A Week in Review

by Carol Hokana

Haiti Day 8, Saturday:  

We leave our lodgings on the hospital's 2nd floor in about 3 hrs. to return to the US. I am really looking forward to being home with my family and escaping the heat and humidity. Yes, I *am* saying I seek the cold Boston weather. But I will miss the people I have worked with this past week. My three roommates have become my sisters...even to the extent that I wore Mary's shirt and sandals to the school one day! 

I also will miss the beautiful singing I have heard: in a patient's room here in the hospital (Hopital Ste Croix), the cook singing after supper, one of the interpreters singing from the back of a pickup truck as we left yesterday's mobile clinic. There is joy here. And beauty, in the people and in the landscape. I will miss it.

Haiti day 7.Friday:
Today the medical clinic was in Leogane, in a village on the shore. This community was healthier than yesterday's. The biggest difference? The usual occupation is fishing, not farming during a drought. This community eats protein (fish) 4-5 times per week. We served about 300 patients. I worked as a triage nurse all day. My lunch break at 1:30 was spent on the beach. It.was beautiful. Saw the local cock-fighting ring and a couple of guys weaving fishnets from reeds. I hope to post photos.

Tonight we pack up. We leave tomorrow with many memorable moments, mostly good but a few disturbing ones of patients requiring immediate hospitalization, including a deja vu dehydrated baby. They remain in our hearts and minds and prayers. I smile broadly when I think of all the many, many adorable children I have held hands with, been kissed by and caressed by, taught, played with, and loved. There really is something special about Haiti.

Haiti day 6, Thursday:
21 team members, (including 5 Haitian medical & dental colleagues)14 translators, & 3 drivers headed for the hills...er...mountains...in 3 vehicles to Trouin (pronounced more like "twan"), about an hour's drive over very bumpy roads. We'd been to this village last year though at a different site. My FaceBook home page photo is of this mountainous road.

Per usual there were already people waiting for us, eager and/or desperate to have their medical issues addressed. For a brief time, while the others worked out the logistics like where the triage nurses, doctors, and the pharmacy would be set up in the church, I took my camera and, with my translator, spoke to the children. One little squirt refused to smile and his frown was so darn cute!

For my morning duties I was assigned to conduct well-being surveys of some of the people. Some of the questions asked were: Are you better or worse off now than a year ago? Do you have enough food to feed your family? Do you live in a tent/shelter or home? In a week how often do you eat protein (e.g., chicken, beef, eggs, fish, beans)? It was clear from their responses that this community is hurting, just as in the other villages this week. Nearly everyone reported being worse off now and not having enough food for their family. Only one person said that she had protein in her diet. Everyone spoke of the ongoing drought drastically affecting their lives. This is a farming community and without rain they had no crops to plant, had no income, had no home grown food and no or little money to buy food. Hearing the same responses time after time was heartbreaking. When asked "Is your faith important to you?" they all said, "Of course," many of them brightening up as they said it.

Now for the news that I want to shout to the world: WE FOUND ALEXANDRE!! He is a 6 old boy we met on our mobile clinic last year, with an infectious smile and sweet, sweet personality, suffering from cross eyes. [strabismus]. He was not at school then because of his eyesight and his family is very poor. We left the site last year feeling very sad for him. Teammate Nancye then tracked him down to see if a doctor could assess his problem and we hope perform surgery to correct his eye problem. She located an eye doctor in NY who often goes to Haiti who was willing to examine him. Nancy got in contact with the Episcopal priest in charge of St Mark's, the church in Trouin where our 2014 clinic was held. (This year's clinic site was at a different church.) But she had no surname or address by which to identify Alexandre, just a first name and a picture.

Yesterday at lunchtime Nancye, my translator Victor, and I walked to St Mark's--where we last saw Alexandre--and asked people if they knew a boy named Alexandre with crossed eyes. No, they did not though one person suggested we go to the school office and ask there, which we did. They listened to our story but did not seem to know him. They told a student to go find Alexandre. Three minutes later, a little boy appeared in the doorway. Alexandre! I squealed his name and he smiled, revealing a gap where his front top teeth will soon have adult teeth. So cute! We asked him to take us to his mama, so he did.

Mama greeted us cautiously. Nancye explained who she was and what she hoped to do for Alex. She needed to get Mama's permission to proceed. Mama said that she wanted his eyes fixed. Yay! We encouraged her to go back to the mobile clinic with us--about a 10-minute walk--so she ran into the house to get her two other children, Claudia (about 3) and baby Georgina, 3 months old. I called dibs on the baby and Nancye held Alex's hand. Claudia held her mama's and we walked back to the clinic where we had all four of them examined by a doctor. Turns out the baby had a respiratory infection though one would never guess by her demeanor; she was sweet as could be. She was prescribed an antibiotic and they all were given vitamins, toothpaste and brushes...well, not the baby, of course. Nancy and I could not stop smiling. And I could not part with the baby, but of course I did. As they were leaving, I hugged Mama and told her she was a good mother. Nancye said that Mama beamed when she heard that. So Mama will bring Alex to the Hopital St. Croix on Monday morning when a local ophthalmologist will be there to examine him. Alex may be able to be treated right here in Leogane--or the NY doc may treat him in Port-au-Prince--but the wheels are in motion to give this wonderful, sweet boy a much more promising future: the chance to see and go to school. HALLELUIAH!

