Cuaguigicil

In this tiny community an hour's walk from the nearest bus stop on the one road to Léon, Yuritza visits every two months to check the overall health of the youngest babies, toddlers and kids, and to provide medicine she can.
It's the only access to health care the families have, unless they walk an hour to the road and take the bus into town to the health center.
We walk with her and Diana, the community contact, jumping rocks in streams and boiling in the morning heat in a green valley until we see the first homes. No one is there, so we try a few more until we find Burnia.
Crossing the barbed wire fence to keep the cows in, we pass a small flock of very big turkeys and are cackled a little lullaby by red, gold and black roosters and their hens, passing sleeping speckled piglets and their mothers to get to her house — two rooms and an open kitchen with an earthen oven.
We wait for news to spread that we are here.
It's a long hour in the heat and then they arrive — the houses are very far apart. There's no phones, no running water or cars and somehow everyone knows Yuritza has come.
Meredith sits at the table with her, drops, bottles of medicine and tablets spread out before them. Their first patient is a young boy who may have a hernia from lifting. Maybe hauling and cutting wood or carting wet clothes in buckets up from the river down the hill.
Yuritza suggests the family go into El Sauce for another look. Others get vitamins and drops and no one wants the vaccinations. Polio and deadly forms of malaria are teeny drops into their mouths — the malaria is even sweet "They like it," says Yuritza — but the "five in one" is a sharp jab with the a needle.
Three boys wait in the corner, scared to be the first to sit in the hot seat.
After a while they go and are followed by a little girl. Meredith holds the cotton on her leg after the shot as she cries, but soon forgets all about it as she and Marco waddle around, unsteady on their feet, playing with a deodorant stick, wood and a plastic cup.
I've noticed barely any kids have toys here. Or none. I wonder what they do, as I don't see any books either; then I look outside and the older ones are chasing each other around, making their own fun.
Our arrival is also diversion. Every time a person walks by or we drive into the mountains, kids are standing at the road to watch the new spectacle.
Meredith and Yuritza care for about 10 children throughout the morning and early afternoon. Burnia welcomes them all into the room and they visit, waving their health charts to find a breeze. Burnia also offers me a trial run of her hammock. Two are strung up in the room for some family members to sleep. Three more likely sleep in the bed I saw in the back room.