The roads leading from the outskirts of Sumpango, Guatemala are frequently filled with women carrying baskets of dirty clothing on their heads to the communal washing area in the center of town.
Once there, the women stake out one of the concrete basins that line a rectangular pool on three sides. Fed by a natural spring, water collects in the central pool. The women gather water from the pool, pour it into their basins and begin washing their family's clothes.
On the one side of the pool not lined by basins, the women gather to do one last thing – wash their hair.
When Cassandra Ross arrived in Sumpango three years ago, she was shocked by the sight of the women cleaning their hair in the shared water of a dusty outdoor washing area.
She'd seen poverty before, visiting relatives on her mother's side in Mexico who live in a much poorer community than her own comfortable neighborhood in Huntington Beach. But Guatemala, she says, was different.
"Most people didn't have shoes," says 11-year-old Cassandra in her soft voice.
"And the ones who did had broken shoes."
Though it was only three years ago, the sight still stands out in her young memory.
When she was 8, Cassandra's father, orthopedic surgeon Dr. Timothy Ross, asked if she would like to accompany him on a medical mission to Guatemala, where he and other volunteer doctors would provide free medical services to the people, mostly indigenous Indians who live in pueblos scattered around the city's center. He'd been there three years earlier and thought it might be fun for her to come along. She thought it might be fun, too.
At the church where the medical stations were set up, bilingual Cassandra served as a translator for the doctors who didn't speak Spanish. She separated medications for patients, most of whom were given a year's supply for their ailments. She walked with patients to their designated doctors, and entertained their children while they received medical treatment. She passed out donations, including shoes and toothbrushes.
In Sumpango, Cassandra stayed at the local orphanage with girls about her age, playing Twister, drawing pictures and sleeping in wooden bunk beds. She took a liking to one of the younger orphans, whom she wanted to take home with her.
Instead of a young Guatemalan orphan, Cassandra took home a different souvenir.
While she was staying at the orphanage, she was given a present from one of the orphanage's former residents – a hand-blown glass rose with orange-trimmed petals and thorns. When the man was a child at the orphanage, glass blowing supplies were donated to the center. Now an adult, he teaches the younger orphans how to blow glass as a skill. The rose now lives in the living room at Cassandra's house for her guests to admire.
In March, Cassandra went on her second medical mission – this one to Lima, Peru.
This time, the medical treatment area was set up in the auditorium of a local school. Inside, makeshift doctor's offices were separated by curtains, and doctors, volunteers and patients rushed about.
Outside, Cassandra watched as the children who attended the school played during recess. A group of boys used a broken piece of plywood as a sled to zip down a flight of stairs. Some girls played jump rope with an old frayed rope tied to a wooden post. A jungle gym with torn tattered ropes and sharp metal edges was left abandoned on the school premises. Even the children sliding down the stairs on plywood knew that the jungle gym was too dangerous to play on.
"We're talking about things you'd never see in America because of liability issues, but they make do with what they have there," Dr. Ross says.
At the end of one of their last days in Peru, the line to receive medical care wrapped around the building. In this area, it's difficult to receive treatment for wounds, arthritic joints and improperly set broken bones, which are not considered serious injuries. Formal follow-up care is extremely rare.
When Cassandra looked outside during the last few hours of that day, she saw a swarm of people, young and old, lingering in the courtyard that served as the waiting area for patients. The rest of the line had been let inside. Everyone would receive treatment.
On the last day, one of the volunteers said he had room in his truck to take three of the doctors up into the mountains to see the most extreme poverty. He thought Cassandra was too young for the trip, but her father went along. Living in dusty shelters built into the hillside, the people there have little. From the mountain, they can see the sun set nightly over Lima. In the foreground loom two Marriott towers, a reminder of what lies just beyond their grasp.
Next year, Cassandra plans to accompany her father on a medical mission to Ecuador. Her favorite part of the trips is still working with the kids, whether that means comforting scared children who have never been to see a doctor, playing Twister with Guatemalan orphans, passing out toys she and father brought down in duffel bags for the kids – or just talking to them.
Back at home, Cassandra is just your average sixth grader, Tae Kwon Do black belt and hopeful veterinarian. She has indoor plumbing in her own bathroom, which means she never has to wash her hair out in the open. And she may be one of the few 11-year-olds in Orange County who understands what a real luxury that is.