Haiti day 5, Wednesday:
We completed our educational part of the mission today. Teaching English to kindergartners was, well, frankly exhausting. Expanding on my adage from yesterday that "teens are teens everywhere," I might also say "kindergartners are kindergartners everywhere," with loads of energy and very short attention spans. An hour with them nearly left us all feeling totally spent. smile emoticon The first-graders were a dream as were the fourth graders. I am one who likes to further math education and so we used English to not only count but to add and subtract. In other words, an English immersion math class. It worked out great. But I have to confess that it is not easy to be taken to a classroom, find out how old the kids are, how much English they have had, and then create a lesson plan for an hour's class--on the spot--with only the Dr Seuss flash cards that a team member brought. No classroom had any materials AT ALL in them. We had to ask for chalk and an eraser for the chalkboard. We would get 1 small, partial piece of chalk. Resources are in short supply, apparently. I shouldn't be surprised: this is a school that cannot meet payroll.

Anyway, the primary school headmaster met with us prior to our departure and said they would've liked us to spend the whole week at the school rather than just 3 days. They definitely want us back next year. When I told him how much fun I had in the primary school working with the students, he said that the kids really liked it, too, which is why they wanted us for the entire week.

Tonight we had a representative from the Children's Nutritional Program (CNP) of Haiti (whose region office is near the hospital here in Leogane) visit and tell the entire team what we can do on the mobile med clinics when we see malnourished children. It seems they have a well thought out process that has successfully turned lives around. They are doing excellent work teaching mothers how to shop for and cook nutritional food from whatever food is available locally. They also focus on educating mothers on breastfeeding and family planning.

Tomorrow we are going up into the mountains. The Episcopal priest from that village met with us educational mission team members this afternoon. He reported that many people in the parish do not get enough to eat, that the clinic that is there is staffed 7 days per week, but that they usually have no medical or testing resources. HIV is an issue, so I asked him if there have been any widespread educational programs on how to stop the spread of HIV. He said that if they come to the local clinic, the doctor will tell the patient but that's it. The condom donation that I spoke of prior to my departure will be sorely needed here. In fact patients at all of the clinics this week have asked for condoms.

The donated reading eyeglasses, again, have been life changing. Toothbrushes and paste have been given to every patient, as have multi-vitamins. Still, the local Haitian dentist we hire has been kept very busy, pulling rotten teeth.

Today's med team saw roughly 250 patients and they were very tired when they returned after 6:00 p.m, having left here at 8:00 this morning. Long busy days doing good work.

Haiti day 4, Tuesday:
Today, two other team members and I, along with my FAVORITE TRANSLATOR from last year, Victor, walked to the school at 8:00. We spent the whole morning in the primary school teaching them numbers, colors, pronunciation. We three were thrilled with their enthusiastic participation and their quick intelligence. There were four classes of the cutest kids. One was a kindergarten class who were so confident in knowing their colors...in French. They clearly were puzzled at first as to why "rouge" is now red. It was really, really fun.

And, then, this afternoon we went into a "terminale" class (seniors) who, of course, know more than the three of us. Teens are teens everywhere. However there WAS a magical moment when one girl with the prettiest voice sang in English "All the breath of me" or something like that. And again when we had them singing John Legend's "All of Me," of which I recorded just a minute. I will try to upload but my skill is awful.

We're going on a tour of the Leogane Hospital in a little bit. We are staying on the second floor and on the third floor they have a dental clinic, a medical research facility of some kind, and a couple of other things that I'll learn about on the tour.

Temps here have been high, probably around 90 or so, and humid. Unlike last year I haven't been bothered with mosquitoes, knock on wood. On the ride from the airport on Saturday I thought that there was less trash and more new construction in Port-au-Prince (PaP). Leogane, about 20 miles west of PaP, also has some new construction. A park built by the Japanese, looked ready to open last year but apparently was just opened last Thursday... by the President of Haiti!

Day 4's med trip saw a record 230 patients. They came back exhausted. This was at the site where last year I had the really sick baby. I've thought about that sweet little girl many, many times this past year. Nurse Michelle Gillig was keeping an eye out for her but did not see her. I hope she is still alive and doing well.

Haiti day 3,Monday:
It is safe to say that I still have not adjusted to Haiti time. I don't mean a time change--they are the same as where I live. I'm talking about a time attitude. Verrrrry laid back. I feel like my short stay here is just that--short--so I need to be productive every single minute. Ha! Carol, meet Haiti, where things happen when they happen.

I'm guessing you can sense my frustration seeping out just a wee little bit. I keep telling my eager self to breathe and BE PATIENT, for crying out loud. But I don't seem to be listening to myself all of the time. For over a year I have been hoping I can help the school, Ecole St Croix (Holy Cross School) in some way.
We were to make the two-minute walk there this a.m. at 9:00. It wasn't until 10:10 am we finally did. I was still listening to myself at this point, so I was patient and calm (okay maybe just outwardly). Then the welcoming portion comes and that understandably takes 10-15 minutes (because translators are involved and all that). Then it is determined that one of us will go to the primary school to teach English, three of us will do the same for the secondary school (me!) and one will meet with administrators to assess needs and wishes. But then we end up in the director’s office instead of a class. WTH? I find that I am beginning to ignore my inner voice and I squirm visibly in my chair and finally state that I am eager to be with the students. Doesn't happen until after lunch, in fact I do not set foot in a classroom until after 1:00 p.m. But once I do, man-o-man was it fun! They enjoyed it too cuz they pleaded with us to come back tomorrow. I believe they really think their newly learned song "Head, Shoulders Knees and Toes" is a top 40 hit! wink emoticon These were 14-years-olds who know a good song when they hear it and act it out. I laugh just thinking about it.

So at the end of the school day i had found that my patience came back, thanks to the kids. Because it really is all about them.

