One of my chronic frustrations in my work this year has been trying to account for the mysterious factor of “culture.” What is it? I don´t even really try that one (though I probably could muddle through something after several semesters of anthropology). All I´m asking is how it affects mothers and their children. Something about the intersection between culture and poverty creates a breeding ground for under-nourished, developmentally delayed, parasite-ridden children. That description might be slightly melodramatic but is in no way false. As I try to convince people—mostly mothers—to change their behavior, I meet baffling and frustrating levels of resistance. Even after almost three years, I only guess at why.

 Last week, however, I received a clue. After some coordination, I started working in the Mancos health center in early childhood stimulation. The health center is slightly bigger, but mostly filled with unmotivated tenured staff. Mancos itself is more important than Musho, a district capital, on the highway, and the taxi stop for all the small towns up the valley. In itself it is not big or important—1200 people, 3-4 restaurants (I´m unsure whether to count a bar that sells juice), a handful of shops and a slightly better high school.

 Last week, however, I received a clue. After some coordination, I started working in the Mancos health center in early childhood stimulation. The health center is slightly bigger, but mostly filled with unmotivated tenured staff. Mancos itself is more important than Musho, a district capital, on the highway, and the taxi stop for all the small towns up the valley. In itself it is not big or important—1200 people, 3-4 restaurants (I´m unsure whether to count a bar that sells juice), a handful of shops and a slightly better high school.

 In Musho,  I feel comfortable with my moms, know how to make them laugh or convince them to show up vaguely on time, but haven´t yet figured out how to change that attitude. My worry is that without some spark of brilliance,  I won´t before I leave. However, the difference lies somewhere in figuring out the difference between Mancos and Musho—exposure to nicer homes and smarter kids? As a motivator, I show pictures and videos of my nephew JD commenting on his good eating habits and brilliance whenever possible. Maybe I´ll do the same with the Mancosino babies.