Abstract

“The women here in Los Terreros are worried,” Don Alonzo says. “Last year, one of them died from invasive cervical cancer. Thirty-eight years old. Never had a pap in her life.” He leans back in his chair and sighs. “Her husband wouldn’t let her, said he didn’t see the point.” A tabby cat rubs against his legs. “So now the women, they keep worrying. They’ve had the day your group is coming memorized for weeks, maybe months.”Don Alonzo is the local health officer, a thin man in his late sixties, never without his cowboy hat and tattered backpack. We sit in front of his house atop a steep hill in Los Terreros, a small Honduran community about a hundred miles northeast of the country’s capital. Around us, dense green...