Haiti day 2, Sunday:
This AM the kitchen staff forgot about daylight savings, so breakfast was a bit late, but so tasty that it was well worth waiting for -- especially the mango juice.  When clearing my breakfast plate my nosy self had to see what the cooks were working on. Pumpkin soup! I motioned--since I don't speak Creole--that I bake the seeds and eat them. She said, in English, "Show me." So I did! We washed the seeds, drained them, salted them, and baked them (a little too long actually). They tried them and seemed to like them, although they could've been just being polite. This was quite a cooking feat as our only common language was signing. When done, she gave me the highest compliment: she asked me to taste the beef she stewed for the soup. I did and guessed there was parsley and bell peppers in it and vinegar. She nodded enthusiastically and said "You cook." Yup, I do. But she does it better.

Haiti day 1, Saturday: Touched down in Port-au-Prince (PaP) on time,1:30 pm. Some team members had difficulty getting meds thru Customs but I had no trouble. Left the airport about 2 hrs later, heading for Croix du Bouquet, an artist colony featuring metal work. Long, crazy drive to Leogane, our base for the week. Arrived at 6:30 pm, ate a delicious chicken supper, went over some rules and logistics, and now most people are in bed, utterly exhausted from the 6 am flight out of Boston and dealing with the sudden drastic temp change: 90 and humid. Oh, and we lose an hour of sleep tonight due to daylight savings time. Yay!

Church begins at 7 am tomorrow but so does breakfast so I will show up late for church (PRIORITIES, people!) and still likely be there for two hrs. I will try to update again tomorrow. I am thrilled to be back!!

Haiti, Day -1, Friday eve: My two fifty-pound bags (filled with meds, tooth brushes, tooth paste, glasses, and more) and my one carry on (with my personal items plus a portable AED--defibrillator donated by Zoll Medical that I wanted to hand carry) are packed and parked near our front door in anticipation tomorrow's 4 AM pick up with Caroline Carrie Holt Larson and Michelle Gillig. Tomorrow being largely a travel day, I don't imagine I'll have much to report, if all goes well.

One thing that I want to highlight is the love and support I have been given by my friends and family members and people I don't even know. I really feel that there is a whole network of people behind me, helping me go on this trip. A huge thank you to my husband, Nick Bonifanti, who will be manning the fort while I'm away, and to my two dear daughters who fear they will starve during my absence. I am not worried; Nick will make sure that they eat well. I will miss them. 

My day at FSIL 13 March 2015

by Gloria Korta MD

Dean Hilda Alcindor, RN has shown us miracles.  In the 10 years since she has been in charge, FSIL (Faculty of Nursing Science of the Episcopal University of Haiti in Leogane) has become the premier school of nursing in Haiti, the only one to graduate nurses with a baccalaureate degree. The curriculum is tough.  Only about 1/4 of the current freshman class is expected to make it to graduation.  Our group from Epiphany and St. Paul's is developing a relationship with this school.  Marisa and Dan Seligman and Caroline Larson and I had the opportunity to deliver a guest lecture to a class at the school.  Michelle Gillig also did lecturing and was a guide for two of the students to accompany us during the week at our mobile medical clinics. 

Since I am a gynecologist, Hilda asked me to talk about cervical cancer. While breast cancer is the number one cancer in the world among women, cervical cancer rises to that rank in Haiti. There is inadequate screening by pap smears, and the vaccine against the HPV virus, the cause of more than 90% of cervical cancer is financially out of range for almost all Haitians.

There were about 50 freshman students in my class.  I used a PowerPoint  presentation with video from the internet to illustrate my lecture.  The students were uniformly engaged, inquisitive and polite.  Each
student rose from his or her seat before asking a question.  They were encouraged by a member of the staff to ask follow-up questions to be sure they understood their points.  Their intelligence and enthusiasm was an inspiration.  What we can leave behind when we visit Haiti is some of our knowledge and an encouragement of their natural talents while what we take away is hope for Haiti's future.

Anybody Can Do This

by Jason Kinchen

I’ve now prayed over hundreds of people this week.  I feel I should
now have something profound to say about how the Spirit works in a place of desperate poverty like Haiti.  Sigh. I guess I’ll have to get back to you on that.  And I did wind up praying over many men during the week.  I don’t know what happened that first day, but the rest of the days plenty of men honored me by allowing me to lay hands on them and invoke God’s healing power.

So much for my treatise on gender bias in spiritual ministrations.

Though I did get more comfortable though the week, I still feel like any of my teammates would be equally qualified to do what I did. Thank God for the Bible and the Prayer Book – and mean that in a very practical sense.  I would have been a babbling fool without them.
Sidebar: If you have only seen the BCP prayers for Holy Eucharist,Rite II Sunday Morning, you are missing out on some amazingly beautiful words in the rest of it.  To wit – check out this little gem tucked away in the Ministrations to the Sick:

In the Morning

This is another day, O Lord.  I know not what it will bring forth, but make me ready, Lord, for whatever it may be.If I am to stand up, help me to stand bravely.If I am to sit still, help me to sit quietly.If I am to lie low, help me to do it patiently.And if I am to do nothing, let me do it gallantly.Make these words more than words, and give me the Spirit of Jesus.

Amen.

Make these words more than words.  Amen.  I guess that is the trick,isn’t it?  I guess I could extend that to our whole team’s activities– make these pills more than pills; make these blood tests more than blood tests; make these pressure cuffs more than pressure cuffs.  All my friends who really ministered to the sick were also engaged in a form of prayer, just as I, in praying, was engaged in a form of therapy.

