Being a Je Doctor

Speaking in Decades

2011-09-06T18:10:00.000-05:00

It has been ten years since my wife came to Haiti. She came on a boat that was returning defective baseballs to the old Rawlings plant in Port au Prince. They didn't have planes back in those days.
After living in the city and learning Creole from someone who must have had a lisp, she began hitchhiking to her new home in Seguin.

She finally made it to the mountain abode after mistakenly visiting such ports of call as Havana, Cuba; Kingston, Jamaica; and Chicago, Curacao. She passed the next six years without incident in the idyllic village of Orange Bed. There she grew a garden of jasmine, cumin and garlic salt. In her spare time she managed a quiet clinic powered by wind and science.

She met me, her husband, in 2007 when she came to my office to have a tooth pulled. Out of concern for her teeth and what some would call love, she moved to be with me in Christianville in 2008. We have been married almost three years, have two kids and I still don't have the heart to tell her I'm not a dentist.

**This story is for entertainment purposes only. If you want another version of the last ten years, you can read T in Haiti.

It's like a T-shirt for the Internet

2011-03-09T15:36:00.001-06:00

Copy one of the images below if you need a nice, square icon to use on your account for Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn or whatever else. I modified the design that I found at http://www.freedannypye.org

English

English for Facebook
and other applications that crop weirdly

Kreyol

Kreyol for Facebook
and other applications that crop weirdly

No Visit, but Good News

2011-03-05T22:39:00.002-06:00

I went to Jacmel today, but didn't get to visit Danny. While there, I got an interesting phone call and when I got home there was more good news. The same guard that begged for Danny's visitation rights to be taken away, told me he couldn't have visitors today. I set about adding my own comments to the letter my wife had written, since the guard seemed less hostile, maybe even ambivalent, about the idea of a message being passed between us.

While I was waiting, I saw some of the other guards and greeted them. Without my knowledge, they thought of a sympathetic workaround and took Danny a phone and allowed him to call his wife and mine. Teresa phoned me while I was waiting yards from Danny's cell and said that she had just spoken to him on the phone from 35 miles away. Ha. Danny's report was that he was physically well and emotionally and spiritually buoyant (my word, probably not his). Although, I had to leave without a visit, I was glad to hear his state of being.

When I arrived home, I saw that the media publicity for Danny had finally tipped. Ben Fox, an AP reporter that spoke to Danny a week ago, released his piece which has been picked up by over a hundred outlets so far. Tim Heck, a counselor that saw Danny Tuesday, has also published a video interview he made with Danny.Please, take the time to go to these sites and learn about the situation. Email them to friends and colleagues, Like them on Facebook, tweet them on twitter. Your local media probably picked up the AP story. Go to their site and search for "Danny Pye". Write comments on their web page and give them a call to let them know you are interested in more details about the situation. Here's a list of the sites:

AP piece in the LA Times - http://goo.gl/XyZxx
Video Interview and fax number for Haiti Min. of Justice - http://www.faithconversations.com/
Most in-depth article - http://goo.gl/7Youl
Leann's television interview - http://goo.gl/D9nnh
The first article - http://goo.gl/ExO4w
Weird update on Danny's judge (Samedi) - http://goo.gl/5bHwK

A huge thanks to Chris Tompkins for trying to visit Danny last weekend and giving a care package. Also, biggest applause to Ben Fox and his work. At last, a great big Yes! for Tim Heck spending time counseling, praying with and videoing Danny last week.

Danny's wife Leann is asking for their friends and advocates to join in a day of prayer and fasting this Wednesday, March 9th.

Who's this Danny guy anyway?

2011-02-20T14:49:00.000-06:00

If you've known me for a while, chances are you've heard me talk about Danny. If you've visited me in Haiti, you probably accompanied us on a trip to Jacmel where Danny, Leann and Riann Pye live with 22 youth in a home for abandoned and endangered Haitian kids. Danny's my age; well, a week older. He's been in Haiti for six years. I met him through my wife, Teresa, who worked alongside him in Seguin for a while. He's been a good friend and I miss him. Check out the Pye's own blog for some more stories. I have it in my links bar just to the right.

