Ed's story

The First Sunday of Advent, AD 2009, was very pleasantly warm and sunny so I decided to go to the 11 o'clock Communion at the Cathedral instead of St Elisabeth's {Bartlett, TN}. Everything was very tranquil, and as it should be, as I sat admiring the high vaulted ceilings and the High Altar and the ornate but also not over elaborate decorations. As the Clergy and the other worthies processed in, I saw there Fr Ollie Rencher, from Holy Communion Episcopal and a Deacon from Raleigh, NC, Jill Bullard. There was a lot of pungent blue smoke somewhat reminiscent of the fumes of Gitanes and Gauloises in a French working man's bistro; and being Low Church in orientation I wondered how that helped us in meeting the Millennium goals with regards to safeguarding the environment. I reconciled this with recalling the imagery of our prayers and supplications going up to heaven so I accepted this unhealthy practice. As the service made it's familiar way through hymns, readings, psalms and into the homily I could not help feeling confused and I couldn't ascribe it to being in such august and evidently, very 'High', surroundings. Casting a glance sideways across at Drew "Vergil/Verger" Woodruff, who was intently studying his shoes, I could see a very perplexed expression on his face and looking across the pews I could see that Ollie, despite that great beaming smile of his, was looking somewhat bemused, or was it confused?, as well.

Then it dawned on me in a real moment like being born "from above" - everything was being conducted in French! possibly with a fragrance, an indescribable je ne sais quoi, a bouquet garni of Creole. And not just Cajun Creole y'alls - but Haitian Creole! Well, now with all the confidence of the recent convert it all made sense, the confusion was not caused by one too many glasses of wine (sacramental or otherwise) taken the night before at La Montagne (or Montana), Haiti's swishiest hôtel often frequented, rumor has it, by Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, and other glitteratti.

We were in the Cathedral of Sante Trinité (Holy Trinity) in Port-au-Prince, Republic of Haiti, but that was okay because it was Episcopal, and not Roman, despite being very Catholic, as we started to try not to cough as another wave of incense billowed towards us. One thing I thought was really cool, and to this day I am not sure whether it was mere chance, or a back-handed compliment to us (we were not asked to stand up and show ourselves until the notices at the end), but the last hymn was in French, of course, but the tune was the same one as for "Sweet Land of Liberty" - maybe an allusion for all you EfM students out there - to the 'Land of the Free' - so Drew really perked up and I could see him and Sue Nelson singing "Sweet Land of Liberty" while I offered up a tenor baritone descant of "God Save the Queen" {after all, she is the Governor of the Church of England}. As the trumpets were playing from the organ loft it seemed to harmonise quite well with our accompaniment in French.

The next day we left for Miami. Was it worth it? Did it mean anything more than just getting some Caribbean sunshine and a souvenir of two pretty stamps in my passport?

What they are doing at St Vincent's School for the Handicapped is truly remarkable especially considering that Haiti is not just Third World, a "developing" country, it is the poorest country in the western hemisphere. I am speaking as one who has visited Gambia and Senegal five times and Nigeria once, in West Africa.With very little they "adopt, adapt and overcome", as I and Allie Russos, an R.N. from Raleigh, NC, began to realise as I attempted to translate what our teacher, a Haitian physical therapist, was demonstrating about plaster cast therapy for young children and new borns unfortunate to have club foot syndrome, the morning of the day after our arrival. That lady volunteers one day a week, and her hands get ruined with constantly touching the drying-out caustic plaster of paris; but she does it with a smile and love. Drew was overcome to see a little girl Diane St Vincent (when abandoned their family name becomes St Vincent after the school) who on the previous visit had been confined to a wheelchair and who was now able to walk, albeit only for short distances before she tires herself out. On the day when we ran a clinic both morning and afternoon we attended to over 90 patients. That included some serious cases which required immediate referrals to the University hospital and a young lady who was suffering from a high malarial fever. Malaria is still the number one killer of people in the world and Haiti has it. Dr Sue Nelson and Dr Jackie Harris, in her 80's and also from Raleigh, had to go through interpreters, sometimes for French but more often for Creole, as did our first and second responders and our three medical students from Tulane working the pharmacy, at every stage. Father Ollie did a terrific job with triage and assigning priorities, I also found that we were needed if only as a 'bouncer' to stop macho Haitian males trying to cut in "in line." Our group which had only really met at Miami and Port-au-Prince International Airports a few days before really worked as a team. The business school gurus have a word for it - synergy. Even giving each of the children their very own cuddly toy, which might seem inconsequential, was something which even nearly brought tears to my eyes. Those kids have very little to call their own, when you see big 15 year old boys fiercely clutching their toys one full day later you know that even that was so appreciated. A very big highpoint for me was going and seeing our shipping container with wheelchairs, clinic supplies, powdered milk and peanut butter, and the food from the "Stop Hunger Now" packing event at Bishop Jean Zaché Duracin's compound with John Mutin, Fr Ollie and Rev Drew. It was even sweeter to see all the Customs seals were still intact. Bishop Duracin was true to his word, he was there at four in the afternoon and he had plenty of strong men there to unload and a very smartly uniformed security guard toting a pump shotgun. Members of the Bishop's family have been kidnapped in the past so he took security very seriously. A big bearhug from Bishop Duracin (not the guard) was very reassuring to me while, coming from Memphis, I weighed up the chances of an armed robbery taking place.

