Forgetting Our Roots: A Call for a Truly Modern Medical Field by Caitlin Pollard

            As we hiked our way up a mountain to look over Las Alturas Biological Research Station, two of our visiting professors were excitedly jumping from plant to plant. Recognizing different families and species, they listed unique properties of each part of the plant: the roots, the bark, the fruit. Taking some leaves into their mouth, they passed the plants around as we each cautiously put the strange leaf on our tongue. Some were bitter, which we found out meant that the plant was high in alkaloids. Other plants were simply broken up to produce different colors that we could paint our skin with. Some had red sap, which usually correlated with a hidden treatment for the blood. We tasted and painted our way up the mountain, traveling from plant to plant and listening to the knowledge passed on by hundreds of generations of ethnobotanists.

The view from the top of the mountain during our hike at Las Alturas.

            Walking past a large twisting fig tree, many of the pre-medical students questioned the professors about the different treatments and cures that each plant could produce. Within minutes, we were discussing the somewhat ironic recent development of the medical field. Centuries ago, all traditional healers and doctors had a dual profession: part doctor, part botanist. Back then, almost all treatments were manipulations of different plant parts: a tea made from leaves, a paste made from sticky sap, the benefits of a hidden super fruit. Yet, in the modern age, most doctors have become disconnected from the roots of their field… the somewhat literal roots.

Few doctors have extensive knowledge of local plants, relying on prescription medicines from the pharmacy. Yet, most prescription drugs have been created either directly from plants, or indirectly in a lab mimicking the natural compounds contained in medicinal plants. Further, almost every step of our hike in Last Alturas revealed dozens of cure-alls that local communities have used for generations to ensure their health. Despite drifting away from this basic medical use of local plants, doctors have also drifted away from the cultural awareness that traditional knowledge of local plants can produce. Even more applicable to the current medical field, many patients feel pressured to hide their natural plant medicines from their doctor in fear of being told the treatment is illegitimate. Not only is the assumption that natural plant medicines don’t work incorrect and an invalidation of the patient’s culture, but it causes a decrease in information-sharing in the crucial doctor-patient relationship. Rather, a more beneficial modern form of diagnosis and treatment would be for the doctor to weave both traditional and modern knowledge to create an open dialogue with patients of a different culture. Hopefully, I can successfully weave these together one day.

Crossing over from Las Cruces by Haylie Butler

Our three-week stay at Estación Biológica Las Cruces, a “biological station meets botanical garden” located near the Panamanian border, has provided us with a number of unique opportunities to crossover. By “crossover” I mean venture beyond the confines of the OTS station, integrate ourselves into the outside community, and explore a number of cultural and medicinal practices (and if you know that Las Cruces directly translates to “The Crosses,” you can appreciate my attempt at some play on words).

During our stay, we were able to visit three separate indigenous communities: the Ngöbe in La Casona, the Brunca, and a small group of Ngöbe in Las Alturas. I loved talking with the Ngöbe’s traditional healer at the EBAIS in La Casona, and making homemade rice tamales with the older Boruca women at Finca Kan Tan. However, my most memorable experience was in Las Alturas when we spent an entire morning teaching kids about the importance of recycling at a local grade school. In order to make the activity entertaining and the lesson applicable for the younger age group, our OTS class of twelve decided to make “trash monsters” before arrival. Each trash monster represented a different recycling bin and it was our job to teach the children through stories, activities, and fun relay races which trash monster ate glass, paper, metal, or organic material. All in all, the outreach activity was a success and we found our time playing, talking, and running around with the kids to be extremely fun and rewarding.

Because our entire time at Las Cruces focused on the study of ethnobiology, or how humans interact and utilize their surrounding environment, we also spent a significant portion of our stay in Las Alturas walking through gardens and identifying useful plants. While one of these “walks” turned out to be a strenuous five-hour hike up a mountain, we saw some pretty neat things along the way. My favorite tree we learned about, Salutaris, produces a sap called sangre de drago (dragon’s blood), which is known to heal wounds, stop bleeding, and reduce stomach inflammation.

 It’s safe to say that these past three weeks have brought some pretty neat experiences, but they’ve also brought some challenges (the worst not being my five-hour trek in Las Alturas). Over the course of 18 days, I managed to contract a stomach virus, visit the ER, and sprain my ankle. That being said, the visits to these three indigenous communities made it all worthwhile—put it all in perspective. In Costa Rica, I am constantly reminded that these special moments and profound human interactions are worth every twisted ankle and every ER visit—that the view is always worth the climb.

A Visit to the Boruca Indigenous Community by Anya Conlon

In our second week at Las Cruces we visited the Boruca Indigenous Community and stayed on a finca (farm). It is a privilege to visit land that has been in the care of an indigenous family for centuries and is still under their care today, little disturbed, minimally developed. Based on the stories told during our visit, you can try and imagine the practices and livelihood that used to take place here. But the land use today, like the culture, has transformed. The finca is no longer used as a finca. Few crops are grown. The buildings, constructed in the traditional style with knowledge passed down through the generations, are used to house tourists, visitors who come to learn about the history of the land and the peoples who inhabit it.

It is a beautiful contradiction to be sitting on the floor in a rancho that was constructed in the traditional Brunca style, the roof blacked by smoke to seal it from the rain, and to watch as our host pulls out an iPad to capture the moment. José Carlos is far more than he lets on upon first introduction, and is perhaps one of the most incredible people I have had the privilege to meet. His family has inhabited the land for centuries. And, besides having lived an unbelievable life, he, along with his wife, has dedicated his life to working to maintain the culture and traditions of his people. In our short time there the two of them opened a window into the history, artisanry, and current state of the indigenous people of Boruca.

Besides participating in the preparation and use of natural dyes and watching mask-making demonstrations, our hosts invited us to participate in an ancient Boruca ritual to ask for protection and to cleanse our spirit. It was beautiful and powerful to listen to, watch, and to participate in this practice, witnessing how in touch the Boruca people were with the earth, the environment, and the spirits. Leaving the ritual, I was more calm and at peace than I had felt for a very long time.

However, what struck me the most by far, was a comment made by José Carlos during the closing, where he thanked us for our interest, for coming to learn about his people and for giving them the opportunity to perform the ritual and keep the tradition alive. His words impressed upon me the current state of indigenous peoples.  For it is true that many communities rely on tourism as their main source of income, and clearly, at times, for preserving their traditions and rituals. I left the finca feeling very humbled and truly appreciative for the opportunity, and I know it is an experience I will not soon forget.