The temptation is to think that the therapeutic effect is mostly delivered to the Haitian people whom we served.  I suspect an even more profound impact on our own souls.  The fact of the matter is that in the vast majority of cases, we just will not ever know the effects of our physical ministrations.  The only thing we can be sure of is the transformation in ourselves.

At our last night’s reflections, we talked about the things we will bring back with us. Inevitably, we told stories of the wonderful things we had seen in Haiti – the miracles we had seen in the lives of people we know here.  But miracles are about transformation. The true blessing will be the way in which these people follow us home.

Haiti and the US are opposites in many ways – perhaps most ways.  And there are ways in which they need each other.  The conventional wisdom is all about what the US can and should do for Haiti.  She suffers crushing poverty, unemployment and completely daunting health and social issues.  But, the US suffers the burden of acquisitiveness, the addiction of adding to our store of earthly treasures which creates its own kind of spiritual poverty.  A trip to a place like Haiti is a tonic for those kinds of sickness.

O God, the source of all health: So fill my heart with faith in your love, that with calm expectancy I may make room for your power to possess me, and gracefully accept your healing; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

I’m telling you – that Prayer Book just rocks!

March 12, 2015

by Renie Pavilon

Greetings from Haiti. It’s been an amazing week, and hard to believe tomorrow is our last day of clinic.  We’ve traversed this area of Leogane to see many Haitian people in need of medical assistance.  Young and old have come to our “pop-up” clinic to see the doctors and nurses and to receive care.  Care is the reason the Epiphany and St. Paul’s team came to Haiti.  We are not here for a tropical vacation, but we care enough to take time to bring compassion to our brothers and sisters in need.  If you’ve read any of the blogs from earlier this week you have learned that this country is still recovering from disaster. It is a dusty and poor island only 90 minutes from Miami, but WORLDS away! We have learned that many people do not have jobs, nor can they find work. Many women work as “vendors” which means they sell, or really resell, whatever they can to earn money to feed themselves or their families.  The reality is an extraordinary unemployment rate of 80% (and we think 8% is bad in the US)!  I’m learning a lot about this country and its many people who have little or no healthcare.  There are hospitals and clinics, but they must pay. Unfortunately, with so little opportunity for work, it’s hard for many people to earn money to cover anything more than the very basic human needs of food and shelter.

Back to caring. The reason our group is here is to bring compassion and care to people who have very little means to care for their own families. There are 22 of us from the US, 5 Haitian medical staff and 12 interpreters who gather each morning. I am amazed, and so proud, of every member of our mission team.  Each and every person cares very much about the job they came here to do.  I can honestly say we are all excited to get up early in the morning (OK maybe not Henry) and begin our day; we leave the guest house at 8:30am and return a bit dusty, but fulfilled, by 6:00pm.  It is a long day, but there is joy in working hard to bring care and compassion to those who really need support.  It does really feel like a mission from God.  And I am so thankful for the new friends I’ve made - both Haitians and my neighbors at home in Massachusetts.  I can’t wait to see many of you who will read this blog and tell you more stories, and show you all the photos of my wonderful ‘vacation’ in the Caribbean!  Peace.

Medical Clinics: Days 1-3 River of Grace

by Reid Boswell, MDDay 1

Monday: 

There is an Episcopal church and elementary school in Matthieu, not far from Leogane. We have been there before, setting up our clinic in the courtyard between the school and the earthquake-ravaged church. The last time I was there, the church was a shambles, pews scattered, roof useless, altar unrecognizable. This year, to my delight, the church had been restored, the pews carefully arranged, the altar and nave were pristine, and the floor, though dusty, revealing the original tilework and the mausoleum stone of the church’s founder on the floor in front of the nave.  

It felt at once sacrilegious and at the same time absolutely appropriate to set up our clinic in the church, pharmacy in front of the nave, triage at the entrance, dentist in the sacristy, chaplain along the east side, our optometry station in what I presume is the baptistry, and the docs situated on a private porch just outside. The clinic flowed reasonably well and I settled into my rusty primary care mode with fits and starts. It was a joy to see the smiling Haitian people, greeting me with an earnest “bonjou.” The medical needs were familiar: fungal infections, high blood pressure, diabetes, dyspepsia, aching joints…the kinds of complaints that one would expect from a people living in stress, close to the ground, and genetically cursed with the chronic ills of their ancestors. 

At one point, I looked over at my colleague, Gloria, who said “this is so fun, I mean what would you be doing now if you weren’t here.” I replied, “let’s see, answering stupid e-mails, arguing with insurance companies, watching the clock to make sure I stayed on time.” Indeed, as a physician, this is medical care at its most basic: no insurance wonks looking over our shoulder, no threat of entitled patients threatening to sue, no administrators expecting patient quotas. I was shocked back to reality when a small boy appeared to see our Haitian doctor, Alex, right next to my station. A painfully thin child, with the characteristic swollen belly of extreme malnutrition, covered with scabies, an unfortunately common parasitic skin infection in Haiti. I had to turn away, tears in my eyes, now defibrillated back to the consciousness of the desperate conditions in so many parts of this country. 

And yet this child smiled as wide as any other, seemingly oblivious to his plight. This is not to say that Haitians don’t understand their poverty or the unfortunate circumstances thrust upon them through no fault of their own. But the sight of this boy to me felt like a metaphor for this country: a joyful people, dealt a hand of cards that only Job might understand, fully expecting God’s redemption and grace.

