Skills I've Learned

My professor from Canada came to visit for a whirlwind week and packed in...

• A 2-day conference on infant stimulation that we’ve been planning for months
  
• A full day of hardcore bulk shopping in the Sunday fair that spans more than 30 city blocks of the main street through Huancayo (mostly jewellery for her and millions of other trinkets that her son can sell back home),
  
• And the rest of the week was spent doing full days of research with babies and toddlers in San Pedro de Saño (a little town just outside of the big city)
  

Part of her assignment here was to conduct mid-internship Coady interviews individually with Maria and me. The question that had me thinking went something like this: “What skills have you learned from your internship that will benefit you in your future work?” Skills, skills, skills. The first skills that came to mind when I thought of what I’ve learned here in Huancayo had nothing to do with my internship. I thought of how I could now fill the kettle without it spilling in pitch darkness, notice the slight difference in sound when the water had started boiling, and how my internal clock knew when the 10 minutes of boiling time was up (to be sure the water was purified) because I do this every morning to make my coca tea. I thought of how I skilled I was at doing laundry by hand (well, sorta). I thought of how I learned to keep an apartment clean (because Maria made me, just kidding – sorta; she was the positive influence, that’s what I meant). And I’d like to say that I can now cook, but just the other day, I suggested we add mango pieces to our past dish and Maria said that it would never work. =P It is not a skill that will take a much longer time for me to learn, I’m afraid.

In any case, I had to think twice to respond to the actual question. What skills had I learned? Not just any skill, but something that will benefit me in my future field? I’ve learned a heck of a lot about international development – which I didn’t even know existed prior to arriving in Nova Scotia for training – but to be honest, I’m not so sure I’ll be involved in this field in the future. It had to be something more abstract.

Then, it came to me. “Flexibility and patience,” I answered. It is a skill to be able to get along with people from other cultures, whether it’s the Dutch (there is the couple who started the NGO and the other two volunteers from the Netherlands) or the wide variety of Peruvians here (of different ages, ethnic backgrounds, and lifestyles). It’s about learning to accept differences, personal boundaries, and idiosyncrasies, taking everything in with an open attitude instead of succumbing to the natural temptation to judge. For me personally, it was also what I needed in order to learn the language – flexibility in the choice of words (because not every phrase can be translated literally) and patience with myself as I made a million mistakes.

As I thought of that, I realized that another skill I had developed (that I had wanted to develop) was the ability to laugh at myself. Recently, we (the interns in all the different corners of the world) were sent the letters we had written to ourselves at the beginning of everything, in July when we were still in Nova Scotia. I had written, “I hope you learn to laugh at yourself.” I think I had to lose the fear of embarrassing myself especially when you’re learning to speak a foreign language because it’s bound to happen that you’ll be telling someone, “Can I feel myself here?” (sentirme) instead of “Can I sit here?” (sentarme).

It seems to me that a fundamental issue many have once they start working full-time is that they stress out hardcore, they take things personally, they take things too seriously, and they start thinking only about themselves and their dissatisfaction. This is when these skills will come into play in my future work: flexibility (letting things be as they are instead of always fitting things into a certain schedule or plan), patience (with myself as I know that I will inevitably make mistakes and I will be the most conscious of this if I ever find myself in a more senior position, with higher expectations of myself and more susceptible to being intolerant of my blunders), and the ability to laugh at myself (to keep relaxed in this way, living life light-heartedly so that I have a balanced relationship with myself, my co-workers, my family, and my friends).

Conference Brainstorming

Here in Huancayo, the people come together. Every Sunday morning, for example, there is always a huge gathering of the public at the central plaza for the izamiento (the patriotic raising of the flags - the national flag of Peru, the flag of Huancayo, and the flag of the representative institution of the week). Each flag is held in preparation by three different groups of people. It is beautiful to see these groups coming together in their respective uniforms - the national police, municipal government officials, and elementary/secondary school students. The event is always followed by the march of the national police accompanied by the army (who has their own band) and usually another parade by the students.