He's been in prison since October 13th. I've only been able to visit him twice since he was incarcerated. Join me in praying for his release.

Helping me keep my nose clean before the wedding. I think his Dad took this pic.

Leann and Danny with Teresa and me at the reception.

Leann and Danny with Eleanor on her first trip to Jacmel.

Press Release about my friend Danny

2011-02-19T18:19:00.001-06:00

Contact:

Leann Pye
Missionary, Global Effect
941-746-8705
leannpye@mac.com
pyesinhaiti.blogspot.com

For immediate release

American Missionary Imprisoned in Haiti Since October

An American missionary in Haiti named Daniel Pye has been held in a Haitian prison on absent or dubious charges for over four months.

Bradenton, Fla., Feb. 19, 2011 -- Daniel Pye, an American missionary originally from Bradenton, Fla., has been incarcerated in a Haitian prison since Oct. 13, 2010. No charges were revealed when Pye was originally arrested and subsequently held until Dec. 24th, 2010. On Christmas Eve of last year he was released, but immediately rearrested on charges of possessing illegal documents -- a charge the Haitian Department of Justice later called untrue. Before his arrests, Pye worked for six years as head of a children's home that cared for twenty-two abandoned and endangered youth.

On Oct. 13, 2010, Pye and his wife, Leann, appeared before a local magistrate to negotiate property and other assets with an organization for whom they formerly worked. After a settlement was agreed upon, Pye was quickly and inexplicably taken into custody. He was accompanied by officers to the jail and then imprisoned.

No specific charge was made against Pye. Instead, his family and attorney were told he was being held in the court's custody. Pye was instructed that he would not be released until he had signed over the assets to his former organization. When the paperwork was ready on Oct. 16, 2010, Pye complied, but was not released from the prison.

For a moment, on Christmas Eve, it seemed Pye's release had been secured. On Dec. 24, 2010, as he was being escorted out of the prison to join his family, police officers handcuffed him and returned him inside. An order had come from the same magistrate resposible for the first arrest for Pye to be taken into custody on the charge of possessing illegal documents. Pye's attorney was later informed that the magistrate viewed Pye's government-issued Haiti identification card to be illegal.

Haitian Senator, and former mayor of Jacmel, Edo Zenny decried the event as a travesty and appealed to the Haitian Department of Justice on behalf of Pye. After an inquiry, the Department of Justice said that Pye's arrest was illegal and his government issued identification card was legitimate. The Department's judgments have been powerless to secure Pye's realease, however.

During Pye's first arrest, representatives of the United States Embassy in Port au Prince told his family there was nothing they could do to influence his situation since he had not been charged with a crime. After his second arrest, the Embassy did send notice to Department of Justice in Haiti that they expected Pye's immediate release.

In his time in prison, Pye has suffered from malaria, a fungal infection, and several bouts of gastroenteritis. So far, Pye has been spared infection from cholera, which has afflicted other prisoners. Lack of activity and malnutrition have taken a tole on Pye's body. On Feb. 6, 2011, Pye begin to vomit after meals and has subsisted since then on soda and small peices of bread. Pye's pregnant wife, Leann, had been his main supporter and provider until she returned the US in early February to await the birth of their son. The youth from the children's home Pye started now supply him with meals and clothing.

There has been no date set for a hearing for Pye or for his release. In February, the United States Embassy in Port au Prince sent two additional letters to the Department of Justice in Haiti asking that action be taken to release Pye. They have not received a response to their requests.

For more information on this story, please call Leann Pye at 941-746-8705 or email leannpye@mac.com.

###

Catching Up

2010-12-09T15:48:00.010-06:00

Yes, you know, we did actually have that baby! Sorry for anyone waiting on news; I threw some pictures on Facebook and caught up with family by phone and the blog just sat here. Ho Hum.

