Humbling Home Remedies

Well after all of my holier-than-thou proclamations about good local food, I have diarrhea. There’s a virus going around, so I think it’s not from food, but probably from playing with one of the little kids around here, that I now find myself holed up in my house, with nothing to do but read a book, drink liquids, and wait for the signal to head for the plumbing.

I am doing better tonight though. My neighbors have been coming to check on me all day. This morning my landlady came to bring me the money to pay the phone bill in town (since I was planning on running into town to run some errands today). I explained why I thought I would not be going anywhere today and she said, “Ah, well you just need to drink rice water,” as if any fool knew that drinking rice water with a little sugar would cure my unfortunate problem- and also with the belief that any fool who had a kitchen had some rice water sitting around waiting to be turned into a medicinal beverage.

About two hours later she came back up the hill from her house. She likes to announce herself simply by belting out my name about twenty paces before she actually makes it to my house. The first time she visited this me this morning I was in the bathroom and I yelled out to her, “A moment please, I am in the bathroom.” When she returned the second time and I was, again, in the bathroom, she asked if I had drunk the medicinal rice water. I explained that I did not prepare rice today, and hence had no rice water at my disposal. She left, replying as she walked away, “I will be back later.”

About a half an hour later, she returned with rice water and a packet of re-hydration therapy for kids. Diarrhea is a big problem in Central America. Costa Rica has it more under control than say, Guatemala or El Salvador, but public health officials try to stay on top of viral outbreaks that cause a particularly nasty illness in small kids. So, my landlady, being a mother, had picked up free packets of this re-hydration powder from the local health clinic the last time she was there. So she stood there and watched me drink the rice water, which was not so bad. Then she told me that at 3 p.m. if I were still suffering I should make up a cup full of this powder and water and take a spoon full of it incrementally until I was better.

After her departure, her sister (another neighbor) came by because word had spread of my illness. Her cure was not rice water, but instead to make me drink the juice of 8 limes with a dash of salt. Then, seeing the rehydration packet on the counter in my kitchen she made me boil water to concoct the potion and also told me, at 3 p.m. to start taking it if I were not feeling better. I am not sure what is magical about the 3 o’clock hour, but for some reason it’s a magic turning point in the daily battle against diarrhea.

I made up the little rehydration packet and took a couple of spoon fulls. Later this evening, I ate some ramen noodles and a couple of peanut butter and crackers. Those seem to be staying put, at least for now.

Just now, as I was sitting on my bed writing this tale of woe, my landlady returned, with her usual calling of my name to announce her presence.

It’s turning in time here- about 7 p.m. She was here to check on me once more before going to bed, except this time she was armed with manteca (think of it as vegetable crisco, the solid kind). She explained that she was going to rub my elbows and forearms and hands with the shortening, because I was suffering from indigestion and this would help my stomach. I, being one for home remedies, and having already drank rice water and pure lime juice, as well as some unknown re-hydration powder provided by the government of Costa Rica, embraced the opportunity to have someone rub shortening on my articulation points of my elbows and wrists. It sure couldn’t hurt, right? She explained, “the doctors here don’t do this, but we always do this when someone has indigestion.” Then she told me not to take a bath until tomorrow, to let the shortening sink in.

After the massage treatment she sent her youngest son to our little town store to by the equivalent of alka seltzer for me to drink. If anything, after so many dosings of this and that all day, even if the little bastards in my stomach that are causing me problems are not dead, they are at least terribly confused and seemed to be in a stunned stage, causing me less grief.

I remember when I lived here before and had a week-long bug that consisted of a frustrating fever and body aches. My hosts (a husband and wife) would come into my room and rub my arms and legs with alcohol to make the fever break, even if just for a little while- it was a welcome break from sweaty nastiness of the fever. And having them both right beside me, nursing me back to health, made being sick in another country less scary. Anyway, I am thankful to be someplace where, if I am sick, people are not afraid to take me in and try to heal me as if I were a part of the family. It makes being away from my own family a little easier to bear.