tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87500713141829918322024-01-01T14:05:52.768-08:00Johanna's Honduran Adventures“Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you,” said the wisest of wise men. “The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels of the world, and never to forget the drops of oil on the spoon." -Paulo Coehlo, The AlchemistJohannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-42703923883492394572010-05-22T20:16:00.001-07:002010-05-23T14:13:41.967-07:00Giving is good...?So I've recently come to the realization that the first thing people see when they Google my name is this blog. Which makes me embarrassed that I have not written an eloquent blog since December 2008. So...I apologize to friends and family...and hope that this is a step in the right direction.<br /><br />The other day I was in the community of Santa Ana and saw a little girl on the stoop of a pulperia (corner store) with a bright orange shirt that read in English, "Kiss me! ...before my boyfriend sees…” I chuckled a bit, thinking about how cute that was, and remembering a shirt my mom once put on me as a little girl that read "I will not kiss the boys...I will not kiss the boys...I will not kiss the boys" in the chalkboard handwriting of an 8 year old. But then I realized, this little girls' shirt is in English...and she probably has NO clue what it says. <br /><br />Humorous, sure, but doesn't it raise the question: where did this girls' shirt come from? Yesterday, my driver/assistant asked me what his shirt said. I translated "United Church of Christ Summer Peace Intern 1993" to Spanish for him. He nodded approvingly, and told me he liked the color.<br /><br />It makes me wonder, you know. Where do these shirts come from? Why do so many of us think it such a good cause to donate our used clothes? Would you want to wear used clothes that belonged to someone from some other country? Would you want a shirt that you didn't even understand what it read?<br /><br />So I got to thinking about donations, the phenomenon that it really is. People with excess donate, not knowing where exactly their donations will be going or the effects it may have on a person or a population. They feel good; they did a good deed…but what good is it really doing?<br /><br />Faith-based organizations are probably the most responsible for perpetuating the phenomenon of donations. Faith-based groups will probably never stop donating clothes or other things because the act of giving is perceived as God’s call; a good act for God is nothing shameful, nothing that could cause a sense of racial, cultural, or economic inferiority. After all, GIVING is good.<br /><br />But what’s the real context, destination, or circumstances of the receiving partner? What kind of paternalism or cycle of dependency could donations be creating? <br /><br />Asking these questions reminds me of two things, first of which was my experience at the Dominican-Haitian border in 2007. Every Wednesday, the border of these countries opens up for trade and it is one of the most chaotic experiences I’ve ever encountered. Loaded with cargos of rice, eggs, beans, vegetables, mules, you name it, people raced back and forth across the bridge that crossed over “Massacre River,” where, ironically, tens of thousands of Haitians were killed about 80 years ago. Well, some things never change. The “flow” shall we say of trade was very directional. Every Haitian stand was filled donated items—t-shirts, cowboy boots, NYC caps, shoes—while every Dominican stand was overflowing with rice, beans, platano, spices, herbs, and vegetables. The difference in tradable goods is really stark. Haitians have little cultivatable land, little ability to grow or buy the daily needs to feed their families. But they sure do have a lot of t-shirts. <br /><br />Haitians didn’t need second-hand clothes, they needed food. So what kind of markets have these donations created? They had turned the donation system into a market they could use to be able to purchase the daily basics to survive, which is creative and entrepreneurial, really. I did some research on this and came across a video I remembered seeing as a freshman in college: T-Shirt Travels. The documentary discusses this very issue, looking how donations as a phenomenon have created what is really a black market, with people from the receiving country purchasing barrels of donated clothes to be able to sell in the local marketplaces…sometimes even fighting to get the “good” clothes to be able to sell them at a higher price and make money to feed or educate their families. It’s really fascinating…if you wanna take a deeper look, here’s a link to PBS <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeCIlgUeYlM">T-Shirt Travels</a>. In sum, what happens in the simple act of giving or donating can be much more complex than assumed. What if it has created a sense of dependency or of inferiority or even a black market that perhaps even further marginalizes people? What good, then, is giving? <br /><br />Now it’s time to play a little devil’s advocate. Through all this discussion, the simple fact does remain…if a little girl needs the shirt off my back, why not give her the shirt off my back? Isn’t that humanity? If there wasn’t North-to-South (developed-to-developing) country relations, what would international development organizations exist for? Though everyone likes to think development is heading towards East-to-West dynamics, acting more in side-by-side partnership rather than in hierarchies, the fact remains that “developed countries” fund “developing countries.” And financial relations are often not an equal flow. The need for program evaluation has been borne out of a desire for accountability to show results or get grants for projects funded by “Northern” partners. And the same “flow” goes for donations, inevitably…so why fight it?<br /><br />The heart of humanity comes down to those moments when you, personally, sit down and have a conversation with a child from one of our rural communities, and you see that they’ve worn the same shirt for over a week and it’s dirty. It’s those moments when I think two things: 1) Why not give that child another shirt if we have it to offer? And 2) Let’s go talk to his mom about washing their clothes and bathing her kids regularly. Being poor does not mean you have to be dirty. That’s one of the profound lessons I’ve learned from an awesome Honduran teacher who many times has brought his students back home to bathe before returning to class. “Old clothes are one thing,” he says, “but dirty clothes are another.”<br /><br />That sense of humanity in giving is also enhanced during one particular circumstance: emergency relief—but it’s a difficult situation post-aftermath. For example, after Hurricane Mitch in 1998, Honduras received so many donations and it was during this time when “brigades” really began--service trip to help with relief aid. Initially, it worked…get the aid necessary to the places who need it. But over time, Hondurans became accustomed to receiving relief donations, which has now changed Honduran-international dynamics entirely. Communities now EXPECT to receive goods, projects, seed capital for nothing in return, sometimes not even their effort. We like to call that, lack of sweat equity…and it’s a dangerous territory. How can an organization work on a project without the buy-in and collaboration of the community? If communities expect to just receive for free or without any time or sweat on their part, will the project will be valued, understood, and used appropriately in the future? Does giving create a cycle of dependency, or is one appreciative recipient worth whatever other secondary consequences that may arise? That’s a tough question. <br /><br />I don’t have an answer. I think it’s a fascinating issue and one lots of international NGOs and governments have to face. At the end of the day, though I don’t have an answer, I have an opinion. And that opinion is that donations are inevitable because we as humans have a desire to give and receive. But they should be done personally and strategically, after getting to know the person or the organization to who you would be donating, really understanding where those items are going to and how they will be used, and having confidence that the people or the organization that receive or filter those donations will make the best decision as to how to use and distribute them appropriately.Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-26171485445535262182010-04-20T20:11:00.000-07:002010-04-20T20:16:38.360-07:00Global PartnershipsHere's the link to the blog post I recently made regarding for the Global Brigades e- newsletter. Topic: Global Partnerships. Feel free to comment on the blog website or here :) <a href="http://www.brigadesblog.org/?p=1291">http://www.brigadesblog.org/?p=1291</a><br /><br /><br />Also another link to an article I wrote a long time ago when I first started at GB regarding starting the Research and Evaluation unit: <a href="http://www.brigadesblog.org/?p=873#comments">http://www.brigadesblog.org/?p=873#comments</a>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-82768684885611075982010-04-05T11:42:00.000-07:002010-05-22T20:16:11.120-07:00My Job and a Lesson on Being PresentSo to give just a little background information about what exactly I'm doing in Honduras this time around: I'm working with an organization called Global Brigades as the Director of Community Research and Evaluation. I work in all 5 of our disciplines in Honduras (Medical, Dental, Public Health, Water, and Microfinance) in building evaluation frameworks, strategic planning and implementation of needs assessments for the 120 different communities we work with, developing system for community selection, and then planning and executing baseline demographic health surveys in these communities. That way, we can have baseline health data to evaluate from after implementing all 5 programs holistically in a selected community. <br /><br />That's my job, in a nutshell...and it changes with different needs along the way...<br /><br />But another side-task I've been involved with recently has been giving classes at a school for young female domestic workers. We have started a new partnership with this project and have formed a new high-school technical course in Health Promotion. I've been asked to teach a few week-long courses in this program on international health/development NGOs including Global Brigades' work, as well as an "in-the-field" course on Research and Evaluation in Health-Based NGOs, specifically Global Brigades. It's been a cool experience getting to know these girls, their (somewhat difficult) backgrounds, but also their excitement for working in health in their country. Who knows, some of these girls might go on to be nurses, or doctors, or dentists...? <br /><br />One thing that I have come to face with trying to juggle my own job along with teaching these classes in Health Promotion is that I find myself often jaded with these kinds of experiences. At first, teaching these classes was kind of thrown on me, as an obligation almost, which stressed me out and made me a bit resentful, which I'm sure a lot of people in the field experience. Why do I have to do this on top of everything else? I'm already burnt out! Needless to say my first class didn't go so well. As I came home, plopped down on my bed however, I thought, you have the chance to shape these girls lives. And you didn't do it. <br /><br />I'm sure every teacher goes through this experience, and as you see the fruits of your labor in those kids, you feel that motivation to continue on...that becomes your purpose. It brought me back to last year, to a moment in which I remembered feeling like I knew I was making a difference in the lives of my workers with HIV, but deep down inside was worrying about one thing or another-my future, my friendships, my relationships, my career-and I wasn't fully PRESENT with them. I found myself doing that again...worrying about my own things I needed to get done with GB, with my own program development, that I wasn't fully PRESENT with these girls. I think that's extremely important and something that not only I, but a lot of people in the field do. We are so focused on getting a task done, or so entrenched in the work we are doing, that we don't take the moment to be PRESENT where we are. To have coffee with a community member, to smell the corn tortilla, to smile or greet your coworker in the morning, to listen to someone's story. I hope I can be more PRESENT to these girls as I continue to teach and build relationships with them. I don't know what my future holds after the next 9 months, but after having done this once, I hope to not burn out or worry about the future, but rather BE PRESENT where I am now...Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-5152539760193855732010-04-05T11:12:00.000-07:002010-04-05T11:20:25.534-07:00back on trackSo I realized recently that I haven't kept up on my blog in the last 6 months. After feeling sentiments of disappointment and discouragement (at failing yet another "journal"-like endeavor), I've decided I'm just going to start again. Anew. <br /><br />I could try to catch you up on all the crazy experiences I've had in 6 months of my new job and life in Tegucigalpa...there have been many, between speaking at conferences, spending days copying health statistics in paper and pen, and very interesting car conversations with Global Brigades staff, along with personal let-downs in relationships, finding new amazing friends/roommates and enjoying incredible roof parties. However, the past is in the past. My new years resolution oh-so-long ago was to live in the present and do what I WANT to do. May seem selfish, but for a over-the-top people-pleaser...it was the next initiative I needed in my life. So, living in agreement with that, I'm just going to start from now. Skype me if you want to hear about the past. <br /><br />I'll try to update every other week and I hope to keep this blog for interesting observations I encounter in the field. Living and breathing international health and development in Latin America. So...once again...enjoy!Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-35457372400227934032009-11-21T20:59:00.000-08:002009-11-21T21:01:57.183-08:00Have a little faith in me...(lalala)Written August 30, 2009:<br /><br />I’m back in Honduras. Yes, it’s true. Not entirely expected, but true. And it’s been quite the internal journey to get here and it’s probably not over…<br /><br />Honestly, I assimilated back to the States extremely well these last few months and truly enjoyed the time I was able to spend with my family and friends. I’m really grateful for that time and it has helped give me a renewed sense of identity and gain perspective on where I come from and where I’m going. Yet despite feeling that way, I still found it extremely difficult to make the decision to come back to Honduras. I was caught in indecision and insecurity. I was job searching and got a great offer in the States, but for a job that my heart wasn’t really in. Sure, I would be able to make money, live the comfortable cosmopolitan life, and stay “on schedule” for grad school. But deep inside my heart and mind, I knew the chapter of my life living and working in Latin America wasn’t over. Sure, it may never feel “over” after however much time I would spend, but I don’t want to look back on my young adult life and regret not knowing whether I could have or regret not taking the risk—the leap of faith—for an experience that could be so incredible, certainly memorable, and shape me both personally and professionally.<br /><br />In my process of making this decision, after I had chosen, it seemed like everything I depended on back in Honduras was vanishing before me. Perhaps the political uprising in Honduras set the tone, as everything I found myself depending on started slipping away. The security of working part-time with my previous organization in order to make some extra income was later denied/postponed. Friendships and relationships that were important in my life here were now either no longer here (moved back to the North American world) or were here but on ambiguous terms, and I was distancing myself even more by moving to Tegucigalpa. These things were significant factors in my decision to return and provided me with some security in my decision-making; however they are no longer things I can fully depend on. That said, I’ve come to choose to understand that even if it were these things that were used to form my decision, and even though they may no longer be my securities or my stability…that’s okay. They got me here, and now, I am here. So I’ll be here, living for the present, to pursue my vocation and contribute my abilities to the door that has been opened for me and that I have chosen to walk through. <br /><br />One anecdote to end this entry recaps a moment I had on the plane ride here to Honduras this last weekend. As we were seated in the plane, and getting ready for take-off, a huge storm came out of nowhere minutes before we started down the runway. I mean lightning, thunder, typhoon-like rain and winds. Incredible, really. As it happened to be, I was seated next to 2 older Honduran men who looked to me and asked, “Are you scared? Are you nervous?” “Well, yes,” I said, “I certainly don’t want to be putting my life at risk.” The older man to my left replied, “No, don’t be afraid, you have to…” “Have faith?” I chimed in. “Yes, exactly, you have to have faith” he said back to me giving the most emphatic fist pump motion I’ve seen in years. I agreed returning the fist pump. Then we both fist pumped together...haha. He continued, reminding me that whatever storms have come or are to come that lead me to doubt or indecision, or that will threaten my ability to take off on the runway, I will be able to navigate through them in faith…for peace and serenity are to come. <br /><br />Some quotes I’d like to share from my new journal entitled “Serenity”<br /><br />“There’s a serene and quiet confidence in knowing that all things do not stand or fall according to one’s own achievements or the correctness of every decision one makes.” –Joseph Sittler<br /><br />“No matter how long we are on this Earth, the more we have to realize that life finds us living every day with the unanswered and the unresolved. Faith helps us to live with the unanswered. Hope helps us to live the unresolved. Trust helps us to accept…and go on with the work of living.” –Mark ConnollyJohannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-19337494822266810352009-07-26T12:35:00.001-07:002009-07-28T00:02:48.069-07:00Limbo Period<span style="font-family:arial;">Now that I'm back from Honduras, things have been somewhat transitionary...and confusing...</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I did really well for the first 2 weeks in terms of culture shock. Got through family vacations, worked my way up to going to the grocery store and malls...I figured I could make the transition okay as long as I worked my way into American culture little by little. And I did well...until that one moment in Talbots when I went with my mom to get a petite button up shirt that would fit me for my birthday...and it just took me by surprise, after all I thought I was doing well! The pricetag showing the equivalent of a third of my worker's monthly salary...the fact that I was buying the perfect petite button up shirt that fit me by height and bust so that I would look impeccably put together mixed with visions of Dona Perse in her "sexy" (yet entirely way too tight and certainly not "tailored to fit") sequence red dress matched with black heels 2 sizes too big. It hit me hard, unexpectedly, and I left the store in tears while my mom paid the birthday bill. I felt terrible for making her feel bad, and for probably making the retail ladies feel really uncomfortable. But, the tears had to come sometime...and they weren't just tears of "culture shock." They were tears of letting go, of recognizing where my next step might or might not be, of cherishing a time of my life in which I encountered faces and voices different from my own, of trying to cope with a bitter understanding of the realities of this world, and of struggling to define and discern the overlap in my own juxtapositional reality.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-33288130491950443252009-06-12T08:24:00.001-07:002009-08-15T12:40:34.750-07:00<span style="font-family:arial;">Ok, I'm terrible at even catching you up. So, here's the brief summary that I wanted to share days ago:</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">April 17-26: Emily and Anna come to visit!!! It was so amazing having them here and it was a time that I really needed to get some perspective on my life. I had just come back from the DR from my host sister's wedding and then the half-Framily came from Wisconsin to enjoy my world here in Honduras. It was a bit of a surreal worlds clashing kind of experience, but I've been in that world before and this time it was so wonderful to share a part of my life that they have never gotten to see in vivo. Thanks for coming Anna and Em--it meant a lot to me! :)</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">The only bad part of their trip was getting robbed. To make a very long story short...our hostel room got broken into by a drug dealer in Copan and stole a LOT of expensive items and money. Then pretty much the whole city got involved to find this guy and they did...but it was a very convoluted situation. We had already left Copan when we found out they found him and our stuff, so I when I dropped Anna and Emily off for their flight home, I went back to Copan to retrieve our stuff. After fighting cops who insisted I have my receipts to recollect the items (seriously?? How would I have my receipts from the States 5 years ago on me???). During this argument, they pull me aside to the filing cabinet to identify the items, and I, like an idiot, left my backpack in the chief's office (thinking that I was safe at the police station, of course.) Well, it wasn't. Between getting to the police office and going to lunch after my camera with ALLLL my pictures from the DR and the Media-Framigas visit was not there--aka stolen by the police. And I didn't even get my stuff back. I went back the next, they had to change the report so I could get my stuff back, but they had stolen my camera meanwhile!!! I was so livid!!!!! I went back the next day, sooooo upset and frustrated, and ready to fight to get our stuff back--receipts or not. By the end, I was able to get the things that were stolen back but not the camera...and while I wanted to accuse and fight for my camera they--the police!--had stolen, there were a few things that made me decide not to put up the fight. First, as I'm getting so angry in the chief's office about getting my camera back, I look over to my side and there's a women sitting in a chair with her arm in a sling and a black eye making a domestic violence report. My soul was stabbed. What is a camera, really? Sure, it's justice that I was fighting for, but...there are worse things in the world...things that political justice can't even solve. Secondly, I found out the back history on the robber, and slowly began to put the pieces together. He's involved in the drug ring of Copan and now imprisoned (because of MY police report) with drug dealers trying to bail him out to kill him supposedly....and he's also in cahoots with a few high-up police officers to get paid to steal and give the stuff to the police to sell. So...as I thought about all those powerful and scary drug and delincuence networks...and began to realize that they know where I live and my phone number and my passport number (after all, I had made the police report), I figured maybe my safety was a little more important than a camera. So, I made the decision, gulped down my pride and retracted myself from getting any more involved. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">May 5-26: At this point I was looking for jobs both in Honduras and the States. I had some good leads in Tegucigalpa and I think it would be a really great move there. I have a lot of friends there, and some jobs leads that would be really interesting...one at the National Institute for Women in the Gender and Health department and another with Public Health Brigades. There was also an apartment that opened up in Teguc right across from my friends which was so exciting I could FEEL the move. Now with a little bit more of perspective throughout May, there are opportunities still in the process and there are no for sure answers. I want a new professional adventure, but in a place I'm somewhat familiar with. It would be a great move, to be in a place where I know people, but learning a new job and a new environment. However, I'm still waiting...being patient for God to reveal his plan. Things aren't coming together as quickly as I would have liked or with as much conviction as I would have liked....but I know that it will work out...wherever I end up. And for now, I'm just paying my respects to all I have experienced this year, packing up, and going home to get reconnected with the people I love and who support me the most...mi familia. And maybe once I have a little more perspective States-side and in my home, I'll be able to know with confidence my next step and be prepared to embrace it. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">early June: Still a little anxious about future-stuff, but just trying to be patient and let my faith lead me through in a time of unknown and waiting. In the meantime...it's been good that some little things about Latin culture are really starting to get to me. I don't think I can possible see another person throw a Coke bottle or chip bag out the window of a bus without any concern for the environment. I can't STAND it..and it's really making me be ready to be back in a culture that is significantly better at trying to be aware of environmental concerns. I might just flip out on the next person I see litter...I've already gotten into heated discussions with people on busses and it's now at its peak. It's just such a disrespect for someone's country. It's like saying, I don't care what my town or country looks like, if there's trash everywhere, if animals start dying off in the lake, or the lake because so contaminated because of my disinterest and lack of respect for it's wellbeing and beauty. Also, cars passing people on the street so fast that if one movement happened to be wrong they would instantly kill the person. I've had a coworker and myself get hit by a car this year...it happens. And the fact that people drive with no consciousness of pedestrians or respect of other people or vehicles near them, they just drive fast and out of control....ahhhhh its really getting to me. Another demonstration of disrespect, I feel. But, they are cultural differences that I've had to deal with and have tried to create consciousness among Honduras I know in order to attempt a little behavior change. It is good though, to help make me realize the things I appreciate about my country and look forward to returning. :) Oh so soon!!