parenthood – Page 5 – They call me Betty

I have finally discovered it’s a lie!

September 23, 2013 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

It’s a lie, it’s all been one great big fat lie! I don’t know what to believe anymore! My inner self-worth has been annihilated, any resemblance of an ego obliterated and then there is the whole trust issue! Yeah that’s right I said it, T R U S T….. How on earth am I to trust anymore? Huh? Huh? What? Yeah I know, its like impossible now!

Maybe I better go back to the beginning.

(flashback mode) diddledoooo, diddleeeedooo, diddleeeedoooooo

Fourth grade and Mrs Schultz asks: Betty what do you want to be when you grow up? Now first of all its a really nice Norman Rockwell image but COME ON!!! What kid in fourth grade truly knows what they want to be when they grow up!

I throw out the only answer that comes to mind. Now before I tell you let me just preface by saying these where the days of TV shows like B.J. and the bear, White line fever and of course my personal favorite Smokey and the Bandit! “10-4 good buddy, come on back you got the Schoolboy 9 on this end!”

So if you havent guessed it, my choice of all the wonderful far-fetched career paths to be pie eyed and moon struck over was that of the truck driver! 18 wheels, coast to coast, my adventures would be never-ending. Hauling materials to those in need and maybe even solving crime along the way. My truck was going to be a cab over Kenworth (red) with more chrome than a 57 Chevy! Yep I had it all figured out.

Unfortunately Mrs Schultz didn’t see it that way. For as soon as I spun my web of fantasy over the 18 wheeler I then heard from her terse red lips the common denominator that would haunt me for the rest of my educational experience. A truck driver? Are you kidding me? Son this is America, where you can be what ever you wish to become. A smart kid like you could be a doctor, or scientist, a policeman, fireman or heck if you work hard enough at it one day maybe even the President of the United States! Apparently according to everyone elses standards becoming a truck driver did not fall into the parameters of becoming what ever you want in America!

So whats a lad to do? I did what any other young man in my position would do, I tried to become everything but a truck driver. Farm hand, dishwasher, construction worker, salesman, cowman, delivery driver, dairyman and so on. You know what? I hadn’t become educated at all. I struggled all through school, I was never tested to see if I had a learning disability or if the courses were above my comprehension level. Always scolded for poor grades and reminded by my parents alongside administrators that with a little more effort maybe I would amount to something. Reminded constantly that in America you can be what ever you wish, as long as it isn’t a dishwasher or farm hand, construction worker, salesman, cowman, dairyman etc…. All the things I actually enjoyed doing.

When high school was over it felt as though a giant burden had been lifted from my soul. No more daily disappointment, no more struggling through classes, trying as hard as I could only to receive a C or D grade. I didn’t graduate with my class, I finished at a community college over the summer, testing and passing my GED with outstanding scores in every subject! Confusing huh? Either way I had that paper in hand, and it was time for me to enter the world, where I worked as a construction worker, dairyman, car salesman, cowman and overall farm hand. I was happy. It suited me, I didn’t make any money but I also didn’t care. My family was confused with my choices, these jobs to them had no future, no means of long-term sustenance. It wasnt what parents wanted for their children in America! Nope, here in the states anyone can be anything and do what ever they choose. Want to be a doctor? Just find the funding, go to school and whala! You are a doctor, revered by all who see you and the talk of every mothers book club! She must be so proud! He works on a dairy? Oh honey I am so sorry he let you all down. (must be a sign of poor parenting)

I finally got the nerve one day to ask my boss if I could drive his 10 wheel tank truck. He said yes and after two years of hard work, long hours and very few days off I earned the opportunity (key word being “opportunity”)to get behind the wheel of his 18 wheel hay truck. A few more long days of practicing backing it up, moving it around the dairy both loaded and unloaded and before long-wait for it-wait for it- have you guessed yet? THATS RIGHT MRS. SCHULTZ I WAS DRIVING A SEMI-TRUCK ALL OVER NORTHERN CALIFORNIA!!!! WHOOP WHOOP! She was blue and chrome and covered in shiny aluminum and she was all mine!!!

I spent ten years driving hay trucks, logging over a million miles. When I decided the dream wasnt all it had been cracked up to be (no crime fighting you know) I went back to school and after 5 years of working 90 hour work weeks, volunteering at one fire department while working part-time on Sundays (the only day off I had) I landed a full-time gig as a firefighter for the department I continue to work for to this day 18 years later.

So I am sure you are scratching your head wondering where the lie is? Betty acquired a respectable job after all? What the heck?

Today I am surrounded by children of all ages. Helping at schools, my wife being a teacher, having taught High School Fire Science for 5 years, 4-H, FFA etc… And what I see scares me. Scares me to the very core of my being, and because of this lie perpetrated upon myself and generations of children it is only going to get worse. I see children walking around with their heads full of shit! I see a school system developed to check the boxes, not explore the possibilities, I see bright inquisitive minds molded, compressed, held back, all to meet a systems ideal of how children should be taught. As if all minds worked exactly the same, all brains absorbed information at the same rate, all eyes see exactly the same information you the teacher have so carefully placed upon the school board.

When I look into a classroom or gaze upon a group at practice it’s so obvious there little gears are all turning at different levels. Ask them to perform, if you are truly paying attention then you will see one maybe two get it the first time, three-nine get it the second time and 3-5 are still processing with one or two so utterly lost they use humor or anger to hide their mistrust of the educational system, coaching and the adults who have lied to them all along.

Why are we as a society standing by, allowing this to happen? We preach children are our future then walk away, dropping the most precious soul we have at the school door hoping a state-run system will prepare them for the world! The United States ranks 17 in the world for education. That is 17th out of 40 countries, I am sorry not everyone gets a trophy on this one people! Wake up! Our children are learning how to check the boxes, they no longer have the ability to think for themselves, they need multiple choice answers to make an attempt at anything and I am sorry if this pisses anyone off but why aren’t we testing them early to determine what they ARE good at instead of filling their heads with shit! Lying to them constantly by telling them its ok, you can be what ever you want to be! Just try harder next time! No matter how hard you try or don’t try, everyone will get a trophy, everyone will get our prescribed education, everyone needs to understand you can have what ever you want or need because you are an educated American which leaves you automatically entitled to it all!

Liars!

How much better would our society be if all children were tested, thusly developing a plan to educate them accordingly. Children from 1-12 grade would develop a stronger sense of pride through accomplished work. Work that not only do they have the ability to understand but actually excel at! WOW what a concept! Educators knowing who has the mental acuity to thrive in college bringing our countries A game to the highest level. Educators also knowing who will thrive in trade schools and wow what a difference they will make with workers proud of their jobs, bringing careers to the highest of levels because they have found success through hard work and understanding of the processes associated with these career choices.

Listen I know it’s not that simple, but I also know whats happening now is not working. It didn’t work when I was a child and it surely isn’t working with 30 years of revisions. I spent the better part of my childhood ashamed that I was stupid, terrified of tests (something I still struggle with as an adult) and mentally not prepared for the world by my parents or my teachers. To this day I feel lost when I can’t figure something out, ashamed to ask for help, in fear of being reminded of just how dumb I really am. Why? Because that’s the education system I was raised in, told to sink or swim, toe the line or be towed, then patted on the head and reminded I can be what ever I want to be! It was all a lie.

You cannot be anything you wish to be, and a society that frowns upon those who wish to become part of the blue-collar group is a society destined for failure through the creation of uninspired and lazy human beings. Chastising them will only push them away from what they love, not teaching them the basics of blue-collar work and cheering their successes will only develop more animosity and hatred towards society. At some point a person tires of hearing how their choices are a failure and they just quit. It’s an ugly circle and you can see its effects daily in the news.

On the flip side how many children who are naturally quiet, reserved and fearful of the monster that is our 40 child classroom one way of learning educational system are freaking geniuses? How many undiscovered talents quietly sulk in the rear of classrooms across this country because fear keeps them from learning? Future Mensa card holders never to discovered due to a system that would never find them.

Lets stop the lie. Lets go back to fostering young minds, drawing out creativity, celebrating the individual, and developing unashamed, caring human beings filled with knowledge, empathy and love.

So yes today I finally figured out it was all a lie and no matter how hard I try I am not going to become the President of the United States, but if we could just become fifth in the world of education, then maybe everyone can have a trophy….

“A young head filled with shit, will eventually become an older self entitled shit which in turn will blossom into an adult piece of shit! Useless to themselves and society as a whole because they just dont give a shit.”

A cry for help…….

September 13, 2013September 13, 2013 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

A few years ago a promise was made.

I Betty, promised without outside influence or undue strain to lose weight, become healthier both physically and mentally. I Betty promised to change my eating habits, giving up three square meals a day (ok my meals were really more like a long rectangle) of grease, fat and yummy goodness, for the more reserved, deliberate, granola eating, salad munching variety. I also promised to cut down on my love for fine beers! Dark beers, light beers, heavy beers, bitter beers, and smooth beers, if it gave head in a glass I was in! (Read into that what you will, I aint your mom)

Why? Why did I change my ways? Give up the good life? Stop adhering to my strong belief that if God hadn’t intended me to enjoy these devilish treats then he wouldn’t have created someone to create them for me! Why? Why you ask?

Because my son told me he didn’t want me to die!

Kind of grabs ya by the old ticker don’t it? Imagine these pie shaped eyes looking up at you as he asks; Daddy doesn’t being overweight kill people? Daddy my teacher says alcohol is bad for you and that some people even die from drinking it. Daddy why do you smoke cigars? Aren’t they made of tobacco? Tobacco kills people doesn’t it? I have seen the commercials dad, the ones with the smoke that looks like a skull creeping in and killing a baby, dad I seen it!!!

Yeah it’s like that. What do you say to that? How do you approach it? An honest child’s question deserves respect! It cannot be cast aside and made fun of jovially as you talk up a good game with your buddies! No! You have to actually listen and either come up with one hell of a great lie to justify your obvious ignorance as far as the child is concerned or actually get down on one knee and apologize to the kid as though you were in freaking confession and praying for a reduced sentence on the hail Mary front! Now those questions were really me paraphrasing a conversation held between myself and two of my boys at different stages in their lives. The elder won out with tobacco and the junior won out with health and wellness.

Now two almost three full years after the latter round of questioning involving eating and weight loss or gain as it were for myself and I have lost almost 25 pounds! I am in absolutely the very best shape of my life! I have run in a few 5K’s, practiced with my eldest’s cross country team, run the “Tough Mudder” and completed it in a respectable time with my wife and a few close friends! I currently am lifting weights and riding my bike ten miles to work! It is fantastic the way I feel! Now don’t think for a moment I am bragging. Oh no my children, I am merely setting the stage, drawing you a picture for what I am going to say next because I am at a quandary, a roadblock, a wall of great proportions in my narrow view of life and it just wouldn’t make sense without having given an accurate description of events.

So with that statement along with what appears to me as being a fair picture drawn here it is…..

I LOVE CHOCOLATE!

There, I said it! I love freaking chocolate! I see it in everything, cake, ice cream, candy bars, bacon (yeah I said bacon so what) smores, little truffles, m&m’s, cookies, hell they have even jammed chocolate in granola bars, puffed it into cereals, wrapped it around drinking straws, created a martini based on chocolate! Its splashed over nuts, caramel, fruit, peanut butter, wafers, bugs (yep even insects get the chocolate treatment) and they have even made chocolate flavored medicine!

It’s everywhere! It makes me sweat when I see it! I tremble and my knees weaken! But that and that alone is not the worst of my confession, oh no!

Because….

Because you know what goes great with a gorging of chocolate, regardless of its source? What really brings the chocolate lover in you out of the closet? BEER!!!!! It helps wash down the guilt all that chocolate leaves adhered to your soul! Then you know what happens after you have a few too many beers washing down all that chocolate? YOU EAT MORE CHOCOLATE!!!! Before you know it your mouth is all dry and sticky from devouring the previous chocolate morsels so you better open up a few more beers, because gosh darn it you can’t wash down all that chocolate with 12 ounces, nope chocolate is a 16-24 ounce minimum!

Then it depends on what kind of chocolate you are eating! Cheap milk chocolate you say! No problem any domestic light beer works great! Snooty dark chocolate, that takes a micro brew and heaven forbid you’re eating the sweet sinuous, melt in your mouth English chocolate, because then, all bets are off! It goes with everything!!!! YAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!

Next thing you know I am a bloated toad lying on the couch trying to hide my stomach distension from the family while tossing beer bottles under the couch and shoving candy wrappers in the cushions! Feeling much like a super model with the need to “purge” I am constantly looking for an out, trying to detract from my obvious discomfort and keeping all little ones at bay as one fly by would lead to the courts discovery of beer vapors emanating around the lip/mouth area!

Much like a fat man wedged deep inside a Duncan doughnuts delivery truck, it is not a pretty sight! I am known far and wide for my chocolate locating ability and like the fabled ant eater has a nose for ants I can smell chocolate before it hits the parking lot! I will sit straight up in my chair, nose twitching as the wife asks; what is it boy, what do you smell huh? What do you smell boy? She pats my head as slowly I start panting and before long with the stature of a bird dog on the hook I freeze and point. Chocolate found, chocolate soon to be destroyed!

So you see my dilemma? I am weakening, my resolve is expiring, the goodness I have done for my body is one thing, but the fat kid inside me is winning the fight! I work where food is always present, I am surrounded by friends and family who enjoy a good beer or two and lately stress has ruled my life forcing my inner demons to emerge! I am going down people, I am going down hard! Hands are shaking, knees clacking, nose twitching, and my beer hand is strengthening its grip! I am going down, yes I am going all the way down like a sinking ship on the open sea!