As I write this I also remember a little girl. She was abandoned outside the gates as her mother obviously couldn't manage looking after her anymore, she was about nine months old and well looked after, hair neatly braided, clean and in nice clothes, but she also had a big hydrocephalus of the brain. We named her Marguerite (Margaret) and Father Ollie and Père Sadoni christened her a day later in a wonderful bi-lingual service which we and some of the staff at St Vincent's attended. Now I am beginning to realise what it really means to be a God parent even if only in an honorary way. There is a plaque, near the stairs at St Vincent's commemorating an American dentist who used to visit there over many years which says, "I see the face of Christ in the next face I look at." Now I understand what Fr Bill Murray once said in a sermon about Mother Theresa telling some Baptists the same thing.

Miracles? I think that they still happen. Everyday.

It was both unusual and fortunate to be in such a big group of 15. Diane, Jiselle, Lauren, Kellar and Amy, Adam and Sienna you were all awesome! Also we cannot forget Jean-Robert.

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This was originally written shortly after returning to the U.S. Despite the recent earthquake which has devasted Port-au-Prince and destroyed what was once a beautiful Cathedral, and the school, college and convent complex adjacent to it, the author would not change one word. His faith has been "stirred but is not shaken!"

Ed Lisney

Wonderland

Welcome to my world of (Wonderland) most of you have heard of it before they call it Saint Vincent school for the handicapped in Port au Prince Haiti. I call it Wonderland because most of the time I come back from the trip full of many feelings. I wonder around in a dream like state of confusion and amazement. Having the story of God’s love and compassion play out in real time, like I have never felt or seen before. The power of the Holley Spirit is alive and thrives in a place where children dare to dream, of a better future, they have found there innate ability to love each other, help each other as brothers and sisters of a bigger family and force of Gods children. There zest for happiness is infectious their love for each other is so strong that they literally are teamed up together, for the greater good of all. It’s not unusual to see three or four of them walking together, one blind one deaf, one crippled, and together they take on all that life has to offer, the deaf one holds up the crippled one, or pushes him or her in a wheel chair, while the blind one holds the other end of the chair for safety. They do this with the beigest smile on their face and are laughing with each other, me on the other end of the hall my mouth is open and I just shake my head in amazement as the deaf girl flashes me the, I love you sing.

 If and when Jesus comes back to this earth I honestly expect him to know and be friends with these children. I actually have wondered if some of them can’t actually be him or her and he just hasn’t shown himself yet. It is honestly that magical there these children are constantly showing me what is important in life.

 The love of the children is common factor in all of the adults there they nurture and care for them as if they were their own. Is there ever a time when the children are frustrated and unhappy yes of course there are dealing with sever handicap’s can test the patients’ of any Saint. But there drive to overcome and succeed now that is what the school teaches and strives for its palatable you can taste it; it’s the very fiber of what makes me love them so. 

Am I happy when I am there? That’s something I wrestle with each time I go, it’s heartbreaking how little they have it’s a struggle for them in the past to just get enough food to develop normally. We play guess the child’s age a lot 14 year olds look to be 7 and dealing with that is a struggle. The anger of wanting to help more give them more is something I am working on but patients is not my strength.

Am I loved there yes completely and purely a fatherly love I hope. Big Boy is my nick name. They all come up and give me a hug usually patting or touching my belly it’s rare in Haiti to be my size so I think they want to see if it’s real.  With smiles on their faces and a look in their eyes that says in so many ways to me thanks for coming and making a difference. 

I hope we can together make a difference with these children lives thanks to our food packing event we have helped with the nourishment that was truly a blessing. The look in the Bishop of Haiti’s eyes when he started to tear up when he came to understand how we just gave his children all that food was something that I hope I will never forget. We touched him very deeply as you can imagine he was trying desperately to regain his composure he actually had to walk away for a moment to give a prayer of thanks. I am so happy that my church hade the spirit to hoist the packing event I feel that it was one of the best things I have been a part of it made me proud, and I was amazed at how we all came together to do something  that had such an impact on the children. After all it’s hard to worry about school when you are hungry and it’s hard to have energy to overcome your handicap’s without food .Most of what is wrong with the children has to do directly with a lack of proper nutrition.  

As Martin Luther King once said (I have a dream) I hope my church will take up the call for help that these children of God. They have been praying for us not only to feed them but actually adopt them into our Church family and help them to push that heavy stone they have to push that God gave them the burden of coping with their handy caps and not just surviving but excelling! I know in my heart they have the will and drive to succeed, they just need a little help to overcome the things they can’t control. My dream is that some day we can help the children actually go on to college? I never said it was a small dream or an easy one but then Gods work never is easy.  Remember in my story Jesus may actually be one of these children do you want to tell him or her that you didn’t want to help? Together we can make a tremendous impact on these children’s lives. I am sure there are many parables in the bible that my help drive home the point to you, but somehow they don’t compare with actually witnessing the presence of the Holy spirit loving and caring for some of the most blessed children I have ever experienced. Do me a favor and pray on it please!

John Mutin, paramedic

Allie's story

I hadn’t even planned to be in Haiti that week. About 2 weeks before the trip, my friend Jill emailed me and said she needed a nurse to join her. I had every reason not to go…too much to get done in such a short amount of time, finances, work, etc, yet in my heart, I knew I wanted to be there. I prayed about it, everything fell into place, and 2 weeks later I was in Port-au-Prince. How do you decide what’s important information to share with others about life in Haiti? Do I start with the near riot experience we had in the streets the first night, the Christmas celebration consisting of a juggling Haitian clown and balloons with “Celebrate 2008” written on them, the 95-98 degree weather, our breakfast one morning of spaghetti and sauce with mangoes and coffee, or the blind child reading in brail as a teacher signs to the deaf children? There are no words. How does one pick which information to share? I suppose, we each speak about the part that touched our hearts the most, and for me, that part is Margarette.

