Children are great. I mean, most people love children and those that don’t still enjoy them from a distance. And for the most part, children all over the world* run on the same principles: they smile at you if you smile at them, unless they are 18 months old, in which case, they cry; they find repetition hilariously exciting, and they think that stickers are just about the coolest things on the face of this planet. But sometimes you meet a child that just strikes you – a little boy whose frightened, huge eyes haunt you or a little girl who is just glowing with happiness, like the one I met a few days ago. She had a round face and a round belly and her hair was pulled into two little round puff balls on the top of her head. She was missing about four of her upper teeth, all from the right side and she had a make-you-feel-warm-and-fuzzy-inside smile. Plus just about the cutest high pitched giggle. And she was a spinner – I mean that figuratively and literally. She was spinning with energy and she was expressing that energy by spinning. She kept running over and giving me a huge hug, and then speaking very earnestly in her very own language. I was completely taken with her.
This story is going somewhere. See, after I triaged her, the mother requested to see Dr. Charles specifically. When he brought her in, she said, “I know you.” He looked perplexed because he did not recognize her. “I know you,” she said. “Were you working in the hospital in San Pedro Sula three years ago?” Dr. Charles nodded, “I was working as an intern there.” She proceeded to tell him that three years ago he delivered her baby (who grew up into the ridiculously happy girl I described above). Dr. Charles remembered her – it was a complicated birth (placenta previa), there was no surgeon available to operate, and no one was stepping in to help the mother who was hemorrhaging. Dr. Charles stepped in to save the day and three years later he was lucky enough to witness the difference he had made in someone’s life. Ahh. . .I just can’t wait to be a doctor.
Moving on, this has been an interesting week filled with lots of discussions and events that make me wonder what should be the role of foreign assistance from the first world (alien assistance, if you will). There are so many people who have a strong passion to help others. It’s usually stated as a desire to “help those less fortunate” or “serve the underserved (or underprivileged, or disadvantaged. . really, take your pick). But this altruistic drive seems to come from a place of arrogance. Actually, I think there is no seems about it - it does come from a place of arrogance – perhaps not intentional or malicious arrogance, but implicit in the concept of help is the belief that you know something that others don’t, and that something is superior, and I would define that as arrogant. Thus, there is a certain paradox in this world of aid: Most people wanting to help others are not arrogant, but the act of helping is arrogant.
So what then? Why am I down here? Why do I want to dedicate my life to working with underserved populations? How does my belief (or at least my desire to believe) that no one person or culture is superior to another reconcile with my interest in helping others. Usually I can gloss things over and push through them, telling myself that I am different because I want to work with underserved populations, not help; I tell myself that I am different because I recognize this inherent arrogance. But really I am just playing word games. Perhaps the answers lie in the reality that the world is shrinking (trite, I know) and first world countries need to learn from other cultures some of the more intangible things that we don’t do very well (like raising children, eating better, caring for the elderly). We also need to teach those usually more tangible things we do well (like clean water, gender equality, and, my favorite, health). A genuine give and take. And perhaps the truth is for all of us working in seemingly altruistic fields to cast off our cloaks of martyrdom and admit that we do what we do for selfish reasons: to learn and grow, to feel good about what we do, because we enjoy learning about other cultures, because we like feeling superior – whatever the reason is. After all, biology teaches us that there is no such thing as true altruism. It’s all for the betterment of the genes.
Speaking of genes, although I miss my jeans, I highly recommend not bringing any jeans down here. It’s hotter than hot. I wake up wishing that clothes were never invented (and really, it is ridiculous that we wear clothes down here). And I brought all of the wrong clothes. If you are reading this and planning to come down here, just know that whatever you are thinking of bringing you should put it aside and bring something cooler.
Well, it’s about 7:00 and the sun has just set: the sky is a warm grey with a streak of pink running through it (nature does the best color coordinating), Ray Charles is singing Georgia, and Jenn and I are going to head over to the West End for a late dinner. So, no more silly liberal school educated thoughts for me – I’m signing off. G’night, Sianora, Ciao, Buenas noches.
*my version of all over the world being the few countries, including my own, that I have spent some time in.
