by Nancye Mims
“You have to write a blog about finding
Alexandre,” says Dr. Linda, as we walk into the Hopital St. Croix guesthouse
after Thursday’s clinic in Trouin. I say “yes, of course, I plan to,” but I
know that the words will be slow to come.
After a year of tracking down
this child, hundreds of e-mails with providers, clergy, and volunteers, phone
calls with a driver and a close, but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to have
him seen by an ophthalmologist, we have found Alexandre.
Last March, 2014, on a
Thursday, second-to-last day of our medical mission, an adorable five-year old,
with a sweet smile, greeted us as we arrived in the mountain village of Trouin,
pronounced “Twen.” When we stepped out of our vehicle, he was right there
chewing on an old plastic bottle. We noticed immediately that his eyes were
crossed; it was unclear how well he could see. I asked him his name, “Kijan ou
rele?” “Alexandre,” he replied
Various team members spent
time with him that day, and though I was tucked away in the pharmacy, I
couldn’t get him off my mind. Having
seen a lot of poverty and suffering that week, his relatively minor condition
hit me hard. How could something so easily and routinely fixed in the United
States, go untreated in Haiti? As we left that afternoon, we were told he could
not go to school because of his crossed eyes.
On the ride home, I was at
first filled with grief, but then as we descended the mountain I began to feel
determination welling up inside me.
Colleagues and family say I
am stubborn, determined, and just plain hard headed. Most recently my
supervisor, described this quality euphemistically as “tenacious.” When it
comes to the well being of family and friends, I don’t like to take “no” for an
answer. So, right then and there, on that Thursday evening in March of 2014, I
knew that I could not and would not let this stand.
By April, I found my way to an
ophthalmology organization that treats people in the developing world,
including Haiti. The doctor was willing to see Alexandre next time she was
there, but connecting them would prove difficult, given that we did not know
his last name or anyone in the village who might help us reach him.
After many e-mails, my big
break came in October, when I was connected with another Episcopal group that works
in Trouin. Among the contacts suggested was the priest at St. Marc’s. Then,
bingo, in one e-mail everything changed. “I know him,” was the first thing I
heard from Pere Jois Goursse. More e-mails
ensued, and Pere Goursse was reaching out to Alexandre’s mother. Suddenly there was hope of having him seen in
November.
I called our favorite driver
in Haiti, Mr. Zo Chery, and conversations began about where to take Alexandre –
Fond des Blancs, or Mirebelais? There was a major complication, though.
Alexandre’s mother was expecting a baby any day and could not travel with him.
More e-mails and talk of
taking Alexandre to Port Au Prince where Dr. Chandra would be working for a few
days. In the end, it was too much. We decided to wait for the new baby and his
mother’s recovery.
By January, we had another
chance of having him seen by Dr. Chandra, but again we could not connect all
the dots. Alexandre’s mother was not fully recovered from the birth of her
third child, and Dr. Chandra’s schedule proved tricky as well. Then her trip
was postponed. We would wait for another visit in February, which was again delayed
until March. By the time I arrived in Haiti on March 7, 2015, her trip was on
hold.
Meanwhile, I had plans to
visit with Pere Goursse. He came to Hopital St. Croix on Wednesday, on his way
to Port Au Prince. Those of us who had worked at the school that day -- Nick
Candee, Carol Hokana, Barbara and Elizabeth Foot -- had a chance to sit with
him and learn more about Alexandre’s village.
On Thursday we headed back to
Trouin. I was at peace. Coming this far already seemed like a miracle. Maybe we
would see Alexandre, but anything could happen. In my heart, I knew we were
close, and regardless of what transpired we would connect him with medical care
eventually.
Thursday, March 12, 2015:
Our medical mission sets up
shop in an area just beyond where we were in 2014. I have an eye out for Alexandre and his
mother, but by noon there’s no sign of them.
Around that time, Carol
Hokana comes to me and says “Linda says we should take a walk into town for
lunch. Let’s go and try to find Alexandre.” I’m on board. Victor, our wonderful
translator is with us. We arrive in the center of Trouin, and start asking for
Alexandre. At first people say they don’t know him. Are they protecting him and
his family from prying “blancs,” or foreigners?