If you see me on the street you’ll know, wedged in a bakery window slathered in chocolate cream, lying on the sidewalk outside a 7-11 covered in M&M’s with Coors light littering the sidewalk, face first in some chocolate cake with butter cream frosting outside a restaurant or passed out in the local Big Spoon with fro-yo down the front of my shirt and every chocolate topping they offer scattered around my $45.00 yogurt. No longer a hero to my children….

So don’t laugh, don’t take pity on me, I did my best, held on as long as I could. Please just walk on by and remember how strong I used to be if even for a little while. Then tell my kids I loved them.

Sigh…………

*This is not a true cry for help but self-deprecating humor of my love for beer and chocolate. No chocolate or beer was used in excess or harmed while writing this piece.

Im BAAAAACCCCCKKKKKK!

September 8, 2013September 8, 2013 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Hello dearies’ Betty is back.

So lately I’ve really been having a hard time coming up with anything to write about. My life has held quite a few ups and downs and along with the occasional 5pm nip’ to sooth the soul, well let’s just say Betty is plum tuckered out!

But not to fret! Today while working around the station I made a promise to myself that tonight would be the night, and if it meant writing about the very first thing popping into my shriveling brain (age you know) then darn it so be it!

Tantalizing huh?

Anyways I am seated at the computer and well, ok, uh, here goes, we are writing about the very first thing that POPS into my brain. Hmmm-maybe after I adjust the seat a little…. There we go, now how about a sip of lemonade? Yes, yes I feel something profound coming on….. Turn off the phone, maybe a little music to stimulate the senses, that may work don’t you think? Ahhh wait a minute I think I may have something, Yeeees, yeeeeeees, YES!

Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!

Now everyone who’s enjoyed old Betty’s company knows that alongside the world-famous hot dog there is nothing I like better than a good peanut butter and jelly sandwich! The thought of one right now leaves my taste buds drowning like the bottom of Niagara falls! Beloved by children around the world this little piece of culinary mastery has been the staple of lunches for generations! Bringing smiles of pleasure while ingesting with a crisp cold glass of milk and a Oreo cookie! (We will cover Oreo’s at another juncture)

MMMMMMMMM-M! Yep, filling, satisfying, tasty and good for you too! (Don’t give stats on nutrition I don’t care as far as I’m concerned it’s next to perfect) But where the real secret in the Peanut Butter and Jelly (PB&J) sandwich lies is in how it’s made or “crafted”! I know freaking crazy huh? All this time you were just slapping those two ingredients together and BAM! You thought you were in the clear! Sheer perfection done! But no my children, sadly it’s not that simple. The preparation, the dynamic, the love placed into every one of theses sandwiches is legendary and with its tradition must be honored or held with the highest regards! But before I get into the specifics let’s take a stroll down memory lane to understand the origin of the PB&J.

History

In the early 1900s, peanut butter was considered a delicacy that was only served in New York City‘s finest tearooms. The product was first paired with a diverse set of foods such as pimento, nasturtium, cheese, celery, watercress, and on toasted crackers. In a Good Housekeeping article published in May 1896, a recipe “urged homemakers to use a meat grinder to make peanut butter and spread the result on bread.” In June of that same year, the culinary magazine Table Talk published a “peanut butter sandwich recipe.” The first reference of peanut butter paired with jelly on bread to be published in the United States was by Julia Davis Chandler in 1901 in the Boston Cooking-School Magazine of Culinary Science and Domestic Economics. By the late 1920s, this sandwich eventually moved down the class structure as the price of peanut butter dropped. It became popular with children. During World War II, it is said that both peanut butter and jelly were found on U.S. soldiers’ military ration list, as claimed by the Peanut Board. –Wikipedia

Good enough for a soldier than damn sure lip smacking good enough for my little heathens I say! Julia Davis Chandler I love you for thinking outside the box, throwing caution into the wind and not allowing Boston’s elite to scoff at the idea of pairing the ever so coveted peanut butter with a poor man’s ration of smooshed up fruit! Humph!

Hey that reminds me; you got your chocolate on my peanut butter! No you got your peanut butter on my chocolate! Hee hee, a topic of peanut/chocolate/ desert delight best held for another time.

Now I am not sure sweet caring Julia knew at the time, but to build a perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich one must choose the proper ingredients, hand-pick the perfect bread and place them all together in sequence or you just end up with a soggy poo sandwich!

The bread must be white! Not that marketing ploy I am healthy for you fake wheat/white bread they are selling oh no! Smooshy, white, bleached white, squishy, soft, smells straight from the oven white bread! Now for a more sophisticated connoisseur, gathering a few slices of sourdough in place of white and serving the sandwich as such will wring the hundred-dollar bill from any man, but for the heart and soul of this sandwich nothing less than real white bread will do!
Jelly is a sticky subject (all pun intended). There are spreads, jellies, jams, preserves and whatever that stuff is that comes in the white wrapped generic bottles from the bottom shelf of every grocery store in America! In my humble, little ole opinion, jams and preserves are the only way to go! If you are taking the time to enjoy the fruits Mother Nature has provided on a sandwich paired with the butter of a peanut then for the love of god it had better EXPLODE with fruity flavor! Now there are multiple choices when it comes to the jam/jelly arena of battle! But for my taste buds only Strawberry or Blackberry will do. You can use what you want, but please remember this; marmalade is not a jelly, I don’t care what anyone tells you! Oh it looks like jelly, its labeled jelly and its makes a good attempt at tasting like jelly! But jelly lives on the wrong side of the tracks people! Over yonder where the rich kids dare not go! So never and I mean ever pair that homemade blue-collar, loving life jelly with a marmalade! You are just asking for trouble and the next thing you know kids in the town are going to want to dance! And hold a school dance on the outskirts of town in an old grain mill… Sorry got stuck in the 80’s for a minute. But even so, It just aint right.
Peanut Butter comes under many guises. We have creamy peanut butter-smooth and soft like a fat baby’s underbelly! Heavenly taken from straight out of the center of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup! Crunchy peanut butter-rough, gritty, nutty it shouts I am a lumberjack, or Sasquatch lives here! This crude creation melded so slightly with white collars soft frailty overloading your senses with a feeling of all natural while sliding into something from Ralph Lauren. And of course last but least there is Natural Peanut Butter all oily and un-mixed, kept in a fridge for fear it will actually age and turn more disgusting. Yah that’s all I got on natural peanut butter. I see that jar come from the fridge and I instantly roll up a newspaper and smack that person on the nose screaming; NO! NO! YOU PUT THAT BACK! NO! BAD PERSON, BAD PERSON!
Last but not least. Place an equal amount of peanut butter on one slice of bread as you would jelly/jam on the other side of bread. Too much peanut butter and the sandwich sticks to the roof of your mouth which can be like asking your tongue to wrestle stretch Armstrong. Too much jelly and a diabetic coma is in your future complete with desert like thirst and the need to lick some coffee grounds to even out the sweetness. Place both halves together gently, careful not to squish as squashing creates oozy, seeping jelly bread and enjoy!

So there you have it, the first thing that came to my mind encompassing the four major components of the Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwich.

Hope you all are glad I am back! Hee hee hee!

Time and tide wait for no man

July 15, 2013July 16, 2013 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.

~William Shakespeare~

Like ants are we; a stream of human flesh winding effortlessly through pathways towards one common goal. The shoreline. Its 0330 a mass exodus has begun. Not one person missed the 0300 wake up call, every bag has been transported by head, back or drag, they are all accounted for on the beach and now many stand in awe under such a brilliant night sky.

I stand alone, facing a blackened shoreline, no light outlining its many features yet I still stare, eyes wide open hoping to trap light, any light, so I may gaze once more into the heart of this village. Our time here is finished, no grand parade, no tear filled goodbye, no one to see us off, just 10 half-awake missionaries, 6 passengers, and 5 crewmembers lining the sides of a freshly built rock formation known as the boat dock. My heart aches for the people I leave behind, the unknown in regards to the future of many and the state of being in a village run by tyranny.

As we begin to board a warm breeze covers my face, our boat is creaking with every movement of the tides, expanding then contracting under pressure from the water for which it lay. Loading is done as many hands form a chain, ensuring all contents and passengers make it aboard without a slip into the water or injury from the sharpened volcanic rock from which we are perched.

A pile of suitcases fill the belly of this wooden albatross, a vessel measuring at least 16 feet wide and 5 feet deep. It is the same sailboat that ferried us into Source a Philippe, therefore we are very familiar with its lack of substance. Looking more like a gigantic canoe with a series of sails attached there are only a few locations for passengers to travel; so we sit lining the rails, bow to stern. Captain Jackson fires up a 75 horse outboard motor, then directs crew members to slacken all lines and like a leaf in the breeze our ship slips quietly into the night.

He that will not sail till all dangers are over must never put to sea.

~Thomas Fuller~

Silently we glide under the stars, it’s would be shameful not to notice the brilliance of this night’s sky. No ambient light to ruin its majesty a canopy of shimmering light from one horizon to the other is amazing. Looking around I notice people are chatting, some staring into the distance obviously half-awake and a few showing the signs of nervous stress, twitch about as the thought of making this journey again is more than they can bare. While taking account of all aboard I find Ms. Melissa half-awake; due to a combination of sleeping pills and anxiety medications she quickly has found her 6 foot by 2 foot piece of real estate aboard this SS Minnow and is drifting off to sleep. Looking at her peaceful demeanor one would deduce she has in fact found the only planks aboard this rotting vessel that resembled a sleep number bed! Eyes closed tight, slight smirk on her face, oh how I envy this mental state of mind.

Ten minutes into our journey the winds appear have picked up quite a bit. Trying not to become overly worried, I do my best shrugging off many thoughts rapidly filling my head. For you see if the winds are picking up here within the protection of this reef then out on the open water they will become much stronger, creating waves that I am sure will leave many aboard leery at best. Striking up a conversation with Preston, hoping to squelch my thoughts, he asks what the men standing in front or on the bow are doing. I reply they are using the stars to navigate us outside the reef. Little do I know (but find out later) they are using the stars not just to navigate outside the reef, but in hopes we miss a giant boulder that lays just beneath the water’s surface? A boulder that has damaged or sunk many a ship navigated by the inexperienced. Preston bluntly asks how I seem to know something about everything. Chuckling I explain that I really don’t, I am just one of those guys who focusses on things no one else would normally pay attention too. A mind filled with loads of useless information! I ask him if he’s ever heard of Cliff Claven? When he replies no; I laugh and suggest he watch an episode or two of Cheers, when he gets home, then all will become clear! He agrees; turning away I quietly take my potato that looks like Richard Nixon and put it back in my backpack as I now know Preston would never understand.

Gazing over the ships side, luminescence from plankton are brilliantly lighting up every wave that splashes from beneath the boats hull. This sight is amazing! There are so many wonders of this earth I have not seen! I yearn for more and am saddened at a lack of being able to video all nature’s beauty surrounding me.

Water is spraying every now and again with the rise and fall of our ship’s bow. Brent and Preston are taking the brunt as I only catch about a half of the water they are now wearing. My wife who is sitting to my right has leaned in to tell me she doesn’t feel good about the way the ship is moving. I respond with an understanding nod of the head, then in my simple honest way (which I hate and wish I could control better) tell her it’s going to get much worse! When she inquires as to how I know, I respond: I just know. Great answer huh? In the end it’s much easier than explaining wind, tides, geographic shelter, trade winds, along with the lunar gravitational pull on earth. When Preston hears this, he too inquires as to how much worse it could possibly become? My only answer is this; I have done a lot of fishing, and one thing I know for sure, if the wind is blowing here, the farther out we get the harder it will blow, for there are no land masses to slow any movement of air. No one seems to like my answer as they both smile a nervous smile in return. Jacy is hoping I am wrong as she hates when I am right, and unfortunately I am almost certain I will be right once again. Judging from the looks of this group and the age of our ship, I pray really hard it’s one of those times I am wrong. Not just a little wrong but dead wrong! So very wrong that being made fun of for being wrong will feel right and eating crow will be my pleasure.

30 minutes aboard and our ship has begun heaving to and fro. No doubt we have cleared the reef as our ship now slides down the back sides of waves as opposed to riding high upon their crest. Captain Jackson’s father is in charge and he calls for full sail. The crew scurries about rigging block and tackle, pulling lines and unfurling the main sail. The waves have increased in intensity and now this wooden relic is not only fighting the pull of a half unfurled sail but seems to be unable to find its way out of the trough! Up and down, back and forth, side to side this ship is moving about as though it has been thrown around by a tub bound five year old! People aboard are becoming worried, we have hit pretty hard on the downslope of many waves. Jacy nervously watches as our crew is bantering about! Leaning in their general direction she is hoping to pick up a misspoken word during the heat of the moment! She is not disappointed as suddenly crew members begin yelling at each other! Jacy sits up, leans into me and says; this is bad, very, very bad! When inquiring how she knows, she looks back and replies; because that’s what the crew just said! Astonished, before I can reply to this revelation our crew is tossing life vests to everyone within arm’s length. All of us now fully understand the dire situation we are in as no time is wasted putting these neoprene vests on our bodies. It becomes quite a challenge doffing these vests as our ship continues slamming down hard from bow to stern then rolling violently from port to starboard, resting mostly on its starboard side! Soon a rhythm develops and just as it feels as though we may be evening out, the sail fully extends and we are hit very hard from the port side by a gust of wind! Our ship yaws hard to starboard with the mast almost touching the water! The crew is screaming and motioning for everyone on the starboard to side to get up and move onto the port side for ballast! Water is splashing overboard, people are terrified, and I have a death grip on Jacy and Preston! My butt is sitting on the side of this ship, not the rail, not an inside plank, but the outside of the ship! My hands are locked tight upon the two of them and my foot has something hard underneath it for pushing against. We roll upright for a second and then are hit by an even bigger gust of wind that drops the boat upon its side once again. My only thought is if the mast catches we three are going over the high side, not forward into the rigging. Then we can swim around and hopefully assist those who need help getting back to our boat! Looking around taking mental note of all aboard not everyone has a life vest and hopefully the boat capsizing will never happen, but ever the doomsday prepper I have mentally come to terms with what may or may not happen within the next few minutes.

