One month into my mission trip

October 18, 2008
I’ve been back in Peru for about a month and it’s time to send out a few words. Natalie was here for the first part of October and we met some friends, the Nolans, in Cusco, and Kevin and I walked the Inca Trail into Machu Picchu again. The views are incredible. After that Natalie and I bummed around Arequipa for a few days, and among other things, found a great secluded little bar whose house red was a good Bordeaux, not the usual for here.

I continue to do my “canchuelos,” temp jobs, little jobs, part time jobs, and am still a bit underemployed. It’s been a challenge to establish consistent clinical work, part of the problem being the limited 6-10 week blocks that I’m available. I’ve spent quite a few afternoons at Father Alex’s clinic, and generally the two Peruvian docs, with already established patient relationships, see most of the kids (as it should be). Thus, my more recent strategy was to try to schedule appointments to see problem kids and those in the Christian Foundation for Children and the Aged program, whose parent may just want a free visit with a pediatrician to discuss their child’s health. Unfortunately, the appointment concept doesn’t seem to be very well established in the slums of Arequipa. Live and learn.

Yesterday, I connected with another volunteer group and spent the morning at the Arequipa women’s prison. I’ve never been in a working prison anywhere (only had that ankle bracelet), and this was the real deal. To enter, I had to present a copy of my passport and check my keys, camera, and cell phone. No body cavity search and the guards, all women, were actually quite nice. There are about 100 inmates (and 6 young children who I examined) who have the run of the facility during the day with lock down at night. The prison nurse gave me a personal tour of the whole place, walking down cell corridors and into a couple small cells to meet someone or to see their craft work or sewing. I really wanted to ask these seemingly normal women what they were doing in prison, but decided that it was none of my business. It really wasn’t as grim as I had anticipated and actually the living spaces, cells, were much more personalized and comfortable than so many of the small houses in the slums and the countryside, with the obvious exception of bars, large locks, and armed guards.

This week I delivered four more oximeters and a load of sensors to Goyenche Hospital and met the director of neonatology. All was greatly appreciated, but even the donation process involves a fair amount of formality and red tape. Things continue to progress with the development of a relationship between Affinity, my health group in Wisconsin, and Father Alex’s clinic and I’ll meet with him soon to discuss exactly what they’re hoping for in it. Tomorrow, I meet a friend’s mom to go way up high above the city to see some kids in a tiny church in the slums where she helps out. This is the month of El Senior de Los Milagros (God of Miracles) in Peru, and it begins with an all day procession from one of the old downtown churches, with thousands of people marching, and lasts until almost midnight. Actually there are also many neighborhood processions over the next week or so, and all of the church icons get out for a little sun and air. It does them good. A friend and I will get our candles and join in Saturday evening.

Early this week, I drove the MMI van full of volunteers to Chivay, 4 hours away in the Colca Valley. The valley is a maze of steeply terraced little fields at over 12,000 feet, really beautiful, and a place where many women continue to wear traditional dress daily. This was the beginning of a project that might be termed MMI Extreme, in that the next day we drove to their drop off point from which they’ll hike about every other day, along with their trusty burros, and also do medical work in remote pueblos along the way.

From Chivay we drove 3 hours to Caylloma over rough dirt-rock roads, then another 2 hours as the road narrowed and the rocks got bigger. At that point we turned down into an almost dry river bed, about 300 to 500 meters across and the road, such as it was, had definitely ended leaving just some tracks. The rocks varied from pebbles to washing machine size and we forded several small rivulets, one at least 20 meters across. This was a place for a 4 wheel drive vehicle, not my little heavily loaded, low clearance van. Finally, we made it out of the river bed and onto the scrub but still had several small streams to cross. The car with us got stuck in a stream as the sun set, but the van performed admirably.

That night, we slept, or kind of slept, at 14,200 feet on the wood floor of a one room school surrounded by 5 or 6 adobe houses. No water, no heat, no electricity, no toilets, but the full moon was incredible. With some trepidation, I left the next morning at 7 AM with three Peruvians to guide me through the river bed. We promptly got the van stuck in the first stream and after 45 minutes of rock placement, pushing, and wheel spinning, we moved on through, only to get stuck again in the larger stream. Water to the axels, right tires well sunk in, we were unsuccessful in getting through and walked back to the group for reinforcements. Lots of rocks were removed and repositioned, and we diverted the stream to lower the water level around the vehicle, all to no avail. I had visions of abandoning the van in the middle of nowhere, to be used as a rusting llama feeding station, and being drummed out of MMI forever. Our saviors were three Peruvian farmer/herdsmen who used the jack, wedged at an angle on a flat rock, to push against each wheel rim to raise each tire to allow them to progressively slip other flat rocks under each one. Like farmers everywhere, they use what they have and figure it out to get the job done. After almost 4 hours of wheel spinning, flat rock gathering, mud splattering, and pushing, success was ours, or perhaps theirs.

We finally left the river bed at about noon and the Peruvians walked back to the village as I started out on the “road.” Perhaps it was just the lack of oxygen, but driving alone through the Andes at 16,000 feet, looking up at the real mountains, was quite amazing. It was definitely the highest that I’ve been without benefit of aeronautical engineering. Llama and alpaca were grazing here and there and I even saw a few vicuna. I was quite happy to make it back to Caylloma having made only one wrong turn. Between Caylloma and Chivay, I was flagged down in a small pueblo by a woman who asked for a ride. Maria, Rosa, her three year old daughter, and I wedged into the front seat and rode a couple hours into Chivay together. They taught me a little Quechua and learned a few words in English. The 3 hour trip from there to Arequipa on real highway was a piece of cake, “pan comido,” and the moon came out again just as I got to the high plateau along the way. I’ll pick up the group of volunteers next Thursday at the other end of the valley.
I’ll be happily home the first weekend in November, just in time to vote.
Bob