It was like this – a coming-together – when we hosted a two-day workshop for infant specialists in and around Huancayo. Our goal was to bring together a varied group of “specialists” to brainstorm, share, and discuss ideas for a pilot program we intend to develop and implement with the sixty infants whose development we have already assessed in months earlier. Imagine a university professor, project supervisors of NGOs and regional government programs for children and families, their field workers, nurses, daycare teachers, and mothers (one a librarian and the other a market vendor) putting their heads together to identify key issues and come up with potential solutions.

It was, in fact, one of the primary themes that emerged from the workshop – the call for interdisciplinary teamwork. There was already a lot of good work going on and many pre-existing programs set up by different institutions for different needs, but the lack of unity between these institutions meant that a lot of babies-at-risk were lost in the transitional phases and there was often a complete absence of support for infants during their key years of development (from 0-3 years of age). Better interdisciplinary action also meant that mothers needed to be trusted and encouraged to be more involved. We witnessed an interesting dynamic enfold during the workshop as it became clear that the professor was dominating group discussions and often used academic or theoretical speak whereas we were looking for practicality and utility. The mothers later divulged that they felt out of place and uncomfortable asking questions or sharing their opinion.

We had our workshop moderator take more control over the professor’s comments while publicly encouraging the mothers to speak up. We were missing out on so much – the mothers had so much share. There were grave concerns regarding prenatal care; many mothers were preoccupied that they had irreversibly damaged their children’s development solely because they had fought with their husbands or had been crying too much during the months of pregnancy. The mothers also admitted that they continued with their traditional customs. For example, though medical professionals recommend against the customary practice, farming mothers in the sierra (living in the central Andes mountain range) still typically enfold their newborn babies tightly in layers of cloth so that they are immobile. The babies are enrolled this way daily in a certain position – upright with arms down and fingers splayed – before the mothers head out to the fields so that no damage is done from all the movement incurred while the mothers engage in physical labour, carrying their babies on their backs. This method also protects the infants from the harsh cold of the elevation and it is said that these babies also grow up physically stronger.

As we wrapped up the workshop, the participants came to the joint conclusion that there was a need to go back to the basics, to rediscover the value of the Peruvian and Huancaino culture. Just as we brought together people of various backgrounds, levels of education, and life experience for the purpose of the workshop, so too we realized that we needed to mesh the different types of knowledge uncovered – the known and the foreign, the theories and the practicalities, the science and the beliefs, the modern and the traditional. It seems that growth and positive change occurs when there is dialogue and humility.

Panchos y Anticuchos

I thought it was about time to post another blog re: food in Huancayo. Every week or so, I spend time with Roy's family living the true vida peruana sometimes helping to prepare delish comida, but usually contributing as the official taste-tester. Here, I have had many opportunities to develop my skill of enjoying and appreciating food whether it's desayuno (breakfast), almuerzo (lunch), cena (dinner), or lonche (which sounds a lot like "lunch-y," but is actually a Peruvian term referring to something like an "evening tea + snack.") In the picture, I'm in San Carlos practicing skewering hot dogs (panchos) - it's actually a lot harder than it looks to skewer through the middle of the hot dog - while Roy's mom prepares the bloody cow hearts (anticuchos). Que rico!

Now that Maria's over her month of tummy trouble that hit her hardcore upon arrival in Huancayo, she's feeling good enough to get back into cooking (her usual refried beans - good thing we bought a blender) and experimenting with random tidbits we find in the mercado (market). A few weeks ago, we discovered how to take advantage of the booths in the mercado that are dedicated solely to condiments. These booths have huge bowls of liquids of different colours - creamy looking sauces, salsas, dark green yummy muck, mysterious spices, the works. All we have to do is tell the lady what we're cooking with (e.g. pasta with spinach) and she mixes a whole bunch of the liquids together to make a unique homemade sauce just for us! Amazing eh?

