No Spit Left Behind

Prior to this week, I had never brushed my teeth eight times in one day. But then again, I'd never commanded children to spit in my general direction.

For the past few days, I have been working at the medical clinic we set up in Galeras, Honduras with the Global Medical Brigades. I have shadowed doctors, seen teeth extracted, and learned how to spell "acetaminophen." Today, however, I am teaching the children's charla (chat). The subject matter? Dental hygiene.

The problem? I don't speak Spanish. Over the past few days, I have miraculously picked up enough to understand everything said to me, but not enough to respond with anything more than "Si!" and helpless facial expressions. As a result, I serve as a voiceless model, exaggeratedly gesticulating with my toothbrush as my fellow teachers call out directions that I occasionally misinterpret, much to the confusion of the children. Izquierda, derecha, arriba, abajo! Left, right, up, down! En circulos! In circles!

When they finish, toothpaste lather and saliva dribbling from their chins, I grab a garbage bag and demonstrate the last step and latest addition to my vocabulary: "Y escupa!" ("And spit!") Ten children then proceed to take turns spitting into the bag, with varying degrees of success. Whatever doesn't quite make it into the bag finds its way onto me.

After making sure that no spit has been left behind, we say an enthusiastic "Muchas gracias!" and send the children on their way. The ninth charla group of ten children files in. I squeeze out a fresh spurt of toothpaste, remind myself that izquierda means left, and begin again.