"My eyes hurt when I look at the sun."

Wow. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind.  We had the 15ers despedida (going away party) in Mancora, I translated for a group of eye doctors and surgeons that came to Piura, and I welcomed my FAMILY to Peru for an adventure to top all adventures!

I’ll start with the eye campaign. What an incredible experience. A group of about 20 optometrists, ophthalmologists, opticians, nurses, and volunteers traveled to Piura for a week to take part in an eye campaign that Vision Health International does every year.  They have been traveling to Piura for the past 7 years and have always collaborated with Peace Corps Volunteers to do their translating.  This group of individuals was absolutely incredible- talk about selfless people.  They pay money from their own pockets to come down here for a week and give the gift of sight to hundreds of lower-class Peruvian citizens.  I was apprehensive of volunteering my time because I wasn’t sure if my Spanish was at a level to be able to translate for doctors, but I let go of my inhibitions and participated- and I’m sure glad I did.

The set-up was awesome.  Vision Health International put us up in the nicest hotel in Piura (which included AIR CONDITIONING and a buffet breakfast!), paid for our meals, and offered us an unforgettable experience.  That’s not to say that we didn’t work for all that, though.  Our days began with post-operation rounds at the hospital at 8am, so sometimes didn’t end until 9 or 10pm.  The days were long, hard, and exhausting; but it was one of the most rewarding experiences I have ever had.  As Peace Corps Volunteers here in Peru it’s easy to feel like our work here isn’t valued or appreciated.  It’s sometimes hard to justify the hard work when often times the outcome is not what you had been expecting or hoping for.  Much of the work we do here as PCVs doesn’t have an instant gratification; much of the change won’t be visible for years to come.  This makes volunteering incredibly difficult and challenging at times.  Working with VHI and receiving the instant thanks was a welcome change.  People hugged me, cried, thanked me, told me how much their new sight is going to change their lives, and prayed for God to bless me throughout my life.  The gratitude and emotion that we all received from those thankful Peruvians is something that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

Here’s what a typical day at the eye campaign looked like:

7am- breakfast at the hotel

8am- Post-operation rounds at the hospital.  This happened every morning and was by far my favorite part of every day.  The doctors checked up on the patients who had had surgery the day before and made sure everything looked right.  We, as translators, told the patients how to care for their eye and what to do if they had any problems.   It was all pretty routine stuff, but as soon as an 80-year-old man grabs your hand and tells you that he will be able to see his grandchild clearly for the first time, it becomes anything but routine.  Seeing the looks on parents’ faces when they realize that their child will now be able to lead a normal life is something that I will cherish forever.

9am-??- Field team.  I was part of the field team for a few days, and I enjoyed every stressful minute of it.  As soon as post-ops were done, we’d pack up the trucks with all of the equipment and pile ourselves in for an hour or two drive to a PCV’s site in Piura.  At these sites we tested for glasses on anywhere from 80-130 people.  I now know how to work a machine that measures a person’s eyesight for prescription glasses, and I can make a pretty good guess on what kind of glasses they are going to need.  Almost everyone that walked through our process left with a new pair of reading glasses or sunglasses, or the promise of specially made glasses to be shipped when completed.  The field team was consisted of basically the same people every day, so we all got to know each other pretty well and became fast friends.  By the last day we had such a good system going that things were running smoothly and we were churning out prescriptions left and right.  Although we had a good system going, things still got stressful and overwhelming at times.  Most days we worked straight through lunch because we either didn’t have time to stop, or there was no food to be found.  This, obviously, can make for a stressful workplace.  Somehow, though, we all managed to get everything done each day without strangling each other or the Peruvians.  The hardest part was telling people that we couldn’t serve any more people because it was either too late, we had no more glasses, or we were just plain tired.  The longest day was when we left a Volunteer’s site at 730pm and returned to Piura around 930-10pm (we even hit a donkey on the way back)!  Long, grueling days, but so worth it in the end.

9am-3pm- Hospital.  If I wasn’t working in the field I was helping translate for the doctors in the clinic at the hospital.  The doctors would see patients and decide whether they were candidates for surgery, whether they needed glasses, or whether or not there was anything we could do for them.  This job was a little bit more emotionally taxing because I had to be the bearer of bad news if there was nothing that could be done to save someone’s eyesight.  The hardest one was for a 4-year old patient who was almost completely blind in her left eye.  Her parents brought her in hoping that there was something that could reverse or slow down the blindness.  The doctor looked at the eye and came to the conclusion that the girl had had an eye infection in the past that probably went unnoticed and wasn’t properly cared for.  There was nothing the doctor could do to help her- the girl was going to go completely blind before the time she reached 5 years of age.  As I was explaining this to the parents, the mother lost control and started bawling, saying that it was all her fault that her child was blind.  What a hard thing to witness.  With the help of her husband, we convinced her that it was nobody’s fault and that these things just happen sometimes.  I could tell that she was heartbroken, and seeing her that way tore at my heartstrings.  But even after receiving the devastating news, she hugged us and thanked us for coming to her country to help her people and told us how big of a difference we were making in people’s lives.  Watching her pour out gratitude to people who just told her that her child was never going to be able to see was a pretty humbling experience.

I was also able to witness a C-section!!!  Although it was really cool to watch, I can say with 100% certainty that that was something I don’t ever need to see again. 

