it only hurts when i breathe [or, of course you're sick! you're vegetarian!]

last week we had quite a fright.  i had just arrived to teach my first class of the morning when there was a bit of a commotion.  the kids were all running around the classroom, and rumors were flying about what had happened to their classmate who had just been sent to the infirmary.  this didn't seem too out of the ordinary--kids in general get sick a lot, which is compounded by lack of access to good sanitation in the area.  add to that how often these kids fight, and you get a lot of sick and hurt kiddos.

but it soon became apparent that this was no ordinary scuffle or sniffle.  ten minutes into the lesson, we heard sirens, and an ambulance came driving straight into the schoolyard as the guards unchained and unbolted the huge metal gates.  it was like watching a portcullis being lifted, i'd never seen the door actually opened, just a tiny peephole to which i have to defend my reason for being there every morning and a little slit of a mini-door where the stern guards let me through.  i tried to keep the students calm and somewhat focused on the lesson--they were shouting and standing on their desks trying to get a better view--but i was just as confused and curious as they were.

their regular teacher came running back to the classroom and grabbed her purse.  "i've got to go with him to the hospital.  you take the class for the day."  there was a flurry of "what happened to him? where are they going? is he going to be ok?  what's wrong with him?"s and i tried to pretend to be calm and said "don't worry, i'm sure the doctors are taking good care of him.  sra. inez is going with him to the hospital, i'm sure we'll all know more soon..." my numbers-greater-than-10 worksheet suddenly didn't seem so important anymore.

as substitute teachers don't really exist in colombia, i wasn't sure what to do when i was supposed to switch classes. i had 80 more students waiting, but i didn't want to leave these ones alone.  i eventually did some juggling with the other teachers, took over one of their classes, and somehow it all got sorted.  the next day in the teacher's lounge i saw profesora inez, and asked her what on earth had happened.

Displaced children in a South Bogotá slum waiting for food (NYT)

"well, i think he's going to be o.k., but he'll be in the hospital for a while.  he has a severe lung infection.  oh, that poor boy--he's had a lot of health problems.  he lives up in the mountains in the slums for the Displaced with his brothers and mother.  they get up at 3 or 4 in the morning every day and walk miles and miles to get to school here.  and back.  their mama is very passionate about education, she wants to make sure they get the best schooling they can so they can have more opportunities.  there are schools up in the mountains, but they're not as good as this one, and they're a lot more violent--it's just not a good environment for learning.  but i'm sure you can imagine, what with the poor sanitation in the slums, bathing in that cold water, and walking that far every day through the bad air, the dust and pollution.  he caught a gripe* last year and never really got medical treatment for it, so it just got worse and worse." 

wow.  my first touch of the war hitting home.

i'm kind of frustrated by the lack of medical attention in the school in general.  the school has over 3000 students, and they spill over into three different buildings, one of which is a mile away from the main campus.  and one nurse.  in one of the buildings.  a number of my students have had fighting-related injuries (not from fighting in my class, thankfully, but the aftermath from previous classes or recess).  and if they're unlucky enough to be in two of the three buildings that have no infirmary, the best we can do is send them home.  i'm afraid this one poor fellow had a concussion, i found him in the back of the classroom crying and holding his head.  i stupidly, automatically, said "do you want to go to the nurse?" and he said dazedly "what nurse?"  it was decided that he should sit outside by the gate and wait for his parents.  his papi arrived an hour later, on a bicycle, popped the boy on the back, and went off.  i do hope he's o.k.

two girls came up to me crying the other day after recess with skinned knees and bloody stockings.  ---"she hit me!"----  "NO, she hit me first!" ---"girls, why are you fighting again?  violence has no place in a school!"  i probably mucked up the grammar on that, but i think they got the idea.  "now let's see... uuf that looks bad, do you want to go to the nur--i mean... bathroom to wash it?" i finished lamely.  the bathrooms have no paper towels or toilet paper or even soap (which is a health issue of its own), and are usually locked up, so that wasn't going to be especially helpful to the girls, but it was the best i could do.  perhaps they could splash some water at the wounds to get some of the dirt out.  "i don't even think we have a first aid kit here," i thought exasperatedly.

