Monday, April 21, 2014

Jatun Sacha Biological Reserve - Galápagos Islands


Jatun Sacha Biological Reserve- Galápagos Islands from Stevee Chapman on Vimeo.

By Stevee Chapman

As the second most populated island in the Galápagos, San Cristobal is a popular stop for travelers who have made their way to Darwin’s famous islands.

However, between the 5,400 permanent residents and numerous tourists visiting the island each year, there are multiple opportunities for quarantine regulations to be ignored. This allows new species of plants and animals to be introduced to the island every day.

While the Galápagos has some of the highest percentages of biodiversity in the world, introduction of new species to the island can wreck havoc to the islands’ ecosystem. This poses an especially big problem because a very high percentage of species (80% of birds, 97% of reptiles, more than 30% of plants and more than 20% of marine life) are exclusive to the Galapagos, and can be found nowhere else on earth.

In fact, introduction of new species by humans is directly correlated with the drastic decrease, and in some cases extinction, of different geneses of the famous giant tortoises found throughout the islands.

Many of the exotic species that threaten the island’s flora and fauna begin their rapid takeover through agriculture in the highlands of San Cristobal. Yet the highlands, although an essential aspect of the island’s delicate eco-system, have been almost completely ignored by other conservation and government agencies.

Luckily for San Cristóbal, Ecuador’s Jatun Sacha Foundation has a biological reserve deep in the highlands where volunteers come to make a difference. With their hard work in different areas of conservation, such as reforestation, Jatun’s Sacha’s volunteers are revitalizing the island from the ground up.








Wednesday, March 26, 2014

One street, three social classes

3-22-14

Christine Rushton, Murrow Backpack Journalist


An image of an Antiguan street in Guatemala. Christine Rushton | Murrow College

Consider the image of an Antiguan street on a Saturday in Guatemala.

On one corner sits a native woman adorned in a wool shawl; the jewel-toned design reflects the pattern indicative of her village, and the attire advertises the similarly colored scarves she sells.

Across the cobblestone path stands an American tourist bending down to hand a purple-clad Guatemalan girl 20 Quetzals. He takes the three handmade headbands he bought, and then points to his camera, indicating he would like a photo of her.

Blocking traffic, a bride and groom step out of a black waxed BMW in the center of the street. A trail of bridesmaids and groomsmen parade in the direction of the centuries-old Catholic Church.

Poor. Privileged. Unaware.

Heading into the last day of reporting in Guatemala, I opted to put down my pen and focus on uninterrupted observation. Photos ceased toward the end of the day, allowing the memories to burn into my mind.

Tourists and vendors flock to Antigua, a city built by the Mayans and preserved by the money visitors pump in to the local shops. Looking at the volcanoes surrounding the city, I thought about the people who shared their stories with me throughout the week. Like the mountainous beasts with which they share their home, the beauty of their faces contain the turmoil bubbling within.

Corn tortillas for sale at a doorway in Antigua.      Christine Rushton | Murrow College

Workers repair the roofs of Antigua to maintain its quality. Christine Rushton | Murrow College

One man, Miguel, I met on the curb beneath Antigua’s famous yellow clock arch.

He sat in the quiet of the afternoon with his sun-kissed wrinkled fingers curled around a pointed paintbrush. The palette balanced on his left knee held blends of purples, reds and yellows. Words on his grey cotton shirt read “Old Navy.”

Squatting to flip through his work displayed against the cement wall, I took the moment to trace with my eyes each stenciled line slightly hidden beneath brush strokes. Within the dried flecks lay an image of his home.

I didn’t notice the hand until it lifted the cardboard canvas away. Miguel wanted to share his story with me. Smiling with each foreign word, he and I treaded through a conversation mixed with Spanish and English.

Antigua has been his home since birth, he said. He has painted on the streets in order to survive for the last 13 years.

But, unlike the artists across the street marketing prints masquerading as originals, Miguel sells stories. In Spanish calligraphy, he wrote the history of the arch in the painting I bought on the canvasback.

Miguel writing the history of the painting for me. Christine Rushton | Murrow College
 
Then he signed and dated, allowing the ink to bleed into the fibers like his face burning into my memory.

Back in the United States, I will put Miguel’s painting next to the canvas I collected from Cuba.

Each shows the faces of those I’ve traced; each shows the faces of those I will soon outline.

