Thursday, March 8, 2007

health promoter voyage

Like the six fingered man from Princes Bride so wisely said, “if you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything”. ………..health…… here in the community it seems that sickness is a much more accepted part of life than in Canada; fever, malaria, diarrhea, headaches, machete cuts, body aches, strange little bites from microscopic insects… they seem to come into people’s lives and people accept it without blaming the world. Since the nuns (who were accompanying La Union) left a more than a year ago, we have become the place to be visited when folks are hurting for some sort of pain killer or a band aid.

Because of where we live, it’s a 1.5 hour walk down the mountain and then a 30 min jeep ride to get to town to seek medical attention and costs 3.50$ round trip . Even before the ‘ruptura’ (the breach of speaking or having anything to do with the state since the Feb 05 massacre leading to the imposing of the police post in San Jose. Also for the complete impunity of all the crimes committed against the community, they’ve decided not to have any ties with the state until the state begins persecuting those responsible for abusing and killing the community…this they call ruptura), folks from La Union had to walk the 1.5 hours down to San Jose where there is a small clinic limited in services it could provide. For those folks that are too ill to walk down, ride down on a horse and if they have no strength to be able to stay on a horse, they are carried down by a group of men in a hammock. Most folks go down to Apartado if they are way too sick to work and need to see someone.

However, there is a doctor known as Dr. Alan Wands, an American who has been working in the Choco (department next to Antioquilla where we live) teaching the people from their own communities how to be health promoters. This is a much more sustainable method than the ‘Doctors Without Borders’ (DWB) method; entering into an area with all the doctors and free medicine for 3 years. When they do this, all the local doctors are no longer visited, so end up leaving or stop practicing and the small local pharmacies go out of business as everyone is receiving the free drugs from the DWB. When the doctors end up pulling out after their 3 years, the community is left high and dry with less structure than they had before to be able to now deal with those that get sick. However, the DWB presence is amazing for disaster zones and relief work but for any sustainable model they are detrimental.

So Dr. Wands has been encouraging the community for some time to send some of their members to a training lasting 3 years, of about a week every month or two where they learn the skills and are given minimal drugs to sell at cost to their community. This is an amazing program that is built on the model of lasting….its really very exciting and we (those of us with FOR) were incredibly thrilled that this year the Peace Community would be sending two womyn to participate in the training, one from La Union and one from La Holandita….and we would have the opportunity to accompany them to their training.

Janice (my teammate) and I departed from La Union to La Holandita where we met up with the two health-to-be-promoters. It was a bit of a tardy departure just as the sun was setting. We sat on the top of the chiva (jeep) trying to dodge the bugs that smacked into our face as we sped along the dirt road to Apartadó. We then headed in a small minibus to Turbo, the port town right on the gulf of Uraba where the following morning we would take the boat up the windy Atrato River to Rio Sucio where they would be having their training.
We stayed in a hotel, for one of them it was the first time staying in a hotel.

We awoke at 0630 to have enough time to get to the wafle (where all the boats leave from) and join the crowd that had gathered around the little window where we needed to make our reservations and pay for our ride. Despite the time, the sun had already made a noticeable presence and I was happy to find some shade. As I waited, I peered out onto the ports watery surface, littered with floating garbage mostly plastic types atop of the black coloured water. The stench was potent of all sorts of sewage water that had made its way to the port. I looked out at the little stands selling fish and was relieved that I am a vegan.

Only 1.5 hours after we thought the boat was to leave, we got our bags searched by a burly policeman before stuffing them into big plastic bags to protect them from the spray. We squished into the narrow panga (little boat) and strapped on our orange and blue lifejackets. We were off, leaving a cloud of blue exhaust behind us as we exited the port. About 5 minutes out we arrived at the police check point where our driver handed over a paper listing all our names and ID numbers. We were quickly waved through and crossed the surprisingly calm gulf to the mouth of the Atrato. We passed the little colourful houses of the Afro Colombian population that made their living off of fishing from the waters. Much to our surprise, 20 minutes into our ride the panga slowed again and docked at a little riverside restaurant. Everyone jumped out. We were told it was a fish breakfast stop…we couldn´t help but chuckle and patiently wait.

When everyone had their fill of fish, we continued our journey up the river. The vegetation hugged the banks, the wind tugged at our hair and the sun beating overhead made me regret forgetting a hat. We were now in el Choco, the municipalities with the largest Afro Colombian population, has the biggest enter and exit of arms and drugs from Colombia and is exceptionally challenging to travel in (most travel is done by river). The man sitting behind me told me about the film he was to make about the Indigenous community that cuts down wood and then floats down the tributary rivers on the logs with their families to the place they would be sold. He also pointed out the tree that is harvested in order to print money.

I drifted in and out of sleep wishing I had a hat feeling the sun crisping my face…my nose turn a deeper shade of red despite applying a thick coat of SPF 50. We followed the river curling along the Choco floor where the river had chosen its current yet ever-changing path. After 2.5 hours, we arrived to Rio Sucio.

Rio Sucio, the community of 19,000 Afro Colombians that have all been displaced from elsewhere and now found themselves in Rio Sucio. We pilled out of the panga onto the collection of boards acting as the dock and were welcomed by a smiling Dr. Wands. I noticed the latrines that were floating on the shore…emptying right into the water. Next to these womyn were busy washing their dishes and next to them little people jumping into the water….. hmmmm.

He led us along the sand road lined with houses perched up on stilts. He told us that usually every year the river would swell and usually always enter the houses of Rio Sucio even if they were raised off the ground. At which point folks would build provisional shelves in their houses up above the water, planks leading from room to room and live their lives above their new uninvited guest. The roads transformed into single planks leading to another plank from house to house, the entire city temporarily (sometimes up to 3 months) transformed into a mini variation of Venice. Wands said that meeting someone along the plank was always a bit tricky and not uncommon that folks would fall in. There were deaths every year due to drowning, yet folks seemed to adapt rather nonchalantly to the watery invader.

We arrived to where the health promoter classes would be held, it was a fairly new building still with the smell of paint clinging to the walls. There were shelves filled with colourful anatomy books, charts and plastic models of various body parts. We were the first to arrive of the 18 others coming from a variety of different communities. We left the two womyn there, wished them well for their week of training and headed off with Wands through the town dodging motocycles that would zip by. Dr. Wands informed us that there were no vehicles in the town but folks sure did like their motorcycles. We then thanked Dr. Wands, hopped into a chiva (jeep) and began our 6 hour bumpy dusty ride back to Turbo…..content that the community health promoters were on their way to be trained and soon would be providing healthcare to their friends and family.

1 comment:

Marsha said...

Excellent entry Mireille. With regards to your hatless head, you're definitely not your mother's daughter! Hats are her trademark! We were just talking about sun stroke/heat stroke when last I saw her. Take care in that sun. It gave me a headache just reading about the sun beating down on your hatless head! Luv, Marsha