</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-68651234717899727502009-05-22T19:37:00.000-07:002009-08-15T12:41:26.114-07:00life is a highway, im gonna ride it<span style="font-family:arial;">Yes I’m alive and well! And, well well, not well bad. Ok that was a Honduran Spanish joke…sorry. Anyhow, I realized I haven’t blogged for the last 6 weeks and I’m sure I’ve let a lot of you down…especially because these last 6 weeks have been FILLED with revelations, struggles, uncomfortable situations, and new decisions. For that reason, over the next few days, I’m going to write a blog for each of the last 6 weeks (more or less) highlighting and reflecting on important things that have happened. So, you’ll have to scroll down for each entry, but that way you’ll be caught up on most everything…without having to read one monstrous blog. Ok, let’s start with early-mid April…<br /><br />April 1-8: To give a little reference and conclusion to my last blog, part of what I was referring to in allowing myself to be vulnerable began with my time in the Dominican Republic, where I had to deal with a lot of things from my past there, most centrally in coping with the disappointments of not being able to realize my dreams and passions there. It was like an uncomfortable pain that persisted throughout my trip there because I realized that this was the first place for me that was filled with passion-the language, the people, the landscape, the air…everything. It was a place for me, that inspired in me my passion for public health and Latin America, and I realized that while I’ve loved Honduras and it has been so good to me, I’ve been living there this entire time not thinking “Oh, yay, Honduras, a new place, a new adventure” but rather “It’s not the DR.” In my time visiting the DR, I had to understand and forgive the fact that the dreams I had had to come back to that place, and the work I had done for a year to research and write grants for Fulbright and other scholarships, though always got to a top candidate status, had been major disappointments when they didn’t come through in the end. But I never had a chance to deal with those disappointments and return to the DR to close that chapter in my life because this opportunity in Honduras came about and before I could cope and move on, I had to be in Honduras…starting the new chapter. Because of my personality and passion, I jumped on the chance to go to Honduras. A week after graduating I was in CA for training and then off to San Pedro. And now, almost 10 months later, I finally had the chance (be it a wedding for my host sister) to go back and confront the disappointments, while being able to maintain the relationships with people and organizations that were the primary inspirations to my direction and passion in my life. I spent two weeks there, probably too long of a time, but by the end, I was ready to go to Honduras. I was ready to close that chapter and continue writing the Honduras chapter of my life. I got back and as I was on a bus for Siguatepeque the next day, I remember looking at the bus terminal and just feeling at home, so comfortable. A little sad that the San Pedro bus terminal reminded me of home since I travel so much I’m in there all the time, but it is what triggered the emotion. Haha. I’ve seen some tough stuff in the weeks since then, but maybe that’s just the beginning on me really learning to live in HONDURAS, with its own unique attributes and its own capacity to love and inspire me.<br /><br />April 9-17: Well….April 9, really. I get hit by a truck while running outside. Yep. Can you believe it? It’s true though. I was running along el “21,” one of the major (i.e. one of the only paved streets) in Siguatepeque and there were 4 cars illegally parked, so I had to go into the street and though I looked both ways and didn’t see anything, as I entered in, there it was, a truck going about 35mph about 2 feet in front of me. I had seconds to react and tried backing up, but I more had the shock of “Holy crap, I’m going to get hit by a car!” It tried to break but was too close; it still hit my leg and I fell back on my hands and knees. I was definitely in shock and started getting really embarrassed when everyone in the car (and everyone in any surrounding comedor restaurant) came out to see what happened/how I was. I freaked out, got up, could easily walk, so I told them I was sorry, that I was okay, that I was going to be fine and then I went on my way as fast as possible. Honestly, I was more embarrassed that I, la gringa, Johanna Chapin, got hit by a car. I walked home and while I was sore and had some bumps and bruises, I was totally fine and didn’t feel it necessary to see a doctor. I then realized that I was speaking English the entire time with the people on the street, so they probably didn’t even understand me say that I’ll be okay…until of course I walked away in tears like a crazy person.<br /><br />Moral of the story? Don’t run outside on the 21. No actually, the moral and after-thought is much bigger than that. Truthfully, that entire day I had off work because of Semana Santa (Holy Week) and I spent the day sitting on my computer in my apartment job searching. Worrying. Wondering. What do I do next? What does my future hold? Where am I going next? How do I get there? What’s waiting for me? As I walked back from getting hit, the tears started flowing a bit, I said a little prayer, and realized that I am HERE, NOW. Yes, I do need to be thinking about what’s to come and doing what is necessary to get there, but if I don’t LIVE in the NOW, HERE, I’m not going to learn and use skills to the fullest during my time with this organization or with this experience. If I’m here, then I want to be fully engaged, not worrying about my next step. Just trust I’ll get there, and that I’m being prepared for it while in the moment here, in this city, in this job, with these people. Though I’ve always disliked when people say “live in the moment” because it always just seemed like an excuse to be irresponsible or indifferent, but I’m realizing that in some sense, it is true and necessary because in any moment, I could be taken away. So little by little, I’m learning to live for the present and enjoy what I have in front of me...for as long as it is in front of me.<br /></span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-13500251591960896072009-04-05T09:32:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:04:33.107-07:00a little changed<span style="font-family:arial;">Well I've been traveling all over for the last few weeks, off to San Pedro to translate for an HIV Specialist which I'll have to blog about later, then back to the Dominican Republic for my host sister's wedding and renew my visa, among other unexpected events and well, the expected Yogan Fruz visits. But now I'm back in Honduras, spending Semana Santa a little alone and a little in suffering, but that's probably how it should be given the meaning of holy week...until next Sunday of course. It's ironic that this post should follow the last one based on my presentation on gender, but it's interesting to see what revelations 6 weeks can bring. Enjoy.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">A Honduran friend recently told me, “Johanna, you are living in Latin America. Things are different here and they will affect who you are.” Perhaps vague, but more than ever do I understand that in a way that makes me want to cry.<br /><br />The Johanna I knew before I came here was so full of passion and hope and determination to accomplish the things I wanted in life. What were those things? Serve people, empower women, contribute to public health research, live each moment to its fullest…and maybe down along the road have beautiful family. I was a person so focused on my objectives, very strong-spirited shall we say.<br /><br />But Latin life has taken its toll. My heart, strong and focused and determined, has been changed…shaped…molded to the heart of the Latin woman. What is the heart of the Latin woman? Of course, each is a little different, but at its root are a vulnerable soul and a desire to submit yourself to the people you love, even at the cost of your individual dreams. Is that bad? Can that be limiting? Is it the real definition of loving others? Is that showing respect for others, respect for yourself?<br /><br />The exact gender roles I came to explore and empower women to overcome in its extreme forms are the exact ones that changed, shaped, and molded my heart to conform in a lot of ways. After a series of events that triggered me to be an emotional mess for 3 consecutive days (and no, it was not that time of the month) have in some form caused the determined, strong-headed, independent Johanna to be somewhat transformed to a vulnerable, emotional, dependent being. That, my friends, is a culture change.<br /><br />As my dad and I discussed while we were reflecting on this topic, it’s true, my heart has been changed. Perceptions and roles and influences of gender in Latin American society have changed who I am with a woman’s heart. Maybe it will mold back to its original form when I get back to driven, unemotional, independent culture in the States…or maybe I’ll take the good from the Latin heart along with me forever: the desire to serve the people you love and when necessary, let yourself be vulnerable.</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-58728391631082315022009-02-18T17:36:00.000-08:002009-07-28T00:04:58.822-07:00I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar<span style="font-family:arial;">Ok, so I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say I’m a feminist. Though "I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar" was definitely something my dad would tell me after a big soccer win and maybe that had something to do with my female confidence. It is true, however, that I am almost constantly aware of gender roles and the effects of gender inequality. Living in Latin America, where Machismo and Marianismo are so rooted in everyday life, it’s almost impossible to not encounter gender discrimination.<br /><br />To try to give some kind of simple definition, Machismo is really a cultural phenomenon that claims that men are the strong bread winners, possessing strength in virility and exercising control over their women counterparts, among other cultural beliefs. Marianismo is the belief in the purity of the woman, that she is the weaker, submissive counterpart, and must fulfill her roles as mother and caretaker. Well, it’s easy to see where these gender roles could get carried out the extreme, and it’s usually as a result of these extreme gender-based behaviors that comes women’s vulnerability to unintended pregnancy, violence, and STI transmission.<br /><br />Since these cultural norms really just fascinate me (and totally affect me living in Latin America), I decided to give the main presentation/discussion talk at the last support group meeting at our clinic in Siguatepeque. It was challenging to prepare for, but felt FANTASTIC doing research and really getting back into the academic realm I miss so much sometimes. Well, I first opened up with some ice breaker activities related to gender that everyone really enjoyed, and then got into the discussion about what is gender and what is sex? If you don’t know, don’t worry…no one else did at the session. Sex is the biological characteristics we use to define “women” from “men”…the characteristics that are permanent, biologically unique (like menstruation, vagina, penis, beard, etc). Gender on the other hand is the cultural and social characteristics we use to define “masculinity” from “femininity”…they are characteristics that are changeable, that are based on social beliefs, values, traditions, and roles and responsibilities of cultures that are always undergoing change (like activities such as cooking/cleaning, nursing, gossiping, or putting on makeup are representative of femininity because they are culturally associated with the female roles and responsibilities, whereas construction, strength, or presidential leaders are associated more with masculinity because we culturally link these roles with the male).<br /><br />I then asked, “why do you think it is important to talk about gender and sex in terms of HIV/AIDS?” uhhhh, I hear d in the background. Well, in Honduras, and the majority of Latin America, Caribbean, and Sub-Saharan Africa, the most common form of transmission is unprotected heterosexual sex—so that means sex between males and females. So how can we NOT talk about men and women and our differences and similarities when it comes to a topic that is based on relationships between men and women?<br /><br />So then I into the chart-making stage of the presentation, first starting with “sex” (remember: biological characteristics!) and how that affects HIV treatment and prevention of women and of men. At the root of the discussion, were the questions: How does being a women, biologically speaking, affect HIV treatment of that woman? HIV prevention for that woman?...now what about men, biologically, affect their form of HIV treatment or HIV prevention? While we talked about a variety of subjects, some key points that came up were that during HIV treatment, women often have lower viral loads at the beginning of their infection which can affect treatment initiation. In terms of HIV infection, women are more vulnerable because biologically the vagina has more tissues and is much more sensitive to tears which would increase susceptibility of infection. Furthermore, they have to be conscious of prevention of mother-to-child prevention through prophylaxis, breastfeeding methods, and proper disposal of sanitary napkins when they return to menstruation. Women are often detected first at pre-natal testing services, which can be good for knowing their status and getting treated, however, being diagnosed first in the relationship often “appears” as if they are the ones that passed it to the men which brings blame to her, though the males may have actually contracted it first and passed it on to the female partner. Ok, not on the male “biological” side, HIV treatment is really no different for men than for women, but in terms of HIV prevention, because they are biologically men, they have the opportunity to be circumcised which has been found to decrease the risk of HIV infection in half…!