And we were off. El Rosario on Thursday, El Cacao on Friday, Rio Grande on Saturday. About 70 surveys in the three days I think. Slowly but steadily I will win this race. I didn’t really know anyone in Rio Grande, but I had stopped at the school on the way to El Cacao and told the children that I would return the next day to survey their teeth. My heart sank as we pulled up Saturday morning. Three small clumps of people were sitting in various patches of shade out in front of the school. Very few people, no open buildings. I fought of the impulse to turn back for La Esperanza and walked up to the only adult I could see. After explaining who I am and what I’m doing (which flowed easily given the number of times that I’ve read out the consent form), the mom told me they were waiting for me and that she could get someone to open the church. I gave my self a pep talk and settled down on a log with a couple of kids. While we waited I started interviewing one of them. It turned out he was thirteen (too old for the survey), but it only takes about 30 seconds to look at a kid’s teeth. That’s all they really want any way, so I looked at his teeth and pulled out the stuffed fish with dentures. The kid was still acting shy, but I could tell he dug the fish. Smiles grew as I told him to show me how to brush.
Mom came back with the keys, and I used the walk to the church to continue my mental pep talk. It actually turned out all right. People steadily trickled in all day, and it was kind of nice to not have a giant line waiting. Around two, I managed to finish up. I know I didn’t survey anywhere near all of the children, but at least today I know I surveyed the ones who cared.
Here’s an interesting bit of information: these communities are orders of magnitude larger than Las Mercedes. Didn’t see that coming. At this point I’m just surveying as many kids as I can find, sorry Dr. What’s Your Face who taught me sampling strategy. Hopefully it works out, but I only have a couple weeks, and I’m doing the best I can. I could write a book of what they didn’t teach me before I left for field research. I think I’ll start now in list form.
1. If you’re going to make a major purchase, buy what the locals buy. Let’s, hypothetically, say you want to buy a vehicle. You notice that everyone in your neighborhood drives a monster truck or a dirt bike. You should buy a monster truck or dirt bike. FB is neither. I’ll elucidate the consequences of this below.
2. If you are going to survey children, start by getting the list of school kids from all of the communities you are going to. If a list exists in this neighborhood, it will exist in the one you are going to. Even if you also want to survey children younger than school age, start with the school list so you can get an idea of how many kids you are working with. I was totally blindsided by how large most of these communities are.
3. Find a contact person for each community, and give them a list of exactly what you need before you get there. It has been incredibly difficult to convey that I want to see all the kids, even if they don’t have cavities. Why would a doctor need to see a kid that isn’t sick? They also don’t understand why a parent must be present.
I’m sure more things will come to mind as eventually. In the mean time, let’s talk about dirt bikes. The garden-variety Las Mercedes motorcycle (look back at Jaime's bike) is high off the ground so it doesn’t bottom out on the “road.” They have several inches between the fenders and the tires and they have tires for off roading (with thick spikey treads for better traction in mud). When I bought FB, they tried to change out the smooth city tires for the off roading tires. They ended up changing out the back tire, but the fender on the front wheel was too close to the tire, so the new tire wouldn’t fit. I (literally) asked them what the consequences would be of not having an off roading tire on the front wheel. They hemmed and hawed, so I asked if I would be ok if they didn’t change out the front tire. They told me yes, but looking back, there was very little eye contact in that moment. Today (Saturday) I found out why.
Like I said, we finished up in Rio Grande around two. Baltazar and Teresa had taken a few trips between El Cacao (where they live) and Rio Grande over the course of the day. El Cacao is between Rio Grande and La Esperanza, where I am spending the night. The roads had worsened with the days rain, and Baltazar wanted to try a different route. It was the one with pretty valley Gustavo had shown me. That road had seemed much better, so I was all for it. We got about half way between Rio Grande and La Esperanza when Baltazar pulled the bike over. We had been crawling along for several minutes and I had noticed that the road seemed slick under the wheels. I wasn’t sure what was up at first. Baltazar had me walk for a bit, and then I saw it. The front tire was no longer moving. The low fender and grooveless tire were completely defeated by impacted mud. Apparently there is a Honduran song called Mala Suerte (Bad luck). Baltazar started singing it as we looked for a stick to try to clean out the fender. We cleaned. We rolled the bike two feet. We cleaned. We rolled the bike two feet.
Baltazar scrapes the mud off. Yes that's sun shine... it just never stays around long enough.
This went on for about a quarter mile. I wished I were with and old friend rather than a dude I hardly knew who didn’t really find the situation to be funny. It was so ridiculous it had to be funny. Visions of hitchhiking back to LE and just leaving FB on the side of the road floated through my mind.
Eventually we got to some better … mud… It was all mud, but the rocks were bigger and didn’t clog the fender. As we resumed our journey back to LE, I realized that my relationship with this bike is something like a bad boyfriend. Hear me out. Some women date men who are convenient. They are available, seem interested, kind of attractive, and, hey, what if no one else comes around. I’ve always prided myself on being slightly pickier than that, but apparently not when it comes to motorcycles. It’s like I went on vacation and picked up the first bike I met. It was available, sort of sexy (although if I had met the bike back in the states I wouldn’t have looked twice at it), and hey, what if I couldn’t find another one. The first time I went by the shop it seemed great. It was going to solve all of my problems: I could go anywhere I wanted, on my own schedule, through the tropic forest with the wind in my hair. Then I got the bike home and realized it was kind of fat, beats me up, never wants to work, and gives up when the road gets hard. Unfortunately, I’ve invested a lot in this bike. I’m sticking with it for the sake of the survey. On the bright side, the break up will be quick and painless. I leave for home (where my sweet little civic awaits me), and the bike stays here. On that note: Happy one-month anniversary in Honduras to me. Exactly one month to go. Please let Mala Suerte not be my theme song for the next month.
St. Columbanus of Bobbio (best name ever), patron saint of motorcyclists, Pray for us (thanks Jamie!)
Spanish words for the day:
Lodo: mud
Liso: slick
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