Early one morning, a baby girl in a light blue dress with white lace was left at our facility lying on a chair. From that moment on, she became a member of St. Vincent’s family. She wasn’t a stranger; she was our sister, our daughter, our child, a piece of us. As best as we could guess, Maggie is roughly 6 months old. She suffers from a condition called hydrocephalus, where there is so much fluid in her head that the weight of it all is too much for her neck to handle.  At this point, Maggie also has impetigo and scabies, 2 very infectious skin diseases, but most importantly, she is BEAUTIFUL. And I am drawn to her. As I am holding her for the first time, this beautiful, innocent child, untainted by the ways of the world and the sinfulness of man, I realize that I need her just as much as she needs me. Holding her, the world around me is silent, and we are the only 2 that exist, until I stand up to take her downstairs to see the doctor, and I am aware of my surroundings, and hear a song playing softly in the background that almost brings me to tears. The song playing is Jeff Buckley’s “Hallelujah”. And this might not seem like a big deal to most, but I had been in this room many times before, and the range of music played for the children went from Celine Dion and Pat Benatar to Jingle Bells and Hall & Oats. This song was not a coincidence. There was something angelic, something divine about all of it. And right there, in that moment, holding the most innocent and beautiful child, hearing Hallelujah being sung, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be. I had known for 2 weeks that I was supposed to be in Haiti, but God knew long before that.

Allie Russos, RN

Kellar McCloy's Reflection

The thought of returning to Haiti to provide medical care for its people has remained a strong urge since first visiting in 2005. On that first visit, I was stunned by my first true sight of the third world: people bathing in rivers tainted with trash, the overwhelming smell of rubbish burning in the streets, and the abundance of disease that could be simply prevented by food to eat and decent hygiene. As desolate as these sights may sound, they only reinforced my desire to attempt to help these people achieve the state of health they deserve, even if it were only for the month’s worth of medicine or week’s worth of care that we were able to provide them.

At the end of our recent trip to St. Vincent’s school for the handicapped, the question arose of whether or not we were more trouble than help to the people we were attempting to serve. The best way for me to resolve this issue is to think of a quote that an old Louisiana farmer once told me when I was worried about too much sand and rocks getting into the compost I was making. He said to me, “You cannot let the perfect get in the way of the good,” and I believe we must be content with even the smallest steps towards bettering Haiti: the single dose of Ivermectin to rid a child of her most recent bout of worms, a single ace bandage to relieve the most recent fall of a young man playing wheelchair basketball, or a single Teddy bear for a deaf child to enjoy as their own. As little as this may seem to those of us accustomed to comforts most Haitians have never known, I witnessed the great appreciation and relief that our patients felt when we were able to help them, and I think that any steps, big or small, that we can take to help are warranted and welcomed by the people of Haiti.

Kellar McCloy, Medical Student

Ollie Rencher's Reflection

My first trip to Haiti was a most life-changing experience. To visit such a holy place that spiritually and physically has been close to my heart was an invaluable gift particularly as I traveled and served with a fine team of servants from the diocese of West Tennessee, North Carolina and Louisiana. Initially, I wondered what I as a priest would do on a medical mission, despite having been traveled on other international journeys. Within hours of landing at the airport in Port-au-Prince, it was obvious that my primary role was simply to be and live deeply into the ministry of presence. At every turn, I was met and served by non-material rich and beautiful people of God who loved unconditionally and without pretense. A whole host of handicapped children, youth and adults shared the transforming love of Christ with me through their hospitality and unending gratitude for life and
community.

Daily, I observed and learned that each member of our medical mission team possessed important gifts, which benefited the whole team and purpose of the trip: to share in the ministry of healing and wholeness to those who suffer in mind, body and spirit. Although my main role during clinic hours was to receive and assist patients (using my mediocre French) before their physician consultation, I often found myself engaging patients and families to learn more about their overall circumstance. Our interactions led to follow-up exchanges including my passing along pastoral information to the priests of the community of St. Vincent's that they might follow-up and extend appropriate pastoral care beyond clinic services. One of the most memorable experiences I shared with the Rev. Leon Sedoni was to co-officiate the sacrament of baptism to Miss Marguerite St. Vincent on the Second Sunday of Advent. Amidst a most loving crowd of mission team members and staff from St. Vincent's, she was marked as Christ's own forever. Marguerite was gifted (through abandonment) to St. Vincent's on the prior Thursday morning just before we opened the clinic. With incredible love and nurturing she was received into a powerful community that will continue to provide for her. The way by which she arrived there confirmed the current and ongoing need for financial and hands-on faithfulness from
dioceses such as West Tennessee. Having made the journey, I now see why those who have gone before me were so persistent that I might experience the same gift as they. The heart of God rules most people of Haiti and reminds us that we all are created in the image of God and reflect the love of God. While my pictures, journaling and conversations will attempt to recapture my first trip to Haiti, I pray that others also will have the privilege to journey and be changed forever.

