Volunteering

Volunteering Thurs. Oct 19. I have certainly been finding it difficult to “get my foot in the door” of volunteering, here. Which seems ridiculous because everyone and their mother, literally, is volunteering. Okay most have more Spanish than I do, but….. I went to the hospital for the tour two weeks ago. Then I thought about it for awhile because those trundled up babies with their smashed-looking faces somehow just didn’t call to me. But I went in last Monday to be told, certainly they would love to have me, but they are full-up for volunteers with the babies for a week. Please come back the following Monday and bring a copy of my passport and two photos, one for the identity card. So I go through getting Milvia to take a photo of me and finding a place to reproduce it, since my printer is refusing to print photos, and on Monday I show up and the social worker isn’t there; she is busy in Guatemala City. I leave my photos. I return on Tuesday and she has only five minutes to talk to me, after talking with another woman and handing her identity card to her, I notice. Yes, yes everything is fine. Yes Monday and Wednesday mornings will work perfectly. So I return Wednesday morning to her office so that she can introduce me to the ward. She isn’t there. The other person, who speaks no English, calls the ward and then tells me, “No, they don’t need any volunteers in that ward.” I am stunned and almost tearful. WHAT? The social worker will return in the afternoon, that day. I leave my Spanish class early and go again at three pm. She’s there, she’s busy with two other potential volunteers. She asks me, in passing, if I started yesterday (that would be Tuesday.) I say, “Un pequeno problema.” When she finishes with the other person, while I wait, wait….she says, “There was some confusion. Yes you are on, but you will have to start next Monday.” She is quite apologetic. I say Monday will be fine. Interestingly this doesn’t seem to be an isolated situation. At least one other person here has told me she thinks volunteers are treated terribly – i.e. ignored, given conflicting information, not really utilized well, etc. And I can say that noone from C.S. has contacted me since receiving my application, though I understand Hanley won’t be back for a few weeks, which makes it make sense. Noone from Families de Esperanza has contacted me despite leaving a note, in Spanish, asking them to; despite signing up to do anything temporarily while I’m learning Spanish (and despite their brochure saying to come work with them because it will help your Spanish.) Very strange. But is this part of American “cultural values,” to think everything should move efficiently? Additionally, so many coordinators of these projects are volunteers, and apparently often with no idea of what possibilities are offered by the expertise of some of their prospective volunteers. Personal A little calculation this morning makes me realize I am living just under my income, including putting aside money for trips home, which won’t always be necessary. Even though I'm paying $600 rent. Cultural There is a schizophrenic Mayan man who lives in the park between my house and the hospital. He is filthy, his curly hair sticks up in all directions; his clothing – the same every day - has become one dull uniform color. I see him in the evening, lying on a park bench, legs sprawled out, a bag with a bottle in it clutched in one hand. Or in the morning, asleep on the ground, if it hasn’t been raining, or on the cement base of a fountain with a little overhang, if it has. In the daytime I see him eating out of the sort of small paper container sold by the nearby food merchants; his face is crumpled and fallen; the look in his eyes dark and inward. I presume he is a drunk too, or maybe drunkenness and schizophrenia have all mingled together in his mind, to produce the mumbling and gestures his disheveled body produces. Nearby school girls in their clean uniforms, relaxing on the grass during a break, laugh at him and point. He seems oblivious. He reminds me of a few schizophrenics I’ve known, obsessively writing down the license plates of all the cars that park on their block (though this man probably cannot write,) or walking into traffic, arm out, shouting at unknown enemies, daring anyone to deny their right to pass. But I wonder what goes on in HIS head; I wonder what the story is that has brought some woman’s sweet clean baby to this pass. 

The three volcanos that ring this city are a palpable presence here. Volcan Agua huge, to the South, the visual reference point for orienting yourself when you walk through the city; small Fuega to the West, with its thin puff of smoke, and larger double-crowned Acatenango. Wherever you walk, they are always there, dwarfing the city. People look to them to see what sort of day its going to be…….when Agua is ringed with clouds, or invisible, heavy rain is coming. If you can see Fuego’s thin smoke trail, it’s a clear day. But it’s more than a pragmatic thing; these huge mountains, so close to the city, are like guardians, or sentinels. I can see why the people near Mount Olympus believed their Gods dwelt there. I look to these as if addressing a prayer, and listen for the answer. Agua unleashed a torrent of water in 1541, destroying this City that had been built as Central America’s crowning glory, destroying the many now-ruined churches whose occasional adorned pillars, tumbled walls and half-ceilings still attest to the workmanship and devotion that once graced the city.. So there is respect, too. These are not tame Gods. Some believe that the presence of the lava field that created these volcanoes is part of the energy that created the wars and violence this country has experienced, and the sense of danger that still exists here, despite the relative tranquility of the present city, abundant flowers spilling over its walls. 

Nearly the end of October, and the weather continues to be so varied. Cool at night; hot sun in the morning without a cloud anywhere; almost-hail by 3 pm. 