It's my great pleasure to introduce Titus Christoper Price to those of you who haven't met him. He was born on Saturday, November 6th at 8:04 pm. He was a little more sturdy and compact than Eleanor, 8 lb 12 oz squeezed into 20 inches. Here are some pics from the first week.

We spent some wonderful time with our family in Minnesota and then had Thanksgiving with Teresa's parents in Illinois. The new family of four made a two day road trip down to Alabama before I had to head back and get some work done at the clinic.

I'm in Haiti right now. Actually, I may be stuck in Haiti right now. So, I'm missing my little guy and little girl and wife. I do have a little free time on my hands, though, since I've had a total of 7 patients the last two days at the eye clinic. The election results have sparked numerous riots that are blocking the ways in and out of the towns. I'm trying to leave tomorrow, but it may not work.

There has been admitted fraud in the vote tabulation and there are several places you can go online to see examples. There are plenty of upset people looking for an excuse for mayhem, but I think most of the folks at home or in the streets are peacefully hoping their country will change and their vote will matter. There's a lot of overstatement out there saying the whole country is burning. It's been quiet here and the majority of Haitians are not in the streets looting, shooting and polluting. I don't say that to dismiss the great tragedy, though. The people are so desperate and disappointed.

Pray for us here and don't believe everything you hear. Hopefully you can see these facebook pics even if you aren't signed up. 1 2 3 4

The Plan

2010-11-04T21:24:00.001-05:00

It looks like we will go into the hospital on Saturday morning so that Teresa can be induced, unless labor starts on it's own in the next 36 hours. She is doing well and is making a very comfy home for our little boy. It looks as though he has no more intention of coming out than Eleanor did. At our last pre-natal check-up we were able to listen to his heart and the rate and rhythm were fine. The doc estimates he is up to 8 lbs. already. Hope to see him soon.

I Will Be a Father of Children

2010-08-27T17:31:00.023-05:00

Eleanor was born just over a year ago now; July 2009. Her advent made me "Dad". However, I am expectantly looking forward to a new title, "Father of Children".
New baby boy Price, code name: Operation BuddyBob, is due the first week of November. Teresa is doing well and has experienced fewer ups and downs now that she is a veteran.

We plan on having our second baby in Minnesota, just like Eleanor. While we are in the States, we look forward to the opportunity to visit friends and share with everyone what our year has been like and what our hopes are for the future.

I will be making my way North from Alabama to Minnesota during the second week of October. If anyone's church, small group, sunday school class, office, zone group or book club would like some stories from Haiti, let me know. Teresa and I hope to also speak to some churches after the baby is born, in November and December.

You can contact me at ryantheprice+blog@gmail.com.

Education

2010-08-25T15:57:00.002-05:00

One of our great fears after the destruction 7 months ago was that the school children would be derailed for one or maybe two years.
Thankfully, the government, communities and non-profits responded quickly to get the children back in school. Most schools wrapped last week after continuing through the summer.

One of the benefits our employees have had for many years is assistance paying for their children to go to school. The eye clinic, each year, pays eighty percent of the tuition for the families of our employees. This year we look to help 20 of these local kids attend primary, middle and secondary school.

When the eye clinic started hiring full-time employees in the mid-90's the doctor was young, the staff was young and the kids were young. Now the kids are growing up and a generation of our staff's children are getting ready for college.

Meet Walter Aritus, the first of those kids.

Walter is 20 years old, graduated from Christianville schools last year and enrolled in the Institue Superieur d'Administration et de Gestion. He is working on a 4-year degree in accounting. He travels two hours, both ways, on public transport to Port-au-Prince to attend the school. He is a member of the LaSalle Christianville church, baptized in 2005, and plays drums, piano and guitar for the church services. His mother Melita works in the eye clinic, cleaning and doing some of the pre-testing of patients.

