Friday in the Barrio

Dominican Republic Trip Nov. 2010—Journal Entry No. 7
Friday was our last workday and it was a bit different. We worked at Barrio Pico Piedra, the home of one of our translators, Jean Robert. While a significantly more urban setting than the bateys, it was also more spacious as we worked in a church that was three times the size of the buildings we used on our previous days. The accommodations felt luxurious in comparison. The bigger space and more crowded setting also meant we treated more patients; 115 in one day. While on previous days we did door-to-door food distribution, today we handed out food only to patients who came to the clinic, giving them a bag as they exited the building. The people also seemed a bit more well off as everyone had shoes. But alas, everything is relative! At about 11 a.m. a 16-year-old mom named Hermani came in with a 6 lb, 7-month-old baby boy named Jordan. It was the most tragic situation I have ever seen.

At the clinic, it was impossible to assess the extent of the baby’s problems. He was clearly dehydrated, and he was so severely malnourished that he looked like a skeleton with skin. Beyond that, the medical professionals couldn’t tell. All agreed that the best course of action was to take Hermani and Jordan to the Good Sam immediately. Fortunately, Kristy had her truck so that was doable without having to strand the team at the barrio. Kristy asked me to join her in order to let the hospital and the mom know that there was some semblance of financial backing for the baby’s needs. On route to the hospital, we learned that the family had no food, clothes or money. The baby hadn’t had any milk for 2 days and prior to that the frequency of access to milk was very spotty. We learned what street Hermani lives on but that her house has no number, which may make it hard for health care providers to find her and do any follow up care. A month ago, Hermani had taken Jordan to the public health hospital and had received minimal care there and was sent home….an unfathomable fact given that it would have taken months for Jordan to deteriorate to the extent he had. As we drove to the hospital, I once again had the burden of trying to determine what kind of funds our team was being asked to provide. I was silently praying that I wouldn’t have to be the one to fail this family by not having the resources they needed. I asked Kristy for a ballpark figure for what a day in the hospital would cost: $50. Then I asked for a best guesstimate for how long the baby would have to be there: at least a week. Finally I asked to a prognosis: bleak. When we got to the ER, the doctors said his veins are so collapsed that they will have to start with oral rehydration before they can put in an IV. The good news is that as of the day we departed, we learned that Juley tested negative for both HIV and Hepatitis. Plus they were able to get an IV in his heel and start hydrating him that way. The sad news is that the baby’s hemoglobin is 6; the lowest you want for a baby is 11. This means that Jordan needs a blood transfusion, which can’t happen til he’s hydrated and they can get a bigger needle in his veins, and it means he will most likely have brain damage. The most beautiful part of the story is that despite Hermani being a teenage, single mom, she adores her son. We have that in common. I got to help her prepare a bottle. I sang to Jordan while I held him so Hermani could take care of some necessary steps of the admission process. His tiny body made my palm feel huge. The rest of the afternoon at the hospital was a bit of a blur and I eventually left the doctors to their work, met up with the team and we went off to the beach.

Our second trip to the beach was as glorious as the first. A more leisurely endeavor, this trip included dinner on the beach—scrumptious fried chicken packed by our hosts. I could tell that everyone was starting the process of peeling away from La Romana. Already people were starting to say sentences like, “Next year when we come…” In addition to swimming and eating, we took a team photo. All of the kids—age 10 to age 18—played a huge game of pickle. It was sweet to see the kids who had been doing the jobs of grown ups all week return to being kids.