Christine Rushton | Murrow College

Monday, March 24, 2014

Feeding the children of Guatemala

3-20-14

Christine Rushton, Murrow Backpack Journalist


This Guatemalan baby is recovering from malnutrition.   Christine Rushton | Murrow College


He weighed 15 pounds at 18-months-old. Babies his age average 25 pounds.

Supporting the head of the malnourished Guatemalan child, I listened as his caregivers explained the stinted start to his life. Children in Guatemala often go without the proper diet for growth in their critical first few years; money is too scarce.

Tears in her eyes, Hearts in Motion volunteer Janet Holloway asked one of the nurses, “Will they be OK?”  

Until the brain develops, only time will tell.

Nurses and volunteers at the HIM nutrition clinic provide a community center for the local children in Gualan, Guatemala, so that the next generation can receive help in the early days of development. Once a week, the center invites about 100 children under the age of 12 in for a group meal.

Giggling at my camera as I held it up to take a photo, one boy cleared his portion of watermelon, beans and rice. That plate of food may be the only he receives that day.

A Guatemalan boy participates in the weekly feed at HIM's nutrition center. Christine Rushton | Murrow College


Casey Leo, the HIM nutrition center coordinator, said many of the children sitting at the handmade wooden tables live in families that cannot afford balanced meals.

“Some kids arrive with food leftover from their lunch still on their mouth, while others don’t get breakfast or dinner that day,” she said.

Casey has lived in Guatemala for five-and-a-half years working with HIM. Accustomed to seeing the dire circumstances surrounding her home, she can focus on teaching the children manners they likely would not learn at home.

Gualan children wait behind the gates for the weekly HIM feed.     Christine Rushton | Murrow College


Local children line up to wash for their meal.      Christine Rushton | Murrow College


Students and volunteers on the HIM trip helped line the children up to wash their hands. Using a basin to pour bottled water over their hands, each one took a turn scrubbing off the grime of the Gualan streets.

Children at the Zacapa HIM nutrition center wash before eating.      Christine Rushton | Murrow College

Tables then filled as girls, boys, infants, and pre-teens took seats to wait their turn. After a group prayer, each received their meal and a plastic cup brimming with rice milk.

Together they cleared and thanked the staff when the meal finished. The process took under an hour, but each walked away full bellies and clean hands.

The final task for the week completed, the crew took the opportunity to pull the children around in red wagons, rock the babies to sleep, and pass around a coconut from the tree outside to try.

For me, I found a quiet spot to sit at the edge of the property.

Overlooking the valley below, I took pause to reflect as a human, not as a journalist. The faces locked in my camera’s memory cards have real hardship in their lives. They have stories, but they also are the story.

Volunteers who make trips like the HIM crew make a difference, but the solution lies in cultural change. Economics, politics and opportunity all support futures for children like the 100 who get to enter the wrought iron gates once a week for a meal.

If he survives, the baby I held in my arms may someday build a life.

The HIM nutrition center in Gualan, Guatemala.      Christine Rushton | Murrow College

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Always learning "more"


3-19-14

Christine Rushton, Murrow College Backpack Journalist

Jeremiah, 8, at the HIM physical therapy clinic in Zacapa.      Christine Rushton | Murrow College

His eyes locked on the blue bag containing the sour gummy worms. Unable to speak, he lifted his hands, clustered the fingers on each and tapped the tips together.
“More.”
Jeremiah dangled the red worm between his teeth as his mother applauded his first attempt at American Sign Language. At 8 years old, he had never received testing for his hearing. When the speech and hearing team from WSU noticed his unresponsive behavior, they took him to the HIM clinic in Zacapa.

Jeremiah enjoying his red gummy worm.            Christine Rushton | Murrow College

“The sign on the door says, ‘50 Quetzals, or see the boss,’” HIM physical therapist Nancy Winiecki said. The cost, which equals about $6.50, "keeps the lights on, but the physical therapy is more important.”
Paying with watermelons, mangoes, chickens, and hugs, Nancy’s patients offer what they can in exchange for physical therapy sessions. HIM helps her run one of the only clinics in the region. Patients needing the treatments after surgeries and injuries would otherwise have to travel three hours to Guatemala City, a trek most can’t afford.
Lacking in medical knowledge, I had no inkling that Jeremiah had a profound loss of hearing when he galloped toward me this morning. Only his small hand in mine and toothy smile caught my attention.
“The reason deaf people put their ear to speakers is so they can feel the vibration,” WSU speech and hearing student Hannah Bowley said.
Hannah helped teach Jeremiah the sign for “more,” and with our Spanish translator, provided his mother with the information on how to keep improving her son’s communication. She knew Jeremiah had trouble hearing, but did not have the audiogram needed to enroll him into the local school for the deaf.
Now, he can get the help he needs.

