politics pt. 2

The Chinese Lee: the Mayor of Truth.

If you know!

Really? Really.

politics as usual

I will be flying out on Sunday, September 11, 2011, which coincides with the 10th anniversary of 9/11 as well as the presidential elections in Guatemala. Don't ask me why I booked my ticket for that date. I don't know.

It's been interesting watching the campaign unfold over the past few months, especially since there are 10 presidential candidates still standing. The roads have been plastered with billboards and posters. Everything is painted over with slogans and logos: walls, homes, even rocks and trees. There are catchy jingles played through bullhorns atop pickup trucks. In Xela, I saw one political supporter dancing in a pickup truck bed decked out in a full-body furry black bear suit. It hasn't been all fun and games though: at least 35 activists or public office candidates have been murdered during this campaign season. 

The polls show retired general Otto Perez Molina of the Patriotic Party with a wide lead over his rivals, a man who was the army's intelligence director during the Guatemalan Civil War and a graduate of the School of the Americas. If he wins, he will be the first military man to become president since army rule ended in 1986. His party slogan of "Mano Duro" (Iron Fist) underneath a clenched fist over a bright orange background makes me a touch uncomfortable.

Patriotic Party | Iron Fist

Especially considering Guatemala's recent history of violence during its 1960-1996 civil war and similarly hard-line governments in the region:

"Iron-fist" policies, characterised by a repressive approach to violent crime, are all too familiar in Central America. They were enforced in El Salvador between 2004 and 2009 by then president Antonio Saca, and in Honduras from 2002 to 2006 by president Ricardo Maduro, both of whom were severely criticised by human rights organisations that accused them of excessive force and abuses against the civilian population in the name of security. . . .

If the PP adopted an iron-fisted approach, the country could see forced evictions, repression of social protests, and support for mining and hydroelectric initiatives to the detriment of local development, rights activist Samayoa said.

I hope there will be limited unrest in Guatemala during and after these elections.

"Politics, believe nothing."

"Danger! Political campaign."

Renewed Democratic Freedom Party | mayoral ad | "Yes you can!" 

Rigoberta Menchu, 1992 Nobel Peace Prize winner and
the only indigenous presidential candidate

"Politicians are shit. We're tired."

move | eat | learn

Excerpt from my personal statement for my residency application:

My travels have taken me all over the world from Bolivia to Iceland to East Africa. There are essentially two ways I explore a new city for the first time: by sweeping and by stepping. Sweeping comes first. I hop on a bus tour or hire a guide in order to get an overall sense of its history and culture. Stepping takes more time and effort, but this is how I truly get to know a city. It’s important to walk among the locals: eat where they eat, do what they do, step where they step. 

And man oh man, these 3 videos truly capture the beauty of travel: simple and true.

Move.

Eat.

Learn.

MOVE from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

EAT from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

LEARN from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

ps. Sincerest thanks to my numerous editors and sounding-boards- couldn't have done it without yall!

family reunion

in two very short days:

My mother and sister land at La Aurora International in Guate City.

I will be reunited with two of my favorite ladies. No boys allowed!

We will commence a 4-day spree of eating, drinking and shopping.

Can you feel my excitement through the pixelated screen?!

PNKD family reunion | lakeview, MI | june 2011
i wish all of these ladies could have joined us.

julie do, you will be missed! (pictured in center)

and just because. me with cousin aspen.

-----
On repeat today: John Denver's "Country Roads," which is one of our family anthems. Because for whatever reason, it is my father's favorite American song: a man born in Nha Trang, Vietnam - who has only lived in Minnesota, Michigan and Texas in the US - who hates camping and has never been to West Virginia. 

open letter

To the random Guatemalan men from this morning:

I did notice the catcalls, the kissy faces and the whistles.

I was not asking for the attention.

But your brazen behavior did make me chuckle. 

So thanks for that on this beautiful Friday morning.

Regards,

Antoinette

ps. My sister says this is only because I look like a "tall-ish" Guatemalteca.
pps. An expat friend who lives in Guate says this is only because I look "gringa-ish" and/or "female-ish."

-----

Currently playing: Holst's "Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity" from The Planets Suite. Do yourself a favor and listen to the theme that starts at 3:05. goosebumps and chills. It brings back memories of when my senior year high school orchestra played this piece at Carnegie Hall. Has it really been 10 years?

sharing is caring

After reading about Warren Buffet's call for "shared sacrifice" from the super-rich in a recent opinion article in the NY Times, this quote struck a chord.