The next few minutes turns into 10 as the ship continues riding hard over onto its starboard side? It’s like riding a horse out of control, left, right, unstable for a moment then just enough stability to gather your seat! There is no Haitian coast guard here to rescue us, there is no distress signal to give, and there is no radio to send one. No one will know where we are, no one will know what happened to us, no one will come rescue us; there will be no one! So what do we do? Jacy is praying, Alisa is praying, Preston is quiet, Brent is reciting scripture, Heather is quietly wondering what the Hell! Melissa is sleeping, oh to be Melissa. Richard is terrified and holding Jacys leg while standing in the hull of the boat fighting the urge to vomit (which he loses valiantly). Jacy has begun unravelling a little and starts yelling what do we do?? Who do we call? No answer is forth coming from many terrified individuals. She leans over to Richard and yells even louder over the wind and waves; who do we call Richard, who do we call? Richard without missing a beat responds; GOD!

Alisa has pulled out her cell phone. Now there is no cell service out here, we have all tried many times during our tenure on and off La Gonave. But strangely enough here, at this moment, somewhere past the reef, out in the open ocean during a particularly stressful combination of events, one cell phone has service. Alisa quickly calls her husband Reuben per Jacy’s request! Reuben answers and Alisa spends the next few seconds telling him she loves him, where we are and what is happening. Then she tells him to listen carefully, explaining that if he (Reuben) doesn’t hear from her in 4 hours to call the American Embassy and report us missing. He agrees, and through tears Alisa hangs up the phone. That was the moment this situation became real for many of us.

Jacy quickly grabs the phone and tries reaching Sara at the guest house. When Sara answers Jacy explains our situation to which Sara replies; Ya-all think you may need to get into the center of the boat? Jacy say no the boat is tipping over and feels the safety of its crew and passengers are in jeopardy. Sara now grasps the urgency in Jacys voice. Jacy then repeats the very same request given to Reuben not more than two minutes ago; if you don’t hear from us in 3 hours please send out a search crew as we have most likely capsized and are in the water. Sara says she understands and will pray for us, before Jacy can answer her back, the phone is dead, no more cell service. Both women look at each other, Alisa looking nervous and Jacy still wondering what will become of us. During this time on the phone our boat has pitched wildly several more times to the gasps of several passengers. Some are beginning to vomit, others are holding one another, and the crew is still scurrying about. Still frantic, Jacy is doing her best to ensure everyone is ok when Kristina yells from across the boat; Jacy! PULL IT TOGETHER! Perfectly placed at just the right time my wife straightens up, takes a deep breath and agrees to this powerful suggestion.

Rocking and tipping, rolling and creaking, our boat continues bobbing around like a cork in a washing machine. This dance of hard wind gusts, our boat leaning all the way over, water spraying us from one end of the ship to the other along with heavy hits as we slide from the apex of one wave into the trough of another goes on for another 20 minutes to a half hour. We are all beginning to feel exhausted from battling the hard movements of this ship, when suddenly we are in a sustained rhythm. The boat seems to be gliding not bucking and our Captain has ordered full sail! We pick up speed as she cuts through the night air with less resistance from wind and wave. A sigh of relief overcomes me as I feel the worst is over. The darkness has definitely been the hardest part of this excursion. Not seeing a horizon line to focus on during the turmoil has indeed made this whole adventure more challenging mentally as it lends itself to those with a heightened sense of disaster. As the sun slowly rises Preston begins to feel the warmth of a morning sun. This boy is soaked from our 30 minute adventure upon the high seas and his teeth have been chattering for most of the last hour. Leaning in to ask me a question; He wonders what I was thinking during that moment of near disaster, I simply reply; faith. One has to have faith.

There are still sudden slaps of the hull every now and again, Jacy is pressed up against me and lets out a tiny gasp. Her nerves as with many others are a little frayed. She asks me if I was scared. If I thought we would die? I reply yes, for a moment I was scared. She smiles and looks away, to check in on Richard between vomiting spells, the poor lad was not born to be a mariner. Truth be told, when the mast almost hit the water my heart jumped, I felt the same panic as everyone else, but I had already devised a plan and when you have a plan, fear can be conquered, used to your benefit. But overall, yes the whole event made me nervous and for a moment I was scared. What strengthened my resolve during this moment of crisis? Faith! A calmness overcame me at some point during the calamity, I remember it vividly as a warm feeling enveloping my soul. My heart rate lowered, my eyes opened a little wider and my breathing relaxed! It was as if I knew everything was going to be ok. I had faith.

The next three hours or so are spent slowly spreading our bodies back across the hull. Everyone soon has a new spot of real estate claimed as she (the boat) rides gentle, slow and upright in the water. An ocean filled with waves of the slow rolling variety await our journey, which suited this group much better than the previous encounter. Melissa has come out of her coma every now and again, only to chuckle at our inability to stay calm and sleep through disaster! She definitely is the smart one in the group. Richard is still vomiting but now spends more time curled up in a ball then actually throwing up in a bucket. Alisa joins him at one point but she also appears to be much better now. I lay upon the deck marveling at this ships hap hazard construction and pondering just how many journeys this old battle horse has made? Before long, to our relief the shores of Petite Gonave are in sight. Jacy picks up a cell phone to inform the guest house we are fine; A few chuckles, some banter and Jacy is off the phone. Alisa calls Reuben, I can only imagine what this man has been thinking for the last 3-4 hours.

Gently we motor into harbor, the sails come down, and before we can count the number of crab pots passing by the crew drops anchor and a small skiff makes it way our direction.

Setting foot on hard ground feels great, if the terra firma wasn’t covered in bits of garbage I believe dropping to my knees and kissing it would have been appropriate! Standing under a coconut tree in a small courtyard the gravity of all we have encountered/accomplished begins to set in; there are the many people we helped, the pharmacy we stocked and surviving this final journey back to the mainland. It is mentally more than I can handle as delirium takes over. Gazing at my friend, my face grows long and my heart becomes heavy at the thought of saying goodbye to Caz. It feels like yesterday we reconnected after a yearlong absence and I feel as though we barely spent any time together. Milling around we gather our bags, head to the street and begin loading the transport. It appears after our voyage on the high seas all any of us can think about is getting back to the guest house for a little sleep and possibly a relaxing swim. Exhausted, covered in salt crystals from the waves coming over the side of the boat and dirty the thought of riding inside our transport is not appealing in the least. Please lord let this trip be safe and quick.

Driving through the streets of Petite Gonave, we are hot and sweaty, there is no air conditioning, the temperature is in the 90’s and humidity is at least 40%. Add a few hundred cars, streets filled with burning garbage and pollution from unregulated vehicles that race up and down these tiny corridors making up the provinces we are passing through and well our ride is interesting at best. Our driver swerves, then weaves, runs up to 60mph on side streets then sits gridlocked on thoroughfares. This reckless driving goes on for two hours until Preston needs to use a bathroom. Our driver slows down checking a few places until finally stopping at a little hotel on the beach. I find it to be a quaint little place with all the charm one can muster on a dilapidated road between Petite Gonave and Carrefour. Once back on the road I have come to the painful realization my ass is killing me! It seems after four hours of sitting on hard wood in a boat, this jump seat I am currently perched upon is leaving my ass and lower back writhing in pain! Looking around the van it appears we are all in various stages of nodding off, the early morning has taken its toll upon the masses. Looking over at Kristina she seems determined to fight off any chance of an asthma attack by wearing a respiratory mask! A good thing too as it seems every corner we turn has burning garbage, rubber or plastic! It feels as though you can taste the air with your tongue.

Entering Carrefour and Ronald is on the phone in what appears to be quite the heated exchange. At one point Ronald hands the phone to Richard who also ends up sternly speaking to the recipient on the other end? Confused by what is transpiring, Jacy leans in and whispers to me that Francois is on the phone. Ronald has asked Francois (his father) where the tip money we left them is , Francois has responded by telling his own son there is no tip money for him to have! Our suspicions have now been 100% confirmed. Francois is a greedy crook! As we stated earlier any father that would stiff his own son is dirty, rotten and untrustworthy! Our little ruse to flush him out has worked as planned! Although I feel sorry for Ronald, it really was the only option we had to flush out his father.

In Carrefour we also end up dropping Ronald off on a side street. He politely says goodbye as we thank him for all his help during the week. It is more than obvious he is dejected by what just transpired over the phone, but in the end it is probably better as hopefully Ronald will realize to become a great translator for these missions groups he may need to think about destinations beside his home town and working alongside his father. I truly wish him the best as he slings his backpack over his shoulder and disappears into a very crowded street. We are two and one half hours into this trip when low and behold we end up in a minor fender bender while doing some not so favorable jockeying through the market of Carrefour. Our driver Johnny gets out and begins waving his arms about while yelling at the driver of the other vehicle! It appears from the outside as though two Italians have squared off with an astounding round of insults! At one point it also appears as though the two might exchange blows, but to those of us who have been in country we know this is a normal exchange between Haitian men that ends with a wave.

Four hours of winding through city streets and we have finally entered the guest house compound! Sara greets us as we stretch our backs and shuffle off towards our rooms. Tired and sweaty we quickly all jump into the pool for a much needed swim. After an hour in the pool laughing through delirium about all aspects of our journey home, complete with a little Melissa bashing for sleeping through the entire journey, we crawl out and begin to go our separate ways. Jacy and I pull Tom, the guest house director aside to discuss some of the issues we witnessed and wrangled our way through in Source Phillip.

Tom is astonished at some of the things we tell him. There had been some murmurings about Francois’ abuse of power but nothing had been confirmed. We spend the next hour talking about costs, matching funds, paying the nurses, staffing the clinic and expired drugs in the pharmacy. Tom suggests we meet with Pastor Jackie who will be stopping by this evening. Reluctantly we agree as our mission will not be complete without some form of closure in regards to the issues at hand.

It is time to say goodbye to our interpreters. Richard gives us all hugs, emails are exchanged and kind words are shared. He leaves with many new clothes for the children he supports at a school he has founded back home. Caz also gives hugs all the way around. When he reaches me, we hug for a long time. I love this man, he is seriously one of the kindest human souls I have ever encountered. Last year I presented him with our department coin. This was my personal challenge coin so I would have to earn a new one, the coin cannot be given away unless a person has done a selfless act thus upholding the standards, morals and ethics befitting a firefighter. He had done all that and more! It was a privilege to present him with my coin and earlier in the week he showed me he still carried it a year later. This man will do great things in his country, his love for all humans and God is very powerful and resonates when you are around him. Caz and his family are in my prayers every night.

After a small nap and highly anticipated dinner (none of us had eaten since the night before.) we hold a debriefing with Sara where everyone’s feelings about our journey are heard and processed. She is amazed by what she hears and offers good support to all who listen. We have been at the guest house for only a few hours and this trip is already beginning to feel like a memory. Jacy finds me sitting alone, I am cranky and I don’t know why, I really don’t feel like talking, I have heard all I need to hear, my brain is fried and emotions confused. I am worried about the little ones we left behind, I am exhausted from continually playing this financial game of extortion with François, I no longer need to worry about the responsibilities associated with being an assistant to my wife, and my overprotective side is no longer worrying about the health of all associated with this trip. I’m tired and I just want to cry but I really have no reason too. My insides feel as though there is no pillar to support me should I collapse emotionally. Trying my best to explain the way I feel to my wife I just end up sounding like a selfish jerk. She says I don’t sound like a selfish jerk and she understands, but to me it’s just the opposite. I am supposed to be the one who helps people, I am supposed to be the one supporting you when you are down or taking care of you when you hurt. For me to feel as though I need help when I can’t even place my finger on one singular problem causing disillusion is unconscionable. I say goodnight to all, kiss my wife and disappear to bed, sad and blue, wanting to cry but not knowing how. Eventually I end up sitting at a table downstairs while everyone sleeps, listening to neighborhood dogs, feeling the cool moist air of a storm front rolling in and writing. Even now at 2345 hours almost one month to the day as I sit in the comfort of my fire station, recalling this very moment my throat is tight, my chest hurts and it’s all I can do to keep tears from streaming down my face. But why?

A question that I suppose will remain unanswered…..

Fini

July 9, 2013July 9, 2013 theycallmebetty5 Comments

Dawn rises slowly over a dry Haitian landscape, birds are calling, chickens crowing and Mothra queen of all Haitian moths travels carefree between island shrubberies. Off to my right hoards of goats are gnawing, chewing and pawing their way across this rocky compound! These four legged creatures providing limited sustenance to the inhabitants here in Source a Philipe are driving me crazy! All night long the sounds of goats traveling unrestricted throughout our compound resonates within the night air. I could loathe these devil eyed creatures but I don’t, for their presence means survival to these people; but I must say if I never hear a goats cry again it will be too soon! As the sun continues to rise it is not quite light, not quite dark outside. This is my favorite time of day, no sun baking your skin and just enough light shadowing the surrounding beauty that a different perspective is visually stimulating. This is my last true morning here on La Gonave as tomorrow we depart under a cloak of darkness. At a time like this you end up fully appreciating the opportunity provided to sit in this very place, trying your hardest to absorb every second, every minute because that’s the moment you’re in right now. My emotions are raw, contemplating a future for these people. They are the result of a broken system which has left them hungry, thirsty, and in need of regular medical attention. But what is one small, middle class “Blanc” from America to do? So I sit, on a set of concrete stairs erected over 60 years ago, perched upon by countless other souls who felt a calling for something greater within themselves. They worked hard, saved money, stocked supplies then packed their bags and made this journey. What they found was a village in disarray, but through empathy and Christ’s love struggled to improve life for these people. How many missionaries before me have traveled this far? Why was I chosen for this particular mission? It’s one of those rare moments where personal humility and guilt leave you wondering whether you’ve fulfilled your obligations.