Another discovery - the cheese in Concepción (a town just outside of Huancayo). Whenever we run out, we take the trip out just to buy the fresh cheese from the milk factory there. I always get the queso fresco (literally, "fresh cheese"), then María and I share the stronger queso andino (Andean cheese) or queso hollandese (Dutch cheese).

It's also become a habit that one or both of us take the almost-daily trip to the panadería (bakery) just around the corner from our apartment to not only buy bread (petit pan for me, ciabatta for María) but also treat ourselves to a churro, which is nothing like the churros we know from Disneyland - these Peruvian churros are soft and filled with melted caramel. We always get them heated in the microwave there. I'm at the panadería so often that the ladies there know me by name and I always stop to chat with them a bit. I'm also good friends with the with the helado (ice cream) lady who I always wave to - even when I haven't been buying many ice cream bars lately because the weather is getting a lot colder. Then there's the esquina (corner) lady who sits at the corner of the street near our apartment who I always go to when I have a craving for my favourite Peruvian chocolate bar, Sublime. "Hola mamita!" I always call out to her like a true peruana and she always replies, "Hola chinitaaa!"

Speaking of being chinita (the little Chinese girl)... for those of you that were wondering, the visa-renewal-trip to Santiago, Chile was duber successful. Upon re-entry, I'm walking up to the Peruvian customs officer with my passport, forms, and officially signed documents stating that I'm a volunteer here so that I can get stamped for more than the 90 days they originally gave me, all shaking and nervous - and the first thing the officer says to me is the familiar, "Hola chinitaaa!" Of course you can stay in Peru for however long you want, he tells me. So he stamps me for 183 days - 3 days more than what I hear they usually give Canadians. All for being small-eyed. =)

First Taste

You will not believe where I am and what I am currently doing. I am sitting in what I like to call my dream suite. I am on the sixth floor of what used to be a glamorous hotel, now converted into a less glamorous hostel yet still classic and filled with character. I am in the middle of downtown Santiago, Chile. But it seems like Europe and now I have a real taste of the way Europe has been described to me by a friend of mine. The city as I've experienced it so far is incessantly busy, filled with pedestrians, lights, and action.

I stand at my balcony, looking down into the grand Plaza de Armas and I see the sidewalk cafés where I can relax and watch the people traffic go by. I see a gathering of goths in their self-designated section of downtown, men playing chess in the gazebo, a crowd gathering around a street entertainer, and everyone else milling about and around. I still hear the random ¨chinita¨ when someone wants to get my attention, but also loud music, the deep and hollow bongs of the grandfather clock, and the chileño accent that i have such a difficult time understanding because they drop a lot of their S's!

Oh, the chilenos... I have never seen so many different kinds of unique faces and of those, so many that have so much character, that spike the curiosity, that can tell a story with a single expression. If i had to base it on the people I've been observing - on these first impressions - I wouldn't be able to describe to you a typical chileno/a. I can't even begin to.

But really, I could and would prefer to stay here in my hostel for the rest of the long weekend and beyond. It's like a honeymoon deluxe, beautifully decorated, lots of glass = lots of light, plants/greens for freshness, high ceilings, antique furniture, classic books on the shelf, a fully-functioning yet quaint kitchen. A lady comes in to lay out a buffet on the dining table every morning for breakfast just for the three of us (Mike, María, and I). When we arrived, there was toast, a variety of marmelades, various flavours of tea for every mood imaginable, eggs, fruits, milk.

Then there's the private balcony that has the most amazing view of downtown Santiago - far enough up on the sixth floor to get the big picture, but close enough to the earth to be able to distinguish inidviduals chatting, kissing, hugging, waving, being. I could stand there at the balcony all day and just daydream. In fact, I could just be here in this hostel all day, curled up by one of the electric heaters and reading a classic. Or dragging an electric heater over to the computer and writing blog entries. Or taking a long, relaxing, and more importantly hot shower (the first time in months), staring up at the sky through the glass opening above.

I am so glad that I decided to travel.

Wisdom

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.

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!

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.