Here are a few pics:

Claudia, one of my favorites!  She had surgery on both of her eyes and can no see straight.  Her mom asked Cecily and I to cut her hair in the hospital bathroom.  Not weird at all.

Just a quick little trim.

After!

Her mom referred to us as Claudia's "Hair Godmothers."

Dr. Barr during surgery.

Post-op rounds at the hospital.  They are all waiting to get checked by the doctors.

Working out in the field, testing people's vision.

 This kid is about to get glasses!

Some of the doctors/nurses/volunteers from the States.

Surgery.

Capturing a Peruvian woman mid-hug thanking the VHI staff.

Proof that Peace Corps Volunteers can look like normal people.  However, acting like normal people isn't guaranteed.

Me and Kris out to eat our last night.  She kept me sane when I wanted to scream at Peruvians because "their eyes hurt when they look at the sun."

The amount of hugs and kisses and “May God bless you and keep yous” that I received was overwhelming.  I’ve never felt more thankful to be a part of something than I felt that week.  Although I didn’t actually do anything except translate for the doctors, I’m really happy I was able to be a part of it.  This is a rewarding and humbling experience that I will remember and reference for years to come. 

“Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.”
                               --Abraham Lincoln

Travel... I Beg You.

“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.”
                                      -- Maya Angelou

Then and Now

One year.  12 months.  52 weeks.  365 days.  8,760 hours.  525,600 minutes.  31,536,000 seconds. 

That’s how long I’ve been in Peru.  That’s how long it’s been since I’ve been home.  That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen my family and friends (except for Kristen and Edna!).  That’s how long it has been since I have been able to speak English in my house. 

It’s hard to believe that it has already been a year; that I am almost halfway done with my service.  There were times when I never thought I’d make it to a year.  In the beginning a year seemed so far away; then it began to loom in the distance where I could see it.  And then all of the sudden, it hit me.  One year.  I have made it an entire year in another country, living a completely different lifestyle than the one I was used to.  I’ve managed to make friends, meet tons of new people, start some projects, and make a name for myself in my little community.  I still have a ways to go in terms of my service, but I’m proud that I’ve made it a year.

Over the past year a lot of things have changed.  Things within me have changed, and things outside of my control have changed as well.  As a sort of tribute to the last year, I’m going to make a list of some of those changes.

Then: I could barely hold a comprehensive conversation in Spanish.

Now:  I’m teaching classes, communicating with my community counterparts, speaking with my host family, and making friends- all in Spanish.

Then:  I thought to myself, “Why didn’t that Peruvian woman wait until her hair was at least a little dry before she left the house?”

Now:  “Dang, I wish I’d showered right before I left.  That Peruvian woman in front of me looks so fresh and cool.”

Then:  Obama was President of the United States.

Now:  Obama is still President of the United States, though this could change with the upcoming elections.

Then:  I was obsessed with tie-dye.

Now:  I’m still obsessed with tie-dye, and so are the people in my site.

Then:  I was appalled whenever I would see men peeing on the side of the road/ on the sidewalk/ on the tree/ on the building in front of me.

Now:  I’m still appalled, but now I count how many I can see in a day.

Then:  I was terrified of living and working in Peru.

Now:  I love living and working in this country.  (Most of the time).

Then:  I hardly ever brushed my hair.

Now:  I still hardly ever brush my hair, only now it’s okay because I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Then:  I didn’t think I would ever be able to make it to a year.

Now:  I DID make it to a year, and I KNOW I can make it to the next one.

Then:  I missed my family and friends every single day.

Now:  I still miss my family and friends every single day.  But now I have a real host family and friends in site to help me deal with it.

Then:  I wasn’t a huge fan of white rice.

Now:  I find myself craving a big ol’ plate of rice if I haven’t had one in a while.

Then:  I didn’t really enjoy Peruvian music.

Now:  I can’t get enough of it and love belting it out at the top of my lungs.

Then:  I thought that Machu Picchu was all that Peru had to offer.

Now:  I could talk for hours about the different wonders and sites that this beautiful country encompasses. 

Then:  I would sweat nards every time I walked outside my door.

Now:  I still sweat nards every time I walk outside my door.

Then:  I counted down the days until I could leave my site.

Now:  I still get anxious sometimes, but I enjoy being in site and spending time with the people that live here.

Then:  I did not like Peru and could not wait to be back in the United States.

Now:  I love this crazy country and know that I will miss it when I move back home.

Then:  27 months seemed an impossible task.

Now:  I’ve made it a year, and now I only have a little over a year left.

Then:  I didn’t know how to cut my own hair.

Now:  I still don’t know how to cut my own hair, but that hasn’t stopped me yet.  :-/

 Then:  I hated Peruvian television shows.

Now:  I still hate Peruvian television shows- except for Al Fondo Hay Sitio.

Then:  I barely knew any of my fellow Peru 17ers.

Now:  I can’t imagine what life would be like without them.

Like I said, a lot has changed in the past year.  I can’t wait to see what the next year brings.  Here’s to another 365 days, Peru!

“All the really exciting things in life require more courage than we currently have- a deep breath and a leap.  See, the kind of fear you’re talking about… sometimes it’s how you know what’s worthwhile.”
                             -- Jack, Dawson’s Creek