Sienna Nelson's Reflection

What did I do in Haiti? I have no idea where to start. Usually when I am asked this question I respond, "I hung out with the kids." I'm afraid that makes my experience sound a little trivial, so I'll
explain further. This past trip in December I had two projects: making nametags for the kids, and making a photo album of the kids and their names. This was a little more challenging than I expected. I came prepared with a portable photo printer, tons of extra paper and ink cartridges, an album and pages ready to go. However, the language barrier (among other things) made taking pictures and getting kids to write their names... interesting. Diane Reddoch and I managed to get help from Jean Robert on our first photography adventure. He came with us to two classrooms and told the teachers that we were trying to do. The teachers produced a very beat up composition book with each kid's name carefully printed in blue ink. I handled the camera while Diane did her best to read the handwriting and match name to kid. After about forty pictures or so we retreated to print our pictures and put them in the album. However, afterwards we didn't have a chance to tie down Jean Robert. Instead we tried to enlist help from kitchen staff, Pierre Guy, or worst of all, try to get the kids to write their names themselves. Even if I knew how to say, "write your name," in Creole, many of the kids just didn't get the message. Not to mention that many of the kids were blind or deaf. It was definitely a struggle. Nametags were a bit easier, believe it or not. I went down to the girls' dorm after dinner one night with my nametags (made out of hole punched foam cards with lanyard strung through them) and a bag of multicolored markers. Dieumene Cloristin was my savior. She just wrote everyone's name down on a spare sheet of paper (with her foot, no less) and I would copy it onto a nametag. Then about five kids would grab said nametag and run off to deliver it. They were very popular. However, none of the kids were putting them around their necks. They were storing them with their things, or near their beds. I did my best to ask Dieumene to make sure that the kids wore them tomorrow, and she must have understood me, because most of them did. While I was still copying names in the girls' dorm, several kids kept poking me and yanking on my shirt and pointing frantically. I figured that they were just impatient for their turn, so I told them (futilely, in English) to wait. Until I turned around long enough to see a very terrified looking boy gushing blood from the head, at which point I screamed "Oh my God!", grabbed him, and rushed him to the kitchen where my mom was. He was okay, he just needed to be bandaged
up a bit, but after that he became my buddy. Thimote Frenel, though he just goes by Frenel. He is blind but he loves to sing. He clung to anyone who would hug him for hours on end.

Sienna Nelson

Lauren Craig's Reflection

Working in the pharmacy at St. Vincent's School was very hard, but very rewarding work. The most common prescriptions we filled were for basic, over-the-counter drugs like tylenol, antacids and multi-vitamins. In this country, we take modern conveniences like pain killers for granted; but most people in Haiti do not have access to them, or cannot afford them. Once the clinic opened, there was no down-time, as patients were lined up at the pharmacy all day. For many patients, their visit to the free clinic at St. Vincent's may be the only opportunity they will have to see a doctor for a long time. Therefore, many patients required several prescriptions. The most challenging part of working in the pharmacy was, by far, communicating with the patients and making sure that they understood the instructions for taking their medications. Many people in Haiti are illiterate, so it is very important that they understand what you are saying. As a novice creole-speaker, it took me a while to master such phrases as "un tikwiye du fois par joe", and "du capsules chak six le"; but by the end, I felt confident that the patients understood. For once, I felt like five years of French classes paid off.

One student that made a particular impression on me was a girl named Sylmithe. Sylmithe was 16 years old and deaf. She showed me a picture of herself and the baby she had when she was 15 years old. When I asked her where her baby was, she told me that he was dead. To meet such a beautiful girl who had become a mother and lost her baby at such a young age was heartbreaking. Now, 16 years old, and living at St. Vincent's, I have a hard time imagining what will happen to Sylmithe when she is done with school. I hope she can have a family some day.

Lauren Craig

Amy Bonk-Chanin's Experience

I jumped at the chance, no questions asked, to go to Haiti with this medical mission.  The subject somehow came up at a mutual Parent-Teacher night when Susan Nelson and I ran into each other.  We hadn’t seen each other since our girls were much younger but within moments, “hello again” turned into a short conversation about Haiti. And three months later we were a team fifteen strong.  On a wing and a prayer, we started our first day of clinic.  We did not know what to expect since this was the first time that adult patients were being seen, as well as the children. My role was medical, I was one of the two adult healthcare providers (I am a Physician Assistant- Internal Medicine-in Memphis).  

The typical day started around 8:15AM (in Haitian time that would be anywhere from 8:20 to 9:00).  We ended up having more than just a few adults who were seeking healthcare.  I expect next trip there will be more, once the word gets out that parents of the school children, as well as staff, have healthcare available to them when we visit. I speak enough Kreyol  (Haitian Creole) to get by but did have to use our ever-present translators (usually school staff) occasionally to get the clear picture on a patient’s complaint. My most common findings were Type 2 Diabetes, hypertension, remarkable anemias, and skin infections.

Amy Bonk-Chanin, Physician's Assistant

Lift Up My Hair to the Lord

I just returned from my second trip to Haiti. It was different this time and I am still wrestling with why? The children and adults just feel different there, than here. There is a love and compassion there that you can't help but be washed and cleansed with. There is a presence of the Holy Spirit there that for me makes me feel privileged to just be in their presence . When I am there, my life has purpose and meaning. It's about being a part of God's plan, giving love and receiving love in a pure and spiritual blessing.

There were many moving experiences, but one personal one for me was with my friend Dieumene. She is a very striking young 18 years old girl that has a presence of royalty in her. Her eyes can look straight through to my soul and she touches me so that I feel that she is the very embodiment of the Holy Spirit. She was abandoned at the school 18 years ago. She was born without any arms. If you have seen any posters or videos of St Vincent's School, she was probably in them she has been the poster child of the school her whole life. She is now 18 and wants desperately to attend the university there to become a child psychologist. I can't imagine any child being able to tell this child of God she doesn't understand and doesn't know what it feels like to be different to be unloved or unwanted. She is the big sister to over 300 brothers and sisters there at the school and she watches each one and cares for them. There is nothing handicapped about this girl. On my first trip when I met her, I asked if I could have a hug. She said yes so I gave her one. As I was reaching around her to give her a hug, I suddenly realized she has no arms to hug me with, I went and did it anyway. On this trip when we met, she asked where her hug was. So I gladly gave her another as well as two kisses on the cheek. We talked a while and I asked how was she doing. She said she was sad because she was done with school there and wanted to go to college, but didn't have any money to go. I changed the subject and said I had heard her sing the day before and I thought she had a beautiful voice. At that she came over to me and rested her cheek next to my ear and softly started to sing "Lift Up to the Lord." She got to the part that is supposed to be lift up your hands and she changed it to lift up your hair. You see God knows she has no hands, so she changed it to be hair. At that I lost it and the tears drenched her cheek as I cried next to her. I prayed, "Oh my God, what a beautiful gift this child is." She touched me in such a way and did so with no arms by the power of her spirit. I would dearly love to find a way to send her to college. I have been told that it cost about $4,000 a year to send a child to college in Haiti. She has overcome so much and helped so many, I would love to be able to help her obtain her dream.