Day 2 Tuesday

The time-honored and highly respected humanitarian organization Habitat for Humanity has built a cluster of homes resembling a village in Sarbousse. Just across the “highway” (I use that term loosely), there is a small compound where we were to set up our second clinic. The pharmacy was squeezed into the front “parlor” of the main house, the dentist in the “living room”, and triage, docs, and optometry station sharing a tight space under a canopy that was probably provided by “USAID” after the earthquake. It was hot, no breeze, and my recollection from two years ago was that we should expect a crush of patients. The flow of patients was difficult and, as predicted, there was no end to the line of people seeking medical attention. From my perspective, the morning ambled rather slowly, only to come to the realization that the crowd of people weren’t finding their way to the doctors because of the difficult geography of the compound. By the afternoon, we were straight out, barely catching a breath between a child with tinea corporus and an elderly woman with a blood pressure through the roof.

I reluctantly share a little secret about doctors: we get tired late in the day like everybody else. In the morning, fresh from our hearty breakfast and thick, delicious Haitian coffee, I was eager to explore the nuances of each of my patient’s symptoms, earnestly trying to correlate their medical complaints with their occupation, living conditions, and emotional state of being. By late in the day, after the 250^th patient had walked from the make-shift triage bench to my little rickety table, I have to confess that I could do no more than check off the meds that they expected to receive. “Want fries with that?” I don’t mean to be flippant about medical care, the late in the day patients were not ignored. But it was a difficult day for all. However, what I realized is that our team now was really a team. Several of us have only met for the first time this mission, and we coalesced around the difficulty of space and people and emotion.

Day 3, Wednesday

Today, I was looking forward to the long ride out to Fayette, along the river bed that will soon be swollen with water when rainy season comes. We bounce our way through village after village until we reach the river bed. The trucks wind their way to the far side of the river, between the mountains, until we reach an earthquake- ravaged Catholic church where we have held clinics in years past. The church is still almost in ruins, but continues to serve the people of Fayette as a place of worship. Like Matthieu, the church space lends itself to a smooth flow of patients: triage in the back, docs and chaplain in the area where the pews would be found, pharmacy in the nave and dentist and optometry station under a separate canopy out back, This is a desperately poor area, possibly the closest location to the epicenter of the earthquake that we will visit. In past clinics, my recollection was that, while there will be somewhat fewer patients, the pathology will be more desperate.

The translator assigned to me, Peterson, has been with me on all three trips to Haiti. We bonded early on and he has become like “Radar” from the old TV series M*A*S*H. He has already asked and has an answer to the next question I will ask my patient.  “Epigastric pain?” Before my next word, Peterson has told me “worse before meals, eats greasy food, too much salt.” He has already given a nutritional diatribe before I have even circled the word “Gastritis” on the medical card.

Unexpectedly, we ended up seeing at least as many as we did in Sarbousse, running out of vitamins and some antibiotics. The dentist had to cut off the line of people waiting to see him and our clinic ran very long. My only explanation is that for the first time, we had reading glasses available and I suspect word got out that an “eye doctor” was part of the clinic. For the record, our outstanding podiatrist Dr. Dan stepped up to honor his dad-in-law’s profession as an erstwhile optometrist. We collected reading glasses from all over, especially the Lion’s Club, as well as other donors, and our patients marveled about suddenly being able to read or thread a needle. Such a simple thing. Cheaters bought at CVS or Walgreen’s by my middle-aged comrades are magic to poor, isolated people. They came to our clinic with real medical issues, but sometimes kind of made-up ones just to access the “EYE DOKTE.”

In the end, our team saw all who needed to be seen, young and old, sick of body, heart or spirit, met by our triage team, lifted up by our chaplain Jason, delivered medication by our outstanding pharmacy team, dental needs met by Dr. Bastien, eyes opened by simple glasses provided by Dan and Henry, and we hope, received a bit of grace as our team received a river of grace.

Notes 11 March 2015

by Elizabeth Foot

                I will apologize in advance, before I take you all back to Monday, March 9, but I promise I will make it to the 11^th.

                March 9^th, around 10 am. I am so excited, I am about to go teach English. The group is my mom, Carol Hokana, our two translators Francois and Magnum, and me. We walk over to L’Ecole St. Croix avec Pere Kerwin. We are greeted by both principals, M. Manuel of the Lower School (grades K-6) and M. Emmanuel (grades 7-13) and I thought, “I’m already confused. Do they have the same name or am I going crazy? I have no idea what I’m getting myself into.” But luckily, I was able to grin and pretend like I knew what was going on. After introductions, the adults went with M.Emmanuel and I was left with M. Manuel……and no translator.

                When Father Kerwin told the principals, “Oh Elizabeth speaks French and understands it well. She shouldn’t need a translator!” I knew I was in trouble. As mentioned in my blog about church, my French skills border decent, but as much as I like to think I’m not awful, even I knew I was way in over my head. Teach English to four classes in a foreign language? By myself? Without a translator? I didn’t think so.

                Therefore it was safe to say, the walk to the furthest class (less than the length of a football field), my heart was pounding and I wondered what the chances of me running up to my mom and demanding a translator. However, I knew how futile it would be since M. Manuel is about 6 feet tall and could out stride me in about two seconds. So be it, I thought, it’s only two hours until I have to leave for lunch; it can’t be that bad.

                And it wasn’t. It was the complete opposite. The kids I met with and attempted to teach were some of the cutest, energetic, and most amusing children I’ve ever met. Not only did they listen to me as I attempted to talk to them in French about English, but they participated in the lessons I spontaneously made up. The joy that I had heard on that initial walk, and the boisterous noise that had made me want to turn invisible, ended up being the joy and noise that drew me back the next day with such excitement. The girls wore blue shirts, skirts, and bows in perfectly braided hair. Each of their smiles could go for millions of dollars and will probably cause millions of heartbreaks. The boys as well had teeth as white as the snow you all see when you look out your window. They wore blue shirts as well but grey pants instead of skirts. Some of the uniforms fit well, others hung loose or looked three sizes too small. They loved hearing me struggle with French but listened attentively while I spoke in French. They had workbooks for English and we would read through conversations and countries, always them repeating after me.  I guess the teachers had also enjoyed me, and that I hadn’t messed up too royally, because I was specifically asked back the following morning at 8 am.

