The screaming of a pig pleading for its life woke me early this Sunday morning. I’ve heard them scream before, but never from below my window. I got out from under the covers and stood on my bed to peek through the thin metal slates of my window. The family that lives in the apartment below was there. No one was talking but everyone knew what to do. It was quick. The little old man put the point of his knife under her armpit and straight to her heart. His little old wife was right behind him with the pitcher for her blood. The father and son are butchering her with a machete, now. It already smells like chicharones.
I’m in the kitchen, sitting at the table in my place in Baracoa, the small town nearest the school. The little concrete apartment came furnished with a wrought iron patio set, some 1950’s office furniture, a couple of beds, a pressure cooker, a one burner electric stove, a ¾ size fridge, 2 fans, and a bucket. We are set. I live here with Nate. He is a classmate and my good friend (the train-hopping punk from my first letter last year). We are living two blocks off of the Caribbean ocean. It’s a half hour walk to school in the morning. We leave in the early light and the sunrises are glamorous. It is nice to be here on the weekends. I sit and study for hours, getting up only to run down to the street to buy vegetables from farmers that pass by on their horse carts. People sell all sorts of stuff in the street…sugar, flour, avocados, green beans, bread. I get to stay home and the groceries are delivered by the people who grew them. My friend in the apartment downstairs, another classmate, is dating a boy from the countryside, Cumanayagua, who comes every weekend with coffee that he has roasted and ground himself. It is the most delicious coffee I’ve ever had…grown, roasted, and ground in Cuba’s backyard. My kitchen smells of it now, as well as sweet corn fritters, and banana flan.
Everything has a uniquely Cuban flair here, from the way you make coffee to the way you clean the floors. My medical education has an unusual adjunct Cuban education, as well. Things that I might not learn elsewhere in med school I am learning here, for example, small appliance repair. I fixed my one-burner Cuban made hot-plate with the copper wire and jewelry tools that Mom packed me with. Thanks Mom. I’ve also made some earrings to sell. It is one of the ways I am trying to support myself. I’ve learned how to make flan in a pressure cooker, how to make unripe platano into a delicious food, and how to push in a line (you are going no where if you don’t push and shove with the rest of them). As far as my actual medical education goes, I was running before my feet even hit the ground here. We took our final on the cardiovascular system last week. The first part was practical. I had to identify five anatomical details where different pins were stuck in dissected body pieces. The second part was the written final, like any normal final except that the seasons changed that morning while we were taking it. There were hurricane strength winds, the electricity went out, and rain came blowing in through closed windows. The class seemed to hardly notice. The final was difficult and encouraging. I am doing a good job with my studies. It is for real y’all. I am studying medicine. It is everything I’ve ever heard about…sleepless nights, stress, feeling like you are constantly behind in a race. I am also fascinated by what I am learning and so glad that I have made this choice. We start our final block of normal physiology this week. We are covering the digestive system, the respiratory and the renal systems over the next 5 weeks.
Thank you for keeping up with me. I am trying to make it home for Christmas, so if you are able please make a donation. I am also trying to come up with the money to register to sit for my first board exam, the USMLE step 1! Thank you Anna and Jason for your support! Thank you Sedonia and Portia! Thank you Leigh Ann and Elizabeth! I am truly grateful for the awesome friends that I have!
Love,
Heather Star
