Mission Rabies Peru: Breathing in Dust

Day Four

Today started even earlier than usual. The theory was that because it's the weekend, more people would be home, making both our static clinics and our door-to-door visits more productive. Instead of leaving the hotel at 7:10, we were supposed to head out at 6:30. Since the breakfast room officially opens at 6:00 (and "officially" has been something of an optimistic concept this week), that left us just enough time to inhale some toast and coffee before climbing aboard the bus.

As it turned out, the bus arrived close to its usual time anyway, so the mad dash wasn't really necessary. 

Our day began with a static clinic... eventually. We were first dropped off at the wrong location, but after consulting the map, Jessica and I realized our actual destination was about a five-minute walk away. When we got there, we found a concrete soccer pitch complete with goals...and absolutely nothing else. No buildings. No trees. No shelter. Just blazing sunshine and one sad little bush nearby.

For a few minutes I huddled beside that pathetic shrub with our vaccines, trying not to fry. It was clear that this situation was untenable. So, I went exploring.

Nearby was a pile of construction debris with several sheets of corrugated metal. I dragged two of them over to one of the soccer goals, leaned one against the frame, laid the second across the top, and just like that, we had a clinic. It may not have had quite the same level of sophistication as my former cat hospital, Manhattan Cat Specialists, but it provided something infinitely more valuable: shade.

Soon afterward we vaccinated about twenty dogs and a cat before activity slowed enough for us to switch to door-to-door work.

As always, everyone welcomed us warmly. People genuinely appreciate that these vaccinations are free, and its remarkable how many households have dogs.

One thing that continues to surprise me is the variety of breeds. In Tanzania and Ghana, most dogs looked like close cousins of one another. Here it's a canine United Nations. Every neighborhood introduces us to a completely different assortment of dogs.

The real challenge today wasn't the vaccinations. It was the environment. The roads aren't roads so much as combinations of dirt, rocks, loose gravel, and dust. Every passing vehicle creates its own miniature dust storm, most of which eventually finds its way into my lungs. And the heat, even though it’s dry, is absolutely relentless. Blazing sun, zero clouds. 

It's difficult to imagine living somewhere so remote, yet these neighborhoods are surprisingly vibrant. Nearly every house seems to have at least one dog, and the residents couldn't have been friendlier.

After hours of walking over uneven ground, your knees start to throb. Your feet start to ache. Then you happen to glance up and see the volcanoes rising above the city, and somehow it gives you a second wind.

Like yesterday, there were no huge rushes and no long dry spells. Just a slow, steady pace that quietly added up. Before we knew it, we'd crossed into triple digits. 108 animals vaccinated - 96 dogs, 12 cats.

Our daily target is 75 dogs, so we exceeded that comfortably. Even more exciting were the campaign numbers. With one day still to go, we're 80% of the way through the project and have already reached 90% of our goal of vaccinating 6,000 dogs. Barring a major disaster, tomorrow we'll surpass that goal.

To celebrate what looks to be a very successful campaign, the entire team is heading to a restaurant on Arequipa's beautiful Plaza de Armas tomorrow evening. That should be a fitting way to wrap up an incredible week.

I only got to take one or two "artsy" photos today. Here they are: