cup, bike, flute, and the endless list of objects that, coming together, make up the indescribable experience of home. I look forward to graduation weekend at EMU, spending time with family, and revisiting the church in which I grew. Assisting my parents to renovate and move into their new home and participating in my friend's wedding, I will settle Richmond in preparation for dental school, where I hope to continue the journeys of learning and serving alongside that I have begun in Gracias, Honduras and Moyobamba, Peru. Although I hope our paths will cross again in another context, I thank you for thus far accompanying me en route.