At home through repetition we wander the same paths every day; for we are creatures of habit moving endlessly in circles like hamsters on a wheel. Our sphere of existence consists of visiting the same stores, wandering the same parks, surrounding ourselves with the same friends, moving like herd animals across the plains we roam. But here, on La Gonave, in this small fishing village known as Source a Philipe, like an unwanted stray I feel as though I have broken away from the safety of the herd. I am now on my own for predators to stalk without trepidation. No longer tied to a singular way of thinking, my brain aches as I attempt thinking outside the box looking for solutions. Staring into the distance it has been an incredibly long week and I am left asking myself; HAVE WE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE(S)? In my heart I know we have, there shall be no regrets. Less than 24 hours to go before we depart and already I miss this sad hurtful place.

Sitting under these trees, watching the sun rise, sweating at 0530 in the morning for some strange reason this already feels like a forgotten memory.

Heading back into my room overcome with the urge to write I sit down and can’t quite bring myself to pull the laptop out. My head is submerged in variables surrounding today’s mission. Our last few days have been a mental struggle. Keeping information from the group, supporting my wife during multiple dilemmas while holding back my emotions in regards to human suffering are weighing heavy on my mind. Doc’s having an asthma attack of such severity we all sat stunned, pondering the ramifications of disaster only magnified my sometimes doomsday attitude. Dealing with the worst in people on a daily basis back home has definitely prepared me for this journey, but it has also damaged me as well. My care banks are full, I feel I have nothing left to give, and as I stare at the floor pondering the next 48-72 hours my wife walks in greeting me with a cup of coffee and a smile. I am bleary eyed and must look a mess, but seeing her is just what the doctor ordered.

“Side note; in regards to Docs asthma, a strange thing happened the following morning, she awoke with what appeared to be some form of writing or marks on her arm. Now both groups are closed up and guarded during the night, so for someone to enter one of our structures undetected is a bit unnerving so my first impression was one of doubt. When personally asked about the markings my response was; they must be charcoal rub marks from sitting on logs down by the beach! But after studying the markings a little further it became obvious they were indeed writings, and placed purposely upon her arm. Voodoo is big within the Haitian culture so I snapped a few pictures for identification purposes then cleaned had Kristina clean her arm. We chose to investigate this back at the UMVIM guest house as to not create a commotion here in Source a Philipe.”

With morning pleasantries out of the way we sit side by side holding hands and talking. This trip has been good for the two of us; the daily stress in our lives surrounding a family of 6, both of our jobs and a working horse ranch we had somehow lost the ability to just sit and enjoy each other’s company without distractions, interruptions or otherwise. I haven’t felt this connected to my wife in a long time and secretly I hope it lasts long after we get home. Sipping coffee we decide it’s time to formulate a plan for the day. For today is THE day, the day everybody gets paid, the day we make decisions as to where, what and how they are paid. Today we not only need to treat as many people as possible in the clinic before our departure; but we are required to take inventory of all pharmaceutical supplies, the remainder of our supplies, tear down the clinic and leave behind anything we don’t need or want to benefit the community. Yes TODAY IS THE DAY!

As easy as all of these happenings TODAY sounds, we know vultures will be circling, waiting patiently for the moment, any moment we are not vigilant to abscond our belongings. Sitting next to my wife I note a tone of seriousness within our conversation, for as I have previously stated ALL payments, gifts and donations of clothes, food, medicines and so forth are to be made through Francois! Those are the rules! But Jacy and I are breaking from policy in regards to this agreement. There will be no ALL for François, because yesterday Jacy and I carefully determined how much was to be distributed and to whom! All that remains is for the two of us is to decide where and how payments will be made without alerting François, thusly causing a potential disturbance of great proportions! Double checking to ensure all our planning is in order, we cannot underscore the obvious; we still need François to get off this island.

Our plan? Stretch payments out slowly during the day! She and I believe this will draw the least amount of attention leaving little chance for François to corner a payee or recipient if suspicion arises. The last thing we need to happen is for someone to be accused, embarrassed, harassed or punished because of this team! Reaching into my computer bag, many carefully sealed and marked envelopes are handed over. My wife now carries all monies needed to execute this plan, reminding her to be careful, she smiles and reminds me all will be fine. I hope so, it is a touchy situation and if things go south it could be bad, very bad.. Walking up to the guest house with her, ever the worrier I simply take a deep breath and remind myself to have faith. What else can I do?

Inside the dining area everyone has gathered for a quick bite, except for one. Heather! Ducking into her room, I find her covered in sweat and feeling poorly! It appears as though the very same bastard virus that knocked down Jacy the day before has latched its ugly teeth into Heather. We let her know all will be fine and remind her to sleep. After a slew of jokes and one liners delivered in only the way this red haired Irish woman can, she drifts off amongst the sweat, growing humidity and heat. Another person I care about down, another bit of worry to carry, another team member short. This day is shaping up quite well!

Chair after chair patients move through the door. The quality of teeth today seem to be a little worse than previous days, it’s as though the worst ones spent all week pondering whether or not to seek our help. One mouth in particular has a gum line so deteriorated that small pockets of puss explode at the slightest touch of a periodontal elevator! There also appears to be a rush on individuals needing to have ALL their teeth pulled! All their teeth! As though life would be infinitely better with no chompers what so ever! It’s as if losing one’s teeth is a badge of honor to these people! It’s frustrating, but either way doc continues working overtime accommodating every patient’s needs! The signs of her hard work are definitely showing; her back, face and hands strain as she is wearing down. Just before lunch we break into an in depth conversation regarding the sheer will and tenacity of the Haitian spirit. All Haitians are without a doubt extremely tough! But for some reason Haitian women seem to be just a tad bit tougher than the men. Maxed out on Lidocaine? No problem for a Haitian female, she will grab ahold of you and bear through the procedure as if it were child birth! Afterwards stand up, give a halfhearted smile and walk away. Most of the men on the other hand, fidget and whine a little before finally allowing you to finish the job. When they are done they walk out shoulders slumped as though you just took their lunch money.

Midday arrives and Heather appears to be looking a little better! She smiles while sitting on her bed, lying through her teeth that all is fine. Everyone takes a turn checking in on her wellbeing; its awesome watching these people care so much for another. Someone is getting her water, ensuring she is taking her medications and not one person complained that she smelled horrible and looked as though she slept
with a homeless person the night before! Not one! Gosh, that’s what friends are for? Thank the lord Heather isn’t afraid of the shower of doom for if she was a full scale mutiny may have ensued!

The afternoon was a tough grind and turned into a bit of a blur for me personally. All I could see was the end or finish line and I wasn’t the only one. One after another each patient brought us a little closer to that end. Kristina’s hands are about finished, she now struggles to pull teeth as her back and hands bear the brunt of the last four days. Many of us have taken over providing preliminary care within our scope, trying our best to ease some of her burden, but we know it won’t be too long before it is all over and she can finally give those poor hands a rest.

End of the day and people are still being smuggled in through the side door, when out of the blue Captain Jackson is noticed lurking around the threshold. Calling him inside he motions towards his mouth and through a translator expresses his desire for us to pull his other two teeth! We’re all excited as we knew he’d return to finish the job and alleviate his pain. As soon as he’s seated he stops smiling, starts perspiring and a nervousness is once again written all over his face! Caz starts talking in hopes of calming him down but it doesn’t appear to be working. Suddenly out of the blue, Captain Jackson looks up with the face of a boy and professes why nervousness overtakes him. Quietly, looking almost ashamed he tells Caz that he likes rum! Not a nip now and again, but a lot! It is why he was nervous the first time adamantly demanding only one tooth be pulled out of fear, and it is why he is nervous this time. It seems he knows enough about his liking of rum to understand too much rum and anesthesia do not mix! He promises he hasn’t had any rum today, he also promises to have eaten something prior to coming. He then very stoically asks; could we please remove the other two teeth because they hurt?

How could we not oblige?

Jacy has once again disappeared, I am positive she is doling out the dough, and my protective hackles are up! But thankfully François is lurking just around the corner so I know he is not following her around. It’s as if he is counting every patient, and taking personal mental inventory of all items that could possibly be left behind. He makes eye contact with me a couple of times, he can’t see I am sticking my tongue out, these masks are fantastic! I really want to believe this man means no ill will, but my suspicions are strong, mix them with mounds of fact and a sprinkling of hearsay and the evidence is tremendously hard to ignore. Yesterday Francois came to Jacy and asked for donation of money under the guise of throwing a party for the school children on our last day. It all sounded amazing; Francois would take money from us and the Wesley group, head into the larger neighboring town then purchase items to create a wonderful feast for all of us to serve and share with the school children! Sounds like a selfless act yes? One problem, when Jacy offers $150.00 dollars to François he proceeds to hem and haw, playing the “aww shucks that’s not enough card” to which my wife simply states; that is all the extra money we have to provide for your lunch, take it or leave it! Francois begrudgingly takes the cash then wanders off. Our interpreters later explain that $150.00 dollars was more than enough as all François would purchase were bags of rice and snacks for the children, which at today market price, equaled approximately $75.00! Wow $75.00 to feed all 300 children! Jacy and I look at each other in amazement and quietly I grumble; he’ll be back. Anyone who feels as though they can fleece missionaries on a regular basis will return with a new story hoping to fleece just a little more. Not much later Francois arrives hat in hand like an English beggar spouting; “please sir may I have another?” or “Just a bit more governor, please?” Francois tells a convincing story of walking over to the Wesley group asking for another $150.00 dollars to cover this luncheon of 300. When the Wesley group responds by turning him down due to a lack of funds, well the only thing left was to wander back and ask Ms. Jacy for just a bit more! The problem with Francois plan? There is no more for his scheme, and Jacy made that perfectly clear! In the end he simply hands her the cash, throws down some Haitian guilt and walks away! This left me wondering? If he truly was dirty would he have handed the money back or was this part of his plan, hoping Jacy wouldn’t call his bluff and pony up the extra? Either way I wish I spoke creole! A man lives by his actions, but I can tell a lot about you within minutes of hearing your spoken word. It’s a gift I have always held, it drives people close to me crazy and I am not always right, but more times than not I am dead on the money! So even if all his actions point one direction, if I could have just spoken with him personally I would have known for certain right away. AS it was my feelings (as others) about him were coming to fruition regardless of my ability to talk with him one on one.

Arriving at the point when one should relax and call it a day, the last of our patients exit from the clinic. Jacy has given me the nod, indicating all payments short of two have been paid out. The one payment of course being Francois’ the others being a little cash we put together for Captain Jackson. But that one payment, oh yes that one lone payment we have decided will have to wait. During her disappearance Jacy and Alisa wandered off to visit the twins. She reports they are doing quite well, they are being fed and cared for and look healthy (relatively speaking) for what they have endured. It is good news for sure and brings a light of sunshine onto our project. As she tells us all about their visit we are tearing down the clinic. It’s sad for it means an end to our journey is near. It is also a happy moment as we can all imagine feeling a warm shower, a soft bed with no tarantulas, and an ice cold beer waiting just around the corner! Mentally heading down this trail of self-serving thoughts is probably wrong, but right now like a prisoner staring at his last 48 behind bars, we can smell the freedom.

Brent finishes cleaning the last of our equipment and brings it in to cool. Orson is sorting through what stays and what goes, Kristina is sitting as she should in a chair staring at the floor. Gail and I are moving suitcases back and forth filling them with supplies for the pharmacy. Jacy is in the pharmacy working with Richard and Wesline to determine what meds can be hidden, used and distributed among the people without knowledge of others who wish to profit. I join them and am on the floor discovering more out dated supplies. I have given up trying to do an inventory as it would take me three days alone to organize this room no bigger than a walk in closet. Richard, Wesline and Jacy instantly quiet down with Jacy abruptly changing the conversation, it means only one thing, Francois is lurking around the corner. Sure enough walking out like I have somewhere important to be, he is leaning against a wall eavesdropping. Before I can come up with a plan to move him somewhere else, one of our team comes and says Ronald is moving bags filled with supplies for other people into a pile for himself. I find what he is doing is looking for a suitcase (we have plenty to spare) as his is worn out, but it remains odd the way he’s gone about doing so. Before long Francois is also roaming through our supplies and we end up retrieving them all, sorting and smuggling what we need for Wesline and her pharmacy. We also create a bag of supplies to send home with one of our interpreters who runs a program through mission work to save his home village. Then we fill a suitcase with medical and dental supplies for Caz, he is soon to be a new daddy so anything we can send home for him and his wife is much appreciated. In the end we hold off Francois, distribute all funds, clothing and medicines to the appropriate people. It is truly a feat of maneuvering and deception as a shell game of great proportions has taken place. For every suitcase holding important items that needed to “disappear” two empty suitcases were treated as though they were filled with gold. Suitcases were shuffled about, with some carried up to the guest house and some given away without Francois knowing which one was valuable and which was just empty. All of this action of course intrigued Francois. Unable to handle his curious side he wandered about, confused by our little charade. Little did Francois know those extra suitcases held exactly what he was owed; absolutely nothing.