I think it’s important for us to live in an inclusive world. Excluding people for this reason or that is, in most cases, grossly unfair. I also think that the myth of the self-made man is exactly that, a myth. All of us are born under many conditions over which we had no control or no vote, i.e. where and when we were born, whether we were male or female, the color of our skin, our ethnicity, and our religion.  

-Thomas J. White, co-founder of Partners in Health

And this Aloe Blacc song never fails to strike a chord deep within. That voice. That plaintive plea. It worms its way into my soul. Every. Single. Time.

MOMENTS WITH ALOE BLACC, MIKI AND JAYBO: "I NEED A DOLLAR"

Happy Friday y'all!  Besos y abrazos de Guate! 

new beginnings

This weekend, I found myself climbing an active volcano.

volcan pacaya

This weekend, I found myself actively appreciating the little pleasures in life.

la casa del mundo | el jaibalito

This weekend, I found myself slowly peeling away old layers of complacency and comfort. 

el sábado

After two days of field visits at our site in Quetzaltenango - widely known as Xela, the abbreviation of its original K'iche' name - I was left to my own devices and flying solo in the Western Highlands for the weekend.

Xela and Antigua are the Guatemalan meccas of Spanish-language schools and foreigners flock here to learn from the Guatemalans, who apparently speak the Midwestern equivalent of Spanish: slow, clear and with a neutral accent. But instead of partying with the hordes of 20-something gringos on Friday night, I opted for a quiet evening with my Kindle and The Professor and the Housekeeper. As my newly-engaged and thereby automatically wiser friend Jinna put it, on some nights, I'm not just getting too old for partying; I've been too old.

The agenda for Saturday was:
- a visit to a glassblowing cooperative in the nearby pueblo of Cantel
- an afternoon dip in the hot springs at Fuentes Georginas

cantel, guatemala | august 2011

fuentes georginas | august 2011

All day, I couldn't wipe the silly grin off my face. Not when I was the only gringa squeezed into a gutted passenger van with 25 other people. Not when I was noticeably the tallest person on a "chicken" bus with over 100 indigenous Guatemalans sitting 4 (or 6) deep on each bench. (I love feeling not-height-challenged here!) Not even when the cooperativo wasn't running tours due to an electricity outage.

Instead, I found myself focusing on my senses. The bright colors and designs of the indigenous textiles. The smell of the noxious fumes and emissions from ancient vehicles. The cries of the chubby-faced babies. The lyricism of Spanish interspersed with local indigenous languages. The pleasant mountain breeze against my bare cheek.

At this altitude (2,400 m/8,000 ft), the sky appeared blindingly bright blue, punctuated by giant wispy clouds, and there was a refreshing crispness in the air. I can confidently report that I am not missing the suffocating heat and humidity of an ATL summer.

zunil, guatemala | august 2011 

xela, guatemala | august 2011

Twas a great Saturday.

The end.

ps. Sunday was not so great. Motion sickness + bad food = projectile vomit x 2. Let's just say it was a lovely 5-hour bus ride back to Guatemala City.

it's a choice.

Some days, I feel like this:

But today, I'm trying to internalize this:

print by Mary Kate McDevitt

nerd alert!

It began over a decade ago.

In the late 90s, I was introduced to Harry Potter when my librarian uncle lent me a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I flew through the British editions of the first two books and during each subsequent year, I impatiently waited to fly through the American editions of #3 to #7.

It's not my favorite book series. It's not even my favorite film series. But that boy-wizard and his friends have been around longer in my life than some real-life in-the-flesh folks. (There will always be a small hobbit-sized space in my heart for escapist lit).

midnight viewing of HP and the goblet of fire | nov 2005

platform 9¾, london | april 2008

And tonight, it ended.

guatemala city | august 2011

lazy sunday

My little room, with its L.A. Raiders bedspread and musty scent, is beginning to feel like home (albeit a temporary one). I wash my quick-dry towel and intimates by hand in the bathroom sink. I barely flinched when I killed not one, not two, but three giant cockroaches while I was in the shower on Friday evening. And Off! is a trusted fellow combatant in my personal war against dengue.

Update:
Wash 1 load of laundry - Q.15 ($2 USD)
Air-dry 1 load of laundry on open-air terrace - Q.0 ($0 USD)
Late-night flash storm during rainy season - priceless

[Note: said laundry machine is located in creepy part of the house past 2 padlocked gates and down some steep steps in the midst of the wooded backyard!  I'm glad that I brought my headlamp and mag-lite].

It's amazing how quickly and easily one gets used to life in a different place, at a different pace...

