Photo by Caitlyn
I open my mouth, yawn, and wiggle my jaw. Not yet. Again, I yawn, wiggle my jaw, and swallow—anything to rid myself of the strange discomfort in my ears. There it is—my ears pop.
Looking outside the window I see the culprit. Surrounding the van are enormous, black, rounded mountains with deep valleys in between. The sudden changes in altitude do a number on my ears, and the winding mountain roads knock my drowsy head against the window upon every turn. Sleep would be nice, but for now it is a distant dream. Instead, I am left to write in my journal.
The car jolts into the left lane and passes the car in front of us, missing the oncoming headlights by what seems to be no more than a couple of feet. Beside me, Caitlyn is awoken by the sudden action, groggily looks around, and settles herself back into (what I guess you could call) sleeping position. The driver, don Javier, is accustomed to this driving etiquette and continues down the road, unfazed by the close call.
The intermittent headlights to the left are a splash of light in these black surroundings. The land is sparsely populated—I could count the number of lights I see on my hands. In a rare moment for me, I can see more light in the sky than I do on the ground. It is as though the sky and earth of home have switched places.
It is 12:30 a.m. and roughly 3 hours remain of our return from our second cross-country trip of the week. Today’s destination was Tlamacazapa, an indigenous community of about 6,000 inhabitants perched on a lush hillside in Guerrero, Mexico. We traveled to see Nohami, a graduate of CASA’s midwifery school who had returned to her hometown in order to help the local women. Nohami practices out of what seemed to be a central gathering point for the community. The inside was painted a cheerful teal, and separated into four parts: a waiting room, a kitchen, a sewing room and Nohami’s clinic. In the sewing room, local women learn how to make quilts to sell, and the waiting room also serves as a classroom from Wednesday to Friday.
While waiting outside the clinic for a meeting with Nohami, Caitlyn and I met Robbie, a recent graduate of the University of Texas who had been volunteering in Tlamacazapa for almost 9 months and was happy to take us on a tour of the town. Not far from the clinic, the three of us passed a great, white, stone hole in the ground; about 15 feet across, the hole looked somewhat like a deep, empty swimming pool where you couldn’t see the bottom. This hole, Robbie pointed out, was a community well. The rainy season had just started so the well was still empty, but it would be full in a couple of weeks.
However, this well and the other ones like it are sources of many health issues in the community. The lack of a stable sewage system combined with the lead paint used to decorate palm baskets—the main source of income in the community—leads to the contamination of these wells with human waste when rain washes it through the streets and lead when basket-makers wash their hands in the wells. While the wealthier inhabitants can afford bottled water, the poorer community population is forced to use this contaminated well water. The daily ingestion of human waste and lead, combined with arsenic that leaches from the rock, has caused major health issues including high numbers of premature births, deformation and infant mortality.
The health issues plaguing Tlamacazapa make Nohami’s job as a midwife even more important. She explained that she is one of few health-care providers in the community as few to no doctors are willing to spend their time working in an area with such difficult conditions. Without more medical attention from compassionate people like Nohami, the people of Tlamacazapa would likely continue a cycle of illness and hardship.
Even with the difficulties Nohami faces in her work, she maintains a positive attitude; her interview was one of the most inspiring of my entire trip. She conveyed the belief that women are entitled to a safe and healthy birth, no matter their financial situation. A safe birth, like water, should not be a luxury, but a human right granted upon one’s entrance into this world.
-Briana