During our tear down time another unexpected problem emerges. One child after another arrives for continued medical treatment! From cuts and bruises to opening an infected cist upon Captain Jacksons daughters elbow. Crying, screaming and tears could be heard from anywhere near the compound. Crying and screaming from the children being treated, tears and sobbing from our brave tired personnel who attended to these children. Captain Jacksons daughter was so strong, right after she had her elbow drained she came back to show a large cut over her eye, which we fixed with crazy glue and homemade steri-strips. All the while smiling at the gentle care given her by Jacy, Kristina, Richard, Alisa. She was a real trooper and I have to say her sweet face has been permanently etched in my mind.

Dinner time was very mundane as all had become mopey, possibly coming to terms emotionally with of our last night on the island. Word has passed we are departing at 4 am with all belongings at the dock no later than 3:30am. Some were excited to be going home, others saddened at the thought of leaving this place. It had become very hot and humid during the day with no signs of an evening shower in sight. A few grabbed dinner plates and headed out to eat on the stairs or rocks surrounding the guest house. But once
seated many who lived in the village were soon staring at the bounty laid upon our plates, it was embarrassing, and hard to stomach as we were not allowed to feed anyone for fear of showing special treatment. All who walked outside were quickly back inside sweating miserably as they tried to stomach their food. So much food before us, while others stand starving, thirsty and longing for any crumb thrown their way, we cower unable to provide anything for those in need. My appetite lost, life is truly unfair.

Ditching on dinner, Captain Jackson has offered to return us onto the reef one last time. Joining him on the walk towards the beach Caz and I quietly pull him from the group behind a shack where no one can possibly see us. Through Caz I explain how thankful we are to have met such a wonderful caring man who has treated us well all week by providing rides out to the reef. I also do my best explaining how much we all cared about him and his wife during their crisis on Monday. Then while reaching into my pocket he humbly tells of his gratitude for our help, promising us his wife is taking her medications and feeling better every day. Smiling I gently place a wad of bills into his hand, explaining its for him and his family, a small way we can say thank you for helping us get out to the reef. He smiles the biggest smile, shakes my hand and with little more than a fast trot we have rejoined the group without a soul discovering our absence.

Out on the reef, the warm Caribbean waters sooth the soul. Floating around everyone’s laughing, having a great time, I can only assume they are glad the day is over and looking forward to our boat ride home. As quickly as we have arrived, Captain Jackson motions for everyone to load back up as it is rapidly becoming dark. All week long it has been hilarious watching people try and get into the dingy without tipping it over and I am glad to say that humor has not faded! Seriously watching people flop back and forth across the beam, while Jackson looks as though any moment he may need to abandon a capsizing boat is seriously funny stuff! Laughing so hard I am choking on sea water, I decide once again to make the 300 yard swim as opposed to toppling the Poseidon adventure! Once again Brent has joined me for this nightly swim which is more rejuvenating than anything I can remember in recent history. I am always glad to have him as a swimming partner, although as I stroll onto shore I see Brent has accidentally changed headings and is swimming slightly out to sea! Nothing to worry about, with a slight course change, one of his patented anecdotes he is back on track and before long wading up alongside the dock. The Timoun have joined us and are following us from the waterline to our guest house. One in particular, my little deaf buddy has joined us and is once again tapping on my back, proclaiming; tattoo! Kneeling down for what would be the very last time, he outlines it, smiles brightly then taps my shoulder and walks away. He is another face I will remember forever and wonder if we could have done more for his situation.

The guest house is abuzz as clothes are separated, suitcases for traveling home are filled while others are left for scavenging. Piles of clothes are handed out to individual recipients, while we leave a piles of scrubs and crap clothes as a ruse for Francois. Water bottles filled, personal effects stowed, and the night is finally winding down. Francois has made several passes, asking for Jacy, but each time he swings by the team redirects him with a simple; she is busy. Jacy has used this excuse a time or two today, and each time Francois wanders away only to resurface a bit later asking for her whereabouts once again. This time though Jacy apologizes for being previously unavailable then walks outside to meet with him. She motions for me to join her as I hold the two hundred dollars we agreed upon for payment. Jacy initially felt 150 was more than enough, but I reiterated that we needed to make it appear as though we were not just paying Francois for Ronald’s time, but a small gratuity for a few others involved as well. I felt it needed to look like an appropriate amount otherwise we may be stuck showing our hand. She concedes and we arrive at the two hundred dollar bench mark. The three of us stroll to the far southwest corner of the building where Jacy shakes Francois hand and with the skill of a seasoned politician says;

“Francois, I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for all of your generous hospitality. It is obvious to me and my entire team that you care for all the people in your village. You have helped us in many ways over this last week and for that on behalf of my team I once again say thank you. I trust after we leave this island you will continue helping many people by providing water, food and assisting those in need with only the best care, using medicines we have left behind for free to help the sick and injured within your community. I feel Francois you will and I feel as though we are leaving this village in your very capable hands. And that makes me feel good about all we have accomplished here for you and your people. (Francois is semi smiling to everything Jacy is saying but there is no real emotion showing from his face. Instead he appears as though this whole process is bothersome, wishing instead for closure and payment.)

As you know we hadn’t planned on a third interpreter but thanks to Ronald whom I believe is your son? We were able to work much faster in the clinic, achieving a success we could only dream of, so with that here is some cash for you to give your son and redistribute any extra to those you see fit.”

Jacy turns to me and I excuse myself to “go get the money”. Jacy knows right away what I am about to do. Walking into Jacys room I pull the wad from my pocket, tear off $50.00 taking it back down to the original $150.00 (solely based on Francois attitude) then walk back outside and offer Francois the money. Francois takes the money, smiles says; “thank you so much” while shaking Jacys hand, then walks away. Jacy turns to me and asks how I felt that went? To which I proclaim; Brilliant! It was brilliant! She laid it on thick, built up his ego then exposed his lies, quietly letting him know she was on to him. It was brilliant. As I helped her finish packing I remained in awe of the day long con we had perpetrated upon the thieves of this community. Finishing up, I am thinking of Ronald, will his dad give him the money or will he keep it all for himself? Expressing my concern, Jacy reminds me of a conversation we held in my room while dividing up payments; if Francois is what we all believe him to be, he will have no morals, with no morals his destiny is written, therefor he will not pay his son, by not paying his son he will have confirmed what we feared, what the community has described and ultimately what God has shown us all along. Doubt will stand no more.

Francois emerges from the darkness, there is no question after scurrying home he counted the money and now returns for more. Our interpreters work him over verbally until he slowly wanders away. It is the last time we see this man. I earnestly pray for Francois and all the Francois of Haiti, for what he is doing is a learned procedure brought forth by generations of those who wield power in an impoverished arena. In my heart I still wish to believe he is a kind and gentle man who knows no different of his actions, but truth be told if the stories are true, he is at the very least a tyrant. Keeping water from your people is unforgivable, choosing to feed only those who can pay in a village of starving poor individuals with no chance for improvement, unfathomable. Keeping anything donated by missionaries to sell at market for personal profit unconscionable. I have shaken his hand, shown him my kindness, it is his to cherish or abuse. A choice made, right or wrong is still a choice and once made a man should own that choice.

Final packing finished, water bottles filled, anticipation is high as the clock turns 11:00pm. Four hours left until we arise, gather and leave this island. I feel as though we accomplished many great things, treated many more than we had intended and worked very hard at forging ahead when obstacles were continually set in our path. But as I sit on my bunk typing, listening to Richard tell me his life story (very interesting I might add) I can’t help but feel a sense of loss. My trip last year was filled with community camaraderie, good times and hordes of friendly caring people. This year, through all the hard work we were barely able to meld with this community at all, and when we did have an opportunity to take part in activities that would have brought us all together, an outstretched hand of greed awaited our arrival. Confused, tired, and worried about hearing my alarm clock in the morning, Richard politely excuses himself and I lay down. Its hot tonight, no rain insight, no breeze rolling off the ocean and somewhere past midnight my eyes begin to close. A giant moth has perched upon my toe, something is buzzing my face and the unforgettable roll of sweat turning down my sides to saturate the sheets is all I remember as the lights grow dim. Goodnight Source a Philipe. Tomorrows light will find us miles from your shores.

Do YOU know Brent Watney

June 28, 2013 theycallmebetty1 Comment

Betty feels as though she can’t continue writing without having a little fun.

So I ask?

Do you know Brent Watney?

This little question became a running joke on day one of our journey to Haiti. Starting in the airport where oddly enough it appeared as though random people recognized Mr. Brent Watney, the elder statesman of our group. Walking through various terminal areas you could always find Brent talking with someone, waving at a stranger or just stopping for a second to say hello. He is a very personable man who makes it apparent right from the beginning that life should not just be experienced but actually “lived”.

So with a lead in like that I ask once again; do you know Brent Watney?

Here is what I learned along the way about this man we fondly referred to as our “International man of mystery”!

He has a wonderful way of placing an anecdote guaranteed to make you smile into any situation.

He loves sports and can discuss any sport in detail at any time with passion.

His brother is in the college coaching hall of fame! (I know cool huh?)

While in college he realized that hitting thousands of golf balls to participate on a team was just not as much fun as playing on the weekend, drinking a few beers with your buddies. (I totally agree)

Brent’s son is PGA pro golfer Nick Watney, whom he is incredibly proud of and loves very much!

Sterilizing medical equipment is dangerous business and should only be done by trained professionals wearing dishwashing gloves in 96 degree heat while standing on the landing of a staircase! Seriously it goes without saying!

Swimming over a green seaweed like material is not nearly as bad as walking through garbage left on a beach of pristine white sand.

When asked where he was swimming too after jumping from our dingy one afternoon he simply looked towards the open ocean and replied: the mainland’s that way yes? And continued to swim….

When someone with broken English and a thick Creole accent points at you and says: James Bond? You simply smile and in your best Sean Connery respond: why yes? Then smile back sheepishly.

When someone with broken English and a thick Creole accent points at you and says: James Bond? You don your best Daniel Craig imitation; smile and rise slowly out of the ocean for all to cherish.

Knows how to pratfall for nothing more than the joyous giggles of Haitian children.

Enjoys a good book and an even better flashlight that will last through the tremors being attacked by thousands of bugs can bring!

Is the only man I have ever met who can walk away mid-sentence and leave you laughing because you have no idea what just transpired?

After rooming and working alongside this man for ten days, I found myself in awe of his personality, attitude and feelings towards life.

He is truly one of a kind and I thank him for allowing me the opportunity to make his acquaintance.

So I ask you, do you know Brent Watney?

Proud to say that I do!

Culture Shock

June 25, 2013 theycallmebetty1 Comment

Children I would like to introduce you to Kaiti Rees.

Kaiti was on La Gonave, in the village of Source a Philipe for 30 days with her team sponsored by the Wesley Foundation. Kaiti along with other members of her team became invaluable during our mission and our entire team felt God placed us together in this community for a reason. We cherished every moment spent together, I personally am humbled by this womans service to others and was proud to know her, if even for a little while.

With that being said; when those of you ask why we seem glum since returning, when those of you dont understand that a few are sad or mopey from this experience please understand it is not because we didnt succeed, please understand it is not because it was a horrible experience, please take a moment to recognize during this time (and ours was short compared to others) the human spirit touched many of us in different ways. The human condition, remains etched in our brains, the tradgedy left behind will always be left to question. all we have when we return is the knowledge we completed our task, God guided our outcome and that we remain “faithful” in our beliefs.

This is an excerpt from Kaiti’s personal experience and I beleive it says word for word what many are feeling.

“Last night I pulled the covers up over my legs. I was cold. When I woke up from a bad dream I turned the lights on as I checked the house for monsters.

I woke up in the morning to the sound of rain- no roosters or donkeys or dogs or creole commotion. I realized for the first time in a month I hadn’t watched the sun set. Over an ocean. A mountain, such beauty.

Last night at the restaurant the waitress asked me what I wanted to eat. It took half an hour to decide.

I took a shower this morning. It was hot. Too hot. When I got out I dried off and stayed dry.

I went to the bathroom and put the toilet paper in the bowl. I flushed even though I only peed.

I opened my closet to pick out some clothes. More than anyone needs. Why do I have all of these?

I need to go to the grocery store, even though my pantry is still full of food.

I walk to the door but change my mind. I don’t want to go outside. There will be no “bonjou”s or “ka-tee”s. There will be no little hands reaching for me.

And i can’t help but wonder if the girls or Franslaine have eaten today.

My fiancé pulls me in tight. Kisses me goodnight. I roll over and actually sleep. I know he’s here holding me. But I dream about Haiti and I dream about her. Baby born and died in a bucket, how many more?

I keep looking at pictures and don’t know which stories to tell. Everyone wants to see smiles, hear it went well. But there’s a pain behind my smiles and I don’t know how to cry. So glad to be home, but still wondering why.

I want to run and not stop for an hour. A day. A week. I want to scream and stay silent. I want to sleep with no dreams. I want others to know and understand these memories.
I look at Becky’s stomach. 4 months to go. How can I not be exited? How can I not be sad? The same stomach Madame Jackson had.

I’m typing a note on my phone in the shower. No boys carried this water to a barrel above. No one will care how long it runs. No one will see the tears washed away in the scum. The shower walls and floor are white. No dirty rag or stains of mud. No cinder block window to let in the wind or sun. There’s no lizards and crickets to share my space. No rush to get out. No agenda awaits.
Culture shock hits you when the rest catches up. Checking the time but you’re not sure why it wont go. Sit in front of a tv you don’t watch. Eat what you want but i doesn’t fill you back up. You’ve poured out more of your heart than you know. The getting it back. It’s hard and it’s slow.

But you don’t want It back, and there lies the beauty. You want it changed- and that takes getting used to.
So you sit and you pray as you turn off the shower. Turn off lights you don’t need to use anymore. Pick a simple t-shirt and jeans from the closet to wear. Walk out the door, forgetting to even do your hair.

