The first phase of the project has finally come to an end. We have officially conducted sixty parent questionnaires in sixty homes to assess the general development of sixty babies. As we take our first peeks at the data we’ve collected and as we clarify and refine the approach for the second stage of the project (much to the surprise, confusion, and sometimes frustration of Maria and I), I have had more than a couple moments of the “What am I doing here?” sentiment.
There is first the “What am I doing here? I’m not right for this job. You have the wrong impression of me. Everyone has been introducing me as a ‘specialist,’ but that doesn’t mean my textbook knowledge is more valuable than your empirical experience. How can I give you advice on parenting? I’m not even a mother yet. I don’t think that I know enough to teach you anything new or to answer all of your questions properly. In fact, maybe I don’t know what I’m doing at all.”
Then there’s the “What am I doing here? I’m now realizing how massive this project is. How can we interpret the data properly? There is so much more that I need to know. Why do the mothers here behave the way they do? How much of this is attributable to culture? How much of the culture do I have yet to understand? How can I possibly contribute to this project if I don’t understand the people I’m studying? I should have locked myself in my room, reading about Peru, when I had the chance to in Nova Scotia. I should have at least travelled to Latin America before. I should have...”
Of the six different areas of development we evaluated, the most staggering outcome of the infant assessments was a clear deficit in infants’ social-emotional development. This area of development refers to their ability to manage or regulate their emotional and social behaviour in a way that society considers appropriate and acceptable. And this is where it gets tricky – what is “appropriate” and “acceptable” in this context and who decides?
Some examples of questions I had a difficult time consolidating:
1. One of the questions on the social-emotional questionnaire asks something along the lines of: “Can your baby calm him/herself within a certain period of time if you leave his/her side?” We found that a decent chunk of mothers responded no to this question, but we also noticed that many mothers didn’t seem to be worried that their baby could not “regulate his/her emotions” as we would say in child-development-speak. “No, of course my baby can’t be without me,” was a classic answer. At the same time, over 90% of the mothers were housewives (amas de casa) who spend almost 100% of their time with their babies. Is it so surprising that their babies are not accustomed to being alone?
2. Another question asks if the baby ever puts a banana to his ear, pretending it’s a telephone, or puts some other object on top of his head, pretending it’s a hat. I clearly remember one mother’s answer - in a tone suggesting that she was a little offended - which, to me, explains a common attitude towards pretending/imagination here, “If my baby knows it’s a banana, why would he use it as a telephone?” This strikes my “chicken and egg” curiosity – is this attitude a result of the living situation or does the lack of pretend play (which links to creativity) speak to the way people live here?
3. During some of the interviews, Maria and I would sometimes notice violence being encouraged. “Go hit the pig to scare it out of the house.” “Throw something at the dog so it’ll stop eating out of the garden.” This had implications for one of the social-emotional questions that asks if the infant or child is ever violent towards other children or animals. But being commanded to be violent towards animals in this way doesn’t necessarily imply an inherent violent nature, neither at this age nor in the future.
The question, then, is whether we can make solid conclusions about the infants’ social-emotional development if it may be considered acceptable and appropriate, at least in some of the towns we visited, for babies to be unable to regulate their emotions without their mothers, for babies to not engage in pretend play, and for babies to show occasional violence towards animals.
Part of me feels a little disillusioned – I knew I couldn’t come here and be a hero, but I’m now recognizing a small part of me that wanted to save the world. There is the temptation to say, “This is how it works where I come from. You’re doing it all wrong. You should do it this way,” and to be harshly honest, I have met my share of development specialists who harbour this attitude. For this reason alone, I’ve found that it’s so important for me to say “I don’t know” and to not be afraid of admitting it. I’m not sure what’s best for you. How can I tell you that the North American theories of parenting are best, let alone that they apply in this context? I can’t make the conclusion that you don’t love your child because you don’t spend a lot of time with him/her – your priorities are drastically different and I respect that needing to survive can be more important than finding time to play with your child.
So, I have come full circle back to the approach I knew I should have had from the beginning – ultimately, this is about sharing. It’s about taking advantage of what little time we do have here to exchange preoccupations, thoughts, and ideas. I learn from you as much as you learn from me. I dispel some of your unawareness of the importance of play, for example. and you teach me the importance of simplicity and working hard. Your knowledge is just as valuable as mine if not more valuable. I am honoured to absorb your wisdom.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Phase 1 Complete
This week, Maria and I are wrapping up phase one of our infant stimulation project in Peru – the individual home visits and infant assessments. We’ve visited five different towns in and around Huancayo, each with a very different feel and personality. Some random thoughts and experiences to summarize it all...