John Mutin, Paramedic

Jiselle Bock's Reflection

This year with the Christmas tree decorated and presents laid out underneath, I couldn't stop thinking of Port-au-Prince. Hot heat day and night. Half-built concrete shanty towns. Goats munching on garbage and debris along a trickle of sewage water. Streets packed with people bobbing by like bright colorful waves. Women with one hand balancing a basket of goods on their heads. A skinny street dog waiting for an opportunity. Music blasting from an overstuffed tap-tap minibus rolling steadily by.

Visiting St. Vincent's School for Handicapped Children in Port-au-Prince, Haiti was an incredible experience. The political instability, corruption, and violence that has corroded away the infrastructure of this country was miles away from me behind the concrete walls of the school. Inside, children danced and played under the big tree in the courtyard on the compound. What surprises I discovered during that week at St. Vincent's. One might think that the reality of handicapped children living in the poorest country in the Americas would be one of sheer desperation and sadness. How far from the truth did I find this to be. I witnessed incredible strength of human spirit and ingenuity. The young woman who spoke sign language with her feet because she had no arms. Beautiful works of art painted by artists with prosthetic limbs. Too many moments to describe.
We ran the clinic and served many, many people. I have no idea of the actual count. Even so, there is no way to feel satisfied knowing how great the need is. A whole country of people in need. Living on almost nothing. One man came to the clinic and said that every time he ate, he would get a headache. I did my best to translate between French and Creole, but some things were lost. Once he saw the physician, it became clear that I had misunderstood what he had said. He rephrased. He said, when he eats he feels great but when he doesn't eat he feels terrible. The doctor asked him why he doesn't eat, and he said because he could not always afford food. What prescription can we write for this?

The world is not a fair place. Many hundreds of thousands of people suffer everyday because they do not have access to food, safe drinking water, and medical treatment. They live in countries without stable governments, in war zones, and disaster areas. I can not save the world or solve all of its problems. Sitting on the balcony overlooking the courtyard at St. Vincent's I enjoyed the company of my two new friends Mael and Judith. I sat with the girls, both wheelchair bound, and we watched the other children play in the courtyard. These kids are amazing. So strong against many odds. The children of St. Vincents will always be in my heart. I have made a special place to keep them there.

Jiselle Bock, Medical Student

IN WHICH I AM KEPT FROM GOING TO JAIL

      The trip to Haiti in December 2009 was with our largest mission team to date. Nine of us travelled from Memphis to Miami, where we were to meet the rest of our team.  Three folks were coming from North Carolina and three from New Orleans.  When we landed in Miami, there was some confusion because a few bags had been checked all the way through to Port au Prince, while the rest of us had to collect our suitcases at baggage claim and check them again at the American Airlines ticket desk.  By the time we all made it upstairs, the ticket agent curtly informed us that we were too late to make the flight to Haiti.  The flight was scheduled to leave at 2:05 PM, and one hour advance check in time was required.  It was now 1:07 PM.  I began complaining bitterly and loudly that we HAD to be on that flight.  My protests were met with a cold stare from the agent, who declared that we were at fault for arriving so late to the desk.  At this point another agent, Mr. Hazell, had joined the argument.  I was explaining that we were on a medical mission trip with nine people travelling together, and he offered to put us on the plane the NEXT DAY to Port au Prince.   I was about to reach across the desk and yank his jacket over his head, when John Mutin spoke up gently and said, “Thank you for helping us.”  “What do you mean,” I retorted, “he’s not helping us, he’s putting us on the plane TOMORROW!”  John kept repeating “Thank you”, while I tried to get hold of myself.  Meanwhile, at another spot at the desk a few feet away, Drew Woodruff was trying to explain why his ticket had been issued in the name “Drew Verger”  and his passport said his name was “Drew Woodruff”.  Miraculously, Mr. Hazell booked us on the 2:05 flight and instructed us to RUN to the gate after checking our bags through security.  RUN we did; at one point I ran out of my shoes, literally, and had to run back to retrieve them. I ran the rest of the way barefoot.
      As we arrived at the gate, they were boarding the plane.  I spotted our New Orleans group and waved to them at the front of the line.  I was panting and sweating and grateful.  I had not seen our North Carolina group; in fact I didn’t even know what all of them looked like since we had not met prior to our trip.  I hoped they had made the flight and figured we would find each other at the airport in Port au Prince.  Most of all, I was grateful to my friend, John Mutin, for preventing me from being carried out of the airport on assault charges.
PS I later wrote a letter of thanks to American Airlines on behalf of Mr. Hazell.   They thanked me for my comments.

