The jungle

We are here surrounded by jungle, merely a temporary break in the verdant foliage pressing in on every side, the nearest tendrils waiting for the first moment’s inattention to reach out and begin to reclaim this borrowed piece of land. In every direction stretches the undulating green, a splendid coat of ever deeper shades blanketing the hills that climb away, hiding unknown mysteries beneath the cover of their leaves. A green so thick it seems that it could not be parted, that certainly no passage would be allowed. The air is heavy with moisture, it takes effort to push against it and it tastes thick and alive, permeated with the breath of a thousand thousand trees. Greater than the weight of the air, is the weight of isolation, a feeling of certainty that this place is far from any other, that here, you are in the company of the jungle, and that is enough.



(photos soon)



We are staying in the office of our partner here on the border, an outpost, perched on the side of a hill overlooking the small dimple of the town on the bank of the winding stream that separates the two countries, at the end of a steep rocky drive. It is a simple home, a concrete compound, odd in its juxtaposition of the most basic amenities with interruptions from a more modern life. We sleep in a bare room, on beds that are wood boards, yet there is an air conditioner in our room. We eat rice for breakfast, and share a dish of communal curry, while a TV plays ‘Free Willy’ at the back of the open air hall. The hum of a washing machine heard behind the splashing of people washing under a waterfall on the side of the hill. Typing emails on a wi-fi connection, while waiting for meals prepared on a wood fire.

The midwives that we will be teaching are coming from an even more basic setting. They arrive from deep within the jungle, having traveled by foot, by truck, and by elephant to arrive here, a long hard journey they approach with tenacious determination, eager to come together here, to share their experiences, improve their skills, and carry back information and supplies to share with traditional birth attendants waiting in the villages from which they have come. They are strong women, self able and self reliant, both very bright and very warm. Yet at the same time their youth is evident, their girlishness bubbles through. Even while discussing the myriad challenges they daily face in their work, they shyly giggle, in contrast to the ingenuity and fortitude with which they overcome those challenges. It is a pleasure to meet them, and to teach them. So easy, in the presence of their convivality, to forget the difficulty of their reality; the reality of disease, of maternal and neonatal death, of communication without internet and often without telephone, of travels that often must be by foot, for days, of medicine shortages. It is humbling.

When surrounded by the jungle, one is more apt to take difficulty as granted, I think. Perhaps the tenuous nature of life is more apparent when you must carve out space for your existence, and daily labors are required to maintain it. It almost doesn't seem an imposition, but just the due course of nature. The trees and hills that are older than any person, the gorges cut by streams over more time than the histories of most families can account for, a constant reminder that we, in fact, are the interlopers. I hope, that when I leave this jungle, I can bring a little of that feeling with me.