<br /><br />Now the tough term: gender (remember: social and cultural characteristics). How does gender affect HIV treatment and prevention? Well, if women are culturally seen as the caretakers then they may not be able to make a doctor’s appointment because she is taking care of the kids, or perhaps she is more likely to miss the exact time she takes her pills because she was occupied with kids who aren’t always on a schedule. However, on the other side, men are culturally seen as the bread winners, so there is more pressure for them to find a job and support their families during an economically tough time…so perhaps this brings more emotional and psychological burden to males which could bring down their CD4 levels. We have seen, however, more cases of women having to play both roles of mother and father, as the all-too-common situation of males leaving wives and children for other women continues to occur, and that means that women are taking on the burden of both social and economic care of their children. Unmarried women are culturally expected to be virgins, which means they could be less likely to seek gynecological care or testing for HIV or STIs if they do become sexually active before marriage. Condoms as a form of prevention are socially seen as the responsibility of the male, so if the male doesn’t bring one or refuses to wear one, that leaves the woman without an option for self-prevention.<br /><br />An interesting, yet delicate topic that arose during this gender discussion was that of violence. It was difficult, but wonderful to discuss how women and men experience violence differently. Fortunately, I had done some research on this area beforehand with the government-funded Proyecto Deborah. According to them, in Honduras, women experience about 90% of reported cases of violence and the majority of cases are physical or economic violence. Men, however, are victims mostly of verbal violence which has psychological consequences that are often not addressed and treated. Which totally makes sense. Men are victims of verbal violence over and over, and at some point, they break, and they break violently because they are the “macho” strong physical counterpart. Perhaps they are repeating violence experienced in the home when they were children, and it continues on culturally and can have consequences emotionally, physically, and perhaps very acutely in the pressures of sexual relationships and the risk of HIV/STI transmission and/or unintended pregnancy.<br /><br />In the end, my presentation wasn’t a presentation. Sure, I brought out some statistics, some issues that maybe wouldn’t have been looked at, but ultimately it was a discussion that often times doesn’t happen. There were a few awkward silences at times and it was those moments that I thought I wasn’t doing well, I criticized myself, as any typical perfectionist. But afterward I asked some participants why they didn’t respond, why they didn’t speak up. One man told me, you did a fantastic job don’t worry about that…I just didn’t respond because I was thinking about what you said a lot, really thinking about it, and I didn’t think I had an answer.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">That’s exactly what I had hoped for. There really isn’t an “answer,” but rather an understanding of both men and women, and their experiences, and how we can support them in a way that better comprehends and respects each. </span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-85668001421660356692009-01-31T11:04:00.001-08:002009-07-28T00:05:25.334-07:00an update<span style="font-family:arial;">So first I want to start off with a moment of silence for Alba* who I discussed in my last blog last month....<br /><br />Since I returned, Alba was recuperating okay from her condition, and an infectious disease doctor from the States came and diagnosed her with Stevens Johnson, a skin disease that basically causes the person to shed their skin and it has major implications for the tissues of the organs inside the body as well. Well once they diagnosed her, Alba was willing to go to the hospital again after having spent almost 2 months in her bed. They treated her and her skin cleared up but still continued with a lot of pain. But there was hope. She was recuperating.<br /><br />This Monday we received a call saying that Alba has passed away. It was really tough for the personnel, we gathered together and cried and mourned and tried to pull ourselves together again. I realized then, that I would have to tell the workers in the workshop. While I was thinking about how I was going to do that, I all of a sudden heard screames and shouts coming from the workshop--who told them?? I thought.<br /><br />As I ran over to see, one of my workers, Orlando* was on the floor convulsing from a seizure. While we took care of him and tried to deal with the situation, everyone in the workshop was shocked and scared and really unstable emotionally. As I started to calm them, I ask what exactly had happened, how did he fall, why, etc. They responded saying that he had mentioned something about Alba and then turned really red as he was working and then collapsed. While Orlando was sleeping after the seizure, the women started asking me about Alba...they had heard some of the staff crying. I had to tell them that she passed away and it was really difficult. We sat in silence, and then started talking about how we were feeling, the good things we remember about her. It's really important to deal with events like this emotionally and talk about it. The workers are often very passive and keep their emotions on the inside...but with that kind of reaction, their mental and emotional health suffers immensely. When Orlando woke up, I comforted him and asked him how he was feeling and what he was thinking. All he said was, "I'm thinking of Alba. She passed away didn't she." I didn't even have to tell him, after hearing our cries, he used his intuition to figure it out and all that emotion built up and resulted in a seizure.<br /><br />Tuesday was the funeral. Though obviously a sad time, it was interesting experiencing a funeral of a family of different economic means. I felt, through a lot of it, like it wasn't fair. For example, the family commented on how much they had to spend on preparing the body, yet it was almost disturbing the job they did to "prepare" her. Her eyes weren't entirely closed, her mouth was still left fairly open. It looked like thye had stuffed toilet paper in her nostrils and you could see the gangrene starting to set in and change her color. I don't mean to say these things so bluntly or to judge, but it was almost upsetting to me to see her that way...as if there was little respect for her body and burial. But it's not at all a lack of respect, but rather the simple fact of money, and the investment of money in a process of someone who is already passed. I'm not sure what to take from this experience, but it was something I never really thought about before and I felt really sad and convicted morally about how we treat our dead.<br /><br />I'm not sure how to end this post. It's a difficult issue. But as they say here, "Tenemos que seguir adelante" (We have to move forward). Because the lives of the patients of clinic and the workers in the workshop will continue on and they need the support and the encouragement and empowerment to think positively, to move forward, and, well, to live.</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-29578893884965806972008-12-23T08:59:00.000-08:002009-07-28T00:05:47.482-07:00Realities<span style="font-family:arial;">Apologies, apologies...I know I have written in a very long time. However, I am now....so let's talk about the important things.<br /><br />This last month has been filled with ups and downs, but mostly downs...and well, confusion...Truth is, I've seen a lot of new things that I've never experienced before and I'm still not exactly sure how to articulate the realities of things I've seen. Before I get existential, here's are some realities:<br /><br />The 1st of December was marked by World AIDS Day, and so I traveled to San Pedro Sula for the city march of organizations and persons in the fight against HIV/AIDS. It was a very eye-opening experience with a slew of people dressed up in giant condom costumes and other men dressed up in drag. It was quite interesting because our organization, though faith-based and affiliated with the Episcopal Church, has one of the few outreach programs to sex workers, often male transvestites. Although I'm not involved with that project, it was really incredible to see the relationships between my co-workers and our patients who were or still are part of that line of work, shall I say. Maybe it's just part ignorance, part religious background, but I've never really been exposed to that and so it was a really interesting experience for me.<br /><br />Another, and probably more intense experience this last month, has been dealing with the sickness of a former worker and co-worker of mine. Alba* the clinic's cook and cleaning lady and part-time jewelry-maker, fell very ill with a skin rash and had been in and out of the hospital for the last couple months. Well, in the last two weeks, she decided to just go home because she was tired of being in the hospital and no one being able to diagnose what she had or how to treat it. Because HIV attacks the immune system, any other illness--skin disease, cancer, tuberculosis, the flu!--can cause them to get really really sick and potentially die.<br /><br />While at home these last 2 weeks, Alba has only been getting worse. One day I took my workers to go see her and spend some time with her. Now that I look back, that may not have been a good decision. When we arrived at her house, she was lying in her bed, not really able to talk. She understood what was going on, but was not able to respond. Her dark skin was very flaky and white-ish, with blood and raw flesh exposed at the joints. Her hair had started to fall out of her scalp. Lying there, she came in and out of consciousness, eyes rolling back at times, but then other times, completely alert. It was one of the most emotionally stinging experiences of my life. Seeing someone you know so well, in a healthy state, fall so ill and not even resemble herself. I hate to use the word horrifying, but it was that way for me. It was horrifying for me to watch someone suffering so much. What was happening to her skin on the outside was happening to the tissues inside her body, and that kind of pain I just couldn't fathom even though I was watching it. Many of my workers couldn't stop crying...after all, seeing a friend like that not only makes them sad, but is another reminder of their own situations and vulnerability as persons living with HIV as well. It was a very difficult moment for everyone, but out of the few words Alba could mutter, she told us not to cry...but that just made some cry even more. And can you imagine how Alba must feel? Watching person after person see her suffering so much and crying for her...I can't imagine the depression and emotional pain that must bring her in addition to the physical. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I went back a few times after that day, but after 2-3 times of watching her be responsive for a few minutes and then gasping for breath others, I just couldn't anymore. The visuals I carried in my mind were too much to handle at night alone in my apartment. And the last time I visited, she was crying out for her family and there I was, standing in the corner of the room as she yelled for her family...she couldn't make out sentences but she was communicating with them. Elizabeth, the nurse, who is like a daughter to Alba called me over to the family and told Alba, "Johanna is here, too." Alba called my name, but looked at me and said, with love I think, "No es mi hija, no es mi familia" (You're not my daughter, you're not my family). While I could have taken that badly, I was so thankful to her. I had felt quite uncomfortable in the corner of the room, although I wanted to be there to show I cared and support them, I knew I didn't belong, I was not family. While I care for her, I just couldn't go back before I left for the States. Maybe it's a selfish reason because of the emotional trauma I'm feeling through seeing her in pain, but now is most importantly a time for her to be with her family and loved ones...I, an American volunteer she's known for all of 6 months is not someone she needs to see during this painful time. It's her children, and parents, and husband, and other relatives that she needs to be with most.<br /><br />An unexpected event with Alba also made me feel uncomfortable there, and it's opened up my eyes to the reality of the situation. Alba is a Christian and as she has been in this state of sickness, many people have ministered to her and she has told us that she has asked God for forgiveness and given herself to God and committed herself to his will for her, life or death. We have all prayed for her and with her and although some people's prayers have been to give her strength to fight, my thoughts watching her suffer so much, were mostly filled with, whatever You will Lord, give her peace so she doesn't have to suffer like this. The next day, she was still alive and the nurse told me that the previous night after I left, a witchdoctor came and said that there is someone putting a curse on Alba and that's why she's suffering so much. If they paid 7,000 lempira (~US$350) she would have the curse taken off and Alba would get better within 3 days. While this might seem like non-sense or radical, witchcraft is very present among the culture in Central America...mostly in Mexico and Guatemala, but migrant witchdoctors have brought the traditions to Honduras. So while I sit there hearing this and just thinking, how ridiculous this is, Alba's family (and Alba) have declared that they are going to pay and take her to the witchdoctor. This has brought a whole new world of unknown to my life. Never have I seen what I guess you could call "spiritual warfare" going on, but this was definitely part of it. And for someone like me, who feels responsible to respect the beliefs of all others, I felt, strangely, hurt. After all the medications and hospitalizations and spiritual support our organization had provided her, after the prayers people had laid upon her, after declaring that she had "entregado su vida a Dios" (turned in her life to God), she and her family were in such desperate conditions that they would do anything to have her not suffer any longer...even if it means turning against her God at the last moment of her life. And the fact that someone would take advantage of her and her family in a situation as difficult and delicate as this...it's all pretty powerful and it surprised and hurt and saddened all of us.