October

Whew!  After several weeks full of studying, exams, and presentations, midterm has finally passed!  In the last few weeks the emphasis has definitely been STUDY abroad, but now I can go back to study ABROAD because we have a whole week off from classes and I am spending it in the Galapagos Islands!  I will take lots of pictures and share them with you all when I get back, but until then, here are two stories about life in Quito.

1. Bombolí

Last weekend I smelled two types of decay.  The first was when we stopped on the side of the highway on the way to Bombolí.  The trash bags thrown carelessly over the guardrail and onto the mountain slope had split open and their contents were festering.  The stench was disgusting; it was vile and burned my nose even through the folds of my scarf.  We looked beyond the trash and studied the rolling landscape; ridges that should have been covered with lush green cloud forest were brown, burned with forest fires caused by careless people.  The soil layer here, about an hour outside of Quito, is so thin that the forest almost grows right out of the rock, and fire damage can take up to 1000 years to repair.

This mountain is hurting.

The second decay I smelled was sweet, moist, spicy and full.  We walked through the wooded trails of Bombolí, crunching leaves and squelching in mud, and I couldn’t get enough of it; that smell of trees, dirt, and rain – the smell of life!  It took me back to a childhood full of running barefoot through the backyard and walking through the woods with my dad.

Dandelions :)

Bombolí is a large swath of land owned by an Ecuadorian couple, Oswaldo and Mariana.  Thirty years ago they built their house, which is not connected to electricity, and have lived there ever since, dedicating their lives to conserving their piece of paradise.  The difference between Bombolí and the land that surrounds it is striking.  As we walked, Oswaldo stopped to show us all sorts of things, from the quality of the soil, to a 600-year-old fern, to a tiny orchid flower.  “People need to go out and be in nature more,” he said, “we nourish life and life nourishes us, and the only way to combat nature’s destruction is through education.” 

Bombolí

On the bus ride home we learned that the government wants to build a tunnel through Bombolí because the current road has had problems with landslides (caused by erosion due to lack of vegetation), and Oswaldo and Mariana may have to sell their land, because they are getting too old to maintain it.

2. Rain

The rainy season (“winter”) has started here in Quito, which means that most days are overcast and cooler (65°F rather than 75°F) and it rains almost every day between 3 and 5 pm.  One day a few weeks ago, Alyssa and I were walking to her house from the bus when it was raining very, very hard.  As we were trying to cross the main street (with 3 lanes on either side), we got stuck on the median.  We didn’t think of anything of it, this usually happens when we try to cross that street.  However, this time when the cars started rushing past, they deluged us with waist high waves of water.  We both jumped and screamed, and then tried to use an umbrella as a shield while laughing uncontrollably, much to the amusement of the people safe on the sidewalk.  The shield was ineffective; we were soaked within seconds.

Tiny Miracles

Wednesday mornings are one of my favorite times of the week.  I volunteer at Clinica la Primavera, a clinic specializing in natural water births, Tuesday nights from 7pm – 7am.  La Clinica is situated on top of a large hill in Cumbayá, about 10 minutes bus ride from the university.  Wednesday morning, as the sun rises over the mountains, I leave the clinic and walk the 15 minutes down the hill to the bus stop.  I feel as though I am walking back down to the real world from a calm refuge of peace and perfection.  Up above the city, the view is spectacular.  As I walk, I relish the fresh quality of the chilly air; it has not yet been tainted with pollution or lost the damp smell of dew.  The pure rays of first morning sunlight sink into my skin, warming me inside and out, but my mind is still in la Clinica with the families, thinking of a mother’s strength and the promise of a new life.  On Wednesday mornings, I feel complete.

Outside of la Clinica

The view from the top of the hill (fuzzy because it's through the window)

I love my work at la Clinica and look forward to it every week.  The atmosphere of the clinic is wonderful!  It is very different from the stereotypical intimidating white-walled doctor’s office.  The bedspreads are colorful and the walls are covered with bright paintings done by the doctor, Diego.  He and his wife, Dr. Liliana, own the clinic.  The doctors and nurses at la Clinica are extremely friendly, and have welcomed me into their family with open arms.