To give you an idea of his needs: Inscription each year at the Institute is $30 US. His tuition for four quarters each year is $600 US. If you want to help out Walter send me an email for details. ryantheprice+blog@gmail.com

Great Start, Good Project

2010-08-25T13:56:00.002-05:00

Thirty two years ago Christianville got a great start on a good project. Now the same can be said of James Gray and his film about Christianville in 2010. I've explained previously that our friend James was here in April to get a start on his documentary. He's a long time friend of the Eye Clinic and is an architect that moonlights as a photographer and cinematographer of mission work around the world. He and soundman, Justin Davis, did a lot of work here in April to capture everyone's stories and the sights and sounds of the new Christianville mission.

**WARNING** Starting at minute 5 there are graphic images of injuries.

This excerpt is really well done and I'm excited to see the rest soon. And, yes, that is the smart, beautiful and articulate Mrs. Price getting most of the face time on the video.

Na we Klinik Je

2010-08-25T13:15:00.004-05:00

As many of you know, the old eye clinic building is history. You may have not seen the video though.

James Gray, a great friend of the eye clinic and Christianville in general, was here in April to capture some of the earthquake damage on film. His break from normal work as an architect saw him arrive in Christianville the same week demolition started. He got some good footage of the damaged Klinik Je being pulverized to make way for new facilities.

SECO 2010

2010-02-12T10:34:00.003-06:00

Thanks to everyone helping out with the CVESH booth. I know Dad has done a lot of work and Lanita and Stephen were going to try to be there some of the time. I know Dr. Bundy was also a big help getting the ball rolling.Any of you mystery helpers out there that I don't know about yet - I want to thank you as well.

For the non-optometry crowd, SECO is one of the nation's largest gathering for optometry education each year. Through the efforts of the above, ChristianVision Eye Services to Haiti has a presence among the exhibitors this year. If you are at the meeting in Atlanta please stop by!

Donations

2010-01-20T13:46:00.007-06:00

People from everywhere are asking how to donate to the relief.

To continue the ministry of the eye clinic, whether it be restoring our clinic or rebuilding, donate to:

FCO International, Inc,

P.O. Box 1361,
Bloomington, IN 47402-1361
(Include a note designating Haiti Earthquake)

Other ways of donating to this area of Haiti are through Christianville Foundation and Haiti Health Ministries.

Land at Christianville

2010-01-20T13:37:00.002-06:00

Here's a link to a labeled map. I did most of it a couple of years ago, but the "helipad" is new.

Our coordinates are:

18 deg 31' 24" N

72 deg 33' 14" W

Does an earthquake have a snooze button?

2010-01-20T13:11:00.004-06:00

Most of the aftershocks have rumbled and rattled a little bit like a bad thunderstorm - sometimes worse. This morning however . . .

Teresa and I awoke to the sound and tried to tear through the mosquito net hanging above us from the avocado tree to get to Eleanor's playpen. The ground didn't buck like before, but swayed back and forth beneath our feet for a couple of seconds. We banged into each other a few times before T got off the bed and to the baby. We ended just holding each other since Eleanor slept through the whole thing.

We heard some laughs from the guesthouse patio. Probably the blancs embarassed about jumping up and running around in their PJs. We didn't laugh.

Good news today. It looks like US servicemen are landing in Leogane and securing that area to make it a depot for aid. The International Herald Tribune said they were to work with a Catholic Aid Organization distributing lentils and oil. Hope we start seeing rice, bean, cornmeal and water coming out of there to all the hungry around this area. Keep up the emails to the state department about all of us west of Port-au-Prince.

Haiti Update

2010-01-20T12:58:00.002-06:00

Here's some lines I sent to my Dad in an email yesterday.

People around Gressier and Leogane are hungry and there doesn't seem to be a lot of food coming this way. Like someone here said, how could they drive past all the needy people between Port and here and still arrive in our area with food? Some pastors went out and have found some rice. They are looking for other food. It's difficult because we don't want to waste deisel going to a bunch of places without food.

