Kate Weaver — ER Meets Survivor--the Ultimate Experience

That’s how I describe in three words the PazSalud experience I had as a translator this April. I expected it to be hot, dry, dirty, and emotionally draining. In college I’d spent a semester in Costa Rica studying biology and living the rustic life of a scientist – so I knew what to expect in terms of amenities (or lack thereof) in rural Central America. I was not prepared for the emotional tug of malnourished children, what seemed like entire communities suffering depression, or a tour of a hospital I would compare with those I’ve seen in WWII movies. I didn’t expect to encounter an infrastructure so fragile that 10-year-old freeway bridges could collapse in the middle of a metropolis and that our town could go for five days without running water because of melted pipes.

I was not prepared for the tornado that passed through the clinic one day, a giant bug with huge pinchers that caught itself in my bedroom fan one night, or spectacular views from the crater rim of a volcano. For the experiences I lived through and the ways that they touched my heart and changed the way I live my life, I will forever be grateful.

Kate teaches a group of children how to play cards.

Kate (2nd from right) tours a nearby volcano with a subset of the 2004 Brigade volunteers.

Some of the giggling pre-teens we encountered.

A young girl with a very uncomfortable rash.

The endurance and courage of the people we saw and served was so immense that it generated adrenaline at even the most exhausting times. As a translator for a pediatrician, I was delighted by the adorable babies, the grinning cavity-laden children, the giggly pre-teens and teenagers (when we asked them about personal issues), and the kind and grateful parents who thanked us and blessed us as the doctors examined, prescribed medicines, and bid their children good-bye while handing them a stack of cartoon Band-Aids.

I was moved to tears by the mother of two boys who told us of her struggles to send her kids to school with books (their school system doesn’t provide books) and uniforms when her only income came from selling tortillas on the street. I had to ask myself: what gives me, a young woman of the same earth and the same era, a life of good fortune and a good foreseeable future while this woman and her family are suffering so greatly? Why was I given a life of opportunities and the ability to create a good life for my future family and myself while this woman was given a life of suffering and a struggle for survival?

I saw hundreds of cases of parasites, dozens of ear infections, a handful of asthmatics, a kid with brain damage due to a gun shot wound he received when his grandmother was assassinated, an incredibly sweet boy who will die without two new heart valves, a boy who cured a genital rash with toothpaste and another who “healed” his broken collar bone by rubbing it with an egg.

Some wild visitors to the clinic.

A young man in need of heart valve replacements.

Some were too big to visit.

And I cannot count the number of times someone chased a dog or a chicken out of the clinic – I guess the pigs and oxen were too intimidated to enter the room because of crowds of hundreds waiting outside the clinic.

El Salvador’s politics are tough to stomach – especially when you get to see the effects, from pictures of slain Jesuit priests, to people with disabilities suffered when they were fighting a 12-year civil war. But the people endure – their pride, their resilience, and their hope for the future are inspirational.

This woman seems to be displaying the pride, resilience, and hope that Kate experienced.

Some of the giggling pre-teens we encountered.

I would go back tomorrow if I could. I would bring more socks and leave anything long-sleeved behind. I would bring toys for the kids – most of the girls had never had a doll (I think I had about 50 over the course of my childhood). I would bring more wet-ones because sometimes they are all I’d have to clean/wash myself. I would bring Kleenex to wipe away my tears when something was so emotional there was nothing left to do but just cry a little.