Dr. Amy Meredith evaluating a Guatemalan boy.    Christine Rushton | Murrow College

Observing the evaluations with Dr. Amy Meredith, a professor at WSU, I met mother after mother dedicated to helping their disabled child regardless of the time and effort. Darwin, a young boy with cerebral palsy, comes in to the clinic to strengthen his body and mind.


Darwin with his mom playing in the clinic.        Christine Rushton | Murrow College


Having fought fires, observed operations and crouched in a burning dump this week, I felt prepared for playing with children. But a determined Darwin took me out when he climbed his ramp and pegged me in the head with a foam yellow ball.
I believe the industry professionals call it combat reporting.

Darwin moments after nailing me in the head with a ball.   Christine Rushton | Murrow College

Flipping through my notepad with the Guatemalan blood-orange sunset setting on the horizon, I stopped at an interview with an HIM volunteer, Arlyn Buck. She is a Guatemalan native who grew up in the United States.
Her mother, she said, would fast at night just to feed her children when they had no money. Her philosophy: Never forget your home and always give back to those who most need a hand.


Christine Rushton | Murrow College


Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Relieving dental pain in hills of Guatemala

3-18-14
Christine Rushton, Murrow College Backpack Journalist


A young Guatemalan woman in the hills of Zacapa.         Christine Rushton | Murrow College

Face wrinkled with the lines of life, the Guatemalan mother cupped her daughter’s face with her hands to whisper one word.
“Hermosa.” Beautiful.
Just seconds before, I had bent down between them to share the photo I had captured of the woman’s daughter. Living with Down Syndrome, the 35-year-old turned toward her mother as the creases along her eyes crinkled with a smile.
It was the first time she had seen her own face.

Karen with HIM hugs a young woman waiting at the dental clinic. Christine Rushton | Murrow College

In a mountain village two hours from Zacapa, the Hearts in Motion dental crew set up a triage clinic to pull teeth for the locals on Tuesday. The team stood in the bed of barred-in pickup trucks to drive an hour up the rocky road.
The Guatemalan woman who asked for the photo had arrived that afternoon for help relieving her aching tooth. She and about 40 other locals gathered at the shed, the largest building available for the doctors to pull teeth. 
Jumping from station to station, I noticed mouths of babies, mouths of adults and mouths of the elderly all filled with rot. Age did not seem to factor into the issue.
Dr. Steve Woodard, an oral surgeon from Spokane, Wash., explained that the Guatemalans put sugar in their water and eat a diet of sugar-laden foods. Soda in the country is less expensive than water, and money drives their decisions.

Dr. Steve Woodard with a patient.           Christine Rushton | Murrow College

His first patient, a girl clutching a brown teddy bear, opened her mouth to reveal four rotted teeth in the front of her top row. Dr. Woodard pulled them all.
For the village the team visited today, corn is the primary source of food; corn contains a high percentage of natural sugar.

The triage dental clinic in the mountains.         Christine Rushton | Murrow College

On the bus trip home, Dr. John Miller shared his experience as an oral surgeon volunteering in the country.
“Those kids today didn’t even know why they were there,” he said.
Dr. Miller narrowed the dental problem to four contributing factors:
1. Low price of soda.
2. Limited access to dentistry.
3. Lack of education on proper hygiene.
4. No money for toothbrushes and toothpaste.
The people do not have the resources to preserve their dental hygiene. Those that have permanent teeth pulled have to rely on mushed or soft food for nutrients the rest of their life. The doctors leave knowing they soothed temporary pain.
But as Dr. Miller commented in reference to the shortcomings of the dentists’ efforts, the economy and education system does not meet the need.