<br /><br />I'm not sure how I've conveyed this experience via webblog, but it has been something I've been struggling with and facing recently, and it's affecting me on so many levels. Maybe it's because it's the first time I'm watching someone die of AIDS. Someone I know. Someone I love. Maybe it's because I'm seeing and learning more and more about the relationship between illness and spirituality. Or maybe it's because I've just never experienced realities such as these...</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-64641784165396074202008-11-15T13:42:00.000-08:002009-07-28T00:06:24.923-07:00Live happy :)<span style="font-family:arial;">For those of you yearning to hear from me again…things have been, once again, hectic. Currently I’m sitting in the La Ceiba Airport listening to Nickel Creek and…well…reflecting. These last days have been filled with a lot of highs, the highest of which was my parents visiting. I missed them very much and it’s always amazing to be able to show them my life in every place I live…temporarily. I started thinking about the various places in which they have visited me, in a place that was really all my own: Baltimore, Dominican Republic, now Honduras…where will they go next? Who knows, but I’ve realized how truly blessed I am to have parents who visit me, who don’t expect to do the touristy thing, who are there to see me in my new element, to see my daily routine and how my life has changed on daily basis.<br /><br />It was great to be able to show them my new job, have them meet my co-workers and friends, bring them to the Lenca pottery workshop in southern Honduras. But they definitely made me realize that this experience is going to fly by so fast that if I don’t take time for myself, time to decompress, reflect, STOP working a little, then it’s going to be over before I know it and I’m going to feel a little bit of regret that I was always working and not enjoying so much. I spend so much time traveling to purchase materials, in the workshop organizing the daily production, and then traveling again to sell, that I’m just always working. And I’ve come to a place where I’m sad and tired and jaded…which is good for no one. I want to work hard and it’s just what I asked for. But having the balance where I also take care of myself is something that I never really mastered before, especially not in school at Hopkins…I’d have rather study an extra half-hour the morning before an exam instead of take a shower, for example (and I know you other Hopkins students do exactly the same thing). But maybe that relaxing shower would have helped me even more than a half-hour more of studying. My mom always said I was addicted to stress…and in a country and culture so much more laid back, I’ve found any way possible to create an environment of stress around me. Always here or there, moving, traveling. But I’m starting to realize that it’s okay to sit, you know. It’s okay to take a deep breath. It’s okay to stop for a while, shave your legs and paint your toenails.<br /><br />Since this week has been full of stress: we lost some very expensive materials in the workshop, one woman’s child is sick with pneumonia and hasn’t been HIV tested yet and it could become a bad situation, and then some more latin male issues; I’ve decided to take some time for fun for once. For those of those who might be feeling lonely too, I encourage you to just call someone to hang out…make the first step and who knows. One text to an American English teacher and now tonight I’m going camping with a group of American English teachers and peace corps workers and some Hondurans. Next week, I’m taking off work to go to the Honduran-Mexican World Cup selection game. FUUUUN!!! I will always be someone who works hard and strives for perfection in what I do…but if I’ve learned one thing recently from Honduran culture: Life is short, so don’t always live to work, instead work to live. And then live happy.</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-48537496989356006202008-10-10T14:17:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:06:50.756-07:00Ay, La Mochilera Que Soy (Ah, the Backpacker I am)<span style="font-family:arial;">So...it's been about a month since my last post...I apologize. BUT this month has been FILLED with various travels and so I haven't had the time to sit down and write. In fact, I am currently in Costa Rica sitting in the host house of my friend Brian Orr from Hopkins...small world eh?</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I think I'll just update you on my travels and that will bring some good Jo stories. First, about 2 weeks ago I flew to Roatan, the island, to review the work of the 8 women who I had trained in jewelry making last August. Seeing them again was refreshing because we grew very close in those 2 weeks. I got to spend sometime with one of the ladies who turned in her supplies because she wasn't going to continue on with the project. Why you ask? Well, she was pregnant and about to have her C-section the next day. Nothing personal, she said. I was really excited for her though and we spent some time discussing how she was feeling. She was nervous...a 19-year-old who would longer have the independence she once did. Nervous that the baby might be born with HIV. Nervous that the surgery would hurt. All normal fears for a woman living with HIV. I can remember her in the workshop in August, very pregnant, moody, and with an attitude of a teenager--swearing and throwing garbage in any direction. And looking at her now, I could tell she had matured in the last few weeks, with the recognition of her new role as mother. She still has a lot of maturing to do...but a part of me is looking forward to learning how someone grows with a life-change like that, watching the good it might bring, the difficulties it might bring, the frustrations and the blessings. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">After that trip I returned to Siguatepeque for a few days, and then I was off to Copan Ruinas. This quaint little city is the home to the Mayan ruins in Honduras and famous cobblestone streets with some crazy-looking red taxi "cabs." I was able to stay with a friend of a Hopkins friend (thank you Jessie McKenzie) who is now living in Copan to carry out her Fulbright Fellowship (I know!) It was such a blessing to meet Therese and her boyfriend Graham and learn about her work here in Honduras. For those of you who know I applied for a Fulbright to the DR (and was rejected), it was really good for me to hear her process and experiences and ideas. It was definitely helpful...especially when she told me the Fulbright winners for the Dominican Republic were all masters students (which obvi made me feel better at least, hehe). </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">The majority of my time in Copan, however, was spent at the annual Project Honduras Conference, where organization that work between the US and Honduras come to share their experiences, and of course, NETWORK. I was fortunate enough to be offered the opportunity to give a presentation during the NGO panel. I was definitely nervous...I think I was one, if not the, youngest person to present, but I think it went pretty well. I spoke about the organization, our variety of projects, clinical services, and then more specifically our microenterprises and my work in Siguatepeque and Roatan. I was the only speaker about HIV/AIDS in Honduras so a lot of people had questions for me and it opened up some good conversations and networking. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Apart from presenting and that going well, I have to say that there were a lot of things that bothered me about the conference as well. The theme of the conference was "Millenium Development Goal 8: Buiding Global Partnerships"...a good theme for an international US-Honduran conference. One presentation on this topic was really helpful in discussing cross-cultural communication, which is something really difficult for Americans and Hondurans a lot of times, including myself (see last posting, haha). But, the ironic--and disappointing--part of the conference, was that we were in Copan Ruinas, Honduras (an Americanized tourist town), primarily conducted in English (headphones with translator for Spanish-speakers), and the majority were Americans talking about their work in Honduras instead of a discussion between Hondurans and Americans about their mutual work together in the country. And why is that? Well, first, Project Honduras is an internet-based initiative...connecting people far away via new technology that is isn't easily available to all Hondurans, and therefore they haven't heard of it. Second, it costs $135 simply to attend the conference, not including cost of hotels, transportation, and extra food. While that is not the fault of the initiative...after all, conferences do COST money to put on and it IS a great opportunity to learn about the different projects going on in Honduras and work together to accomplish certain goals. However it just seemed a bit frustrating to me that Hondurans can't afford to attend a conference about work in their own country, and if they can, those who don't speak English are at a disadvantage and may not be able to understand the majority of presentations and workshops. Global Partnerships means the cooperation of two-sides. The listening to local needs and the response of available resources of both Hondurans and Americans to address those needs. I know I'm an American talking, but I've come to really be proud of the fact that I'm part of an organization that is almost completely Honduran staffed and grew out of a local need that was listened to and addressed by Hondurans and Americans together.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">After my Copan trip, I was almost straight off to Costa Rica to renew my visa. Yes, I, an American, had 2 days before I became an illegal in Honduras. Ironic, right? But, it's true, and my two options were go to Belize for 2-3 days alone, or go to Costa Rica for a few days to visit Julie and Brian, my Hopkins friends...despite the 17-hour bus ride, I chose Costa Rica. So here I am and it's been wonderful. Costa Rica is significantly more develop than Honduras, more lush and green, and the neighborhoods kind of remind of the LOVELY Santiago de los Caballeros, Dominican Republic that I have missed so much. It's been fantastic seeing Julie and Brian...sharing in our new lives and experiences. Yesterday I went to the Abraham Project with them and did some work as they gave their math tutoring lessons. It was almost surreal, watching them in this new, different environment outside of Hopkins. They are the first familiar faces I have seen in 4 months, yet I'm seeing them so out of the element that we are used to. We have changed but I feel I may have changed the most. I think about my life in Honduras and tell them about my work and realize that I've grown up a lot, have an altered outlook on life-planning. They've been a reminder of my structured, academic Hopkins life, which is actually refreshing after such a lack in intellectual stimulation over the last couple months. Julie mentioned today on the bus into San Jose that so many of our friends are in grad school stressing over tests and the beginning of med school. I thought about that for a moment and realize how removed my life is from academics these days. Academics was MY life. And it will be again at some point soon. But right now, it's as if my life has dramatically shifted from the academic "tunnel vision" to the practical realities of a non-linear life plan. Things happen in life. And sometimes those things--jobs, babies, sicknesses--make turns in the road. Now before I scare my parents, I do plan on going to grad school, pursuing an MPH and maybe an MSW and I'm sure by that time I'll be craving the intellectual academic stimulation and craving a "real job" (although I feel like my current job is more in touch with "reality" than many others). But maybe that won't be next year. And that's okay...because, as my mother said to me before I graduated, life is no longer linear.</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-83619891367472944092008-09-16T16:50:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:07:17.862-07:00Cultural Change<span style="font-family:arial;">So I'd like to propose the following question: </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Is a cultural practice always "right" if it is an integral part of one's culture and acting otherwise is outside of one's cultural norms?