Love and kisses from Guate.

rockin' the GEMMA tee at the Lake | july 2011 

Currently playing: Home | Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

violet vs. vietnam

Speaking of the motherland, my not-so-baby cousin Violet is being shipped back for a year courtesy of a Fulbright award. She'll be teaching English at Tra Vinh University way, way deep in the Mekong Delta. 

mekong delta, vietnam | july 2008

Hopefully, upon her return, she will know more than just the Vietnamese words for food: bánh mì, cà phê sữa đá, bún thịt nướng. But let's be honest, the most important words to know in any language are the ones that will help you navigate a menu, at least in my book. 

I am envious but excited for her as she embarks on her first post-graduate adventure! And I can't wait to hear her stories and her reflections about a land that no one in my Phamily has lived in for over three decades. Who knows, I may just have to arrange an elective clinical month in Vietnam for February 2012, just in time to coincide with Tết, the Lunar New Year...

Bon voyage, m'dear! 

las vegas, nv | february 2011

prickly pear

Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

It's that time of year... It's residency application season!

I feel like it was just yesterday when I was writing my personal statement for medical school. And I underwent that super-fun chore twice since I was not (fortunately) accepted by anybody the first go-round. I didn't realize it at first, but I did indeed need those two years "off" in between undergrad and medical school: for soul-searching, for growing up and as an added bonus, for an amazing 2-month trip through South America with the little (albeit taller) sister.

Somehow though, in the blink of an eye, four years have passed. And I must sit down - and once again - succinctly enumerate what makes me stand out from the pack. To attach an identity and a personality to the face-less CV and impersonal test scores. To convey my passion for reproductive health and reproductive justice in one single-spaced page, size 11 font.

But, at least now, I do have a more concrete and tangible answer to that grade school question.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"An obstetrician/gynecologist."

The reactions I get are sometimes encouraging, sometimes ambivalent and sometimes downright infuriating.

"That's great. I'd love to have someone like you be my doctor!"

"Hmm. I can totally see that. You're ... kind of ... bitchy."

"Really? But I think you're too nice!"

Hmph.

Today, I was told - by an American male physician - that most OB/Gyns are "rough around the edges" and that maybe it was "because it's become a female-dominated field."

I ignored the blatant sexist implication, squashed my indignance, and instead, thought to myself, "Guate-ever."

lake toxaway, NC | photo courtesy of Jessica Cofrin

lessons away from home

1. Guatemala, also known as the Land of Eternal Spring, is a beautiful place. Since those in the States were facing a vicious heat wave, I was especially appreciative of the mild weather here, which hovered in the mid-70s. There was also no rain! Which means no landslides! 

lago de atitlan, guatemala

2. The local brews are delicious. I tried Gallo (rooster), Cabro (goat) and Moza (young maid-servant). Final verdict: I like Moza best. According to Google Translate - and Google never lies - moza can also mean wench or lass. How apropos. 

flamboyant cerveza

3. Nothing beats wandering around a new city. I do believe I will be spending most weekends in Antigua, the old colonial capital and about an hour from Guate. Weekends spent at a UNESCO World Heritage Site, no big deal. 

antigua guatemala, guatemala

4. I will miss the sound of raindrops falling atop the Casita roof every afternoon.

5. Guatemalans do love their computer games. One male flat-mate plays online poker incessantly at home. One male office-mate just won the Guatemalan tournament for Magic: The Gathering and is headed to the 2011 World Championship in San Francisco this fall. 

6. The children here make me (1) miss my own kiddos and (2) cause a pang in my ovaries. What?! Well, they do. Apparently a Japanese tourist and Guatemala bus driver were stoned to death in 2000 in a really, really remote village because the locals thought the tour group was there to steal their children. (Parents: Don't worry. I will not be traveling to said remote village). But, I should probably stop fake-attempting to kidnap the ridiculously cute kids. Someone may get the wrong idea. (Sidenote: here is an interesting read on the Guatemalan adoption industry).

this smile was more than worth the Q.10 ($1.25 USD

What a wonderful weekend.

What a wonderful country.

What a wonderful life.

be still

At last count, Guatemala is the 26th* foreign country I've visited. I was 19 when I took my first big trip abroad in 2002 and went back to the motherland with 3 generations of my family. Almost a decade later, I've touched foot on every continent but Antarctica and Australia.

Sidenote: I always pause to reflect when I instinctively say "went back" or "going back" to Vietnam. I suppose Vietnam will forever tug at my heartstrings no matter how deep my roots in America grow.

