GI Woes

I speak not of the marines. I speak neither of the old toys nor of the new movie. I speak of a common affliction among Peace Corps Volunteers and, I imagine, all foreigners living in developing countries. That's right, the GI Woes I have experienced this week are of the gastrointestinal variety. If toilet talk is not your thing, avert your eyes now.

We were lectured for hours in our initial weeks of training about how to avoid stomach issues and the Big D (not Dallas). Avoiding the water is the obvious one. Purified only. Steering clear of lettuce, cabbage and other veggies that are water-based is another. Passing up on street food (which is hard being as street food is always the best type). But even while taking all the proper precautions, shit happens (pun intended).

Visits from the GI fairy are never fun. But when living in an environment with no running water, limited & unflushable TP, and paper-thin walls separating you from not just your host families but your neighbors too is a new experience altogether.

While being both bedridden and within close proximity to the baño, I was visited and taken care of by a steady stream of fellow trainees as well as an overbearing Doña who when she hears, "No, I do not want anymore god-awful tasting death tea." she brings it anyway. It fascinates me that while denotatively the word "No" means the exact same thing in both English and Spanish, connotatively it seems to mean something different altogether. No means yes. Yes means yes. There in no No here.

Secrets and/or things on the DL do not exist in the DR. The chisme (gossip) is in full force at all times. Therefore, a sick gringo in one house is first news and then common knowledge to all in the neighborhood. Everyone makes it their business to know how your bowels are moving and offer their advice on a med, soup or herbal death tea that will fix you right up.

Now that the 54-hour parasite has passed and I am positive that no little creature is going to jump through my stomach cavity a la Alien, I can look back with humor. In the end it wasn't all bad. I got some serious reading done. I got caught up on sleep. Watched a couple movies. Lost at least 5 pounds, making an intestinal parasite the most effective diet I have every willingly or unwillingly been on.

I would like to be able to say that after this little run-in I am now better accustomed to the bacteria and microbes living in every glass of water or bite of food here, but who am I kidding? I have the weakest stomach ever. This is the first of many parasites that will make camp inside me and wreak havoc. These will be the tales that add up to my PCV equivalent of war stories. Occupational hazards of life on the front lines. My GI Joe meets GI Woes meets tainted street empanada fables.