</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">If that was a little too confusing or vague, let me develop this question...What I mean to say, is that if there is Cultural Behavior A and this behavior or practice is widely used and common practice, does that make it a "right and justified" behavior? If acting otherwise, outside of that cultural practice, would not even be considered because that cultural perspective has been so ingrained into one's way of thinking, and hence behavior, does that make that behavior "correct" if it has negative consequences? Does not "knowing otherwise" or "knowing better" (dare I say) because of a lack of formal education and unchallenged acceptance of one's cultural norms justify the practice of those cultural norms even when they can cause harm to a person, group, organization, or society?....or is this attempt to mathematical deduce a problem with cultural overtones actually a futile endeavor because mathematical reason just doesn't apply to complicated cultural issues. But alas, trying to reason is part of my cultural mentality.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Before I completely lose you, I'll get more specific. Today I was speaking with a worker of mine whose 18-year-old daughter was in town this weekend visiting. Through a little bit of discussion, I find out that this weekend she had been using words that her father didn't like, and while they weren't "bad words," he didn't approve of her using them. At one point, she said the word to provoke him, and he hit her in the face. Hard. She left the house and didn't come back for the rest of the weekend..this morning she left for Tegucigalpa where she goes to university. He hasn't heard from her since and feels bad about what he did, but she was the one to provoke him and he had to show her that she has to respect him as her father, he says. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">A little taken aback by the whole situation, I gave myself a few minutes to think and then gave my two-cents. I said, "Hmm. Well, I think that while words can provoke, they never justify hitting or being violent." Wanting to keep the conversation calm, I went on to say, "I know that might be part of my culture speaking, but I think getting violent crosses a line that only words do not." He responded by telling me, "Yeah well that is your culture. It's not our culture. I felt bad about what happened, but it's part of how I respond and to others, it's justified, it's okay." I gave a small pause and said, "Well just because it's okay because of the culture and because others approve, does that make it correct? Just because it's something cultural, does that make it okay?" He didn't respond for a while, but then chimed in saying, "Honduras is different...and you know what, sometimes words hurt more than getting hit." As others' ears started to perk up to our conversation, I decided it might be best to cut the discussion at that. It's true, words can truly hurt and verbal violence is real...and getting into a discussion about violence with a group of 9 women who I'm sure at one point have all been victims of some form of violence was something I was not mentally prepared to embark on yet. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">But it made me think, and it made them think. Is something like violence, which is so common and accepted, particularly against women in Honduran society, correct simply because it is part of the typical cultural response? Is not having a formal education, where one learns that violence is not (legally) acceptable, justify this type of behavior or "acts of ignorance" as some would say? Does education even have anything to do with it? </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">One (adapted) quote I remember from a video on Female Genital Mutilation was from a religious leader in Liberia, who said, "Just because Female Genital Mutilation is practiced and is part of our culture, that does not make it right." But it's so easy to catagorize violence, female genital mutilation, racism as bad, not just, and not acceptable. What about other more subtle cultural behaviors like, for example, gossip? </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Here in Honduras, gossip is a huge part of a Honduran non-confrontational culture. When there is a problem, instead of confronting the issue or person, it is customary to talk to someone else about the person causing the problem. There is a fear of confrontation, and so what results is a cycle of gossip that hinders direct communication and hides true emotions. It seems harmless enough, but when emotions and little problems stay inside, they sit and fester...and at some point...it erupts causing much more pain and hurt and drama that would have ensued from a small confrontation at the very beginning. Perhaps this seems like a harmless "cultural norm," but when it involves the communication between patients and medical staff, between co-workers in a health setting where a continuity of care is the goal, it can have definite implications on both the patient and the medical provider, physically and psychologically.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So...is this behavior acceptable? Should it be changed? Do I, as an outsider living in this society, have the right or capacity to try to change that behavior among the people I know? At one point do we respect cultural behaviors and practices and adapt to them because they are part of the "culture," even when it's negatively going to affect the well-being or the healthy communication between individuals, an organization, or a society? Input welcome :)</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"></span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-70809712635838920562008-09-05T20:56:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:07:45.789-07:00Sobrevivir por Ilusiones (Surviving by Illusiones)<span style="font-family:arial;">The other Friday evening I was invited by one of my co-workers to her nephew's birthday party. She lives pretty far away, so we took the bus she takes home from work and then stopped at all of her cousins' homes in the community. Finally we made it back to her home. What a little little home. It was so empty, no furniture, only 2 beds and a closet full of clothes from her cousin who is currently "hanging out in the US." As we were chatting, Lesly* my co-worker handed me a little booklet. It was a photo album.<br /><br />I don't know if any of you know, but I'm a secret photo album lover. Love looking at pictures, love making photo albums (in all my free time which I never have, ha), I just love it. Because it teaches me so much about people, lets me enter their lives, see a part of their life that may have been so wonderful or so painful. And showing your pictures can be something so vulnerable. Sometimes there's a picture that you don't want anyone to see. Sometimes there's someone in a picture you may want to forget...or someone you'll never forget. But sharing photographs is allowing someone to know your past and how that's led you to who you are today.<br /><br />Anyhow, Lesly handed my this small photo album and I began to look at her life, her primos, her first boyfriend, her son. Page by page, I learned something new about her...the father of her son was in the army, a young strong gentleman who she fell in love with. He died of AIDS 5 years ago. Currently, she lives alone with her 16-year-old son in the small house, surviving, she says. The next picture was of a nice-looking Honduran man, her current love, who calls her and tells her the most beautiful things, so she told me with a blushing squint of her eyes and beaming smile. <em>In the midst of everything, Johanna,</em> she confessed<em>, it's nice to hear those things. It's nice to have someone like that in your life even if you will never actually be with them...even if it's just an illusion. Some of us women here in my situation, well, it's how we survive...it's how we keep moving one day to the next. Sobrevivir por ilusiones.</em><br /><br />Sobrevivir por ilusiones. That has now become our new favorite phrase...and it's made me really think about the situation of the HIV-infected single woman. It's hard enough to find a good-standing Honduran man, and when you do and you fall in love, are you able to disclose your infection without sending him running? How do you tell him? DO you tell him? Or...do you just try to keep your distance from him....try to keep you and him from getting hurt? Does that mean you love him from a distance, longing for him? Live as if you were together and everything was perfect? Live, survive, through those dreams, illusiones? Perhaps. Maybe it's those illusions that we can't quite grab hold of that are the dreams that keep us living for the next day hoping that those illusions will one day become realities and that we might just obtain that happiness we long for...</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Thinking and analyzing and putting myself in their place, I came to realize that, yes, being in their situation is more difficult and there are definite barriers to relationships for the HIV-positive single woman....but you know what, we have a lot of similarities. I have a lot of similiarities. Sometimes I live and survive for those illusiones to get us through to the next day. Perhaps I and you, too, sobrevivimos por ilusiones. And maybe that's not so bad...helps to liven things up a bit in the middle of the melancholy or simply the middle of the mundane.</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-43149010177314160692008-08-18T21:40:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:08:31.838-07:00Last Days of Roatan<span style="font-family:arial;">So my experience here in Roatan has been up and down. Most of the ups are the times I'm spending with the women in the workshop, teaching them jewelry techniques and them teaching me about their lives. Most of the downs have been with the sometimes demanding requests of my American week-long volunteers clashing with passive Honduran behavior. Yes, I used to be a week-long mission tripper myself but I see a different perspective now and am grateful for how I spent those trips sleeping on the church floor instead of at a beach resort. Nevertheless, I was able to get through some of the hard, soul-challenging dilemmas that arose, and found my refuge in the moments of conversation between the women at the jewelry table. I can sometimes remember looking around the table and realizing I was the only person besides the women themselves--the only "outsider"--that could understand what they were saying and that could fully take part in the sharing of life stories. That was pretty amazing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So, from here on out, I'm just going to share tidbits from some of their more fascinating conversations: </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">One late morning, the issue of HIV and condom usage came up (a lot of hondurans i know love making sexual references whether appropriate or not and therefore the conversation im sure went from some random funny innuendo to a more intense, serious matter). We began to hit on key topics that I've heard and studied before like accessibility and costs of condoms, their acceptability among the community, etc, and then the conversation headed towards just what fascinates me the most: gender roles. A couple workers began to discuss how the "sistema ha fallado las mujeres" (system has failed women) because condoms always fall under the responsibility of the man...to buy, to bring, to bear. Before I could ask my questions (can women take the responsibility to bring condoms...are females condoms available here...are they used?), the conversation took an even more interesting turn: hombres que andan en la calle (men sleeping with other women). </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">One of my favorite women in the workshop, and certainly the most outspoken, put down her macrame board, gave a little attitude-im-about-to-say-something-so-listen-up wave of her hand, and said (in spanish), <em>No, no, no...you see, it's the married women that' has the risk nowadays. How HIV goes around this place, if you're single, you'd be crazy to not put on a condom. But the married women...well what's she gonna do when her husband sleeps around and then comes home for his wife. She's not going to make him wear a condom, and she's not going to say no to sex because she's got her needs too. And passive women have it worst because they wont communicate with their husbands and they wont fight for themselves. But at the same time, they dont satisfy their husbands. So you know, it doesnt just fall on the husbands either. It falls on the communication between them both. A woman has to be willing to learn how to satisfy a man, be a little risky and explore. And the man has got to be faithful. Both have to trust too.</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Yep, I wish I had a tape recorder. It was as if all the stories and explanations I've heard about in class regarding gender roles and HIV/AIDS was coming out of this woman's mouth. How responsibility falls on both sides and how communication between the two is the most important and crucial answer. Yet it seems pride and fear stand in the way. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">As I looked around the group, I noticed some of the other women staying quite but nodding at times. I asked the group if this was the case, how do we change that. Their responses were few, saying that there was no way to really change it. I later asked how many had been infected by their husbands who had been previously unfaithful. Almost every head raised and gave me a nod. I couldn't believe it...and yet I also couldn't believe how upset and angered I was by it while they were so melancholy about it. As I was reflecting, one women interrumpted my thoughts to help me better understand their perspectives. She told me, <em>Look, whats done is done. You can't go back. I've forgiven him. We have 2 kids and I love him. And so we've moved forward. We're both patients here at the clinic and we're doing</em> <em>well. </em></span><br /><em><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span></em><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Here I was shocked and angered by the fact that each of these women, each of these women who I've been working with and have come to love, had been the exact examples of HIV transmission and gender imbalances/power relations. And yet they've forgiven, they have shown compassion, and they have moved on with their lives. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Sometimes I think because I come from the States and have heard about the "ravage" of HIV among the developing world, I have this acquired sense of intensity or obvious gravity of the situation. Sure, HIV is serious issue. And when you see patients who have progressed so far they have to be carried into the clinic, the intensity and gravity of the situation are given a face. But I feel like, in my experience, the focus is so much how horrible of a disease it is, that we don't focus so much on the hope and the compassion that people living with HIV carry with them daily. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I'll leave you with experience that really touched me. At the support group on Saturday, Dona Nilva* (a HIV veteran at the clinic and one of the workers I trained these last couple weeks) and I had a quiet moment when she was able to share some of her incredible testimony with me. At one point, she looked at me and said, <em>Look, Johanna. Depression is serious. Some days, I wake up and I look at my pills and I think, My God, I have to live the rest of my life waking up to these pills. That's a depressing thought. But then, I try to think about thanking God for these pills. He's given me these pills so that I can live day after day. So that's what I think about and that's how I move forward.</em></span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-27029867411078976832008-08-03T21:31:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:08:56.984-07:00First Sales<span style="font-family:arial;">Alright well after reading my last entry and remembering how critical and a little bitter I was feeling at the time I was writing it...I´ve decided to put in another entry, and only 3 days later hehe. Also influenced by the encouragement of my friend Jon Gilbert (yeah shout-out) who told me I should share the news.<br /><br />Well, I´ve never been good at business. Even from those Central Elementary School days when we had to sell Peanut M&Ms as a fundraiser, I did not do well. I always felt bad or guilty, like I was cheating someone. I´m sure my parents remember my valiant efforts as I sat out in the pouring rain one Sunday afternoon in my Mickey Mouse sweatshirt and raincoat with all the M&M bags neatly packaged in plastic baggies to protect them from the rain. I think I sold one bag that day to my neighbor who felt deep pity for the poor girl sitting in the rain all day. I guess I have had a way of pulling on heart strings at least.<br /><br />Which is maybe why I did so well at selling this time around despite my lack of business sense. I mean, Fair Trade necklaces made by HIV patients in Honduras has got a pull-on-the-heart-strings kind of quality to it. Anyhow, whatever it was, God included, I had some real success on my first sales trip this week! I only went to 2 high-class tourist shops here on the island (Roatan) which have bought from us before and were interested in seeing more of our new line. Well, I went and they bought more than they had before! That means improvement and I really like improvement. The total sales for the day came out to $1250...isn´t that great??!! I can sell!<br /><br />And you know what...I didn´t feel guilty like I had before because I know where the money goes, tu sabes? I have the privilege of working in the clinic itself, visiting the Lenca women and the coco women, communicating with the designer, interacting with the clients/vendors. All aspects of the program I have the opportunity to work with and so I know every aspect to which the funds will contribute. The workers don´t get to see where the materials come from. The designer doesn´t always get to see the places where their products are sold. A buyer doesn´t always get to see the hands who make the bracelet. But from design, to purchase of materials, to production, to distribution, I get to be a part of it all. That´s incredible. There are definitely times when I don´t enjoy my job and the responsibility that comes with being a part of all those different processes. But it is something I´ve come to realize is a real privilege...and it´s something that I´ve come to love.</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-75017161932810683732008-07-31T15:53:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:09:27.722-07:00America<span style="font-family:arial;">Hey...long time no talk. I know you´re all anxious to hear what I´ve been up to and why I haven´t written in 2 weeks. Well, things have been crazy busy here as deadlines began to approach. For the last 2 weeks I´ve been working at work and then working at home, trying to get all of our jewelry inventory at the the clinic workshop together and ready for my trip to Roatan (the island) where we sell to high end tourist shops and then I´ll be shipping what we don´t sell here off to the Americas of course. Well, north-Americas I suppose. In preparation for this trip I´ve been traveling all across Honduras gathering last minute materials and that, while enjoyable, has been very stressful. And I´ll tell you why...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I know I´m an American. And I know what people think of most Americans outside of America. Even in that last sentence I´ve shown it. United States-ans (estadounidenses) often don´t recognize Latin Americans as "American." After all, the phase ¨Proud to Be an American¨certainly doesn´t refer to all "Americans"...if if it did, maybe the people who so often sing that song or say that phrase wouldn´t be the same people passing judgement or putting up a wall to keep those other Americans on their respective side of the border. Now, I don´t mean to be oh-so-politically correct...but I had a recent experience that made me realize how much of an "norteamericana" I am, despite my efforts to look beyond the comfort of my life in the States and assimilate, even blend in, with the people and culture here.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Last week, I had to travel to a place called La Arada where a co-op of Lenca women live and make traditional Lenca (Honduran ethnic group) pottery. We order necklace pendants from them that are really nice pottery with different shapes and designs and then we use them in our jewelry line on macrame cords that the patients make at the clinic. Well I went there to pick up the pendants, but since we just started ordering from them and the last order they made was not well done, I had to spend 4 hours at their workshop evaluating each piece for correct shape, size, hole size and shape, design detail, correct burn of the clay, etc. In a nut shell, I was basically this middle-women, in some sort of in-between space, where I had to be firm on what I know of US standards and marketplace and yet respect the work of these women as an art form. Not every design is going to turn out the same. The process to make these clay pendants takes 3 weeks and there are going to be some that stay in the kiln longer and others that dry faster or are closer to the coils. Yet the US marketplace looks for perfection and inventory. Mass production if you will. Not one of a kind, never-gonna-happen again pieces. I felt like my "American" ways were creeping back into me, translating into my work and experience with these women who, let´s face it, need the money. I had to leave 200 pieces behind because they didn´t meet our standards. That´s 2000 lempiras. $100 US dollars. Imagine how many rice and beans that could buy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Needless to say, I was in a state of emotional angst, mental frustration. On one hand I had to uphold the expectations laid upon me from the business aspect (after all the humanitarian mission that founds the organization and microenterprise can´t survive if we buy things we can´t sell)...and yet on the other hand I knew what I was withholding from those women. As I got back in the car trying to cope with my internal conflict, the reverend asks me what´s wrong. I told him that, well, I just felt very American and didn´t know how to accept or deal with that at the moment. He looked at me and made sure I knew that I was norteamericana...that all those in the Americas are Americans. And how I was feeling wasn´t just reflective of US perspectives or expectations, but that anyone running a business has to have his or her best interest in mind, whether Honduran or United States-an. He´s right I suppose. But I still find myself in this limbo-place...working for people in the States but working with native Hondurans every day...high Type A expectations meeting a passive Type B kind of reality...and a norteamericana no longer in Norteamerica.</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-45551107783843440472008-07-13T07:53:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:10:31.717-07:00just some Johanna storytelling<span style="font-family:arial;">Hello again everyone! I could just about write a post for everyday this past week because many many different things have happened. But let me just tell some stories…<br /><br />Story #1: This past Monday we had the Siempre Unidos bi-annual conference where all the staff from Siguatepeque, San Pedro Sula, and Roatan came for training on the current trends in HIV research, the psychosocial aspect of treating HIV patients, and a workshop in “Calidad en el Servicio del Cliente” (Quality in Client Services). The first lecture on current trends in HIV research was I’m pretty sure straight out of my classes at Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health. In fact, I think they stole some slides from an online lecture at Hopkins because a few slides were in English and resembled very closely the PowerPoint presentations of some of my previous professors…haha. It was great though because I felt really knowledgeable for my first time here, as if my school work now meant something. Having a public health degree hasn’t prepared me to take blood pressure or give injections like the nurses, it hasn’t prepared me to know the exact dosages or regimens of antiretrovirals that our doctors prescribe, but finally, I knew and could contribute when the conversation turned to research on the biology of the virus, issues of drug adherence and treatment failure, best practices on preventing mother-to-child transmission, and all that stuff…you know…(right Mom?) Many of the staff aren’t specialized in HIV (many have bachelor’s degrees in Administration or Business), so it was nice to be able to really see the avenues in which I could use my knowledge and background to help educate staff and patients, who for the last 3 weeks have been my educators.<br /><br />The only difficulty was that everything was in Spanish so while it was very beneficial to learn the Spanish vocabulary of HIV research, I still ended up sounding like a 12 year old when I tried to communicate information I knew. Well…I’m still working on it.<br /><br /><br />Story #2: The other day one of my workers called practically in hysterics and was describing the bruises she had on her face and legs. She had called to say she didn’t think she’d be able to walk to work tomorrow and I could have sworn she said “me golpeó” which means “hit me.” This woman has had a lot of problems in the past regarding family and men and so I was inclined to think that someone had physically abused her. Well I immediately called the nurse and she said we would go to visit her tomorrow. Well as the day passed and the nurse had other patients to see, I still wanted to go make the effort to see my worker and bring her ibuprofen or something to help with the swelling or any pain she might have. So I made my first solo home visit. Well, not exactly solo because another woman who “knew the way” came with me, but she has a mental disability and forgot the way so I ended up having to navigate…but it was certainly a fun adventure with her :) Once we arrived to my worker’s home which was significantly far away, I gave her a big hug and we went inside to chat. I come to find out it was the floor that “me golpeó” and not a person, because she fell really hard while she was cooking and bruised herself up pretty badly.<br /><br />I felt kind of pointless at first that I had made the long trip thinking that this women had been a victim of violence, when in reality she had just fallen down. But little by little I could see that my short-lived presence in her home meant a lot to her. She mentioned that the previous volunteer had visited everyone but her and how that had made her sad. She also was thrilled I could see her new home…she had just moved in 8 days ago and it is the first time she’s lived in a home with cement floors and light. Yep. Yet as I sat in this little home, filled with flies and dirty water tanks, surrounded by other little shacks and muddy dirt roads, I could still take one look out the kitchen window and the most beautiful mountain valley was right there staring back at me. A diamond in the rough. It was absolutely gorgeous and visiting her in her home has really helped me to better understand her on many different levels. I hope I get the opportunity to visit all the workers at their homes because it really is something special. I don't know, there's just something about being in someone's home, their place, that connects you more fully with their life and their dreams.