As I slowly settle into a semblance of a routine in Guate (as the locals refer to Guatemala City), I'm struck by how my travel mojo has evolved over the past decade. Just ask 2 of my siblings. On our first backpacking trip through Western Europe (+ Prague), I planned each day chock-full of tourist sights that usually meant many, many miles by foot and sometimes, 100s of steep, steep stairs. I've seen enough churches to last me a lifetime, no joke. Each day was marked by the same frenetic pace as I tried to quell an insatiable need to see it all and do it all (and always "for the story"). After that 2004 Eurotrip, Tommy vowed never to travel with me again.

salamanca, spain | fall 2003

salar de uyuni, boliva | july 2007

aran islands, ireland | april 2008

sapa, vietnam | july 2008

zanzibar, tanzania | february 2009

Luckily, my brother forgave me and we returned to Europe this past winter for a Barcelona + Paris one-two punch.

paris, france | january 2011

And now, I find that my travel goals are focused less on sights and sounds and more on experiences and reflection. And definitely food and drink. Definitely. I force myself to be still (emotionally and physically) but with an open heart and mind. Every day is a "day of yes" and I try my best to let go of agendas and to-do lists. I admit, it's sometimes hard to teach this old dog new tricks. But at the end of each trip, I always hope that this be-still-and-know** mentality translates to everyday living back home, instead of merely being a temporary departure from the norm.

Next adventure: weekend trip to Panajachel on Lake Atitlán!

*Yes, Vatican City counts.

**I have found this blog, written by my mentor's friend, so inspiring.

first impressions

the apartment.

• Living: big room | unscreened window | many mosquitos, non-malarial but possibly of the dengue fever variety.
• To-do #1: buy mosquito net and/or fan.
• Sleeping: twin bed | hard mattress | L.A. Raiders bedspread. Can't complain though considering the rent is $220 USD/month.
• Bathroom: shared with a boy | couldn't figure out how to get hot water on Night #1 | said boy helped me to turn the right knobs after I took an ice-cold shower.
• To-do #2: shower today without freezing to death.

the neighborhood.

• Two security entrances manned by men with big guns. Otherwise, relatively safe residential area.
• To-do #3: morning runs- can't beat 65 and breezy!
• Within the compound, there is a small roadside tienda (store) and a vet's office (s'pose there are lots of pets in the neighborhood?).
• Across the street from: Pollo Campero (Guatemala's version of KFC), Wendy's, McDonald's, and a shopping center (grocery store included). What more does a girl need?

the office.

• aka Casita Rosa (Little Red House).
• Less than 5 minute drive from apartment.
• Super friendly folks who force me to speak español and don't laugh at me for sounding like a gringa.
• Luckily there's an ATM on campus where I'll be doing all of my withdrawals since there's been a rash of ATM crime in the city.

That's all for now, folks! More to come...

rain rain go away

It's going to be a wet summer in Guatemala. I'm thankful for Gore-Tex and Chacos.

guate or bust

Apparently, in T-4 days, I'll be flying out of Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson for Guatemala City La Aurora International. I'm filled with a pretty healthy dose of anxiety. 

A lot of firsts for this trip:

- first trip flying solo

- first global research project

- first data analysis project (SAS, epi, oh my)

- first time in Central America

But trying my best to embrace the exciting and positive parts:

- first trip flying solo

- first global research project

- first data analysis project (SAS, epi, oh my)

- first time in Central America

Sometimes, you just have to dive in head first and gasp for air in order to discover that you're still afloat.

continuity of care.

It was December and I was on my pediatric surgery rotation, which made those dark, gray mornings seem even lonelier. Yet I found comfort in my 4:15am commutes to the Children's Hospital. Some mornings, I let the thick silence percolate around me and marveled that I was the only one on the road. Some mornings, I blared bad hip-hop and Miley Cyrus and created an internal soundtrack for the long work day ahead of me. That month, most of the sunlight I saw was filtered through the tall windows that flanked the hallways of the hospital. 

It was a Friday night. After a 15-hour day at the Children's Hospital, I was headed out the door for an overnight shift in the trauma bay at Grady, a public hospital and the only Level 1 trauma center within 100 miles of metro Atlanta. Then the surgery consult phone rang. A trauma was coming in: 10 year old kid in a car wreck. I watched the trauma team of nurses, ER physicians, pediatric surgeons and auxiliary staff efficiently manage the chaotic scene. No family member was with the scared and crying child.