1. We gave a workshop in Paucar (one of the more rural towns) teaching moms how important it was to sing songs to and with their babies. I gave my first introductory lesson on the importance of singing to your children (speaking completely in Spanish - okay, it only lasted 2 minutes), then sang song after song, hitting the dry grass like martillos (hammers), pretending to be gusalinos (little worms), and acting out Dinky Dinky spider (no joke, that’s his name here!) Even with my sore throat, I belted out tune after screechy tune, not fully believing that there I was, leading this group of moms and their babies, singing in Spanish.
2. It was an adventure in every town, locating the mothers as most of the houses are S/N (sin numero = without number). Sara and I had a particularly interesting morning walking back and forth across chacras (farms) because different people we ran into told us that the other street was Avenida Andre Avelino Caceres. As there usually aren’t any street signs in more rural areas of town, street names are often painted on the sides of houses – and even then, we never found the street we were looking for. So we piled into the colectivo (like a taxi, but they let anyone on), thankful that we weren’t one of the five packed into the trunk, and headed on to the next home.
3. The moms in Chupaca had a bit more money and almost every family, good hosts as they were, either fed us or at least served us coke. I have never had so much gaseosa (pop) in my life and I don’t even particularly like soda. On top of all this, I already have a bladder problem and try to make sure not to drink too much when we’re going out to the towns all day. Little good that did.
4. Animals are a general theme of the houses we visited. There always seem to be dogs, hens, pigs, and cows running around, participating in the assessment sessions. Often, one can find guinea pig pens with guinea pigs of all kinds of colours, shapes, and sizes. And can someone tell me if the gallinas (hens) lay eggs wherever they want to since they’re running around all the time? =)
5. The oldest babies we see are 30 months old (2 years, 6 months), and moms are still breastfeeding at this age.
6. I was surprised to see some babies with natural stark blonde hair – super adorable. Sara later mentioned that the hair colour could possibly be from malnutrition. Didn’t even think of that.
7. In Molinos, the furthest town, almost two hours away from Huancayo, we got caught in a mini storm. We could hear the thunder as if it boomed right beside our ears. The rain came suddenly and in spurts, sometimes sprinkling then other times intense with huge droplets almost like hail. Sara and I conducted an interview standing under a tiny awning with the mother, trying not to get our papers soaked. With another family, we huddled with them under a tarp in the middle of their farm, sitting on wood chips, getting bitten by fleas and tiny spiders, watching the father carve Jesus’ face out of sections of tree trunk.
8. For those of you that are wondering, I am almost always wearing a toque now to hide my silly haircut. =) It works out well for the weather – protects my face from the UV rays, but doubles as a head warmer when it randomly gets cold out. And no, I’m not the only one here who wears a toque under the blazing hot sun!
1. We gave a workshop in Paucar (one of the more rural towns) teaching moms how important it was to sing songs to and with their babies. I gave my first introductory lesson on the importance of singing to your children (speaking completely in Spanish - okay, it only lasted 2 minutes), then sang song after song, hitting the dry grass like martillos (hammers), pretending to be gusalinos (little worms), and acting out Dinky Dinky spider (no joke, that’s his name here!) Even with my sore throat, I belted out tune after screechy tune, not fully believing that there I was, leading this group of moms and their babies, singing in Spanish.
2. It was an adventure in every town, locating the mothers as most of the houses are S/N (sin numero = without number). Sara and I had a particularly interesting morning walking back and forth across chacras (farms) because different people we ran into told us that the other street was Avenida Andre Avelino Caceres. As there usually aren’t any street signs in more rural areas of town, street names are often painted on the sides of houses – and even then, we never found the street we were looking for. So we piled into the colectivo (like a taxi, but they let anyone on), thankful that we weren’t one of the five packed into the trunk, and headed on to the next home.
3. The moms in Chupaca had a bit more money and almost every family, good hosts as they were, either fed us or at least served us coke. I have never had so much gaseosa (pop) in my life and I don’t even particularly like soda. On top of all this, I already have a bladder problem and try to make sure not to drink too much when we’re going out to the towns all day. Little good that did.
4. Animals are a general theme of the houses we visited. There always seem to be dogs, hens, pigs, and cows running around, participating in the assessment sessions. Often, one can find guinea pig pens with guinea pigs of all kinds of colours, shapes, and sizes. And can someone tell me if the gallinas (hens) lay eggs wherever they want to since they’re running around all the time? =)
5. The oldest babies we see are 30 months old (2 years, 6 months), and moms are still breastfeeding at this age.
6. I was surprised to see some babies with natural stark blonde hair – super adorable. Sara later mentioned that the hair colour could possibly be from malnutrition. Didn’t even think of that.
