The project:
Although folded beneath a classification of "data analysis," my project here has henceforth provided enough variety to keep me constantly scribbling notes and doing the "yo no comprendo" head-tilt that usually belongs to my dog. You know the one. Much of said head-tilting is due to re-learning the language, but I'll get to that in a bit. In a nutshell, I am working with a major study on the use of rapid testing for syphilis among pregnant women in Peru. Obviously based in Lima, the researchers here (16 women, 3 men) have enrolled 19 health workers (9 midwives, 7 nurses, and 3 laboratory technicians) at la Maternidad to do the rapid testing in an urban setting. When I say "urban," think Harlem-urban. When pregnant women come to the hospital for prenatal care visits, deliveries, emergencies (i.e. botched illegal abortions), or hospitalizations, they receive the rapid test for syphilis. Likewise, when women come for prenatal care or delivery to one of the 16 participating health centers in Ventanilla, they receive the test. When I say "Ventanilla," think mazes of shack-like houses made from aluminum, palm fronds, cardboard, and the occasional piece of wood... swirled around dune-like hills as far as the eye can see. Got it? If not, here are a few pictures...
So far, I've visited la Maternidad twice- even learning how to take a sample and conduct the rapid test- and Ventanilla once, helping to collect blood samples stored at the various health centers. I've also observed the biologists conducting the "gold standard" (comparison) tests in the laboratory at the university. I've also played with datasets quite a bit. So, pretty much, first two weeks: getting an idea of the big picture.
(L) Prenatal midwives at la Maternidad; (R) INMP (la Maternidad)
The language:
Re-learning Spanish after 5 years of not conversing regularly is a challenge, to say the least, but I can feel myself understanding (and even speaking, on occasion) better poco a poco. For those of you who didn't grow up with the basics of Spanish in junior high, that means "little by little." I carry around a handy-yet-dorky small notebook on which to write Spanish words that I see/hear and don't remember... or recently, English words that I have trouble saying in conversation... or even more recently, English words that stop my thought process because I can't translate them into Spanish. After two weeks here, I already find myself thinking in the language. Sounds great, right? It's actually quite frustrating with the diction-equivalent of a 3rd grader. Nevertheless, I press on. Poco a poco.
I'm also reading Harry Potter y el calíz del fuego... yes, obsession traverses languages.
The off-time:
I don't have much here, to be honest, but as mentioned before, I've met an amazing group of people who've let me into their network of fellow-foreigners for the time being. So far, I've re-learned a bit of salsa dancing, seen top-notch salsa performers in a benefit raising money for travel costs to the world championships in NY, celebrated an early 22-person Thanksgiving dinner (one contributor even made cranberry sauce by rehydrating and pureeing dried Craisins), tried every type of ceviche dish, and poked around one of the Inca markets in the city.
(L) Salsa dancing; (R) New friends at Thanksgiving
Oh yes, and I endured my first bout of traveler's sickness... á la Montezuma's revenge, except without the Aztec namesake. This certainly wasn't the first time I've endured the revenge, but this time my foremost thought was... "Am I really enduring anything? How fortunate am I to have a bed to rest in, a flush toilet to utilize, and the ability to access safe water?" I miss a day of work, drink un montón de fluids, pop a few pills, and catch up on missed sleep... great, it's a vacation. So many people around the world who contract diarrheal diseases- about 4 million per year, to be precise- do not have these simple provisions. For 2.2 million of them, lack of access to sanitary conditions transforms a simple stomach bug into a rapid death sentence each year. Most victims are children. All infections are treatable or preventable with existing low-cost interventions, but communities like Ventanilla are simply unlikely to see widespread intervention. But there's nothing simple about it. It's a tragedy.
Leaving you with that uplifting thought, I promise that I'll try to write again soon. Tomorrow and Friday my work group is hosting an international workshop on rapid testing, hosting representatives from the ministries of health of 18 countries and the World Health Organization. Should be good!
Chau chau,
Kristen
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