Once his fractured leg was stabilized, I quietly slipped out the door to make it to my Grady shift for the adult traumas. Once I arrived, a resident sent me directly to the interventional radiology suite. It looked like the set of a horror film; there was blood everywhere. A female patient lay unmoving on the table as bag after bag of blood was infused into her, unable to keep up with the massive amount she was losing directly onto the table and the floor. They failed to find the site of the bleeding in order to stent the vessel and staunch the blood loss and she was taken to the OR.

As they wheeled her out, I sat in front of a blank computer screen as adrenaline coursed through my body. I was trying to remember the vasculature tree of the pelvis and lower extremities while simultaneously feeling shell-shocked by the violent and gruesome scene I had just witnessed. One of the residents showed me a clip from that afternoon's local news broadcast. Our patient's car had been hit head-on by a car going full-speed - the wrong way - in her lane.

I saw her again as she was wheeled to her room in the surgical ICU. Her abdomen had been left open, wrapped in plastic, to contain the massive swelling and I was told to repack it. It was all so surreal and intimate, pulling out blood-soaked towels and sponges as well as giant clots from inside this stranger's body. Her husband and parents hovered at the door - watching, crying and shaking - as multiple codes were run. The medical team pulled the family aside to discuss the precarious situation; she was unstable and likely not going to make it through the night. What were the family's wishes?

Her mother dropped to her knees and emitted a long and loud wail from deep within. I looked away so that the other medical student wouldn't see the tears streaming down my face. Through her cries, I pieced the story together. Our patient, this 35 year old female, was the mother of the boy with the broken leg from the Children's Hospital. Half of the family was at Grady with the mother and half was across town with her son. The boy would make it through the night, but his mother did not.

It was the middle of the night, but I called my own mother: to tell her that I loved her. Verbal declarations of love do not happen often in my family but I felt vulnerable, scared and raw. I needed to say it out loud, even if she already knew it.

Over the next week, our team at the Children's Hospital took care of that young boy as his leg healed. I suspect that he was only beginning the real healing process though. I thought about how this would be his first holiday without his mother. I wondered if Christmas would forever be a time of sadness for him.

I felt like an intruder, allowed to witness this family's pain and trauma, from the Children's Hospital to Grady and back to the Children's Hospital. I'm not sure this was the kind of continuity of care I was expecting.

*****

I dug this draft out of the archives, which I had saved from over a year ago.

high standards.

"You are more fun than beer."

-Adam J. Carlisle

Bold statement. I'll take it.

bittersweet.

Yesterday, my friends became doctors.

Today, I jumped out of an airplane from over 14,000 feet.

I s'pose tomorrow will also be a good day.

never stop caring.

And so, who are we? Well, we are very different and very alike.

We are women, we are men, we are immigrants, we are Georgians.

We are black, we are white, we are Indian, we are Asian and American, but not Asian-American, we are part Chinese, we love our people, but we sometimes feel most foreign amongst our own people.

We are minorities, but not always the majority of the time, we are well-traveled, we are hoping to become more well-traveled, we are somewhat bilingual, completely tri-lingual, and hopelessly unilingual.

We are believers, but not judgers, we are not easily offended, but we take offense to people being mean, we are older siblings, we are younger siblings, we are only children, we are twins, we are products of traditional families, and we are products of nontraditional families full of great traditions, we are close to our families and yes, we care what they think.

We are mature, we are immature, we are talented, we make sacrifices, we are driven, we try hard, we are modest but we give ourselves credit when it is due, we love anything that is outdoors, but we love to relax on the couch indoors, we love physical activity, we are determined to do more of it.

We have ties in Europe, Vietnam, China, Jamaica, India, Trinidad, Korea, oh yeah and Brooklyn, we think patients are people and we hope to always think that way.

We are full of culture in its every definition, however we choose to define our own culture, we won’t let our culture define us.

We care about what we’re doing and we hope that we never stop caring. Ever.

-- Never Stop Caring: A Charter- a compilation of things said during the inaugural meetings of Small Group Alpha circa July 2007.

Small Group Alpha - EUSOM Class of 2011 from Kimberly Manning on Vimeo.

To Alanna, Tony, Adam, Hreem, Doug, Jin and Dr. Manning:

Four years ago, we were eight strangers.

Four years later, we are a family.

Gracias para todo.

Cảm ơn cho tất cả.

Thank you for everything.

always,

Ant xx

[Charter and video courtesy of Dr. Kim Manning]

Bright before me the signs implore me

To help the needy and show them the way

Human kindness is overflowing

And I think it's going to rain today

**

Nina Simone

But the sun always returns.

(Unless you live in the Pacific Northwest or the UK).

vieques, puerto rico, march 2011