this is probably coincidental, but on the subject of illness, the day after the ambulance incident a gripe hit me hard, like a kick to the back of the knees, and knocked me out for a good week or so.  i'm still not in tip-top condition.  i couldn't even get out of bed for several days. not fun.  my host mami took me to the doctor, which was an adventure.  after waiting for several hours, he saw me and asked what was up.  i asked if he spoke english, because i really wanted to avoid miscommunication, and when he nodded i gratefully explained my symptoms in english.  he did not react in the slightest and then said "now tell me in spanish.  um... it'll be good practice for you,"  it was obvious that he did not, in fact, speak any english.  i sighed and went at it again.  he stopped me and corrected my every grammatical error.  i was not in the mood for a spanish lesson.

finally he said, "well, of course you're sick--you're vegetarian!!!"
"um... i don't think that's it.  i'm pretty sure it's the flu.  and altitude sickness."
"you at least eat chicken and fish, right?" he asked.  when i said no, he shook his head as if to say 'what am i going to do with you?'  he continued, "but how do you expect to to be healthy and have energy if you don't eat meat?"
"um... i eat other things?  it's never been a problem before.  so about the flu..."
"but it's just not natural!  God made man to eat meat.  yes, you can survive without it, but you're going to pay a very high price health-wise."

after a long lecture on how i was disrupting the natural order of the universe by not eating animals, he prescribed me some cough syrup and unmarked black pills for congestion.  when he noticed that i looked like i had chicken pox, i was so covered in bedbug bites, he prescribed me an orally-ingested bug spray.  (i was a little wary about eating bug spray.  and i think that's kind of sidestepping the root of the problem, that my bed is infested with bugs)  as for the rest of the symptoms, he prescribed... sugar water.  yes, sugar water.  isn't that the classic placebo?  he said it would give me strength.  i was not impressed.

here are some reasons why bogotá is a bad place to be if your lungs are not happy:

• it is almost 3000 meters above sea level.  meaning the air is wicked thin.  so it's hard to breathe normally, you never feel like you've got quite enough oxygen, and being sick makes it doubly so.
• because of the high altitude, and also kind of lax environmental regulations, there's tons of pollution in the air, which makes it harder to breathe.  and easy to get sick again.
• the weather here is kind of london.  it's wicked cold and grey and damp and rains every day, which isn't exactly ideal for boosting the immune system.
• sanitation isn't great, particularly in poorer parts of the city, and soap is not too common--not just in the schools, but everywhere.  pack in a population of almost 9 million people, and you've got a little fandango of germs on the loose.
• because it's built on a mountain, everything's all up and down, just like providence or san francisco.  so there's no just going for a gentle stroll or running an errand.  going out requires climbing a mountain.

when i wasn't passed out, i spent a lot of time while i was sick watching pirated glee episodes.  thus, i post this ironic tribute to bogotá:

"it's so hard for me to breathe!  tell me how i'm supposed to breathe with no air?  living without you [in bogotá] is like living in a world with no air."

*gripe literally means flu, but it is used pretty vaguely to describe lots of different ailments--everything from sneeze or a stomach bug to lethal pneumonia.  which probably tells you something about the medical system here.  respiratory infections are common and dangerous, particularly for children--they're one of the leading causes of death for kids under 5 here.

also, on this subject, i saw this statistic that blew my mind.  it was from a world health organization report from a few years back, but still shocking.  the leading, number one cause of death in colombia is violence.  that includes violence from the war, narcotrafficking and gang violence (where's the line, often?), crime, and domestic violence.  together they comprise 16% of all deaths in the country.  and over a quarter of all the years of life lost in the country are due to violence.  which means that if you're gonna die in colombia, there's a pretty good chance that you'll die young and violently.  now there's a cheery thought.