Life will go on both here and there. A life that’s unequal. A life that’s unfair.”

Thank You Kaiti- God Bless you..

If you build it, they will come and come and come…

June 24, 2013June 24, 2013 theycallmebetty2 Comments

Wonderful night of sleep thanks to a little white pharmaceutical friend stowed away in my back pack. Drifted into slumber with James Taylor crooning ever so softly. It felt good allowing my brain to wander away from the troubles we’d already seen. So many questions running through my mind, I can only imagine what my wife is thinking as team leader? Although, I probably shouldn’t put too much stock into what she’s thinking right before bed as my wife has an uncanny ability to pass out within seconds of placing her head upon a pillow. Sadly I envy this trait.
Our morning starts very well, with a strong cup of Haitian coffee and a room full of anxious people waiting to see what this day will bring. Our team was warned before leaving the guest house that we would become inundated with patients. (a truth) This warning is imposed because the last dental team was more than six months ago! SIX LONG MONTHS AGO! Imagine just for a moment that you live where no medical or dental care is available unless you walk 5 hours or wait 6 months for a Mission team to arrive. Are you pondering that probability? Yeah it’s just like that for us too.
Our group mulls over a breakfast of eggs bananas and peanut butter. Some are doing fine with the food provided while others can’t bring themselves to eat. Kristina has allergies to so many food products, I am worried she will accidentally become ill through cross contamination. This of course would be detrimental to her health as no rescue is available off the island, so all of us remain on high alert when it comes to our food! In conjunction with this fear we seem to have a slowly growing health concern in regards to intestinal issues! Either one member hasn’t pooped yet (3 days in) or the pooping just won’t stop! Very dangerous with self-hydration being so very important! Either way poop jokes are rampant and just like school children we are laughing to no end! Water is at a premium here and ours comes from within the town’s cistern, which if you were to peer inside would never leave you willingly drinking any of its contents. (Mosquito larvae, bugs and all) But after gathering the water by 5 gallon bucket, hauling it up to the guest house, the water is then run through a UV filter, afterwards it’s run through a standard filter and finally we pour it into filtered water bottles, so chances are very good our water is clean. Still, many of us are wondering who will get “the cholera” first!
After breakfast while making the short journey towards the clinic a line has already formed and it’s blatantly obvious we will be busy again today. Walking through the people, greeting them with a hearty Bon jour and a smile, many greet us in return. They all look a little scared. I assume it’s just like being a kid heading to the dentist in America. Irrational fears are clogging their thoughts. All of us are working very hard at calming those fears. Once the doors are open for business the very same process takes place as did yesterday. Wesline (the nurse) and her sister Catia, with Richard and occasionally Jacy are triaging patients, tagging them on the shoulder with the obligatory name, age, blood pressure and complaint. Again Francois has arrived to oversee our little venture, leering around every corner, walking into any room he sees fit at any time. Whenever he shows up, an uneasy feeling takes over the room and anyone who is assisting us clams up. Francois is once again collecting money, he is also instructing Wesline to collect money as well, but Jacy goes into team leader mode and once again does her best to circumvent this system. At our stations chairs rapidly fill, one by one we ask patients which teeth bother them, can they identify those teeth by pointing directly at them, Melissa then numb the patient, and eventually Kristina and Gail pull the affected teeth. So many teeth are bloody, some are hard, a few break and almost all of have some form of tumor, cyst or infection filled with puss. There are teeth so covered in plaque you would believe an additional tooth was filling the voids. Other teeth are knarly and rotten, misshapen, with black gum disease and the smell is slightly overwhelming. We quickly learn of those who can and who cannot handle the sight of blood, this is a benefit as it allows for an easier transition during job vacancies. One by one, patients come in, sit down, lean back have their teeth pulled then one by one patients are given post operation instructions and slowly walk out the back door. By lunch time we are hot, sweaty and amazed at the resilience of the Haitian people.
Richard has grown on me, he is a quick study and incredibly enthusiastic about helping people. Before long we have him donning scrubs as he follows us around writing down every new word he hears. He has also become an invaluable asset in Jacy’s quest for answers. I am not 100% sure, but my guess is Richard is the one who helped break the ice with our nurses. It’s because of his direct and caring form of questioning that much light has been shed on this Source a Philipe medical clinic, its lack of contents along with inability to operate.
At lunch many of us are still wondering the outcome of our pregnant woman smuggled out of town quietly this morning. It weighs heavy on our minds as a little life lay in the balance. During lunch we learn she is in fact Captain Jackson’s wife! This information I wish I didn’t know. There is an old saying in my profession; “be personable but don’t make it personal”. It’s a simple statement that reminds us to always have a smile, for this moment is possibly the worst moment of someone else’s life. It is also a reminder; don’t get to know them personally, for that is when this job can no longer become bearable. It’s a hard creed to live by as caring human beings, but live by it you must or your personal life can become filled with mental anguish. So now here I am, or here we are worrying about Captain Jackson’s wife! We all really like Captain Jackson, his smile is infectious and you can tell he is really happy to have us here in Source a Philipe. Making matters even more personal, Captain Jackson’s daughter who is 4 at most 5 years old has taken a liking to Kristina! The feeling of course is mutual and the two spend a fair amount of time together outside our clinic! As she continues to come around the clinic we all fall in love with her for she is seriously the cutest darn thing you would ever lay your eyes upon! She is sweet, pretty, and tougher than nails this little Haitian girl! Later on in the week we will find out just how tough this little girl has been forced to become!
Inside the clinic our wheels become a little more fluid, smoother as the group is working well and patients are flowing inside. One problem-ok two problems have emerged. We can’t seem to keep an interpreter in front of a patient (they wander away mid operation) and the medical clinic (which we never really intended to run) is quickly being over-run. A few of the more serious patients have made their way into the dental clinic where I am able to break away and look at whatever medical issue needs addressing. After a quick assessment I simply walk into the pharmacy, grab the medications I need then come back to the dental chair and treat my patient. I get the stink eye a few times from those working the system, but really, who is going to stop me? I’d just look at them and smile, give a shrug of the shoulders and act stupid.
Later in the afternoon I begin to realize those with medical issues are no longer making it into the dental side. That is because Jacy has now become a general practitioner! (Yep we have all heard the stories about doctors who obtain their MD abroad because it’s easier-well its true!) Patients just keep coming with all kinds of issues and when Jacy tells Richard she feels unqualified to keep treating them, Richard quickly responds with a terse; Jacy with your background and knowledge, in Haiti YOU ARE A DOCTOR! So Doctor Jacy is ordained and the clinic re-opens. Wesline, joins the two of them and single handedly they treat and release many people who are very thankful. The team has expanded and through God we are helping even more than we bargained for!
Our interpreter issue becomes more of a problem as there appears to be a conflict between Ricardo (The Wesley Groups interpreter) and Richard. Keeping a watchful eye on the situation there soon appears to be an identical issue between Ricardo and Ronald! What the hell! Not being able to speak a word of creole, body language alone is all that’s left for interpretation, I quickly determine that Ricardo doesn’t wish to be working in the clinic and he is venting frustration upon the other two interpreters. Others have noticed his frustration as well, due to the Haitian male’s way of verbally communicating. To put into perspective what people are witnessing one must first understand that Haitian men can be some of the most expressive human beings at arguing I have ever witnessed! Two Haitian men embroiled in a full blown argument make angry Italian women look as if they are playing patty cake! So the first assumption is always one of an impending fist fight! But then just as up feel like you have obtained ring side seats they are laughing and slapping hands! It is a very interesting social interaction to witness if you are into people watching. Which I am…
Taking a moment to come up with a game plan it becomes obvious Ricardo may need to also vent with me. In between patients I move over to his location, square up my shoulders and as the co-leader of the group inquire as to his semi hostile demeanor. He proceeds to explain that it is not his job to work in the clinic and he is upset one of the other interpreters has gone to town, (assisting Captain Jackson wife) leaving this void he is now filling. A 2-3 minute explanation of what, where and why proceeds and I continue letting him vent as long as he feels the need. Finally there is a small break for which I calmly place my hand on Ricardo’s shoulder and explain to him the truth; he is neither prepared nor left with any argument when I tell him;
“Thank you so much for working with us today, all of us here in the clinic appreciate the extra time and effort it has taken for you to be with us, and even though you feel as if you don’t belong here, you do! Ricardo, we have all been watching you work, and all of us here need someone as compassionate, kind, and caring as you are for the patients. You never leave in the middle of an operation, you help with lighting and you actually make human contact by holding hands, listening and talking softly with a smile to each and every patient we have seen you with today. Please reconsider your feelings and stay. Remember you may not have chosen to be here today, but God has placed you here and for that we are thankful”
Ricardo smiles, lowers his head and says thank you. He is more than willing to stay, and does so for the rest of the afternoon. By the end of the day we all want him to return and help us tomorrow. None of what I explained earlier to Ricardo was a lie, or exaggeration to keep him working alongside us because we were shorthanded. Ricardo is truly a compassionate human being who appeared as though he personally cared about each and every person he came in contact with, a quality you cannot teach someone. Ricardo is a big man with an even bigger heart.
Brent is kicking ass on sterilization! This man is a machine! Smiling joking and talking with anyone who stops by as he works. We fall behind a few times and it becomes apparent hiring someone dedicated full time to keeping the fire lit and the charcoal full is imperative. But let me tell you, overall that man can hustle! Everyone is also feeling the heat! Kristina is soaked and keeping her hydrated is becoming a bit of a challenge. Alisa who has become our “den mom” has devised a short saying to remind us to drink. At any point and time ‘WATER BOMB”! Can be heard echoing through the compound. It’s at that moment we all stop and take a drink. Hydration truly becomes the key to this operations success. We can handle many other problems, but if one of us goes down due to heat stroke, exhaustion or dehydration there is no 500ml bags with I.V.’s to rehydrate us. So water management is the key.
Heather is looking a little red, but then I remember she looks that way all the time! (The whole red haired Irish thing) But at least she doesn’t have 6 inch round cankles like last year. She loves working with the children and it shows. Orson is holding up well, he is handling post-operation and cleaning trays. I still don’t have a read on how he feels about this trip yet, but I pray he finds what he came here for and the answer is fulfilling. Gail and I are both soaked in sweat! Gail is a hustler! Nothing slows her down! She is incredible with our patients! She hugs them, holds them, squeezes hands and is always smiling behind her mask! She has very caring eyes and the patients quickly pick up on her demeanor. Preston, the baby of the group, is working hard and I feel a change in this young man. I have only known him for a short time, but his demeanor is changing and you can see the personal growth happening. Working with these people of little means who care so much for each other is showing him another side of humanity. When this trip is over I feel he will reflect on this moment for a long time to come. Melissa is running at Mach 10, bouncing from patient to patient setting everything in motion for Kristina. Melissa cracks me up! When things begin to feel a little heavy, there are two people (other than my wife) I look towards, Melissa and Heather! Both with the same quick wit dry humor that leaves me belly laughing! This morning as we started I looked out the window and there to my surprise was a small pack of horses and burros! Melissa and I share a love of horses and we both raced down to see them like school children running for the bus stop! When we started petting them, the owners thought we were crazy! After being away from our horses it was cool just to touch them.
Hardly laid eyes on Jacy the rest of the day. Apparently Dr. Jacy saw almost as many patients in her medical clinic as we did on the dental side! She is a very caring person and emotionally I am worried about her as I know she will take any outcome (good or bad) personally. Richard stood by her side all day as they held their emotions in check and worked their way through one patient after another. Many superficial wounds, insect bites and burns. At one point she held a little boy who was deaf due to chronic ear infections from birth. Children with colds, scabies and staph, it was all there and the two of them did their very best. We could hear children with some of the more severe issues crying as they were being treated. We looked into each other’s eyes over our face masks as it happened with sympathy. But when a child has the ability to recognize at such a young age this pain is temporary, the fix relieves the pain forever. It really makes you think, no child should be forced to recognize these things. It affects you personally after lancing an infected, puss filled boil, then having the same crying child thank you with the biggest best hug ever! Given time these highs and lows can make even the emotionally strongest weak.
It is breaking Jacy’s heart.
Closing up shop, we once again needed to turn some people away, we had already worked until almost dark. Those turned away were once again given a number allowing them to be first in the morning line. Many of them were crying as once again this group of people had traveled from a far to be here. It’s tough watching adults cry. It’s hard to think about your own personal meaningless problems when a 50 year old woman is in tears after walking five hours in the heat to see the “white doctors”, only to be turned away until the next morning. Jacy came in and advised us one gentlemen in particular was a school teacher who walked many hours to be here. He had a few bad teeth and needed to be home in the morning to teach his class. The two of them sat in the waiting room chatting, sharing stories about their classrooms and she even showed him pictures of her students back home. Two human beings sharing a common bond formed from a love of teaching. We couldn’t turn him away for the night so while Jacy did her best pacifying those left behind, I walked the teacher from the building and smuggled him through a side door. He was our last patient of the day, Kristina made sure he would be in good shape for his children in the morning. The school teacher was very grateful and thanked us all the way out the door. Gathering up our belongings and locking up the clinic, we receive word Captain Jackson’s wife has returned. She has delivered a stillborn baby, her uterus holds a very severe infection and she would have perished in days if not for our two teams. We are all sad for Captain Jackson and his family, many tears are shed between the two groups, but we must remind ourselves she is alive. Alive to raise her other children and still be here as Captain Jacksons wife. For that we thank God she will live.
By the end of the day, over 60 patients walk through our doors, 110 teeth are pulled and countless others are seen over on the medical side of the building. It is exhausting, it is thrilling, it is unnerving, and it is a gift from God. Some don’t see the pain, frustration, exhaustion, hunger, and sadness along with a myriad of other emotions and struggles we all experienced on our first day as a “gift from God”. But I do, for you see without struggle, we can never grow into the human beings God wants us to be. He puts it out there for us to experience, we just need to have faith that it’s right, in the end.
As I write this a monsoon (an exaggeration) complete with thunder and lighting is blowing overhead, it sounds like the world is about to fall in on our heads. In my life I have seen some severe storms, but I have to say this rain is one of a kind! Imagine the loudest thunder ever, the, most comfortable wind rushing over your body while standing under Niagara Falls! It is awesome.
Richard just rushed into our guest house to check on us and make sure we weren’t flooding. He is laughing heartily, when I enquired to his giggling he says the girls are flooding and it’s funny! I ask if they need any help, he says no, it’s just funny watching them react to the rain!
I love the sound of rain.