  Dr. Susan Nelson

THE GREAT BUS ADVENTURE

      Our mission team in December 2009 was larger than ever, with 15 members.  I wondered how Pere Sadoni, the priest director of St. Vincent’s School, was going to transport all of us and our bags from the airport to the school, since previously he had picked us up in a couple of SUV type vehicles driven by school staff members.  Not to worry, after collecting our bags at the airport and being ushered through customs by the usual envoy from the Bishop’s office, we went outside to wait for a few moments only.  Soon a school bus marked Ecole St. Vincent pulled up, and off we went.
      We were driving merrily along through Port au Prince when the bus had to drive up a rather steep hill.  About 2/3 of the way up, the bus slipped out of gear and began ROLLING BACKWARDS DOWN THE HILL.  We came to a sudden jerking halt as the driver tried in vain to get the bus back in to gear.  No go.  My daughter told me later she was frightened that we were going to roll backwards all the way down the hill and crash at the bottom.  She has a flair for the dramatic.  I was more worried about how we were going to get us and all our bags the rest of the way to St. Vincent’s, as night was falling and after all, we were in Port au Prince.  Speaking of bags, we had each brought two suitcases, one loaded with our precious medical supplies as well as toys and school supplies for the children. The airlines have a weight limit of 50 pounds on each bag, so we had stuffed each one to weigh about 49.5 pounds.  Multiply 15 travelers by 2 bags each, and you can imagine the weight being carried up the hill by that poor old school bus.  Amy Chanin, who had lived in Haiti for three years some time ago, suggested we get out and walk the rest of the way.  I knew THAT was a bad idea.  Our Haitian escort, Jackson, promptly closed all the windows in the bus and moved our bags from the back of the bus, away from the rear doors to the middle of the bus.  Welcome to Haiti, I thought with a smile, hoping our new team members wouldn’t be too unnerved by this experience. 
      Amy tried to talk with Jackson in Creole, and learned that Pere Sadoni had been notified of our predicament and was on his way to assist us.  Of course, this information was only obtained after about 20 minutes of confused conversation and efforts by the Haitians to reassure us that they had the situation under control.  There was lots of shouting and activity outside the bus as well, which sounded like offers of advice on what we should do as well as comments about what a bus full of white people was doing in the streets of Port au Prince, at night.  Most likely there were threatening comments, too, but such is the blissful ignorance of one who doesn’t speak the language.  After what seemed like an hour but was actually only about 30 minutes, Pere Sadoni pulled up in his vehicle and took three of our passengers with him.  Another man who introduced himself as Police, took 5 or 6 of us, including myself, Adam and Sienna, in his car.  The New Orleans crowd hopped in the back of a pickup, and Amy stayed with Ollie Rencher, a priest from Holy Communion church in Memphis, ostensibly to guard the bags.  She was the most fearless of all of us and I knew she was not going to leave those bags behind, or let anyone mess with them.
      We all arrived at the school less than ten minutes later, and the bus pulled up right behind us.  Apparently it started back up the hill easily after unloading all that weight (and having time for the clutch to cool down).  We were all grateful to be at St. Vincent’s with all our bags, a minor miracle given the fact we had nearly missed our connection in Miami.

Dr. Susan Nelson

5AM PIANO PRACTICE

      While we work at St. Vincent’s School, we stay in their guest quarters.  These are on the second and third floor of the quadrangle school building, on the opposite corner from the children’s dorms.  The girls live here, as well as boys under age 11.  The older boys live in a separate dorm down the street.
      Living at the school rather than at a separate hotel in Port au Prince brings us into the children’s lives in many important ways.  We see their smiling faces pressing at the window of our dining room during breakfast.  In the evenings when clinic is finished, we can play with them (and work on our Creole and sign language).  One especially memorable experience for anyone who has stayed at St Vincent’s, is waking up with the children.  I lie in bed with my eyes closed and hear children calling out to each other, some of them yelling as they’re being bathed.  There are the sounds of car horns and vehicles clanking and chugging down the street outside the school, with that distinctive whine of air brakes now and then.  I could be dropped into this scene blindfolded and would know instantly I was at St. Vincent’s. I would also know the time, because all this racket starts at about 5 AM, every morning.
      One particular morning I hear a new sound amid the usual din.  Wait….is that….a piano playing?  Of course.  It’s the day of the big party, when St. Vincent’s holds its annual Christmas celebration to honor the International Day for the Handicapped.  So naturally there will be music, and some young child has decided to try his hand at the piano.  At 5 AM.  Also there is a harmonica playing, evidently being passed from child to child, by the sound of the various squeaks and chirps emanating forth.  As I said, I know I am at St. Vincent’s, the only place in the world I can hear a piano playing – at 5 o’clock in the morning.

Dr. Susan Nelson

BIENVENUE A AYITI

      Every morning before school starts, the children gather in the courtyard at St. Vincent’s for the opening ceremony.  They sing a hymn, they recite the “Our Father”, and Jimmy, one of the blind students, plays the Haitian National Anthem on the accordion while the flag is raised.  The first morning after we arrived on our December 2009 trip, the children sang a song to us.  Bienvenue a Ayiti.  It was a charming welcome to our mission team.  Later that evening, during supper, my daughter Sienna burst into the dining room carrying one of her friends.  His face was covered with blood.  He had fallen and cut his forehead.  John Mutin and I have grown used to this sort of thing (see earlier story “BOO BOO BAG”) so John instantly grabbed the keys to the pharmacy and rushed out the door to gather supplies.  Amy Chanin, our physician’s assistant, ran to her room to get steri- strips (small surgical bandages) and some other team members went to the kitchen to get some ice.  Drew, our deacon, sat down next to the little boy and held his hand to comfort him while we washed the blood off his face and examined the wound.  It turned out to be a small cut, not too deep, easily repaired with the steri-strips rather than requiring sutures (thank goodness). 
      As we cleaned the wound and applied antiseptic, and then the steri-strips, we learned the child’s name was Frenel.  He was about 5 years old and blind.  He had calmed down quickly, despite all the adults running around.  He began to sing to us as we worked.  “Bienvenue a Ayiti” came out in his clear child’s voice.  He sat quite still as he sang, so it was easy to apply the bandages.  I wondered how many blind children would sit without struggling while strangers speaking a foreign language cleaned their wound with antiseptic. 
      The next morning, as the children sang the National Anthem during the school’s opening ceremony, I heard a clear strong voice singing louder than the others.  I looked across the courtyard and there was our friend Frenel, with the bandages on his forehead, singing heartily.  I wonder if he will grow up to be a singer someday.

