Last Day in the Field

As it comes to a close, my research reign
My eyes, they drink up unforgettable terrain
My status as foreigner, not yet been removed
And if I am not changed, then at least improved

KEP, CAMBODIA

July 11, 2008

Friday was my very last day in the field doing primary surveying. From now, I'm sending my peons to do my dirty work, while I pound the keys on Peon 2's keyboard, trying to make sense of all the things I've learned.

Ironic, and mildly poetic, isn't it though?

Trying to make sense of the data that I've collected in the field, attempting to analyse what information I've gleaned, to tease out the conclusions and implications, with the express goal of answering the question of all questions, ther real research question: "so what?" It's allegorical really. What are the real pieces of information that I've taken from the villagers: tetanus toxoid vaccine coverage -- or that neighbours are interconnected and cannot survive without one another? What are the real lessons learned from the surveys: the percentage of villagers who cannot afford to pay for skilled delivery of their babies -- or that even the most uneducated, illiterate villagers understand, when told, how important are maternal tetanus vaccination and EPI vaccines for infants, and are willing to spread the word to their friends?

So in both "projects," I feel as though there is a lot of information to sort through, and I'm still trying to drive towards those implications.

A couple of people have left comments saying that I shouldn't feel too bad about not being able to save the world on this trip, and that the most valuable lesson that there is to be learned is the one that goes on inside me, about identifying the changes in me, and the impact that this trip has had on me.

And I whole heartedly disagree.

I don't think that I've been changed all that much, other than a strengthening in my interest in international development and public health; my views have not been changed, but maybe it has made me a little more impassioned -- a refueling, if you want to think of it that way.

But all in all, seeing these people and spending time with them, and delving into their lives, day after day has made me realize that something needs to be done, and the real benefit of my being here is to empower me to empower them. I now know the country, and am better suited than anyone who hasn't spent time here to develop something that is actually useful. My research this summer was a little useless, I know that now -- but that was because it was prescribed by someone (me) from the outside, who knew nothing about what the community wanted or needed.

Anyways, without getting into a big thing, that's what I'm thinking right now, and I would really like to come back next summer if I can -- and do something much more beneficial to the people.

But how do you begin to solve the problems in this country, where the civil war ended less than 10 years ago, and where life expectancy is only 45 -- not because of poor health but because there are no elderly, since all the adults were wiped out in genocide in the 1970s?

***

A couple of vignettes from yesterday:

(1) My ride on an ox cart
Yeah, you heard me. I got to ride on a ox cart. First...the view from where I sitting, and then the cart itself.



(2) The woman with twins
One of the most heartbreaking stories I've ever heard. This one woman who I interviewed has 5 children already, lives in a tiny one room shack with her children and husband, is 45, and just gave birth to twins. They're six months old but don't look any bigger than a skinny 2 month old. They can't hold their heads up on their own. The mother is malnourished and can't produce breastmilk, so she feeds them pig's milk, watered down with pond water, and with sugar added, because she can't afford formula (a big jar of which costs 1500 riels -- or 37.5 cents). Both twins are colicky, and one has had some kind of skin infection for 3 months; a doctor told the mother it was ringworm, but it's clearly not.

(3) Flower village
This was a surreal experience. We stumbled upon a small, walled-off community of shacks which were painted with pictures of flowers. Everyone, except the children looked kind of sickly and old, though they weren't. Turns out a French NGO has been supporting this village with money (freaking band aid solutions AGAIN). It wasn't until interviewing one of the women, and hearing that she is on antiretrovirals that we were able to figure out that this is a community for HIV positive people.


(4) The children
I keep taking pictures of children, and am starting to realize that it has something to do with the universality of a child-like attitude. They're happy and fun and carefree, regardless of their situation, and they make me feel better. They are products and victims of their poverty, but unlike the adults, none of them feel sorry for themselves -- they're just kids.