Sleep will come easy tonight.

A time for healing?

June 22, 2013 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Haiti is Haiti! What do I mean by that statement? Well you can be on the mainland associated with the Dominican Republic or on an island the locals have aptly named “forgotten Island”. Haiti is still Haiti. This place is incredibly beautiful, amazingly loved by its people, adorned with symbols of God, faith and trust. It is also extremely loud! New York may be named the city that never sleeps but Haiti is the country that never sleeps. On the mainland everything is connected by streets, side streets, corner alleys and of the course the main highway. So no matter where you are day or night a reverberating ring of car horns, and loud vehicles never goes away. On Source a Philipe the small fishing village on the island of La Gonave there is only one vehicle so traffic noise is not an issue. But there is instead 100 or more goats, gridlocked by a packs of dogs, while burro’s and chickens wander aimlessly through traffic unaware of whether its day or night. Animal noise (especially for this country boy) really shouldn’t be an issue but at midnight a couple of goats baying outside your window for hours on end, can have a tendency to make someone a little cranky.
Oh by the way have I mentioned the weather yet? It’s the only place I know that heats up after the sun goes down! It doesn’t really, but it sure feels that way with the cinder block rooms of our guest house radiating the day’s heat while no breeze is moving through our building at all. I liken it to living inside a pizza oven. What the Hell!
Ok enough bitching…
Bleary eyed and tired I wander aimlessly around my room feeling as though I am ready to go home. This of course was a purely selfish thought and not surprisingly the exact same thought I held last year after the first night on the job site! Shuffling slowly up to breakfast feeling neither hungry nor willing to try and eat. My only goal was to put on a smile for everyone else, giving them some comfort in case they too had a bad night. My wife was awake, bright and smiling, a breath of fresh air to my dreary morning. We chatted about her presentation, cracked jokes with Alisa, Heather and Melissa about what may or may not have landed on someone’s face last night! A nice morning prayer some breakfast and idle conversation brought us all right up to dressing for church. Meeting back at the guest house we all did our very best to look appropriate for a Sunday tradition.
As doc, Gail and I talked about the clinic, Jacy was just inside the guest house reading her notes. Brent was keeping everyone else in stitches when we suddenly realized it was after nine and we were late for church! The strangest thing occurred to me while walking towards this little church on a hill. I don’t see anyone walking this way, not one soul looking to head towards church! We were late and we all should have seen someone, anyone walking into church! There had to be at least a couple hundred in this village and last year in Leveque the town’s people came from everywhere ten minutes early for church! So where was everyone?
Making my way up the steep staircase with our group, I am thinking; well, maybe I just didn’t see anyone because I was busy talking. Slipping through the white and blue doors there appeared to be hardly a soul inside. A very small handful of handsomely dressed children, a half a dozen adults and a group of students from next door. Where is the town? Where are her people? Why does this feel so strange? When Doc asked where everyone was she was quietly told they were all coming! She was told they would be here because they were coming to see us! Almost as if they had been ordered too? More, strange, curious feelings arise.
Around 9:30, ten or so more adults arrive but this church should have been teaming with parishioners. The pastor allows many of his flock to speak, and read scripture from the bible. These people are humble, honest and a blessing. The pastor spends time placing children up front calling them the future of the church and having them proclaim their importance to the community. This also was cute but seemed odd or staged. The children are embarrassed the way any child would be when placed in front of a crowd. But they do a nice job and are cute. The pastor takes a moment to thank us for coming to his small community and lets us know the word of our arrival has been spread throughout all congregations on the island. This was very good news as we hoped to see as many patients as possible during our week long stay. He then calls upon my wife to come up and speak, Caz joins her for translation as they teak their positions in front of the congregation. Caz smiled as he rose and a quick glimpse was had between myself, Caz and Jacy as he recalled the promise made in regards to translating exactly word for word how Jacy delivers this sermon. You see earlier during a bought of storytelling Caz was reminded about a scripture reading that took place the last time they were together two years ago. Their second translator trapped between a rock and a hard place started making stuff up because the speaker from Jacys team was insensitive with comments during his reading. Caz thought no one knew about the altered translation but him, what he didn’t know at the time was Jacy spoke French and understood some of what the translator was saying. This brought a hearty round of chuckles as they imitated the reworked translations with statements like: Oh lord in heaven, this group of missionaries have humbly come before you, bringing Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches for everyone on the island! PRAISE JESUS AMEN!!!!
Caz promised no matter what, he wouldn’t change the words, but when Jacy started speaking he broke stride for just a moment and smiled. I knew why he smiled and I quietly chuckled.
Jacy’s sermon was brilliant! It was moving, meaningful and came from the heart. I was so very proud of her and a tear formed while watching this woman I care so deeply for shine in front of this group of fellow Methodists. She stepped down from the pulpit with a smile like no other, sat next to me and held my hand. (She is my everything, and we always feel closer to one another in church. Even if that church happens to be thousands of miles from home). The pastor spoke a few more times and an offering plate was brought forward. This offering plate slowly made its way around and as a bead of sweat rolled down my back I turned towards the associate pastor (Francois) and began apologizing as I (the treasurer for the trip) had been so focused on not being late the offering had been in fact forgotten. Francois smiled, then quickly ducked out the side door and made his way onto the pulpit through an additional side door. Leaning into the pastor’s ear to whisper, I quickly note the pastor staring at me intently while they speak. I didn’t make much of this uncomfortable moment at the time, but it was uncomfortable none the less and later on in the week it would make perfect sense as we (Jacy and I) began to learn the inner workings of Source a Philipe.
Church lets out and we are warmly met by a handful of members from within the community. As with last year after church it is so amazing how easily love for one another is shared without being able to speak a word of the same language. The Haitian people are absolutely wonderful. Their sense of community is like that of the early 1900’s and is a pure joy to be around. I love them all.
Heading off to change from our church clothing and grab some lunch, we are close to opening the clinic. Jacy and I had spoken to several key members of the community and although Sunday is strongly considered a day of rest for all Haitians, they readily agreed that opening up the clinic even for the afternoon was a good idea. We throw on our scrubs, unlock the doors and set into our prescribed positions, hoping this half day will help work out any kinks so our team may become more efficient as the week goes on. With people traveling from afar to visit us over the week, the quicker we can get them through the better. Kristina is excited to get started and her excitement translates to us all! The pastor during this morning’s sermon equated our being here to Jesus having been born in Bethlehem, ( a stretch but hey, when in Haiti) people would come from far and wide just to lay eyes upon the doctor and her staff. It was humbling to say the least. We start the ball rolling by cleaning our interpreters teeth just to get a rhythm going and before long we have a line developing around the building! Everyone wants to see us and we quickly learn that “Cleaning” in a Haitians mind meant “filling”. We are here to pull teeth, as our situation is so primitive no other options are plausible. Kristinas son Preston is to handle all children coming through the clinic, check their teeth, show them how to brush and floss then send the ones with dental needs our direction. Heather was alongside him and they were housed in a room alongside the pharmacy. As the line grew I took a moment to get a feel for these people outside, since we arrived there really hasnt been a chance to do so and I thought it would be nice to share a Bonswa and a smile. Wandering around the outside of the building I take notice of the children playing on a patch of dirt adjacent to the clinic. These were some of the very same children that met us as we stepped from the boat, their friends, brothers, sisters, they were all there, happy and playing and very, very, thin. I mean sickly thin, some look gaunt. My heart is breaking at the sight of these little people so thin and frail looking. Is it a lack of food? A lack of water? Or all of the above? Questions start forming as my mind begins pondering their situation. Patting many on the head and trying my best to speak with a few who ask my name, I slowly break away and head inside. It’s time to start, time to get this show on the road.
Finding the whole dental process quite interesting Kristina (doc) places me with Gail assisting! I realize I am really enjoying all aspects of her work! Gail and Kristina start showing me the instruments and I quickly start teaching myself other tools and products needed so I can be of more help. Patient after patient, extraction after extraction, one tooth here, six teeth there, and every one of these people are fairly thankful when its over to have rotten, broken and in some cases fully abscessed teeth removed. I also learn their teeth have longer roots than most and a jawline which is incredibly strong. During the afternoon I also partake in some basic BLS care of sick and injured patients. It was nice treating people who truly needed the assistance and were very thankful for the care when you were done. Jacy bounced from place to place, helping Orson with post-op, cleaning trays, ensuring the line was being taken care of, and always bringing a smile to the Haitian people.
After a little while the flow was moving fairly well when while taking a break, Jacy walks up and whispers Francois has an envelope and is charging people for our care! This of course could not be happening as we raised all the money to be here providing FREE dental care to this villages inhabitants! But it was happening! We can’t let Kristina know as it could ruin her ability to keep going so Jacy took to dealing with the issue and I resumed keeping Kristina in the dark. My wife and I work well as a team and she was doing an awesome job as the team’s leader. Jacy gathers a phone and contacts Pastor Jackie directly who informs her that no clinic is free! The goal for Source a Philipe is to have a permanent clinic fully staffed for the people. If they receive free health care and don’t become accustomed to paying for it, then they will never come in when the clinic is opened. To some extent this makes perfect sense as the charge is nominal. But WE still brought all the supplies, we are providing the care and someone is profiting off this little dichotomy. Through conversation Jacy brings to pastor Jackie’s attention this fee is different depending on who you are. Does this mean social status health care? In a little fishing village out in the middle of nowhere! Social status health care! Really! Pastor Jackie is miffed and short with Jacy for questioning this way of doing business, so she takes it a step farther by asking the children not be charged. He doesn’t seem to like this proposal either but agrees if they have no money to pay they will still be seen by the doctor. Jacy comes back and tells me about the phone call, I am furious, and really have no words for the information I am now privy too. No one can know for now, we agree to keep it quiet and she works hard on creating an amiable solution to this strange turn of events.
All of us are back at our stations working when Jacy comes to get myself and Kristina to look at a young woman whose tooth we pulled earlier in the day. She is pregnant and made very clear to us her worry for the baby during the tooth extraction. Her blood pressure was good and she fell within acceptable parameters for oral care. Her tooth came out and she went on her way. Now back she is seeking help in regards to her baby. It seems earlier she was afraid to talk with us but now after the extraction she trusts Jacy enough to ask her some questions in regards to her baby. She is having pain, lower left quadrant, she hasn’t felt the baby move for roughly 15 days and she states her belly is shrinking. I grab a stethoscope, palpate her belly and listen to all four quadrants. I start with listening to where I know the baby should be, hoping for a heartbeat, some movement, something, anything. I hear nothing. After covering all four quadrants the only applicable noise I hear is some grumblings coming from this woman’s stomach. No gas sounds, no bowel sounds at all, no baby. Doc comes in and examines her as well, many theories are tossed around, but in the end she needs to go to a hospital. Not an easy task. I walk by Jacy heading back into the dental room, lean in and tell her I hear nothing, there is nothing there, and the baby is most likely dead. Jacy responds by reminding me with lower left quadrant pain and belly shrinkage she believes the baby is dead as well and she probably has an infection. 15 days is a long time, this is not good. We can’t send her home, we can’t just take her to the hospital as in this impoverished area everyone will hear of the “free ride” and flock to our door, possibly causing a riot. We talk about waiting until Thursday and smuggling her out with us, but that’s just too long, she could die.
During devotionals the Wesley Foundation team headed up by their leader Katie, make the call. This woman is going to the hospital and she is going tomorrow morning! I assume these kids are least likely to be noticed as after almost thirty days of building and fixing everything they can lay their hands upon they come and go as they please throughout the area. Katie, Jacy and Graham quietly devise a plan. In the morning Katie and Graham smuggle this young woman out first thing without any problems, taking her by truck to a hospital over two hours away. God bless them and the courage they show by doing the right thing.
Back in the clinic poor Brent is having a hard time keeping the charcoal fire lit for sterilization. Oh did I forget to mention we are sterilizing tools over a fire in a pot filled with filtered water? Yep old school all the way! This man Brent is absolutely amazing with his cheery attitude and can do spirit! We are blessed to have him as part of our team. The locals all want their pictures taken with him as we have notified them he is famous. Our group is just having too much fun carrying on the folly that is the man of mystery! So we told the locals he was indeed the famous actor Daniel Craig! That’s right citizens of Source a Philipe those clean tools in your mouth were sterilized by none other than 007 himself! They bought into the hype and we had fun at Brent’s expense. But secretly I think Brent was having more fun at our expense!
At the end of the day we saw a little over 30 patients in 5 hours’ time. It was exhausting and incredibly fulfilling at the same time. I personally witnessed our team come together and form a bond. We have four more days of treating folks from far and wide, but I definitely feel as though it will be a time for healing like no other in this little corner of the world.
On a side note, as I type this I am sitting on a concrete ledge, under a banana tree, in a place with no electricity. Close your eyes and wonder for just a moment how big and beautiful the sky above me must be. You got that picture in your head? Now magnify it by 10.