When we returned to Casa Pastorale, our hosts had a celebration waiting for us. Musicians from the church played dance-worthy Dominican praise songs and got all of us gringos grooving like we knew how! We ended our evening with cake and a sharing time with Kristy. The women’s dorm was quiet as we all headed to bed. There was lots of practical conversation about how we were going to get the 140 lbs of coffee we bought home, where we should leave the shoes and clothes we were donating to the mission, and how much we should tip our hosts. But throughout it all, there was a tenor of sadness at the prospect of leaving. As much as I missed my extended family and friends, I wasn’t ready to give up the feelings that the work in La Romana had awakened in me.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Dominican Republic Trip Nov. 2011–Journal Entry No. 6
Thursday was special, no doubt. What a gift to celebrate Thanksgiving with the poor. The day provided numerous opportunities to reflect on the good gifts in our lives. Despite the fact that our hosts don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, many gave us “Happy Thanksgiving” greetings first thing in the morning. We headed out early and went to Batey Lagina. While Lagina wasn’t as dirty as Plumita, there was a similar aggressive vibe amongst the adults, especially later in the day. The medical clinic went smoothly; we treated 88 patients. This was the day where we could have used 10 times more shoes than we had with us. It was also our first day working alongside pediatric nurse practitioner Kristy Engel, a dear friend who has been working full-time at this mission for 10 years.

On a day we associate with an abundance of food in the U.S., we faced one of our hardest challenges: we ran out of food during food distribution. It was a gut wrenching moment where we had to defer to our translators on how to handle it. Emilio immediately shifted gears and started directing us to houses where the elderly and moms with many, many children were. While the team did lots of talking about this moment in the bus on the way back to the city, and the young people tried to shift the blame for the situation to our hosts for not telling us accurate numbers of residents, in the end the reasons and blame were irrelevant. The bottom line was that some got food and some didn’t and it was a really awful feeling to be connected with that hard, cold fact. We still had bags of food to distribute at Casa Pastorale and had to rest assured in the fact that Emilio and his team would return to Lagina next week with more food.

After Lagina, we toured the Good Samaritan Hospital. It was impressive yet also humbling as we were given access to every nook and cranny, including the surgery rooms. It felt like a privilege we didn’t deserve.

One of the highlights of my week came next: a visit to an orphanage in La Romana. I met three very special girls: Madeline (12), Naomi (11) and Cynthia (6). Madeline was gorgeous and very cautious. She told Turner he looked like Justin Bieber and took his baseball cap and modeled it for me. She gave me her email address and made me promise to write. She asked me questions like how often I have to cut my hair, if I had daughters, if I was a good student, and when I’d come back. Madeline was also a patient teacher. She tried diligently to teach me a very complicated hand clapping game and never gave up on me, despite the fact that it took me numerous tries amidst endless laughter to get it right. When I succeeded, she hugged me fiercely. Naomi was startlingly smart. She showed me her computer lab, took me to her locker and proudly showed me her notebook, and gave me her email address along with a note telling me she loves me. Cynthia grabbed my hand no more than 10 seconds after I entered the gate. I wonder what made her pick me out of the crowd of nearly thirty that visited that day? She was energetic, giggly, tomboyish, and endlessly loving. A gifted gymnast, she tumbled, cartwheeled, and flipped for me making me applaud and squeal with delight. She rode on my back for hours while I galloped around the compound. And she walked the entire length of their basketball court on her hands. She wrenched my heart by asking me over and over again if I’d be her mom. Little did she know that she is exactly the sort of daughter I’d want. I will remember and pray for her for a very long time.

Thursday night, we took our hosts out for pizza in the city. It was crowded and chaotic, but totally worth mentioning because dinner for about 30 cost $190.

Wednesday: Hump Day

Dominican Republic Trip Nov. 2010, Journal Entry No. 5
Wednesday, our third work day, was when I expected team dynamics to break down a bit. I am thrilled to report that moment never came. We spent our day on Batey Plumita where we treated 72 patients. Unlike the first two we visited, Plumita was absolutely filthy and very crowded. Our hosts’ explanation for this is that there is a large voodoo element on this batey, an element that introduces crime, fear, aggressiveness, drugs, and likely much more. There was lots of pushing and shoving in line to enter the clinic. And the general vibe was less welcoming. However, we had a magical moment: an impromptu 50-person circle of Gato, Gato, Gato, Pero (the equivalent of American duck, duck, goose). With no instructions having been given, a Haitian child would naturally pick an American child and vice versa. Squeals of delight were ringing off the buildings of the batey!