                March 10. I returned a celebrity. It was now my mom, Carol Hokana, our new translator Victor, and me tackling the now five classes than M. Manuel wanted me to teach. We brought Dr. Seuss Cards with letters of the alphabet, numbers up to 20, and counting books (all in English). It was the highlight of my day when I walked into the new classroom, and the kids fell silent. Then I would make eye-contact with them and smile---but it was their smiles that lit up the otherwise dim room. “Bonjour Elizabeth! Comment-allez vous?” They chorused together. (Hello Elizabeth! How are you doing?”).

                “Je suis tres bien merci! Et vous?” I would respond, and then class would begin. The engagement and excitement to just be with us was tangible; the kindergartners wouldn’t let go of my arms. Now that we had actual exercises and I was not just reading off conversations, it was as much fun for us as the kids. We left exhausted but empowered; we were making a difference in these children’s’ lives.

                March 11. I was facing today with a bittersweet mindset because it is our last day with these kids, but I was still looking forward to spending the day with them. It went the same as yesterday, but the kids were even more excited to see us, which I’m not going to lie, made it a little more difficult to talk and teach them. But so it was, and after teaching all five of the classes, we left. We also gave the teachers the Dr. Seuss Cards, coloring books, papers, markers, and watercolors. One of the teachers asked me if I was returning the following day and I had to tell her, no I wasn’t. She seemed very disappointed, either because it meant she wouldn’t have an hour break or because she liked me. I don’t know, but I was flattered nonetheless. M. Manuel also extended his thanks to us and said he wanted us to stay longer next year (which really means I’ll have to learn how to lead a class).

                 So. My closing thoughts are that this experience has really made me appreciate my education back home and the difference I am able to make. Although I don’t know what I’ll be doing later in life, in the short term I do know that I will always remember these children and I will think of them tomorrow morning as I head off to the medical clinic, in scrubs and sneakers instead of dresses and TOMs, and whenever I see children who have the same traits as them: excitement and joy towards education and openness to making new friends.

P.S. If anyone was wondering, no I do not regret my decision to stay with M. Manuel and not try to make a break for it.

Prayer Composed by the Team After Monday's First Mobile Clinic

by Mission Team

Blessed be God, Ruler of the Universe, who has brought us together in this place
Grant us clear sight,compassion, patience, strength, courage, and openness
So that we may give, persevere and do your will in this place
Through partnership with our Haitian Brothers and Sisters 
To the glory of your name.

Amen

Confessions of a Newbie Spiritual Leader

by Jason Kinchen

One of the most astonishing invitations I have ever received is to accompany Epiphany’s Haiti team as, what they insist on calling me, their “Spiritual Leader.”  The idea that I could be anybody’s spiritual leader fills me with mirth – and now, fear and trembling.  People who know me do know that I’m kind of a Bible “wonk.”  I love that crazy book – it’s just so amazing and interesting.  It’s full of poetry, mythology, action-packed stories with vivid descriptions of our insane ancestors doing passionate things to understand and relate to an unfathomable yet utterly present God.  All the makings of an eternal bestseller.

But that is a far cry from being any kind of spiritual leader.  I try and gently guide people on my team to the term “lay chaplain” – somehow that feels less imposing to my fragile courage.  Up until this morning, I was only called upon to say grace before meals and bless our travel.  That, I can do – we’ve been saying grace over meals since I was kid, so all I had to do was remember the rote blessings from my childhood and embellish them a bit.

But this morning, they threw me into the deep end.  While my compatriots were triaging, testing, diagnosing, treating, and filling prescriptions, they put me in a lonely corner with a translator that I had just met.  As the inevitable long lines formed at the medical stations, the translator went to the people seated and asked if anyone would like healing prayers.

Somehow, I had imagined a few people at a time coming over.  Maybe some getting a gander at my collar-less, unordained presence and changing their minds.  Maybe nobody would be interested and I could help count pills.  No such luck – you would have thought I was Taylor Swift at the Grammys.  Everybody who could fit on the benches near me got up and came over.

Holy you-know-what!!  About twenty-five people were headed to my little cubbie.  I gave a panicky glance at my translator who looked non-plussed.  I frantically looked around for one of my medical team.  Surely they couldn’t expect me to do this on my own.  I’ve never even prayed over one person for healing before.

But before I knew it, a young woman was sitting in front of me and describing the headaches and heart palpitations she had.  I had no time to indulge my terror but found myself just listening to her story.  Sadly enough, her symptoms began right after the earthquake.  Soon thereafter, she stopped speaking and bowed her head.

In my naïve approach to this role, I did do one wise thing.  I reread the Psalms all the way through on the plane ride down to Haiti.  Being a Bible geek did pay off, because before I knew it snippets of several Psalms made their way to my lips.  My translator dutifully relayed them in Creole – and somehow they sounded more comforting coming from him.

But I had no time to think about that.  Woman after woman (for they were *all* women – not a single man sat down to pray with me, but that’s for another blog entry) sat in front of me, not giving me time to worry, but pouring out tales of loss, of hunger, of sickness, of fear, of all kinds of distress and suffering.

But astonishingly they all smiled and thanked me as they got up to leave.  Some with tears in their eyes, but all seeming to be glad they came.  How was this happening?  I have no business giving this kind of comfort to anyone.

