I'll be honest, the last month has been a roller coaster.
Almost nine months ago, I packed my bags for Panama, my head full of grandiose visions of parachuting in and saving the world. Of course my village would welcome me with open arms. Finally, a compassionate engineer amongst us. What a great resource. He will help guide us through the change we've anticipated all these years. He'll teach us about the simple things that we can do to improve our health. He will help provide us with the clean drinking water we've needed for so long.
Cut to present. The ever present rain pounds on the forest canopy. If it rains any harder, we'll have to stop working on the aqueduct. Finally, Jon and I throw in the towel. We walk back to my community and take the opportunity to have one of our many chats.
How do you help someone that isn't grateful for your help and doesn't necessarily want your help in the first place? And part of that is culture. There's no word for "thank you" in Ngabere. The government has been handing things out for the past thirty years. If you sit back and wait long enough, you'll get another handout. Throw in the fact that I'm white and you get an expectation. This person was sent to bring us things. He has plenty of money and will shower us with gifts. I don't need to work for anything because I'm poor and entitled to my fair share.
What do you say to that? I came here to "help". You've completely deflated my idealistic notions of "saving" the less fortunate. I came here to improve health within the indigenous communities. You're basically healthy. I'm the one getting slammed by amoebas. I want to help you get organized so that you can help yourselves when I leave. Organizational skills and education is not some big infrastructure handout. Why are you here again?
Sigh.
Babies are still dying from water-borne diseases. They're developmentally delayed. Life is hard for these people. Most are illiterate. Try asking for help from your government when you're an illiterate, uneducated indigeno. There is a definite need here. We can do good work.
I'm a middle-class American male. I'm richer than most of the world. I received a world-class education. And all the opportunities that I've had in my life basically mean that I can hike into the middle of the jungle and know exactly how to help improve the lives of these people. But they don't know what they don't know. How do you value an engineer when you don't even know what that is? How do you become an agent of change when they don't know what the better alternative looks like? You can explain that diarrhea is not normal. You can explain that it's not normal to not name your child until after a few years in based on infant mortality rates. But that's all they know.
It's like me explaining to you all the wondrous things on Mars. I've been to Mars. It's a wonderful place with flush toilets and hot water. We wash our hands on Mars to reduce disease transmission because that's what you do on Mars. We wash our plates with soap. That's what we do on Mars to improve our health. We take our children to the hospital when they're sick because doctors on Mars can help. We eat a varied diet because there's vitamins on Mars. These vitamins make our immune system stronger. The aliens on Mars eat these invisible things to improve this other invisible thing to prevent this other invisible thing from making you sick. Eyes glaze over. Say what?!
Needless to say, there´s been a certain amount of disillusionment. I wrote down my goals for service when I arrived. I've since scaled back a touch. But in all the frustrating moments, the language issues, the cultural road blocks, the education disconnect, has emerged an inner resolve. I´ve learned to concentrate on the little wins. It's poco a poco out here.
