First thing in the morning when we were having breakfast at our usual place, one of the little boys Paul had bought a chicken lunch for a few days ago, showed up at our table with a huge smile on his face. He asked if we could give him money for chicken. We said we’d buy him lunch later if we saw him. He seemed fine with that and ran off.
While Paul and I were having coffee, my friend walked by. She was heading out to a little village in the mountains to check on a baby. This baby had a hair lip and the mom had come to The Porch to get some baby formula because she can’t nurse him. They hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, and this family doesn’t have a phone. My friend wanted to track them down to see how the baby is progressing. I asked if she wanted some company. She was eager to have me come along. We also took a guy who used to work in a neonatal intensive care ward and is now retired and living in Pana. My friend made a quick call and rented a shuttle to take us up there for 50Q and we were off.
Because of Semana Santa quite a few roads were blocked off, so it took us longer to make it out of town. Once we were up in the mountains and made it to the village, we started asking where this family lived. Everyone knew about this baby’s lip and what family he belonged to. After asking about 6 times, we found the small adobe house. The house had a couple of rooms. The doors were made out of pieces of tin. They had a small woodburning stove in the kitchen made out of adobe block that had a pipe running up to the ceiling for smoke, but the entire house was filled with a haze. The man who was with us said many of the indigenous children have respiratory problems due to the fires that aren’t properly vented in houses. After being in that house, I can believe that.
The couple was excited to see us. The baby was strapped on his mother’s back. We went inside the house, unwrapped him. He was tiny, like a newborn. My friend said he was smaller than the last time she saw him. My guess was he was around 5 pounds or so, distended belly. Very sad. The mom showed us the formula they were using that they had received the last time they were in Pana, but said the baby doesn’t eat much. She made a bottle for him while we were there and was feeding him. He hungrily sucked on the bottle, but the mom didn’t hold it upright so the milk was in the nipple. He was sucking air, and working hard at it. Since the indigenous women nurse their babies, this was the first experience the mom had bottle feeding a baby. We told her gently, repeatedly that she has to make sure he’s not just sucking air and would correct how she was holding the bottle. But if we weren’t holding the bottle with her, she would drop it so the baby couldn’t get anything out of it again. No wonder he is losing weight. The weaker the baby gets, the less he cries, and the less his is fed. Terrible cycle. Unless she feeds him more often and more effectively, I don’t see how he will live. He had these bright eyes. My friend said, “Look at those eyes. They say to me, ‘I want to live, help me live.'” This couple has 4 children. The next oldest boy looked like a North American 1 year old, but he was almost 4. Malnourished.
We told the mom that she needs to concentrate of feeding the baby often in the next three days, make sure there is no air in the nipple so he can get the milk out. Someone will come back for them after Semana Santa weekend (because the doctors aren’t working and they cannot afford to take him to a hospital). My friend is setting up an appointment with the doctor and we will buy a bunch of formula for the baby so they don’t scrimp on feeding him, because they don’t know where the next can of formula will come from.
When we got back in town the shuttle driver demanded 3x the price we had originally agreed on, so my friend had to nicely argue with him. We ended up giving him 2/3 of what he asked for. That normally annoys me, but in contrast to the little baby I just saw who may be starving to death, it didn’t seem insignificantly unimportant.
My friend and I shared a salad while we talked about possible solutions for the baby. One option would be for someone here in town to feed him until he’s out of danger. The mom will still need coaching, but at least the baby would be less fragile.
While we were eating the boy Jose, who wanted lunch, showed up. When lunch is on the line a motivated boy could find a gringo in Pana no matter where you are. I told him to meet Paul down by the pollo vendors between 1:30-2:00 but that he shows up with a huge group they will have to split a few lunches.
I met Paul and the girls in town and we watched people make the sawdust carpets for the Good Friday processional, which happened later in the evening. That’s always fun to watch. Someone draws the design on the street in chalk and then 2-3 people fill in the spaces with the different colored sawdust. It doesn’t take them very long to complete it.
Next we went up to the Catholic church to see the processional floats in the church.
The boy Jose who wanted a chicken lunch was no where to be found at 1:30-2, but he probably doesn’t have a watch. He found me later in the afternoon in another random location. One minute he is not there, and the next he appears with that huge smile on his face. He wanted me to just give him the money, but I want to have some decent food in his belly. I walked him down to the vendor and got him the lunch. He said a heartfelt thank you and scurried off.
After that I went for a massage with my friend, who is scrambling to make ends meet. I told her I would pay for get one. She is starting this new business venture and I thought it would help her. I also enjoyed it. She got her training in Thailand. Kier came along and fell asleep on the other bed. It was extremely relaxing.
After the massage Kier and I went out to see the completed carpets and the processional inching its way down the street. Takes a long time to go a short distance. Men in black suits lead the way, then priests waving incense. We went home after the parade.
Paul had made a great meal that I had to eat quickly in order to get back to watch the movie The Passion, which I’d never seen. They were showing it at the church for Good Friday. The movie didn’t skimp on any possible physical harm Jesus may have had in his last 12 hours. There were about 12 of us who started watching the movie and only 4 of us stuck it out to the end (the couple who run the church, one of their employees and me). We stayed and talked about whether the violence was gratuitous, and the other necessary subjects one must discuss after seeing the movie for the first time., the whole mother Mary Catholic influence, etc.
We went straight from seeing the movie to going out and seeing the night processional float. This wasn’t the float that had all the white pillars on it. This one had a monk at the front of the float, then what looked like a Sleeping Beauty coffin (white, gold swirls) with the body of Jesus on it, with a gold fountain on the back of the float.
Of course after the procession past, everyone grabbed their drink and returned to the dance floor.
The three of us women decided to get a salad. My stomach, again unsettled, just wanted hot chocolate. We went to Atlantis where we could watch all the craziness on the streets from a comfortable distance.
We went back and danced for a bit at Solomon’s Porch, then I had a quiet walk home. Everyone was at the bars, it was a peaceful walk home.