About halfway through, when things slowed down a bit, Richardson, my translator, asked me, “Where did you learn to pray like that?  These are really good.”  I started to tell him that I stole from a really good source, but I was suddenly brought up short.

“Dummy, it is not about you.  It’s about them”, were the words that sounded in my head.  (I either attribute them to the Holy Spirit or a psychotic break –but, you understand, I prefer the former.) They – those women with their stories – they were *telling* me what to say. I only had to look in their eyes and hold their hands and their divine courage and strength would give me the words.

I’m still surprised I’m here.  I still think that somebody has made a terrible mistake.  But so far, nobody has called me a fraud and the Holy Spirit seems to be providing good cover – so I’ve got that going for me.  And I can only think that being held in prayer by so many people at home has something to do with it as well.

Thank you, my friends, and keep those prayers coming – for all the team and for those whom we serve here in Haiti.  Goodness knows what will happen to me if you don’t!

- Jason Kinchen

Day Two: Church and Walking Tour—

by Elizabeth Foot

There is a carnival going on here and, I guess, just like the US, Saturdays are the night to go out. The music is amazing; exuberant and joyful. Those were the feelings I felt when I heard them going by my window, but at 4:45 am, I was not ready to return the love.

                But today I was. It’s Sunday: God’s Day. The Church service started at 7 am and despite efforts to be there on time, we walked over around 8 am. The service ended around 10:15 am—meaning it was hours longer than any service at Epiphany. For those hours, I struggled to understand before giving up completely; anyone sitting behind me would have seen me perk up at any words I knew and then watch me put my head down again when I realized I’d have to wait a while before I recognized anything else. Since my French speaking and hearing ability borders decent, I was left to enjoy the service with all senses save comprehension. [Parts of the service are in Creole; cognates may be few – Ed.] I saw how nicely everyone was dressed: the girls and women were in dresses and bows, boys and men in dress suits and ties. They swayed with the music of the chorale group—led by a women in a pale coral dress and voice that filled the room. The acolytes surrounded the altar and one of them spread incense. The toddlers were amazing, they just sat quietly with their mothers. If they didn’t sit still, and one boy was running around the whole time, it was outside.

                I learned after the service that the church was built on what used to be the school’s basketball court. I also saw where the old church used to be, but now it’s just cinder blocks and wire foundations; they are getting ready to rebuild it. The only room that remains from the earthquake five years ago is a small room off to the side, the sacristy. The room is in good shape but it looked lonely sitting at the top of some steps and surrounded by grass covering the old ruins. As Carol Hokana said “Those cinder blocks represent hope. They’re so simple, but so strong.” I want to thank Carol for expressing what seems so true.

                As a high school student, I am lucky enough to say this culture is a shock to me. Yesterday, on our way from Port-Au-Prince to Leogane, we saw things you only see in movies: pigs in the street, piles of burning trash, policemen patrolling streets with intimidating guns. Yet the people seem hopeful, just as they were at the church today. It’s incredible and I have really never seen anything like it. All I could keep thinking was, as we were driving yesterday was, if there were pigs, or cows, or goats roaming the streets in Boston, we would call Animal Control to figure it out, or we would just run away. But here, people and animals are living side by side (I don’t know if there is animal control or not).

                But back to today! After lunch, we will be heading off on a walking tour of Leogane. I’m excited to see the area as well as get some exercise. I don’t know what exactly we will be seeing but that makes it all the more interesting because, for some of the “returning varsity members”, they’ve already seen it but it is my first time and my first impressions have yet to be made.

Our First Full Day in Leogane

by Caroline Larson

Today is our first full day in Leogane and my head is so full of ideas and impressions.  Yesterday our route to Leogane took us by so many areas of streets lined with people struggling to survive  - small businesses crowding the streets punctuated by piles of rubble and smoking trash.  And then my attention would be drawn to a beautiful flowering bush or a child smiling and playing with a sibling.  Life goes on in this place.  And there is beauty struggling to be noticed in the landscape and in the people.

This morning we attended church.  I do not understand much French but the warmth of Pere Kerwin’s sermon came through and the hymns were sung with such joy and passion I was brought to tears.  The passing of the peace took at least 5 minutes and I got a couple of hugs along with many warm handshakes.  Pere Kerwin tells us that 80 percent of the congregation is unemployed and yet they continue to share their joy in life and contribute to fund the church as well as the building fund for the new church.  Father Kerwin explained to us over dinner tonight that the church is using a microfinance approach by loaning funding to church members, primarily women, for them to invest in products to resell.  They pay back the loan with no interest and their success supports their families and results in more contributions to the church.  He also shared with us that the school is struggling since the earthquake as their buildings were damaged and their student population dropped from 900 to less than 400 making it hard to meet the budget.  Cost for an elementary student is $250 to $300 and secondary school $400 to $500. 

Tomorrow will be our first clinic day and I am excited to be going.  Looking forward to meeting Jesus in the people we serve tomorrow.  I know I will return hot and tired tomorrow night, but changed, as I was today. 

                

Towards Leogane

by Reid Thomas Boswell, MD MP

One by one, in the wee hours, most of our team trickled into gate B30 at Logan for our 6:05 AM flight, bleary-eyed and desperate for coffee. Ah, yes, the coffee war: Starbucks vs. Dunkin. Doesn’t matter, the Haitian coffee makes both look tame, and despite the best efforts of Bill and I, there apparently is no Starbucks in Haiti and the Seligmans and their Dunkin’ devotion are equally out of luck. Our flights to JFK and then on to Port Au Prince were almost seamless, except a bit of turbulence on our descent to Hispaniola. We were on a large Boeing767-300, and there seemed to be numerous American mission groups aboard with some scattered Haitian expats. There was a team of dental students from Temple University heading out to the west coast to spend a week extracting teeth (about all that can be done in rural Haiti). There was a group of kids from Eastern Nazarene College headed to Leogane to do some maintenance work at a local health clinic. The young man sitting next to Linda was downright wide-eyed with excitement.