A mountain village in Zacapa.             Christine Rushton | Murrow College



Monday, March 17, 2014

Lecture gone live: fighting a fire

3-17-14

Christine Rushton, Murrow Backpack Journalist

A  flame left from a fire Monday in Zacapa, Guatemala.   Christine Rushton | Murrow College

Crouching in smoldering ash, I felt sweat pour down my face. Smoke rose around my lens as the army soldier to my right pointed at my feet. The soles of my tennis shoes had started to melt.
Monday started when I branched off from the HIM crews and tagged along with Spokane Fire Chief Bruce Holloway. He travels to Guatemala with his wife to train local volunteer firefighters and military crews for the worst.
Taking notes in my fold-down school chair, I expected to spend the day following Bruce’s lectures at the station in Zacapa. But an emergency call summoned the fire crew, and the lesson went live.
The team prepares the fire hose.    Christine Rushton | Murrow College
 
A field in the downtown region had caught fire and the 95-degree heat and wind fed the burn. Bruce said the Guatemalan people burn trash, and often a spark will jump to the dry fields.
With only two donated fire engines and a few ambulances to serve 65 communities, the team of volunteers and visiting Guatemalan army members piled on with shovels and machetes. Scarred by the flames that had nearly finished smoldering, the field where crops once stood now lay dead.
Bruce commanded the team to dig trenches and snuff out lingering flames. In the brush, he stopped to tell me about the power of changing winds.  
Guatemalan army soldiers beat down smoldering flames.    Christine Rushton | Murrow College
 
One Guatemalan soldier digs trenches in the field.    Christine Rushton | Murrow College
When firefighters in Arizona died last year, Bruce said the winds had shifted in a thunderstorm 180-degrees. The crew did not have time to escape.
Always fight the fire from back to front, he said.
But Bruce hangs on to what firefighters call “gallows humor;” they joke about the flames that steal the oxygen of life.
“We are careful around other people, but it’s the only way to keep our sanity,” he said.
The volunteer crews survive on fundraising and donations. The people face fires due mostly to people burning trash in uncontrolled settings.
Juan Alvarez, a volunteer at the Zacapa station, said the city once provided 2,500 quetzals a month, but hasn’t since September 2013.
A woman firefighter douses a stump.     Christine Rushton | Murrow College
After two hours fighting, the team reduced the threat to steam. Despite a thick layer of soot and sweat coating each soldier’s skin, smiles stretched across faces.
My legs had cuts. My freckles had disappeared underneath black debris. But my camera had filled with photos proving the determination of a dedicated team.
Never doubt the heart of a volunteer on the front lines.
Christine Rushton | Murrow College
 

Cleft palates, sweaty scrubs and healed smiles

3-16-14

Christine Rushton, Murrow Backpack Journalist


Victor Ramirez.                                              Christine Rushton | Murrow College

All 37 pounds of 7-year-old Victor Ramirez twisted against the nurses’ hold. In his anesthesia-hazed mind, the Guatemalan boy jerked out of his IV drip as his face contorted in pain.

Victor came in to Hearts in Motion’s temporary hospital for surgery to fix his cleft palate. With the help of HIM volunteer doctor Ken Stein, Victor will now have the ability to chew his food.


Dr. Ken Stein administers a local anesthetic.   Christine Rushton | Murrow College
Watching the surgery in scrubs four sizes too big and with my camera in hand, I realized I would not often get the opportunity to observe a working operating room. The next two hours became critical for both me and the boy on the table.



Dr. Stein, a plastic surgeon from Chicago, stitched sutures in the non-air conditioned 100-degree heat to help Guatemalans like Victor who have disfigured lips and palates. Without the surgery, the patients would continue to struggle with eating and breathing.


Victor Ramirez.                                                       Christine Rushton | Murrow College
 
Forced to mash meals between their fingers and push what remains into their throat, patients often suffer malnutrition.

Before I met Victor, I shook hands with a Guatemalan girl named Heidy Avalos who had successfully recovered from her surgery four years ago. Her case was so advanced she had to travel to Spokane, Wash., to visit another HIM volunteer Dr. Mark Paxton.
Janet Holloway, Heidy’s host mom in Spokane, said she remembers when Heidy stayed with them for her surgery.
“She would take a French fry, smash it with her fingers, stuff it on the roof of her mouth, and swallow,” Janet said.
For Heidy, the worst is over; for Victor, the recovery has just begun.

The start of Victor's cleft palate surgery.                      Christine Rushton | Murrow College
In post-operation, the nurses shuffled Victor to his bed as they sterilized the 1940’s equipment they had to borrow in the make-shift operating room. I followed, camera in hand, to better understand what the children have to endure just to live.

Hours later, shirts drenched in sweat, supplies strewn about the hospital halls, the HIM volunteers set out for the hotel. But before hitting the cobblestone streets, I stole one last glance at Victor.
The photo I took of him by his mother speaks more words than I can write.

Victor and his mother.                                Christine Rushton | Murrow College