I wonder.
Then one person says the
family moved to Jacmel. I know enough to be suspicious of that. We are told to
inquire at the school office. We start asking questions, describing who we are
looking for. One question leads to another. Several people are sent out to look
for Alexandre. Before we know it, he comes bounding into the office. I can’t believe my eyes. We descend on him.
“Zanmi mwen,” “My friend,” I say. There is laughter and celebration. He is
taller and his front teeth are missing, but it is Alexandre. He is still wearing
oversized crocs, perhaps the same ones he had on last year.
We ask him to take us to his
mother. He darts off but we are following close behind; she appears and I start
explaining through Victor, who I am -- the lady who has been talking with Pere
Goursse. A woman close by calls out to Alexandre’s mother that we should take
that beautiful baby of hers to our medical clinic. We head out, baby Georgina,
toddler Claudia, and Alexandre in tow. His mother walks quickly, outpacing us
all.
My heart sings. But then Alexandre
nearly steps in front of a speeding motorcycle. I grab his hand, and he walks
with me -- as if we have known each other for a long time.
From the beginning I have
cared deeply for this child, but in the process of looking for him and trying
to arrange care, I have sometimes wondered if we would ever connect him to a
doctor who can help. Are we doing the right thing? Will we ultimately
disappoint his family?
Then I tell myself there was
never any guarantee that we would identify, much less find him in person;
progress is slow but steady. “Pitit pitit n’arrive,” Little by little we get
there. I am living this Haitian proverb. On this day, I know that I cannot give
up; I will continue to fight for him.
On our way back to the
clinic, Carol carries the baby. I have Alexandre by the hand, and his mother is
ahead of us with the toddler, Claudia. My heart is bursting at the seams. We
walk into the church where we are seeing patients, and my eyes meet Dr. Linda’s.
I am in a joyful state of awe.
Is this really happening? If I close my eyes will Alexandre and his family
disappear? I stay close by, never letting them out of my sight.
All members of the family are
seen at the clinic. Alexandre’s mother seems comfortable one minute and
perplexed the next. I don’t blame her; this must be a shock. I marvel at her
trust.
While we wait for
medications, I sit with Alexandre. He is
a typical six-year-old, antsy and interested in all that surrounds us.
Occasionally while we wait, he disappears. I go in search of him, mildly
panicked at the thought of losing him; he is easily found -- once outside the
front door, another time down in the school.
At one point I give him my
cell phone to keep him busy and sitting still. He is thrilled. After I get him
off the emergency phone number app, he goes to iTunes and is giggling as Cat
Stevens croons “Moon shadow, moon shadow... “ Next Alexandre flips through my
photo stream and lets out a gleeful shriek when he comes upon a picture of Bill
Saunders holding up a big orange drink at the Arowak Hotel.
Medications are readied at
last; it’s time for Alexandre and family to go home. Carol, Victor, and I walk
them back down the road. I insert some money into the family’s medicine bag.
Carol tells his mom, she is a good mother. She smiles from ear-to-ear and is,
finally, completely at ease. I tell her that Father Goursse will soon be in
touch about next steps. She seems to understand and heads off down the road
toward home.
Victor, Carol, and I turn
around and go back to the clinic. I am stupefied. Can this really have
happened? My love for this child is intense, unlike anything I have ever
experienced for someone who is not a member of my family. But in that moment,
and indeed for a long time, I have no words to describe what I feel.
In the following days, talks
continue about next steps for Alexandre. Before we leave Leogane on Saturday
morning, I meet the wife of a local pediatrician and we learn that there is now
an ophthalmologist at Hopital St. Croix.
Now it seems there is a good
chance that Alexandre will be seen very soon by the pediatrician and the eye
doctor, probably in the next few weeks.*
But this is Haiti, and I know
that things can change. What looks easy and straightforward one day can slip
away the next. By now, though, we have lots of contacts and relationships, and
I have other ideas if this falls through. I know I won’t stop until we can get
something done for this child.
*I learned a week ago that
the ophthalmologist who visits Hopital St. Croix is embroiled in a contract
dispute and is not expected to see patients there for the indefinite future.
Other leads are in play. Stay tuned.
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