Baggage claim could only be described as utter chaos. With a bigger plane there were way more people claiming baggage than we have ever encountered, and finding our 50 lb. medication filled duffel bags and then trying to re-group was (as Nick and I agreed) exactly like herding cats. Then customs. Customs was almost a random experience, with some of our team sliding easily through with nary a glance, others required to show baggage claim tags (but not all), some required to produce the list of items in our bags, and then a few (including our intrepid leader Linda), who were pulled aside and interrogated. The guy who asked me to produce my list of items in my bags clearly had some advanced pharmaceutical training. I gave him my lists, he looked them over with a knowing expression, nodding as he went down the list, and then waved me on, keeping in mind that the list included words like Lisinopril, ceftriaxone, omeprazole, albendazole, etc.

Finally, we were all able to walk out of the terminal to the awaiting Hopital St. Croix trucks. This is my 3^rd year going to Haiti, though I missed last year. Immediately, the sensual recall of this country enveloped me, and I was transported back: the smells, the vivid colors, the noise, the high emotion, and the fantastic Caribbean heat. The bags were carefully packed and headed back to the guest house at Hopital St. Croix, while most of us headed to the artist colony at Croix de Bouquet, where we shopped for the now famous (at least in our Parish) hammered metal artwork. The ride to Croix de Bouquet was difficult and our seasoned driver used every skill he had to maneuver through the dense traffic. Traffic rules are pretty much non-existent in Haiti and I have learned not to look while our driver plays chicken with large dump trucks as he passes slow moving tap-taps or other vehicles that do not meet his standard of appropriate speed. As far as I can tell, there is only one traffic light on the road from Port au Prince and Leogane, but nobody really pays any attention to it. We spent about an hour walking through the shops, marveling at the amazing hammered tin art and watching the craftsmen plying their trade while on their knees or squatting on the ground.

We made it safely back to the inviting guest house just after sunset and enjoyed a delicious dinner of chicken, rice and beans, fried plantains, vegetables and salad, washed down, of course with the premier Haitian beer, Prestige. We met with our host, Robin, to refresh our memories of the rules of the guest house and indeed Haiti in general. Six of our 22 member team will be sleeping at the Nursing School. Sleep was the number one agenda for the evening, with our predawn start and “Spring Forward” time change (though I enjoyed little of that thanks to an apparent allergy to my malaria medication).

Today, most of the team went to church (generally a 2 hour service in Creole). I demurred, having experienced the lovely side effects of Benadryl. The rest of today will be spent relaxing and then getting ready for our first clinic tomorrow, sorting and counting meds, organizing team members, and most importantly preparing emotionally for helping to take care of the hundreds of patients we will be seeing in poor, rural areas in and around Leogane. I am excited to be back in Haiti and hope my rusty primary care skills will re-emerge somewhere in my cortex. This is a great team, and as I have said before, I believe we will make a difference, even if it simply to show up. Bondye beni ou.

Team of 22 Volunteers Arrives in Port au Prince

by Nick Candee

22 volunteers arrived in Port au Prince yesterday and proceeded to the guest house at Hopital St. Croix in Leogane, our partner for the 5 days of mobile medical clinics starting Monday out in surrounding villages. A smaller team will begin exploring our cooperation with Ecole St Croix next door, a K-12 school of 400+students. And 6 members of our team are staying at FSIL, the nursing school of the Episcopal University of Haiti – more on that wonderful school later!

Our team includes the following members from Parish of the Epiphany, and friends from elsewhere as noted:

Linda Brown MD                         

Nick Candee                            

Reid Boswell MD                      

Sandy Bristol                           

Mary Candee from San Antonio, TX

Barbara DeWolfe                      

Barbara Foot MS                      

Elizabeth Foot                          

Michelle Gillig  RN from St. Paul’s / Bedford MA

Virginia Harrington RN from Marshfield, MA

Carol Hollingshead                   

Bill Saunders                            

Carol Hokana St Paul’s

Jason Kinchen                           

Gloria Korta MD                       

Tom Mitchell                            

Caroline Larson OT St Paul’s

Henry Marks                             

Nancye Mims                           

Renie Pavilon                           

Dan Seligman   DPM from Temple Shir Tikveh, Winchester

Marissa Seligman  DRx Temple Shir Tikveh

We are also accompanied by so many of our family, friends and fellow parishioners – with donations of cash, meds, dental care items, and the wonderful hand- sewn bags that are provided to Moms carrying meds away from our clinics for themselves and children. Last year we treated 1,030 patients over 5 days, and supplied 4,000+ Rxs plus vitamins and toothbrush and tooth paste, so Moms can have a handful of items to juggle along with children.

Over this trip we invite team members to describe their experiences, and start with one of my favorite writers, Reid Boswell MD who rejoins the team after a year away. Enjoy the ride – Haitian roads can be bumpy but with a smile on our faces and a prayer in our heart we proceed!

Donations are still welcome of course, as we support our partners here in Leogane, both Medical as well as School. Appreciated are checks to Parish of The Epiphany, with “Haiti Mission” on the memo line, sent to 70 Church Street, Winchester MA 01890.  Merci / mesi / thanks (as we think in French, Creole, & English this week!). A bientot!