I Care - Panimatzalan, Guatemala 2025
The
hour-long van ride to Panimatzalam, the first of I Care International’s two
clinic sites in Guatemala this year, told us a lot about the village we had
never before served. From our hotel in San Lucas Toliman, on the shore of
Lake Atitlan, it was way up the mountain in the neighboring Solola
district.
As we
made the steep and winding climb in a caravan of three vans, we passed through
smaller and smaller villages: Aguas Escondido, Godinez, Las Conoas. Along
the way, we drove by the very full local landfill. In contrast, the views
below of Lake Atitlan were spectacular.
But most
striking to us were the steep fields of corn, fava beans, mangoes, and avocado
trees. Those fields could not be farmed with tractors and conventional
farm implements. As evidence, field workers with heavy hoes walked along
the road to begin their day of manual labor tending those fields with hand
tools.
Word has
it that in some fields the campesinos tie themselves to trees with rope to
cultivate and harvest the most dangerous inclines. We didn’t see that,
but most of the corn had been harvested, the stalks left standing, indicating
the ears were shucked by hand.
When we
turned off the main road into Panimatzalam, we climbed even higher. It
felt as if we were on the very top of the volcano. The town was
small. I can’t find a population count, but a tour guide with a
commercial website estimates 150 to 200 families live in the village. It
is described as a Kaqchikel community that few outsiders visit. Kaqchikel
refers to their shared pre-Columbian language spoken in Panimatzalan, one of 21
pre-Columbian languages spoken in Guatemala before the conquistadors introduced Spanish in the 1500’s.
I Care
International gained entry to this community as we always must, by establishing
rapport and trust with community leaders and receiving an invitation to
serve. We can’t do our work without such contacts. We have
partnered with national, state, and local government, health departments,
Rotary clubs, hospitals, and clinics. I may have left some partners out.
But our
community partner in Panimatzalan was new; a committee representing the Ancient
Mayan Authority of the Solola region, pictured here, with their leader Tata
Domingo Quino.
They’re
trying to keep their community alive by attracting tourism, practicing
sustainable farming practices, and preserving their Mayan customs. Tata, along
with his wife and members of the committee served our 30+ volunteers lunch at
noon down the street at their home.
They let
us use their community center, a simple concrete block building with a
basketball court, a stage, and good bathrooms. It was a perfect place to
work, with lots of space and the added benefit of having our whole clinic
operate in one big room.
We set up
our six stations: Intake, Nurses (checking blood sugar and blood
pressure), Acuity (eye charts), Autorefractors (machines which
measure the eye), Eye Exams by our optometrists and optometry students,
and finally, the Dispensary where pickers choose an appropriate pair of
glasses from our inventory of used glasses and fitters give them to our patients.
Watching
each other work together in an open setting like that not only reminds us how
important every volunteer is to the process, it also fosters good communication
between us.
Late on
the second day, when presented with a 24-year-old woman with a serious case of
astigmatism and a very strong prescription to correct it, I asked her
this.
“Tienes
lentes antes?” Have you had glasses before?
“De nina, tenge lentes. Pero ahora son muy
pequenos, y roto también.”
“De niña”
is a convenient Spanish phrase I just learned. It means, “as a
girl.” She was telling me that “as a girl she had glasses, but they
are now too small and also broken.
“Cuantos años sin lentes?” I asked. How many
years without glasses?
“Diez,
mas or menos.” Ten, more or less.
I put my
hand on my heart.
“Hace diez años, que no ves bien?” For ten
years, you haven’t seen well?
I have
similar eyes. Without my glasses, I’m lost. With her condition, her
field of vision would be extremely limited.
I pulled
out my stock phrase for such moments.
“Sin lentes, el mundo está muy pequeña para ti.”
Without glasses, the world is very small for you.
She
understood too well. I showed her the glasses the pickers selected for her. Thankfully,
the prescription was extremely close to the one the optometrist had
prescribed.
“Pruebe
estos.” Try these.
I
carefully put them on her face.
“Mira el
arbol afuera.” Look at the tree outside.
I pointed
through the open exit door where a tree stood some 25 feet away.
When I
put glasses on a person in the clinic I look closely at their face for their
reaction. She smiled.
“Como es
la vista?” How is the view?
“Muy claro. Tan claro.” Very
clear. So clear.
She spoke
to the four-year-old who had been so quiet through the process.
“Mama tienes lentes nuevos!” Mama has new
glasses!
“Con
tu permiso, un juguete para tu hijo? With your
permission, a toy for your son?
“Si.”
I went to
my stash of Pez and fished one out, with a couple of sleeves of extra
candy. I held it in front of him.
“Mira
aqui. Es un juguete, y también tienes dulces. Look here.
It’s a toy, and it also has candy.
I bent
the head back and the little sugar tablet poked out. I got a smile from
him too.
Next, I
fit her sister, age 20, with an infant on her back. She had almost
identical eyes. Yes, these conditions do run in families. We had
glasses that met her needs very well also. Her story was similar.
Glasses when young. No means to replace them when she outgrew them.
I was so glad they came to our clinic.
About the
time I was finishing with the sisters, my friend Mark Bindner, a fluent Spanish
speaker who does intakes, came over to see what was going on in
dispensing. It was slow at his station. I was impressing upon the
sisters the importance of eye exams for their kids when they were older.
Maybe we would be back in the area in a few years.
When Mark
walked up to me, the second sister looked at us standing together, about the
same age, both with white hair and beards, and asked me,
“Tu
hermano?” Your brother?
We looked
at each other and laughed. Mark put his hand on my shoulder.
“No. Pero viejos amigos. Muy viejos.” No.
But old friends. Very old.
As we
talked, the four-year-old was getting quite good at getting the candy out of
his Pez. Mark was talking to the
sisters in Spanish when he felt a little tap
on his leg and looked down.
The boy
was holding a Pez up to him. Big eyes. Big smile. Not so
common for a four-year-old to share so freely.
“Oh my
god, he’s giving me his candy.”
I saw
tears in Mark’s eyes. The boy handed me a sugary tablet as well.
All we could manage to say was gracias and put the candy in our mouths.
After
Panimatzalan, we served the larger more urban town of San Lucas Toliman for two
days at a hospital there. San Lucas Toliman is a different place, a
popular lake town with gringo visitors, now developing tourism and the
businesses that go with it quite well. It’s a very different place from
the Kaqchikel village of Panimatzalam on top of the
volcano.
In our
four days of clinic, we served 1100 patients, each getting a thorough eye exam
and glasses if needed. It was a joy to work with I Care volunteers again bringing
quality eye care to people outside our borders.
Each year I seem to forget how much I love that work. And then the people we serve
remind me why.
