Dr Phil and Andres

So with a title like that, I should probably start with its explanation. Although my Spanish is coming along nicely, I still tell anyone that asks, that I study Physiotherapy, simply because its easier than translating “Bachelor of Sport and Exercise Science”. Call it lying if you want, I’m just excusing it as laziness more than anything else. So, there is a painter at the orphanage who I get along with very well. He is obsessed with learning English because “The English language is the most important in the world”… as he tells me all too often in his fractured manner. He is 61, just a whole lot of fun, and we are lucky enough to share one of the relationships where you become instantly and honestly joyed by seeing the other person each day. The only problem, is that I don’t think he understands the difference between physiotherapy, and medicine.

Each day I give Andres the painter a massage when he asks. I have no training, no degree, and really no know-how apart from what I have picked up from the massages I have received over the years. A couple of days ago he asked me back to his house to give a massage the following morning. Naively, I accepted. When I arrived at 8am, down a couple of back streets to the address he had given me, I was greeted by Andres, who had prepared a piece of paper with various words in English, such as patient, surgery, intestines, pain, and doctor. He showed me to the ‘patient’ who had received the ‘surgery’ on his ‘intestines’ and was in a lot of ‘pain’. I’ll let you guess who was the ‘doctor’ that morning. After a quick survey of the man, I noticed he protected one side of his abdomen, so being me, I asked to see what it was. I wish I didn’t. I cant remember what he called it but for whatever reason his intestines were hanging out of his skin, in a small plastic bag. Because of this, he had very little, if any, control over his bowel movements. When I asked Andres what he wanted me to do, he said “Help him, he has pain”. I explained that I am not a doctor, again, and that I could not even remotely do anything near where the surgery had been performed. So, I massaged this guys legs, and gave him some basic leg stretches, and exercises to perform, because his leg muscles were wasting away.

After being completely overwhelmed from this ordeal, I explained I had finished. This to Andres was the signal to show me to his other neighbor who had some kind of pain. So, I massaged again. After which, I was shown to another friend of his who needed help. So I helped. Five people in total, each seen for almost half an hour. Each person offering some kind of payment, in either a breakfast, or actual money. When I explained each time I didn’t want (or deserve) anything in return, they wouldn’t take no as an answer. 10 o’clock had past, and so had 3 breakfasts, and there were no more ‘patients’ left in the waiting room, so I left for the orphanage for my 8-hour day. Oh, but before I left Andres had explained to 2 women on the street on our way out that I could massage them should they so desire it…which of course they did. Now, I have almost a full schedule next week of Peruvians thinking I am some kind of miracle worker and that massages solve any kind of bodily problem. Sure, its wrong, and in Australia or New Zealand I would have been sued for fraud or malpractice or something else by now, but these are just a people who have had no formal education, and think that I can help, so I am trying.

So that’s my explanation, and thats enough about that. Last night I was allowed to organize a camping trip for whichever volunteers were interested. 5 took me up on the offer, so we borrowed a tent, and hiked up one of the surrounding mountains. We decided to camp out on quite possibly the windiest night in Huancayo’s history by the way. We hiked to the top of the mountain, decided it would be impossible to either light a fire or pitch the tent, so we descended a couple of hundred metres to a more wind sheltered area. We made a small fire, not because of any fire bans, but because we could only find small twigs, and green branches, so we burnt it all, or at least tried, to heat up our dinner, and roast some marshmallows. Was a great way to spend time with the some good friends in a cheap way. So good in fact, that I might even do it again before I leave.

Life at Aldea is great too. I had worked on the volleyball court for three days before some people made complaints out of concern for me. Apparently I shouldn’t be working alone, the ground should be wet for me to make it easier to move, and we should use the tractor first to plough the ground. The following morning I arrived at work, to a ploughed ground, completely flooded, with the promise that all 14 workers will be accompanying me until it is completed. So what started, as a small project to complete at my own pace, has now become top priority, which I find quite funny. All in all, life is super right now. I’m off tonight to a concert of all Peru’s top Rock bands. None of which anyone would have heard of back home, but it will be fun nonetheless.

That’s it from this end. Hope you enjoyed the report, I sure enjoyed writing about the last couple of days.

Phil out.