 LOS NENES [“Nene” is Guatemalan Spanish for “baby.”] I have worked at the hospital three days, with the babies. There was no orientation, just an introduction to the head nurse, who speaks no English. They don’t tell the volunteers what to do, though they may say what NOT to do, based on the doctor’s directions, or, frankly, what makes things easy for them. So we English-speaking volunteers, and there seems to be a new group nearly every week - from Holland, Germany, Canada and the U.S.- teach each other. In this ward, there are about five brand new very small babies who are there for nutrition problems. They are TINY. Occasionally the nurses hand these babies to us volunteers to feed, otherwise they pretty much stay wrapped up in their wrappings, in their heavily padded sit-up chairs in their cribs. If these are preemies, this might be appropriate, otherwise I would like to see them receive more skin touch, more rocking, and be held more closely, looking at their faces when being fed. They tend not to feed them this way, but face them out or at least not close. Then there are two babies, Sergio and Alma, who are about three months old. They both have cleft palates, not too terrible looking. And actually you get used to the gaping hole from the middle of the upper lip up into the nostril pretty quickly. Alma is pretty responsive but it takes Sergio longer. He is really cute though and has begun to look at me more, and is responding to my sounds and words. He pushes with his feet a lot, so I prop him so that he can push against my stomach or the crib if he’s lying in the outdoor one, where we can put three to four babies at once so they can stimulate each other. But we have to watch that they don’t start going for the mouth or eyes. It gets a little hard to juggle all the kids who need attention. Actually it is very hard for me, and I tend to get uptight about it; but I keep reminding myself I can only do what I can do and trying to limit my attention to three to four kids each time I go. There are four older babies, all girls, who have cleft palate, too. One of them has two clefts with two tiny teeth sticking straight out between them. She also has little control over her eyes (or does she “space out?”) and seems to have CP in her legs, and possibly is retarded, too. She was pretty hideous to me at first, but now just looks like herself. It is amazing the way she manages to shift the nipple of the bottle from one side to the other of these two clefts, and essentially chew on the nipple to get the milk to come. All of the babies with the clefts, do this, but it is more obvious with her. Evidently they can’t get suction. One of the nurses tends to feed her by covering her nose with a cloth, perhaps to get suction; this makes her twist and scream. When I fed her there were no problems, so I don’t quite understand it. Two slightly older girls do pretty well; they smile at people, they are ready to play and be picked up. One hollers if she is put down, and most of the other volunteers go for that and pick her up again. I try to interest her in something when she’s put down; she usually settles for that. The other older girl (no more than eight months old) I haven’t gotten to know. She seems to be retarded, too. I will have to be sure to give her some attention on Wednesday. Then, there is an older girl – maybe four years old – in a wheelchair. An older boy of about four is also in a wheelchair, but he also seems autistic. He screams a lot; he hits at the other kids if he’s close, or sometimes at you if you try to play with him, but I think it’s more an attempt to get you to engage than aggression. But he can hit hard. The only connection I’ve made with him is to toss a soft ball or big rag in his lap; he will then sometimes toss it back, but often it goes on the floor, and if I’m holding a baby, it’s hard to retrieve it, so the game stops. He also likes to clap, so I try to get him to imitate the number of times I clap, and I count in Spanish. But I haven’t figured anything more out with him. Then there’s a sweetie of four or five, who likes to put a lot of puzzle pieces in a small box which he can barely hold. He is also in a wheelchair. He is smart, knows some of his colors, can remember your name, and calls “Ayudame” (help me) all the time. He is pretty demanding of attention, but of course he needs and deserves a lot more than he’s getting. However some of the visitors, especially some kids who come with their parents to visit their baby, play with him, and some of the other volunteers. I try to focus on the babies. There is also a boy of about seven, who seems to have CP. He is a sweetheart but is fixated on watches, and asks all day long what time it is and whether he can have my watch for a few minutes. He has one of his own. He is really smart and needs way more intellectual stimulation than he’s getting. I play catch with him when I can, and I’d like to get him a Walkman so he could listen to music or stories. It’s really hard to see all these needy kids, and then sometimes to see the nurses all taking big long breaks together while one or two of us handle all the kids. Maybe no more than ½ hour though. There is one nurse who is really sweet with the kids, nuzzling them when she changes their diapers, for instance. I’d actually like to spend MORE days there, but am trying to keep in at two mornings a week. I don’t want to set up something I can’t sustain. I want to continue with some of the writing I’ve been doing. And want to leave myself open if Camino Seguro finally comes up with something for me to do. All of this is pretty frustrating. When I was here in November there was so much openness to my volunteering, so much sense that volunteers were really wanted and needed, and now……??? Is it just the Spanish? Or is a lot of it a sham? Or is there something about me? I would say at Familias de Esperanza I made the mistake of suggesting that things in one group for parents should be run a little differently, (just a little!) and I think that didn’t sit well. But……there is NOTHING there for me to do, in any department? I don’t know, but I have to be more careful with my behavior in the future. Being critical or suggesting you know better is not the way to start. But of course the first day at the hospital I got huffy and finally went to the doctor when it took them ½ hour or more to come up with a diaper I could put on a very wet, and eventually partially naked baby (while all the nurses took a very long break, sitting in the middle of the room, drinking coffee and chatting.) So that is the babies’ department. I enjoy it; I would like to help more, but again there is the sense of frustration that it is a drop in the bucket, and that the nurses need some training in bonding and attachment and early cerebral stimulation, that I could probably give, or someone should be giving. But we’ll see. I’ll try another approach (being quiet, just doing my job, and perhaps modeling for parents or staff, but I won’t worry about that part.)