The Foreign Service Journal, May 2007

“ A re you sure this is a road?” my wife, Joyce, asked. It was 1965, and after driving from Guatemala City to nearby Chim- altenango on the paved InterAmerican Highway, we had just turned off onto a dirt road. “Don’t worry,” I replied, “Santiago Cabrican is just 20 miles from here.” One moment, we were fording a rush- ing stream. Minutes later, I was strain- ing my eyes, trying to maneuver through the ruts on some mountain ridge that might lead us to our destina- tion. After two more hours, we finally reached the tiny, dusty plaza of Santiago Cabrican. A week earlier, my secretary in the USAID mission had stepped into my office and announced that a Father Thomas Melville wanted to see me. I was in charge of the mission director’s Special Development Fund, which provided small grants (up to $5,000) directly to rural agricultural coopera- tives, credit unions and peasant leagues. Father Melville was seeking a grant of $3,000 to buy a machine for the local Indian cooperative. Joyce and I drove up to the small church facing the plaza, stepped out of our four-wheel drive van, and noticed a slender, young Indian girl in a colorful native blouse and ankle-length skirt outside the priest’s residence. “Buenas tardes,” I said, and knock- ed on the door. A singularly dour-look- ing woman opened it and glared at me. “I would like to see Father Melville,” I said. “He’s sick,” she replied curtly, and slammed the door in my face. I bang- ed on the door furiously, and growled that I was the doctor from the Ameri- can embassy. Some minutes later Father Melville, looking rather pale and drawn, appeared in slacks and a sweater. “Hi, Doctor,” he said, and then turned to the young Indian girl. They chatted in rapid Spanish, and Father Melville turned to me with a grin. “How would you like to make a house call?” he asked. The girl’s father had been thrown from a horse two days earlier, and was still in considerable pain. She wanted the priest to see him, but he had explained that I was a doc- tor and assured her that I would be glad to examine her father. I was terrified. The man might well have a broken spine, and he almost cer- tainly needed to be X-rayed. What could I do with just my eyes, ears and two hands? We walked about a quarter of a mile through a heavily wooded area to a small adobe hut with a red-tiled roof. When we stepped into the dimly lit hovel, I noticed a tiny woman in typical native dress standing against the wall. My patient lay on the floor, groaning audibly from time to time. I don’t think I ever examined any- one quite so meticulously. I carefully felt every vertebra in his spine and pal- pated his arms, legs and collar bones. Then I pressed gently but firmly on his pelvis. I noted that he had extensive bruises, but found nothing to suggest he had any broken bones. “Father,” I asked, “do you have any aspirin?” “Yes,” he replied, “I have a jar full of the stuff.” I turned to the Indian girl and said in Spanish, “Father Melville has an excellent medicine, some white tablets. He’s going to give you some for your father, and I want you to give him two tablets when he wakes up, two more when he has lunch, and two just before the sun goes down.” As I turned and started toward the door, the patient’s wife stepped out of the shadows and reached out as if to take my hand. I started to shake hands with her but she turned my palm upward, and put two eggs into it. She was not about to accept the charity of strangers. I wanted her to keep those eggs — a cash crop in Indian commu- nities — but felt I didn’t dare offend her by refusing her gift. “Matiox chawichin (Thank you very much),” I murmured in Cakchiquel Maya. I knew she spoke Quiche Maya, but hoped the phrase was close enough for her to understand. I took the eggs, and bowed slightly. When Father Melville stopped by my office a fewweeks later, I was great- ly relieved to learn that my patient had completely recovered. 72 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / M A Y 2 0 0 7 R EFLECTIONS A House Call in the Guatemalan Highlands B Y D ONALD W. M AC C ORQUODALE Dr. MacCorquodale served as a health and population officer with the USAID missions to Guatemala, Colombia, the Philippines and the Dominican Repub- lic from 1964 to 1978.