7. In Molinos, the furthest town, almost two hours away from Huancayo, we got caught in a mini storm. We could hear the thunder as if it boomed right beside our ears. The rain came suddenly and in spurts, sometimes sprinkling then other times intense with huge droplets almost like hail. Sara and I conducted an interview standing under a tiny awning with the mother, trying not to get our papers soaked. With another family, we huddled with them under a tarp in the middle of their farm, sitting on wood chips, getting bitten by fleas and tiny spiders, watching the father carve Jesus’ face out of sections of tree trunk.
8. For those of you that are wondering, I am almost always wearing a toque now to hide my silly haircut. =) It works out well for the weather – protects my face from the UV rays, but doubles as a head warmer when it randomly gets cold out. And no, I’m not the only one here who wears a toque under the blazing hot sun!
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Grandmommy & Baby
There is a difference between hearing crazy stories about rural Peruvians – choosing your life partner based on a stone throw to their forehead, leaving babies in mud pens to be accidentally eaten by wild dogs – and hearing less-than-crazy but much more real stories from rural Peruvians themselves. Today was day three of infant assessments – we’re spending the next week and a half visiting individual families in their homes in five different locations in and around Huancayo.
I was surprised to meet a mother hitting almost 50 years in age with an 8-month old baby. As we worked through the questionnaire, her love for her infant was evident. It was hard not to fall in love with the beautiful baby girl, her curious eyes and full head of curls peeking out of the manta (the cloth Peruvians use to carry their babies on their back). She was attentive to her baby, was thoroughly knowledgeable of her baby’s capabilities but also subtle deficits, and was eager to honestly disclose what she knew about her baby so that we could also best share our knowledge on how she could promote the infant's physical, mental, and socio-emotional health.
As the assessment came to a close, she expressed concern for her baby’s delay in gross motor development – the baby wasn’t able to hold herself up in a sitting position and her legs were too weak to support herself standing even when holding on to a railing or someone else’s hands. From there, her story unfolded. She is actually the grandmother and not the mother of baby, she confessed. She has three children - the youngest daughter was spoiled and wild, accidentally becoming pregnant, then tried to abort the baby on multiple occasions during the pregnancy, taking special herbs from the rainforest. The baby was born anyway, but who knows how these abortion attempts may have affected her prenatal development. The grandmother was unhappy with her daughter’s decisions, but didn’t intervene until her daughter accidentally dropped the baby from her manta one day – the baby fell to the ground and rolled a certain distance away, traumatized.
It was the last straw. The grandmother took the baby and the baby's older sister into her own care, forcing her daughter to work. The daughter now sends money home monthly and when she visits, the baby cries as if her own real mother is a stranger. And such is the life of many of these families it seems.
I was surprised to meet a mother hitting almost 50 years in age with an 8-month old baby. As we worked through the questionnaire, her love for her infant was evident. It was hard not to fall in love with the beautiful baby girl, her curious eyes and full head of curls peeking out of the manta (the cloth Peruvians use to carry their babies on their back). She was attentive to her baby, was thoroughly knowledgeable of her baby’s capabilities but also subtle deficits, and was eager to honestly disclose what she knew about her baby so that we could also best share our knowledge on how she could promote the infant's physical, mental, and socio-emotional health.
As the assessment came to a close, she expressed concern for her baby’s delay in gross motor development – the baby wasn’t able to hold herself up in a sitting position and her legs were too weak to support herself standing even when holding on to a railing or someone else’s hands. From there, her story unfolded. She is actually the grandmother and not the mother of baby, she confessed. She has three children - the youngest daughter was spoiled and wild, accidentally becoming pregnant, then tried to abort the baby on multiple occasions during the pregnancy, taking special herbs from the rainforest. The baby was born anyway, but who knows how these abortion attempts may have affected her prenatal development. The grandmother was unhappy with her daughter’s decisions, but didn’t intervene until her daughter accidentally dropped the baby from her manta one day – the baby fell to the ground and rolled a certain distance away, traumatized.
It was the last straw. The grandmother took the baby and the baby's older sister into her own care, forcing her daughter to work. The daughter now sends money home monthly and when she visits, the baby cries as if her own real mother is a stranger. And such is the life of many of these families it seems.
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