Clinica la Primavera’s basis is the idea of natural, humanistic birth.  Mothers here have the right to decide who is present in the birthing room and what position they would like to be in.  Medication is seldom used and the doctors do not bother the mothers by poking and prodding them very often.  Women are given as much time as they need to give birth, without unnecessary medical intervention to rush them.  When the women are in the final stages of labor (when they are ready to push), they get into the big tub in the birthing room.  This room is very warm and inviting, with candles, stones, small sculptures, and what I would call “yoga music” (I particularly get a kick out of the cd of monks chanting Simon and Garfunkel songs).  If I were going to have a baby, I would want to give birth somewhere like Clinica la Primavera (Mom before you say anything, no, this is not in my immediate life plans).

The doors to the birthing room

"La Tina" (The Tub)

When I am at la Primavera, I spend most of my time working with the Doulas, who are similar to midwives.  In the six weeks I have been going to la Clinica, I have helped with five births.  We help the mothers throughout their labor by giving them massages, facilitating movement and dancing, suggesting positions, making sure they are comfortable, and helping them relax through breathing exercises; but most of all we are a steady presence by their side providing comfort, support, and reassurance.

In Spanish, the phrase ‘giving birth’ is ‘dar la luz,’ which translates literally to, ‘to give light.’  I love the poetic quality of these words.  I love the beauty they imply, because they communicate how beautiful birth is.  Of course there is a lot of pain involved, and if you don’t like body fluids then helping soon-to-be-mothers is probably not for you, but there’s just something about it that resonates with me.  I love how powerful and strong the women are – so focused and calm in spite of the pain of labor.  I love the intensity of the connection between the woman and her partner; a bond so strong and full of love that it’s nearly palpable.  I love the first few moments of a baby’s life; I am always struck with the infinite potential that lies in each tiny being.  It’s really amazing to be able to watch the first interactions between mother and child. 

Dr. Diego captured this wonderful moment

However, that’s not to say that there are never problems.  The first time I helped with a birth, the woman had gone into labor at 32 weeks, or about 2 months early.  After a very long labor, the baby finally slipped out.  He was blue and limp.  He did not open his eyes or move.  I had been helping from behind; as I supported the woman’s back, she supported her seemingly lifeless baby.  I couldn’t breathe; “this baby must be dead,” was all I could think.  I didn’t know what to do.  But Dr. Diego quickly reported that the baby had a strong heartbeat and started helping the infant breathe with a bag that he pumped with his hand.  I couldn’t help but think of how different the situation would have been if the baby had been born at the University of Iowa, where I had an internship this summer.  He would have been whisked away and put on a ventilator and IVs immediately.  However, I sometimes wonder if all the Iowa medicine really would have served him better, because after about an hour he began breathing on his own, and the next day went home with his parents.  Another frightening situation was the last birth I helped with, which ended in an emergency C-section.  The woman had begun writhing and wailing in pain; the baby’s head was too big and her pelvic bones had begun to swell.  I was struck with how awful it would be to watch a woman die like that, as would have happened 100 years ago, and my respect for midwives of old rose immensely.  However, as we are now in the 21^st century, no one came close to dying; the surgery went smoothly and a beautiful baby boy was welcomed into the world.

Another shot by Dr. Diego, after a C-Section

Whether the birth goes smoothly or the doctors need to step in to help, every new life I witness come into the world really is a miracle.  Every baby seems so perfect!  Maybe I only feel this way because the experience is still new to me, and after a while I will get used to it and stop feeling so amazed.  But then again, maybe not.

Pure perfection

We take photos like the ones included in this post of every birth; more can be found here.  Here is a video that shows a lot of the things that we do at la Clinica (heads up, at about 2:20 the actual birth is shown, only watch it if you want to).