Turner recorded weights at the door of the clinic on this day and he stayed focused until someone broke out the wiffle ball and bat, then he went and played ball and had a blast. Hayden worked at the de-worming station, marking the hands of patients who had received their parasite meds (a necessary precaution because people would get in line twice because it tastes so good, which would likely lead to nausea/vomiting). Paul was the “traffic” person, leading patients from station to station in the clinic. After all the play time, the kids settled down and many held our hands while we were distributing food. In the middle of the workday, a mom came in with a 12-pound, one-year-old boy named Luigi (shown in the bottom photo in the arms of my colleague Sandy). Our team’s lead translator, Emilio, tried diligently to get a straight story from the mom on why the baby was so skinny and what medical care the boy had received; she seemed very confused. Was he just malnourished? Was anemia a factor? Did he have an infection? In the end, Emilio and one of the Dominican doctor’s advocated that the best course of action was to bring the baby on the bus to be treated at the Good Samaritan Hospital. Emilio asked if our team would provide the necessary funds to make that happen. I paused to try to find a diplomatic and inoffensive way to ask exactly what that meant. I didn’t want to make a commitment with team funds that couldn’t be honored. Saying (in Spanglish), "What's it gonna cost me?" about another persons health care just felt icky. I don’t remember exactly what I asked to solicit the info that I needed, but I do remember the answer: $13. I am happy to report that as of the day we left, Luigi is doing very well.

After picking up the water filter team at the hospital, we made our first trip to the beach. Literally, all 23 of us walked onto the beach, plopped down our bags, walked into the ocean and stayed in the water for the next 90 minutes. We walked out of the water, toweled off, and left! It was awesome!

Wednesday night we did more food packing, assessed our med clinic supplies (we ran out of vitamins, eye drops, and lotrimin), and had a presentation from Andrea and Estella (two ladies who lead aspects of the mission involving education, family planning and services to retired workers). This was our opportunity for team members to ask numerous questions about the La Romana, the sugar cane industry, the government, the mission, and more. I was very proud of the students in the group; their questions were thoughtful and intelligent.

Tuesday at Guazabal

Dominican Republic Nov. 2010—Journal Entry #4
Tuesday the team divided into two groups—6 members headed to the hospital to build water filters and the rest of us went to Batey Guazabal for our second medical clinic. Our second day was significantly less chaotic since we all had a much better sense of the process, how to organize the space, and communicate essential phrases in Spanish (here—aquí, there—allá, I’m sorry—lo siento). One of my most special moments at Guazabal came when I looked out the window and I saw Hayden playing wiffle ball and frisbee in the rain with the boys from the batey. He was loving every minute of it. He made a special friend and they played for much of the rest of the day. The curious moment of the day came when I found a boy without shoes. I knew we had a bag of shoes with us so I went to find where they were stashed. They were tucked under a bench in the pharmacy area of the clinic. When I asked one of our hosts to pass me a pair of shoes for the boy in question, I was told that the ones that we had were too big and they wouldn’t give me shoes. I didn’t understand it, but didn’t dare challenge them. I didn’t want to be rude or too aggressive. I have regretted that choice ever since. It was a very smooth day; we treated 64 patients and distributed about 90 food kits. The residents were sweet and very hospitable to us. On the way back to Casa Pastoral, we picked up the water filter team that included Paul and Turner. They had a good day; Turner particularly enjoyed working alongside the Dominican men (T particularly enjoyed Benjamin) who work on water filters year round.

Tuesday night we went to a Toros baseball game. While it was fun, and very good baseball, I found my mind wandering to the work that was ahead for the next day and what preparations I needed to make. My leadership responsibilities kept me from fully enjoying the experience. Probably the most notable moments of this outing were not on the field: we got mobbed by vendors when we got off the bus and no one was prepared for that, and there was a 30 piece percussion section that was a pep squad that played incessantly and at deafening decibels.