Dr. Susan Nelson

PHARMACY BY FLASHLIGHT

      Our pharmacy this trip was managed and operated by three courageous souls.  Two were students from Tulane Medical School, Kellar McCloy and Jiselle Bock, and their able bodied assistant Lauren Craig acted as pharmacy tech, interpreter, messenger, and overall Girl Friday.
      We brought 12 suitcases loaded with medical supplies to St. Vincent’s, and all these were unloaded into the beautiful new cabinets installed for us by the school’s staff.  The pharmacy is across the courtyard from the medical clinic, and soon after the clinic operations are underway, there is a line of patients at the pharmacy waiting for their prescriptions to be filled.  All three of our pharmacy staff spoke French to varying degrees, which was a true gift from God.  Of course, some of the Haitians speak more Creole than French, so there were still many challenges in instructing patients how to take their medicine, which pill was for stomachache and which one headache.  Not to mention explanations to the deaf patients. 
      The pharmacy itself is a 12x8 room which has an overhead light (something the clinic is lacking) and a fan.  Unfortunately, it is located next door to the public toilets, which by the end of the day are quite fragrant. Electricity in Haiti, like clean water, is not always available, and sometimes runs out just when you need it.  Usually between 3 and 4 in the afternoon, when clinic is in full swing.  Fortunately, the clinic is well lit (and well ventilated) by windows and the only noticeable change when the power goes out, is that the fans stop running.  Being the determined souls that we are, the medical staff (and our wonderful helpers, the non-medical members of our team) soldier on; honestly we’re having too much fun to stop, despite the heat.  One day we ran rather late, until about 6 PM.  After finally closing up the clinic, I walked over to the pharmacy to check on things.  When I arrived I found the 3 young mission team members counting pills IN THE DARK, by flashlight! It was only then I realized that when the power had gone out TWO HOURS BEFOREHAND they had no light and no windows to let in sunlight.  Yet they had valiantly kept working.  Jiselle had a headlamp (how, I wondered, had she known to bring that along for the trip?)  and Lauren was holding a flashlight IN HER TEETH while labeling Ziploc bags full of medicines.  Kellar had his perpetual grin on his face as he wiped sweat from his brow with his arm.  The three of them seemed to be having fun.  I am always eternally grateful to the folks who run the pharmacy, especially since each patient seen in the clinic often gets between 2 and 5 prescriptions, and we saw over 200 patients the week we were there.

Dr. Susan Nelson

UNTO US A CHILD IS GIVEN

      One morning as we were sitting at breakfast, someone said, “I think there’s a baby left by its mother in front of the clinic”.  Someone else confirmed, “Yes, I thought I saw a baby lying on a bench, but I wasn’t sure with the crowd of people whether she was with anybody”.  Usually there were about 50 people waiting each morning for clinic to open.  They gathered on the chairs and benches set out for that purpose, mothers (and sometimes fathers) with their children.  The crowd was a common sight in the early mornings, so one small baby would not attract much notice.  Something told Jill, one of our deacons, to investigate.  I suddenly lost my appetite and followed her downstairs.
      There were dozens of people sitting and standing in a crowd waiting in front of the clinic, but one baby girl was lying on a bench, crying.  It was clear no mother was around to comfort her.  I picked her up and held her in my arms, and her crying stopped.  She was about 5 months old and was just getting her first baby teeth.  She had on a clean dress and was wrapped in a soft yellow blanket, and her hair was carefully braided.  Someone obviously loved this child.  Her forehead was larger than normal and her eyes focused in different directions.  She could see me, but only by looking at me out of one eye at a time, and she had trouble looking straight at me.  It was clear she had some type of birth defect, perhaps hydrocephalus (a condition where the brain’s fluid can’t drain properly so the skull bones swell).  She also had a rash covering her arms and legs and the soles of her feet.  Other than that she looked healthy and well fed. We later diagnosed the rash as scabies and gave the staff an ointment to treat her.
      By this time most of our other team members had gathered around me and the baby, and we were the focus of attention of the rest of the crowd as well.  We were convinced by now that the baby’s mother had left her behind.  Handicapped children can be a challenge to raise even in the best of circumstances.  Perhaps the mother felt she could no longer provide the best care for her baby.  She brought her to the school where she knew her baby would be protected from hunger and perhaps given a chance to grow up at the only place in Haiti where handicapped children can receive an education.
      After a few minutes, Ollie Rencher, a priest on our team, led us all in prayers of Thanksgiving for the child out of the Book of Common Prayer (****) We were standing under the big tree in the courtyard, the one Sister Joan Margaret stood under when she founded St Vincent’s school 50 years ago.  We took turns holding her as tears streamed down our faces.  Soon one of the staff, Madame Merita, joined our group and took the baby girl upstairs to join the other children. Just like that, she was now part of St. Vincent’s.  She quickly received the name Margaret Vincent.  Jean Robert, our translator, named her after the school’s founder.
      The school is not equipped to care for infants, and consequently had no diapers her size or baby bottles to feed her with.  Of course our team promptly sent one of the staff with some money to a local store to obtain the necessary supplies.  This operation is not as easy as you might think, but eventually a few diapers and baby bottles appeared.  Someone even produced a box of baby wipes, which I don’t think Madame Merita had ever seen before and which she found extremely useful!  Madame Merita is the same woman who has cared for Diana Vincent, the girl who was so sick when we first met her in November 2008, she couldn’t raise her head off the pillow.  Now she is growing strong and learning to take a few steps.  We knew baby Margaret would receive the same loving attention. In fact, there were times when our team would have baby Margaret with us and Madame Merita would come looking for her, worried about where her baby had gone.
      Allie, one of our team, became particularly attached to Margaret and spent much time holding her and loving her.  Ollie came up with the idea of having a baptismal ceremony for the baby, and Pere Sadoni asked Allie to be the baby’s Godmother.  That Sunday afternoon we all gathered in Pere Sadoni’s office.  Ollie and Pere Sadoni had beautiful white stoles around their necks.  Someone found a white towel to wrap the baby in, while Madame Merita held her.  My son, Adam, played “Seek Ye First” on his guitar as the ceremony began.  Allie was the child’s godmother and Jean Robert her godfather.  We all renewed our baptismal covenant, first in French and then in English.  A champagne bucket that had served as our ice bucket during meals was used as the ewer, and Jill poured the water into a plastic basin as Ollie prayed Thanksgiving over the Water.  As Ollie baptized Margaret Vincent in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I thought my heart would break.  God is with us.  Emmanuel.
      The staff had baked a tiny cake for the occasion, white icing with pink roses.  Such care given to a little one whose handicap had been too much for her mom to handle.  I wondered about the mother and cried for her too.  I pray that she will be comforted by God, but I can only imagine what she must be feeling or thinking. 
      As we return to St Vincent’s we will have the privilege of watching baby Margaret grow up alongside her sister Diana.  Thanks be to God for providing St. Vincent’s school, a place for these children to grow and learn and be loved.

