There are two main rules to gua gua riding. Rule number one: the best seats are usually in the middle of the vehicle, since gua gua drivers will always load the back or the front first. Rule number two: it is important not to sit rigidly. As people are squeezed in next to you in increasingly alarming numbers, do not, whatever you do, square your shoulders and stiffen up in an attempt to save room. It is always more comfortable if you relax and let yourself sink in to the next person.
Unfortunately, we failed to follow any of these rules on our way down to Jimani.
Ana and I left our apartment around 6:15 a.m. to catch the 7:00 a.m. bus to Santo Domingo. We left together with Rhianna, a Medicine-Pediatrics resident who had just arrived in Santiago the day before. It only took us about two and a half hours to get to Santo Domingo, after which we then embarked on the most "treacherous" part of the trip: a 6+ hour gua gua ride to the border of Haiti on a crammed vehicle. With our bags filled to the brim with supplies, we were eventually crammed in the back seats of the gua gua and forced to sit rather stiffly against the countours of our bags as more and more bodies were packed into the vehicle. What resulted was a terribly uncomfortable ride, where time knew no end. We tried hard to doze off as the afternoon sun burned hot against the windows and as the stereos blared batchata music in the background, but to no avail.
Finally, we arrived at our destination nearly ten hours after we left Santiago. Tired and travel-weary, it was perhaps merciful that our first view of our worksite was a beautiful one:
Jimani is a small town on the border between the Dominican Republic and Haiti. It is home to the Buen Samaritano Hospital, which was initially opened up to house several hundred Haitians requiring extensive orthopedic repairs immediately after the disasterous earthquake on January 12. Since then, the patient census has dropped considerably, as the number of orthopedic surgeries have since dwindled. The patient needs, however, still appear to be intense. Most still require surgical care for extensive wounds and complex fractures, as well as medical care for infections and other postoperative complications that may arise.
Rhianna, Ana, and I dropped our stuff off in the hallway and went on a quick tour of the hospital. There appears to be a building that houses the administrative offices, the operating rooms, and a tiny ICU that appears to be two small rooms separated by a small corridor. Outside, there appears to be two large patient tents for adult patients, as well as a small chapel that is dedicated to pediatric patients.
During dinner, which was a weird mixture of spaghetti and spam, it became clear that we had absolutely no clue what role either of us were going to play. After all, we had no clue what the administrators had in store for us. It was as if we were in the back seat of a gua gua and had no sense of direction. "Well, let's just go with it," Rhianna suggested, resigning herself to whatever assignment that would be posted on the bulletin board in the morning. "Either way, we will be helping people..."
That night, we were shown to our new quarters. They were much more luxurious than I expected, especially since we had running water and a shower. The three of us were placed with about 7 other volunteers in the same room, but as cramped as we were, sheer exhaustion made it easy to fall rapidly into a thick, dreamless sleep.
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