Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Mari y Tanta

Lima lies in a coastal desert where it never rains. Its only moisture comes from the fog that constantly enshrouds the city. Affluent neighborhoods, such as Barranco and the aptly named Miraflores, send water trucks up and down the boulevards, watering the flowering trees and shrubs that splash riotous color onto the misty grey backdrop. Behind high stucco walls and stout gates, fortunate residents live on quiet, narrow streets, streets that feel familiar to traveling Norte Americanos. Tucked away in a lovely home in Barranco lives Mari Solari, as she has for the decades during which she has amassed one of the finest collections of first quality Peruvian handicrafts in Lima, if not the world.
 
(photo courtesy www.expatclic.com)
Mari buzzes in her guests and offers a warm personal welcome into her exquisite gallery, Las Pallas, but also her home. She allows them to enjoy her extensive personal collection of artifacts in the living room and her sunny, verdant atrium before beginning a narrative tour of the public space of her gallery. Her accent and appearance reveal her origins in North Wales as she shares a personal story that she calls “classic. I fell in love with a Peruvian man, moved here and just never left.” She offers her customers not only a fascinating education from an expert but also personal stories of her wide-ranging travels across Peru and the artists she has been encouraging and buying from for decades. A picture emerges of the complex relationship she has with the first people of this country but also the market she operates within. She takes nothing on commission, preferring to purchase and resell a collection that must now represent an investment of hundreds of thousands of dollars. She admits that other resellers have moved toward encouraging their artisans to produce goods ever more in line with what easily sells in North American and European markets, but this has not been her bent. Her choice to work to preserve and promote the finest handcrafted work made in Peru is, she admits, hopelessly traditional. The artists whose pieces she markets and her local and international customers, many of whom have been loyal to Mari for decades, are grateful for her passion.

Joined to Mari by an equally passionate commitment to her work is Tanta, a health promoter for Socios En Salud in a neighborhood to the north, Carabayllo. Here, the air is filled with choking dust, not gentle fog. The flower-arched boulevards have been replaced by boulder-strewn paths winding up treacherously steep hillsides. Visitors are struck by a similarity to the landscape of the moon. This peri-urban slum is home to 200,000 people, over half of whom are unemployed. The merely poor live at the base of the mountain; the poverty and misery intensify as the altitude increases meter by meter. At a community center about halfway up the hillside and in tiny, two-room clinics dotting the highest tiers, Socios En Salud has been serving the people of Carabayllo for 18 years. SES is the Peruvian sister organization to the Boston-based non-profit Partners in Health and was founded to focus initially on the needs of patients with multi-drug resistant tuberculosis. The keystone of the Socios program, as with other PIH sister organizations in Haiti and Rwanda, is its cadre of community health workers, of which Tanta is a proud member.

Tanta’s story begins with ten years of untreated maxillary cancer. A complex tangle of factors prolonged her suffering: absent, inadequate or inaccessible health care; societal machismo that meant her husband would not allow her to talk about her “private” health needs, much less ask for help; the crushing demands of raising her family in a resource-poor setting; and the other far-reaching effects of extreme poverty dominated by hopelessness. Finally she was connected with Socios En Salud and her life was forever changed. Socios arranged and paid for treatment at Lima’s cancer specialty facility. Tanta was cured. She was then invited by SES to join in its work. She received extensive training and is today one of its proud community health workers.

This health care model as originally designed by Partners in Health provides for medications, primarily for TB and HIV/AIDS, to be delivered to patients in their homes by the health promoters. Now, Tanta says, she only does that if people are too sick to go to the clinic to receive their meds. Her main jobs currently are case finding, being the eyes and ears of Socios in her community, providing educational opportunities for children and social and emotional support for sick people. She knows her neighbors well and can convince a mom to seek care for a child who appears malnourished. She visits and encourages patients on long or lifelong treatment regimens such as for HIV/AIDS. Her compelling personal story, tireless dedication, professional skills and courage to speak truth in difficult situations are tools that equip her to perform a job that transcends all the others, that of role model for the women of Carabayllo. Here is a woman who is recovered from a horrific illness, a rare and remarkable success story. Here is a woman who patiently but persistently negotiated with her husband first to ask for care and then to become a trained, respected worker in the community. Here is a woman who embodies the work of the most famous and well-respected model for not only multi-drug resistant tuberculosis treatment but for an entire system of health care delivery to the sick poor across the world.