<br /><br />Story #3: I finally found friends to play soccer with!!!! I met this Honduran guy at the gym who told me I could play with him and his friends on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so they picked me up and we went! It was sort of like indoor soccer but on really terrible “turf” and the guys were really macho-like players. One guy who must have been 30 years older than me kept on making comments to get in my head and mess with me. Boo…I shoved him later don’t worry. But the group of guys (and 1 other girl, yay!) I played with are super nice (and attractive, haha). They are also the first Hondurans I’ve met who know how to salsa dance, so I’m excited to go out dancing with them at some point in the future :)<br /><br />Okay, well as my Mom would say, “That’s enough storytelling from Jo today.” So I’ll let you all go. But it’s been a pleasure sharing with you and I hope you didn’t get too bored. Miss you all!</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-85182710795408348142008-07-01T16:52:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:10:59.636-07:00Feliz Cumpleanos a mi!<span style="font-family:arial;">Well yesterday was my birthday (22, ayyy que vieja soy) and it was definitely a good relaxing time! Though I did get asked questions like "Why are you not married yet?", I fortunately spent most of the day with my Siempre Unidos friends who are in their late twenties and not married which made me feel better about those inquiries. Also, THANKS SO MUCH to all of you who sent along birthday wishes...it was sooooo wonderful to hear from you all and it definitely made my day...I miss you all so much! </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Well, before I get to discussing my birthday celebrations, I spent this last weekend in San Pedro Sula, the second largest city in Honduras where the Siempre Unidos headquarters are and I was able to go out with some of my friends from work, go to "la feria" which is an annual carnival on June 29 in San Pedro, and just relax. The feria/carnival was exactly likely the States it almost scared me. I mean, I wasn't sure what to expect. Carnival in the DR is very different from "carnivals" in the States. But here, their carnival was just the same...tons of little shops selling all kinds of knock off purses and clothes and random items, 5 huge rows of stalls for horses and cows and little chicks that you could pet and feed, a rodeo, games for kids and rides like the feris wheel. The only difference was that bachata and reggaeton were playing in the background as opposed to country music. But it was nice to just walk around...I went with my friend Geraldina and her family. She has 2 kids Carlitos and Andrea who are just darling and I got to play with them and take them around the carnival so that was fun. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">For my birthday on Monday, el reverendo (and Siempre Unidos director) took me out to a typical Honduran breakfast (eggs, sausage, beans, tortillas, platanos) and we were able to discuss "business" as well which was actually very helpful. Then, he and the other staff surprised me later in the day with a "Feliz Cumpleanos" balloon and lunch at Pizza Hut (haha, I was actually quite okay with this...I had had enough frijoles and tortillas). A lot of the staff came and I had to dance merengue with the waiter in front of everyone as they sang me the feliz cumpleanos song...great, right? haha, well fortunately I am one americana that knows her merengue moves. They were all pretty surprised and totally loved it. They all agreed we were most definitely going merengue dancing next time I'm in town. No complaints here. Later that evening I had the fortune of finding an open computer with free internet at the place I was staying, so I pretty much spent the night on the internet and reading Paulo Coehlo, which seems like a LAME birthday evening but you have no idea how wonderful it was. I haven't had the opportunity to be online for more than a half hour/hour at a time, so to have a computer at my disposal with free internet for as long as I wanted was a fabulous birthday gift let me tell you. Plus it gave me a chance to see all your wonderful birthday wishes on my actual birthday! :)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Alright, well in other news, this week we have vacation from work, so I'm spending it getting better acquainted with the city, purchasing a mirror (haven't looked in one since I arrived...yikes), and joining the gym nearby because let's face it, tortillas/rice each day for lunch at the clinic does not serve my body type well. I'm just itching to get on a treadmill. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Thanks again to everyone for the birthday wishes and I hope all is going fabulously for you!!! Hasta luego!!</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-32500428511320246052008-06-26T18:39:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:11:29.386-07:00so it's been a whole week in my new "hometown"...for real?<span style="font-family:arial;">Wow...so I can't believe a week has passed so fast. I arrived here in Siguatepeque, my new "hometown," and have since been...working. haha. How exciting. But it's what I asked for and soooo much more.<br /><br />My first day at work was, well, rough. I obviously didn't know the workers too well yet and I had so many new material that they just wanted to get started on them before listening to what the new designs were like and practicing them. I guess I would be anxious too if I was working on macrame cords for the last 3 weeks. Despite some stress and confusion, I was able to get to know them better, how each individual works, how I could best delegate, etc. Within the last week, we've improved a lot and have made great progress on some of the new jewelry designs. Honduran spanish and slang was hard to pick up at first, and I still most definitely have my difficulties, but it's getting better and better. Now, I can finally understand a lot of the workers jokes and make jokes right along with them. That's how you know you're finally immersing into another language: 1) when you can understand and make jokes, and 2) when you understand everything they say on the radio.<br /><br />I did have the fortune however to speak english yesterday, for the first time since I arrived. I met up with a few young women who are American and teach at a couple of the local bilingual schools. It was a nice reprieve--to not have to think so much when talking...and they had tons of great advice for me. One has a map of Siguat to copy for me, another introduced me to some new Honduran "cuisine" (aka another version of rice, beans, and cheese), and the other had loads to divulge about how she got "played" by several Honduran men who had several other girlfriends. Well, it is pretty machista here...even more so than in the DR which I didn't think was possible...but it's been the topic of conversation with many of my co-workers which has lead to some interesting insights about gender and empowerment. Naturally my conversations would lead to that, right?<br /><br />For example, the staff and I were joking about something I had done and somehow the conversation got to how women are "punished" if they do something bad/wrong in the house. Henry, the farmacist, told me that women have kneal on top of a pile of sand or some other form of sand-like material and stay knealing until the man says she can get up. Evidently it's a Honduran "custom." Henry said women sometimes went weeks on their knees...upon telling me that, I immediately jumped up from my seat and said, "ay yo no...yo puedo correr rapido" (Ay not me! I can run fast.) I think my independent aura and refusal to accept subordinance has surprised people quite a bit...it all started when I asked if I could play soccer with the guys and they looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I am...but at the same time, I'm totally serious about it...haha. In the meantime, I'll be going to watch the guys game tomorrow and maybe I'll find a girls team or work my way into playing with them some time in the near future :)<br /><br />Alright, well there's so much I could say in terms of experiences and stories I could tell, but at least this was a little update on my life here. My apartment is beautiful but sometimes lonely, the sound on my computer isn't working so that makes things even more quite. Until, of course, the gallinas (chicken/rooster) in the trees (seriously, they nest in the trees in my backyard!) starting crowing on the hour from 10pm to 9am...yeah that's not fun. Gilman, my lizard housemate, keeps me company though...and with time, I hope my apartment will be a great hang out place. It's right in the middle of town and across the street from this lovely bakery with wireless internet. Pretty nice :) Okay, well that is all for now. After the support group at the clinic on Saturday, I'll be headed to San Pedro Sula for the annual feria and then I'll be there for my birthday on Monday :) So, in the meantime, just looking forward to all that is to come! Hasta entonces, cuidense mucho!</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-75133542410173260712008-06-18T13:01:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:11:55.562-07:00I'm here...por fin!<span style="font-family:arial;">Hello all!<br /><br />Well, I've made it to Honduras after one intense week of jewelry-making training. Now I have all kinds of jewelry skills you wouldn't imagine...and my perfectionistic tendencies are serving well for quality control...haha. Anyhow, I've arrived in San Pedro Sula and have spent the last 2 days meeting the patients and staff and learning all about the different programs at Siempre Unidos. They have several prevention programs that I'm really interested in and hope to be a part of in my "free time." Tomorrow though I head to Siguatepeque where I will live and work at the clinic and jewelry workshop that employs several of the HIV patients. Though I haven't yet made it to Siguat, I've already had some crazy and emotional experiences.<br /><br />Personally, I've had a roller coaster of emotions, of the stress from the last month graduating and preparing for my new life in Honduras and then along with the disappointment I felt when I arrived here and in all honesty, didn't really like it (the environment, the accent, the food). But I realized I've been comparing it a lot to the DR and though I didn't fall in love with the country right away like I did the DR, I still need to give it time. Also, I'm not here to fall in love with a country, I'm here to work, to learn about the lives of those living with HIV/AIDS, and the lives of those health workers trying so hard to help and minister and treat their patients. I'm here for work, for experience, for the daily grind (thanks to all those who have helped me better understand that). And today, I had an interesting and intensely real experience that helped me accept that even more...<br /><br />Though I met several people and patients yesterday, today I had the opportunity to sit in with the nurse and be a part of the medical outreach. Since I worked in a prenatal HIV clinic in the DR, I thought it would be relatively similar, just reviewing their status and giving information and such. Well, it was a lot more intense than that. With all due respect to this man and his family, I have to say that for the first time in my life I watched a man almost die of AIDS today. The young man was brought in by his daughter and sister, after he collapsed on the floor. He was diagnosed with HIV several years ago but hadn't followed his treatment regimen and had fallen seriously ill about 2 weeks ago, but didn't want to see a physician. When they brought him in, he was so weak and frail. He could hardly walk or talk or even respond, his eyes were somewhat glazed over, he was sweating from fever and wheezing as we moved him into the clinic bed. The Siempre Unidos clinic is really an ambulatory service and so he had to leave immediately for the hospital, but as his family went to call a friend to pick them up and the nurse left to prepare an injection, I was left alone with him in the clinic room. I wasn't sure how to react, what to say. I'd never sat beside a man literally about to die of AIDS. What was he thinking at that moment? What should I be thinking or doing at that moment?<br /><br />And then, he began to reach into his pants. I started freaking out; I didn't know what was about to happen until he began to pee all over the hospital floor. Ah, okay, ya entiendo. Yet still, there I was, alone with this suffering man as he peed. Not gonna lie, a little awkward on my second day, but then again if you gotta pee, you gotta pee, even if you are practically incapacitated. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how the man is doing now. A staff member carried him into a taxi to go directly to the hospital. We gave the family a packet of Pampers for while they'd be waiting there, just in case. He didn't look good, and who knows how long it was/will be before the doctors actually saw/see him at the emergency room. Perhaps I'll never know...but, for now, I'm saying a prayer.</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8750071314182991832.post-57283256335172215642008-05-09T21:21:00.000-07:002009-07-28T00:10:08.326-07:00Preparing the Way<span style="font-family:arial;">Hey everyone!<br /><br />I just wanted to get something posted on my blog, to at least get it started. I'm in the middle of finals right now; I'll graduate in 2 weeks, and then I'm off to the real world! Well...sorta. I'm on to Honduras, but I consider that even MORE of an "into the real world" experience. Well, I'll get more to you later when I have more interesting things to discuss and share.<br /><br />In the meantime, Jane asked me what my fears about going to Honduras are...<br />...my answer: being lonely and not having boneless skinless chicken.</span>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11961718570076228854noreply@blogger.com1