Dr. Susan Nelson

 

THE CHRISTMAS GOAT

       While we stay at St. Vincent’s guest quarters, our meals are provided by four women who work in the kitchen.  The food is delicious and plentiful.  Many times we would remark to one another our inner pangs of conscience at eating so well in a country where many people go days without a decent meal.  However I have come to accept that our Haitian hosts enjoy taking care of us, much as we would show them generous hospitality were they to visit our homes.  Of course, their resources are much more limited, but such is the way of hospitality in Haiti.
      I had asked our team members to bring small gifts for our hostesses, perhaps things they can’t always get easily for themselves, like lipstick or scented soap.  On our last night, after supper, we brought out our small offerings.  Included in the array of cosmetics and hand lotion were a set of purple t-shirts from the Maccabi games at the Memphis Jewish Community Center, as well as a set of decorative Christmas towels with reindeer stitched onto them in gold thread.  Our Haitian friends wanted to know why there was a shoe on the purple t-shirts.  A lively discussion ensued when Dixie, who is deaf, wanted to know what kind of animal that was on the towels.  The other three cooks are Marie Carmelle, Madame Marc and Elvie. Marie Carmelle speaks about 20 words of English. Madame Marc is the mother of Pere Sadoni who is the priest in charge of St. Vincent’s, and she and Elvie speak only Creole and French.  My son, Adam, by this time had learned about 50 words in sign language.  His vocabulary was limited however, since he had been studying a Xerox copy of a children’s sign language dictionary, and he only had the pages for A-M.  Adam tried to explain to Dixie what the animal was, but since he had no sign for reindeer, the best they could come up with was GOAT.  So I tried to talk with Marie Carmelle and get a more accurate description of a deer with horns.  Total bewilderment.  I enlisted the help of Jiselle, who speaks French quite well, and she tried to get the word for reindeer out of Madame Marc.  After 10 minutes of intercultural and multilinguistic exchange, with the Americans EARNESTLY trying to convey the image of the animals that fly through the air and lead Santa’s sleigh, we were told the word must be “Cabrit”.  In other words, “Goat”.  Rudolph, the red nosed…..GOAT.
PS I brought Adam a Sign Language dictionary for Christmas.  He now knows the sign for reindeer.  I’m still not sure it will mean anything to the Haitians.  Anyway, I prefer the image of the Christmas Goat.

Dr. Susan Nelson

INCARNATION

        Our return trip to Port au Prince airport was not by school bus.  That Monday morning, two team members were driven to the airport by Pere Sadoni to catch an earlier flight.  Later that morning the rest of us left St. Vincent’s after saying goodbye to the children and staff.  Most of the team piled into a large van, with five of us in Pere Sadoni’s vehicle.  We rode Haitian style, with five people in the back seat designed for three.  You get the picture.
      As we rode through the streets of Port au Prince, our hearts were filled with the experiences of the previous week.  So much hope and sorrow and joy compressed into a few days.  On Pere Sadoni’s car radio, Celine Dion was singing “O Holy Night”.  A song of Incarnation.  God’s gift to our weary world. 
      At the airport a few minutes later, my daughter remarked that she loved her work in Haiti, and wondered where else she might travel some day to do mission work.  She used the phrase “some other God forsaken place”, to which my son promptly and emphatically responded, “God forsaken!  Are you kidding?  God is everywhere in Haiti.”  The message of Incarnation is clear in Haiti, as all who have visited there can attest.

Dr. Susan Nelson

MIAMI AIRPORT

Chapter 1 Where is my guitar?
Chapter 2 Where is my passport?
Chapter 3 Where are the boarding passes?
Chapter 4 My phone is dead.
Chapter 5 “But we have all of our bags.”
Chapter 6 My phone is dead (reprise).
Chapter 7 Are you serious?
Chapter 8 I am SO not going to work tomorrow.  
Appendix A Map of Miami International Airport, with plotted route of the Nelson family
Appendix B Diagram of Concourse E
Epilogue  “Please maintain control of your personal belongings at all times”

Dr. Susan Nelson