Monday: Our First Work Day

D.R. Trip Nov. 2010—Journal Entry No. 3

Monday morning, we set out to work on Batey 50, likely the poorest batey in the La Romana region. It was the only day that the full team went to the same place. We were joined by Josh, John, and their film crew (Taylor and another John). Our goals for the day were to run a medical clinic (we saw 67 patients), distribute food to families and install several water filters. While we probably had more people than we needed for the work we set out to do, team members quickly adapted. Many simply went outside to play with the kids on this batey, some of the most loving kids we met all week. Four noteworthy moments from this day: first, this was when I realized that I would be in a facilitating or managing role for the week, doing very little direct work. Secondly,

Turner’s immediate response was that he wasn’t cut out for this place, yet in hindsight this was his favorite day—partly because he was so happy to be there with his cousin and uncle, but also because his job for the day was toy distribution (he gave out comfort dolls knit through his grandmother’s ministry). Third, the end of our day included a surprise birthday party for my brother-in-law, who has volunteered with this mission for two decades, including a clown, games, and a cake. The kids of the batey went crazy! It was one of the most joyful moments I have ever been part of. Lastly, this day had two intense emotional moments for me, one when I was completely alone walking down the main road overcome by God’s blessings to work out all the details of this trip juxtaposed by the extent of the problems on Batey 50, the

other when my big boy came to hug me at the end of the day and I held his very healthy body in my arms and I literally felt the full extent of my blessings.

Monday night we tried to go to Altos de Chavon. It didn’t work out for us to visit, so we opted for a trip to Jumbo and the team was introduced to the heaven that is known as a Magnum Bar. If you’ve never had one, you might want to travel to La Romana just for that!

406. 450. 30.

DR Trip Nov. 2010—Journal Entry #1
This past week I had the pleasure of co-chaperoning a group of 23 travelers from Watkinson School who spent one week in La Romana, Dominican Republic. My first trip to this area was in February of 1990 with a group of 11. My second trip was a four-day jaunt with my nephew (Josh), brother-in-law (John) and my brother-in-law’s brother (Todd). Despite having been there twice before, this week was a new adventure for me in several ways.

First, I was traveling with my husband and two sons. What a joy to see my boys leaning into the work they did and friendships they made this week; but more on that in a subsequent post. Second, I have never been in La Romana with a group this large. In one week we were able to treat 406 patients, distribute 450 food kits, and make 30 water filters. Third, I was managing the work and schedule for the team. I am a doer, and my focus on managing was a huge shift away from my natural tendencies.

After having arrived at dinnertime on Saturday evening (and being greeted by Josh and John who were there working on another project), our team settled into Casa Pastoral (dorms and a dining hall, part of the mission of the Maranatha Baptist Church). After a scrumptious meal, team members relaxed and realized our hosts were going to take very good care of us this week. Our living accommodations were very comfortable (though spare) and we even had wifi in spots to be able to blog and post photos to facebook. After dinner the team had its first taste of working together, bagging almost 200 food kits using food purchased in bulk with team funds that were sent to the mission prior to our arrival. A food kit consisted of about 20 oz of rice, 20 oz of beans, a 12 oz bottle of oil, a pound of spaghetti, a 10 oz package of corn meal, a 5 oz can of hot dogs, and a 6 oz can of sardines.

We had a problem-free travel day, and easy pass through customs, and team dynamics were excellent. All in all, a great first day.

The Nature of Hope

What is it that you hope for? I know my youngest son is hoping for a kindle for Christmas. Paul hopes that we will be able to afford college for our kids. Well...I guess that's not really a hope. Affording college is somewhere between a prayer and something you plan for. You can't plan for a hope. When your hopes are met, it is usually from an unforeseen source, and in a manner you can't control.

As we head off for our week of service work in the Dominican Republic, I am almost giddy with hope. My brother-in-law often says that the poor Haitians who live in the sugar cane work camps, called bateys, know that when the big yellow school bus filled with one of the work teams hosted by the Maranatha Baptist Church rolls in, their hopes are about to be fulfilled. Their prayers are being answered.

What an awesome privilege: to be and to bring what someone hopes for. My hope is to meet and succeed the expectation of their hopes by bringing joy, full hearts, and compassion along with the food and medical supplies we bring. I am humbled to even have the chance.

My deepest thanks to all my friends, family, neighbors, church family, extended church family, etc., who have prayed for and contributed to the Frenches having this adventure in any way. I am deeply grateful. We covet your prayers for good health this week. And we are eager to share stories with you all when we return.

To God be the glory for the week that's ahead.