The Rooster has crowed

June 20, 2013June 27, 2013 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

0600- Last night during orientation someone in our group asked Sarah if an alarm clock was needed to wake up on time this morning, to which Sarah replied with a sly southern smile; just listen for the rooster! Well 4:45 am Mr. Rooster took to crowing and let me tell you that is one cock who knows his job! Our group slowly gathered downstairs for breakfast bleary eyed and not so bushy tailed, yet spirits remain high as the thought of coming closer to our final destination loomed near. A quick breakfast of bananas, toast and Haitian coffee helped to upright our balance, preparing us for a two hour car ride then four hour boat ride over to the island of La Gonave. On a personal note, Haitian coffee is the best damn coffee on the face of the planet! Starbucks, PEETS, and all you other half cracked coffee hacks can bow down and kiss the Haitians bums because your roasted beans are no match for the superior flavor of Haitian coffee! MMMMMMmmm sipping some right now…. Oh yeah where was I? Our main interpreter Richard arrived and was introduced to the team. I don’t have a read on him yet, he appears friendly enough but to be honest he comes off as a bit curt and rigid. I am sure that comes with meeting 10 people you don’t know but will soon be living and working with for a week. I hope he adapts quickly because with our groups dynamic personalities we are not for the rigid!

The team loaded up, waved goodbye to our hosts, and headed out (once again through the UNLOCKED, UNGAURDED gate of the guest house-so promising). Moving through the streets I tried several times to strike up conversation with our driver, he was very friendly but his English was lacking, or should I say my Creole sucked. Always one for good humorous conversation it seemed as though this trip would hold no such luck, although somewhere mid trip our driver did locate a radio station playing Haitian/English Rap and let’s just say some of the music’s lyrics involved various parts of the female anatomy being used in various ways that well, just created a serious run of the giggles for those who could hear it!
Honking, braking hard, weaving in and out of traffic, it became clear that some things in Haiti would never change. The Haitian driving style is terrifying to most foreigners, it was terrifying to me the very first time I rode through the streets of Haiti. But who am I to judge, it works for them. In America we use the horn to say: Hey asshole get out of my way, or you idiot, you almost hit me! Or Hey buddy I am telling you I think you are number one! Look over here, look over here at my waving “number one” symbol!!!! In Haiti they use the horn to say; hey buddy I need to come around! Then the driver in front will honk his horn in return as a symbol he understands and you may pass. It’s an interesting system devised of horn honking with a series of hand signals combining rapid acceleration and flat to the floor speed. It’s like NASCAR with horns and vans and Tap-Taps and Mack trucks and Water trucks and oxen with carts and-oh well you get the point!

In the town of Carrefour we were to pick up our second interpreter Caz. Now Caz was an interpreter on Jacy’s first mission and through sheer luck became the interpreter on my first mission. Caz feels like family, he is warm and caring, has the tact of a politician in touchy situations with the caring hand of a pastor. He loves his country, and believes in the resilience of the Haitian people to stand up and overcome all forms of adversity. When I left him last year within minutes I was missing my new found friend. I have kept in contact with Caz over the year and my heart is pounding at the thought of reconnecting with this dear man. In the distance we see the truck holding our supplies parked on the side of the road, pulling up we also see the driver has in fact picked up Caz. We roll by slowly and everyone waves, Caz is on the phone and gives a gentle wave out the window that is until he sees my child like pie eyed face beaming back at him! He jumps forward and waves excitedly as he realizes who is waving! Little does he know there are two more of his old friends wedged in the back anxiously waiting to give him a giant hug as well!
Continuing along the western coastline from Port au Prince, signs of recovery are everywhere! Sidewalks cleared, repaired and clean with residents sweeping them as we pass by. Traffic, short of the normal craziness that is driving in Haiti is moving unimpeded. For those of us returning to this area once again it is a sight to behold. There are parts of this island that astound you with the level of destruction still remaining. There are other areas teaming with recovery efforts, and there are parts of this country that leave you feeling as though the recovery process is almost complete with gleaming buildings, painted or reworked walls and fencing along with courtyards brimming with banana plants and foliage! As we climbed into the mountains my breath was taken away by the sheer beauty surrounding this magnificent place! Plantations built into the mountain sides, lush green rolling hills and corn growing on any free space available. Rolling over our last hill before the drop into Petit-Goave, our final destination, I am wishing I had seen this place before the earthquake to know what it looked like prior. One can have a sense but unless you have lived in that time frame you will never truly know and I wanted to know. Pulling down a small narrow cobblestone street we stop next to a courtyard and are directed to get out for we’d arrived! Jumping out of the van Caz and I take one look at each other and start laughing as we give each other a great big hug! Quickly he spies Jacy and Heather making the reunion complete! He is overflowing with joy at the sight of our smiling faces as we are overjoyed at the sight of his as well! We all soon find ourselves unloading luggage from the truck, then shuttling it through a courtyard to a small slab of concrete and dirt where a small skiff is waiting to take us out to the larger boat. Once our luggage is loaded the skiff maneuvers carefully off shore where our sailboat awaits its arrival. Yep I said it, SAILBOAT! Wind driven voyager of the seas, a trusted form of transportation since the dawn of time! From the first moment some knuckle dragger looked into a hollow stump, threw the stump into the water and thought; ugh I float in that, it take me far! Wait! If me put up large palm leaf, me harness wind and go farther! Yep the trusty old (an in this case I mean really old) sail boat! Capt. Jack Sparrow himself walking the port side couldn’t have made this day any better!
While our luggage is being hauled off to the boat Jacy and I meet with Pastor Jackie. Pastor Jackie runs this region for the Methodist church and is our point man for this portion of the journey. He is in his thirties, good looking and very likeable. We know from our briefing that he holds much respect in the community of Source a Philipe and is considered the future of the church. We move into a back room of the church alongside the courtyard where our crew currently waits to load into the skiff for a ride to the boat. Once inside we start to discuss expenses, there is $600 for the boat ride to and from the mainland. There is also a $50 a night fee per person for staying on the island. Then there is the associated costs of extra interpreters and such. Some of the costs are confusing to me due to various rates and needs. But we settle up and on the way out I feel even more confused by the whole process. Little did I know that confusion would grow stronger as the week wore on? Pastor Jackie stayed to see us off, letting us know he would be at the island on Monday to check in on our progress.
After a few more short journeys in the skiff shuttling people the last person climbs aboard, our crew pulls anchor and we set sail to the north for what turned out to be one of the most beautifully serene and calm boat rides I have ever experienced. The water is a color blue that not even I could explain and do it justice. The sky has billowing Caribbean clouds floating lazily overhead and the breeze is warm and damp. I am in heaven. The boat rocks gently back and forth, up and down and every now then a little water would splash up and get my dangling legs. A few of our members needed to crawl out of the sun and a few more unfortunately were dealing with motion sickness. But I was laid back, legs hanging like bait over the sides, hat over my face half sleeping, half hoping this day would never end. My wife is in her element as well. Sun hat on, sunscreen slathered, that inviting, warm smile of hers lighting up the deck as she spoke of Haiti and how much she loved this county. She ended up in a conversation with one of our interpreters Richard. Richard told a story of his mother passing away, living with missionaries, being educated in the finest schools only to have no money to go to college. Watching painfully as his friends went off and became doctors and engineers while he stayed home and drove a Tap-Tap (multi-person taxi). It was humiliating! To make matters worse his family and friends all made fun of him for not being able to figure out how to get himself through college. He has since gone to college and he holds two Visa’s allowing him to travel in and out of the United States. He tells of others who have obtained the very same visa’s only to never return to their home country of Haiti. Richard states every time he goes he feels the need to come home, for you see no matter how educated he becomes he only sees his people, the people he cares for and wishes to help. The people of his home country, the people of Haiti. I am starting to like him.
After 4 or so hours of sailing across a magnificent sea in calm weather with nothing more than some heat stroke and nausea we slip over a reef into 4 feet of crystal clear water to arrive at the small fishing village of Source a Philipe. Once the anchors set another small skiff emerges from the shoreline to start an arduous journey of bringing us to shore then gather all of our baggage. My initial perception of this place is that of amazement! Source a Philipe should be on the cover of a vacation magazine! Yes the beach is littered with run down shacks, and the streets are not really streets anymore but run down pathways filled with cobblestone. But it doesn’t matter, it has beauty in its own strange way. There is garbage lining the sand and even more as you walk around, normal for this culture, shocking to us clean freaks and easily fixable with about a weeks’ worth of work. We are greeted by many townsfolk upon our arrival. As introductions are given we meet François. (duh da dunnnnn- villain music inserted here) François introduces himself as an associate pastor and the general contact for all things involving the community. If we need something we are to ask him for it, if payment to anyone needs made it goes through François, the self-described “Liaison” was there for our group at anywhere, anytime. François wanted nothing more than our happiness during this stay in Source a Philipe. Now don’t get me wrong, it all seemed friendly enough at the time, but Jacy and I both looked at each other and after 11 years of marriage no words needed to be exchanged. Something didn’t feel right. François walked us up the hill towards a guest house where our belongings were to be delivered by the local youth. Standing on the steps the clinic is quickly spotted a few yards away and a few of us wander over, curious about what lay behind its walls. Francois follows opening the doors where we quickly discover three empty rooms, with the exception of one reclining chair and a couple of benches this is going to take a bit of creativity. Our sleeves quickly become rolled up and as medical baggage arrives within a matter of a few hours we have transformed these three empty rooms into a room for dentistry, a room for education and a room for minor medical issues. We have added two more rocking chairs for patients, and a few more tables for supplies. It’s not perfect, but it will do! During this time we also meet up with a band of college students from the Wesley Foundation who have been living on the island for the last month! They have fixed a cistern, some water lines and built a cinder block latrine! They are young and in good spirits, they seem to be a fairly tight knit group and are very happy to see us.
After setting up the clinic and meeting our new friends we all gather again (new friends too) and decide it is time for a swim. The boats captain- (Captain Jackson) offers to take us out off shore near the reef where you can stand in four foot of water, gathering starfish and sea cucumbers (also fondly known as “Kaka nan lanme a” or poop in the sea- a joke we will further discuss later) . We all make our way down the newly built dock and into our trusty skiff, laughing and joking with our new found friends. Three hundred or so yards out he stops the boat and lets us know we can now get in the water! First person off is always the hardest as you upset the balance of a little skiff so when Doc rolled out into the water all heck broke loose as the skiff rocked hard from side to side! All of us laughed and joked like school children as one by one we plopped our tired, sweaty bodies into the ocean. It was fantastic! We swam as a group, we laughed as a group and we played as a group. The water was perfect and so was the swim. The water is like swimming pool water, so crystal clear you can see to the bottom and the temperature is perfect! Ally came up with starfish and sea urchins, Orson found plenty of Kaka nan lanme a, to which we all chuckled! How could an animal of the sea look so much like a giant poop? Oh well questions that will never be answered.
After our swim while walking back from the beach we strike up conversation with a few from the other group and one in particular “Ally” seems to have the low down on the village! (sounds like a future alliance) Everywhere she goes children can be heard screaming her name; AAAALLLLLEEEEYYYYYYY!!!!! It’s hysterical! Reminds me of another mission trip where all you could hear through the village was children screaming MMMMAAAAAAGGGGGIIIIEEEE! (Maggie) Another young woman who had her finger on the pulse of a village through the children. Alley walks us around, giving us the grand tour explaining where everything is at, who is who and what is what. You can tell her time here has been very fulfilling as she speaks with kindness, love and generosity about these people. She breaks away after a while telling us she will meet up with us later and off she heads into the groups accommodations. It is nice knowing there is another group here to lean upon.
We finished the day off with showers and another wonderful Haitian dinner. François came back around and through conversation I met our third interpreter “Ronald”. Ronald would be provided for us by the Haitian Methodist Church. We had not planned on a third interpreter but Ronald was very nice and quickly adapted to our group. Francois informed us of a 9am church service that we had already planned on attending. François thought it would be nice if one of us could speak as there was no pastor amongst us. My wife offers to speak, thank goodness because if anyone can pull it off she can! She continues to amaze me at every turn. Not because I ever think she “can’t” do something, but because over the almost 11 years we have been married she does any task better and better every time with grace and charm.

The women’s dorm is located inside the main guest house and the men’s is located on the other side of the Wesley Foundations (college kids) house. An interpreter is housed in each and we both had hired security. We all gathered and chatted for a while but one by one the day seemed to wear on everyone and we all sort of drifted off to our respective place. Saying goodnight to my wife, she was working very hard on her presentation for church the following morning. I read what she had prepared, it was powerful, to the point and moving.
Heather, Alisa and Mellissa were bunked up in one room, Kristina, Gail and Jacy were in the other. It was girls’ summer camp at its finest! (Let your imagination go wild). Orson, Preston, Brent and I said our final goodnights and wandered off to our little corner of the world. Orson and Preston in one room, Brent and myself in another. I felt kind of special being roomed with the international man of mystery. It turned out to be one of my better decisions during the trip as evening conversations with this man were fantastic. I will always remember the time spent with our own Brent Watney.
Clinic set up, accommodations taken care of, dinner devoured, showers finished, goodnights all the way around, now for a little me time. Head phones on, sweat running off my legs, bugs swirling around my face and some Miles Davis. Just what the doctor ordered.
Tomorrow is a new day and only God knows what’s in store for this team and I trust he has given us a task that we can handle.

(Please dear readers be patient as Betty is trying her very best to tell this story, I am trying hard to paint a picture from my perspective and it is taking quite a bit of rewrite from my notes. I am terribly afraid I am missing key parts, hopefully as I continue through my emotions the story will come easier and quicker)

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