I’m such a fan of this program and these health promoters that I just had to ask for a photo with Tanta. As she finished the question and answer session with our group, I jumped up and tried to establish quickly some rapport with her by shaking her hand and stating slowly “I am a nurse, enfermera.” For about the millionth time in my life, I realized as the last word left my mouth that I had unintentionally done the opposite of what I had meant to do. I had probably created a barrier by referring to a medical hierarchy I’ve always ignored and frequently forget exists. The tone of her voice as she answered instantly acknowledged then obliterated that divide. In a clear proclamation of our sisterhood and her unmistakable pride, she smiled and said “Estoy una promotor de salud.”

Two women. Two passions. Two ends of the spectrum of Peruvian life. I am left feeling grateful for the opportunity to meet them both.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Intersection

A guided meditation is not what anyone is expecting during an orientation meeting for the Short-Term 2012 voyage of Semester at Sea. The faculty and staff are introduced, of course. The Drop/Add process is explained and a presentation is given about the 9,000 volume library, which happens to be the largest afloat but mostly foreign territory to this generation of Google-dependent college students. The UVA Honor Code is passionately defended as the students are told how living under it is actually quite liberating. The Captain tries to present the very real safety concerns at sea without terrifying the students or putting them to sleep. Closing the program is Academic Dean Rosalyn Berne, whose enthusiastic urgings finally got me to sign up for this voyage over a year ago. How could you not want to sail under the leadership of a person whose bio states that her research "focuses on the ethical, cultural, and societal implications of the emergence and convergence of nanotechnology, bio-technology, information technology and cognitive sciences...She has published widely on nanotechnology ethics."? I am proud to call a nanotechnology ethicist my friend.


Rosalyn plants her feet center stage and takes a deliberate breath as she turns her head slowly around the room. Her engaging face is surrounded by a thick mass of curls, halfway between an Afro and loose dreadlocks, a style that suggests a winsome combination of ethnic pride and personal laissez-faire.

"I want you to go with me for a little while. Get comfortable. Feel your feet planted on the floor, feel your legs, buns, body, arms and hands. Take a few breaths and watch how the air goes in and out of your body." She pauses. "Now imagine you are walking down the gangway with some friends and venturing out into port for the first time."

She asks us to picture walking into a crowded town with pungent smells from the food vending stalls, overwhelming heat penetrating the skin on our arms, and the cacophony of traffic snarled by cars, motorcycles and animals. "Somehow you get separated from your friends and end up in a park. Across the sidewalk is a stall piled with coconuts. You've had coconut milk from a can at home but always wanted to try it fresh. You bargain a little on price then the vendor chops off the top with a machete and puts a straw into the coconut. As you walk away, you take welcome sips of the refreshing liquid."

"OK, open your eyes. Put that scene away." She pauses once more. "Close your eyes again as we go to another place. You are waking up. The room is still dark and the air close. You put your feet onto the packed dirt floor and begin your morning routine. Yesterday's leftover beans and rice are mixed together for breakfast. Children are dressed in their school uniform, blue shirt, khaki pants. You wait for your ride to the town square. The coconuts have been delivered to your small stall and you arrange them neatly as you think about the ship that arrived in port this morning. It has been many days since a ship has come and you're excited about the possibilities of making the money your family needs today. You have to pay $5 for the stall rental and the money to the grower who brought the coconuts but if you can get $2 for them and business is good, you should finally be able to bring some money home."

"A person in t-shirt and shorts with a small backpack and camera walks up to your stall. The person speaks to you with strange words that sound vaguely like Spanish and seems to want to know the price of a coconut. You say 'Two dollars' and your customer says 'How about one dollar?' You nod, pick up your machete, chop off the top, put in a straw and hand it over."

"OK, open your eyes. What are some of the ways you think these two people are the same?" Students speak out with a variety of answers but the one that draws Rosalyn's biggest smile is "They are both hopeful". She ends the exercise in a few more sentences, without much elaboration, no neatly tied up lessons for this roomful of neophyte travelers. We are left with the beautiful sound of her voice deep in our heads and with the felt experience of two lives intersecting.

As a bonus, I am left with one answer to a question I often think about: What is it that makes the Semester at Sea experience so transformative? How exactly does the magic happen? I am clearer now than ever before that this program sets students up from the very beginning for meeting and exceeding the enormous expectations we have of them. Through the lives as well as the words of the compassionate, brilliant, and gifted people who lead this voyage, the students are taught what it means to be a global citizen. Because Semester at Sea consistently succeeds at its mission and because I am fortunate enough to be a part of it, I too am infused with hopefulness, for my own life and for our world.