Within my first couple days of volunteering at Puesto de Salud [Place of Health], I was taking vitals (blood pressure, weight, height, etc.) and even received permission to administer a few medications. I highly doubt that if I was not able to speak and understand as much Spanish as I do now, the staff would have allowed me to assume as many responsibilities.
When I first arrived it was kind of awkward because I wasn't sure what to do, where to go, or what they wanted or expected of me. But I was told that that's normal. Volunteers should expect a lack of structure because we are thrown into a busy, Spanish speaking environment that isn’t highly funded, so we have to be patient, positive, and cheerful. I ask a couple of the nurses a lot of questions, because I want to understand more about Guatemala's health system and medical conventions, and I would like to deepen my involvement as much as I can.
I try my best to be meticulous and careful in everything I've been asked to do, whether it’s reading as accurately as possible the height of the patients when they stand against the wall or on the office scale, or washing my hands every single time I’m asked to administer some medication in the mouths of the children (latex gloves are not available). But I hadn’t realized that on my first day I’d been measuring the height of the babies incorrectly. Once they were laid down on a measuring table, I instructed the mothers to have their heads placed in the opposite direction of which they should have been. Once one of the nurses saw this, he told me sternly, “Noo, es al revés!” (It’s the other way!) I. was. so. embarrassed. I’d measured the past 10 or so babies the wrong way. I was afraid the nurse was going to kick me out or something because I reported information that was off! (even though it wasn't by much --maybe about 2 cm--but it was still off!) I was about to suggest that we find the other babies in the waiting room for whom I reported incorrect information, but the nurse simply continued with the check up. No one said anything to me after that. No one scolded me. The mother simply turned her baby around the correct way and didn’t seem to mind at all that there was an incompetent American volunteering in the clinic.
In fact, the people respect my presence. On my second day, an elderly Mayan woman, after I’d taken her vitals, took my hand and asked me, “Y por qué está usted aquí?” (And why are you here?) I placed my other hand on her shoulder and said, “Soy voluntaría por unas semanas.” (I’m volunteering for a few weeks). She smiled at me and responded, “Me alegro mucho que esté aquí.” (I’m very happy that you’re here). I can’t explain how amazing it felt to hear such words of appreciation by this woman. My contributions to the community are minor; I’m not doing anything significant. I’m not healing wounds, curing sicknesses, or saving lives. But my just being there is meaningful to some of the people, and I am so happy that my mere presence makes such a difference.
Arriving at the clinic
I usually get to the clinic a little bit before the gates open at 8AM, and I wait alongside the long line of people who arrive early to get a number and wait to pass through triage (pre-consultation/vitals). When I walk to the clinic up a mini hill that leads from the main road where the chicken bus drops me off, I come face to face with a long line of Guatemalans, most of whom just stare at me. It’s kind of an intimidating site, having so many pairs of eyes watching you for a few moments. But I just smile at all of them. They must think of me as a weird foreigner.
Smile
Whenever I see an unfamiliar face, I smile, and often times, it’s returned. It’s inevitable that here in Antigua I get a lot of stares and interested glances because I’m an “extranjera” (foreigner). If you’re not used to seeing, for example, a random black girl roam your town's streets, you’ll start to stare, and you’ll wonder where she’s from and why she’s here. (Perhaps that’s not commonly the thought process now, because there are tons of foreigners roaming the streets of Antigua every day, so I’m sure Guatemalans have grown used to seeing so many of them.) But people still stare, some harder than others. And all I do is smile :) I smile at children who look up at me with curious eyes, at young adults my age, older men and women, and families.
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