The medical clinic started back full-time today. They aren't full like usual - the word is just getting out. Don't know when I will have eye patients. It doesn't seem that critical right now. I tried to organize my salvaged medicines while keeping Eleanor this morning. There's not much to work with outside of antibiotic drops. I've got lots of those.

Yesterday Doug and I drove the team that was here into the airport. It was totally unorganized. When we arrived at 7:00, there were already 200 people waiting outside before anyone came out with instructions. It soon grew to 300, before one guy from the state department tried to organize all those people into a line. We already had our passports in the hands of an embassy official, so we waited in the same spot while five or six soldiers finally came out and got things moving.

We waited on the tarmac for a while, but since we were waiting for a specific flight with Missionary Flights International we had to get out of the military evacuation area and find someone with MFI. We found that if you just walk straight with your head down, no one bothers you; and so we did as we went over to the smaller airport. Another missionary was kind enough to pick up the team as I walked with Amy's dad, Jeff, to find our contact. The small airport was dark, but planes were coming in and out and we found our guy. The team ended up going out with a few other missionaries and visitors on a medium sized turbo-prop owned by Hendrick's Motorsports.

As they left, another group of volunteers, doctors and media came in. Two guys from ABC 7 in L.A. interviewed one of our team members and then just kind of kept to themselves. We offered them a ride as we were leaving and felt that we could make the walk back through the military / aid camps again now that we were escorting media. It worked fine and they were glad to get shots of the camp and airport. I think they were impressed how quickly men approached outside ready to guide, transport and translate. They got some footage of that too. I didn't burst their bubble, by telling them that was the normal part of the airport experience. We ended up taking them up to Petionville and into a nice hotel housing the ABC teams. They interviewed Doug the whole way up. If you check their website, maybe he's famous already.

On the way down I investigated a lead on tents, but found a deadish end. Delmas has random destruction. Some things up, some things down, some things half way . . you get it. Two of the stores we frequent were flattened, One Stop and Caribbean. We were at Caribbean at 1:00 that day. Wow. The government buildings are surreal. They look like something out of a disaster movie. The domes or cupolas or whatever of the presidential palace are intact but lower and sitting at about a 45 deg. angle. The cathedral's roof caved in, but the high arcing stain glass is intact. It was quite a picture. No camera that day, though.

It's raining a little now. Good thing Sandy's daughter and son-in-law arrived with a huge tarp a couple of hours ago.

Photos

2010-01-14T17:31:00.001-06:00

Go here to see some of the damage http://picasaweb.google.com/ryantheprice/201001HaitiQuake#

7 . scary

2010-01-13T13:14:00.005-06:00

A little before 5:00 yesterday the roar started. Something like a tornado, except the trees weren't blowing - they were moving. And so was our truck and the ground and me. My reaction was something like - what was that? Earthquake! I'm glad everything is okay. I'll put the groceries up now.

About then David ran up shouting "Is everybody okay?" and I realized I should be doing the same. I found Eleanor, she was just across the way and I could see her the whole time. Teresa had gone to the clinic so Dave and I took off running to check on people there. We found the Eye Clinic apartments had collapsed and were still collapsing. Jim and Sandy made it outside, if only barely, and dazed. I found Teresa and we shared a hug and some incredulity. We shouted for Nannie and she appeared from the new HHM building which was in ruins. Then we saw the school.

The high school had folded in half and was still cracking and spewing dust and glass. We ran over and shouted for survivors, but it looked the school had already completely emptied. We found some abandoned sandals, a bicycle thrown to the side in haste and a notebook computer face in the dust with it's optical tray extended. Doug and I went back to the school later that night, but it was too dangerous to enter and the rooms looked empty.

I should have seen what was coming next, but for some reason none of us understood that the first injured person that showed up at the gate was just the beginning of steady stream that would continue into today. We gathered supplies from any structure we thought was safe and piled them in the grass parking area. Someone started separated the injured from the merely scared. We found started a gas generator and powered two large fluorescent floodlights to illuminate our makeshift OR. We started cleaning, suturing and splinting and didn't stop until 5:30 in the morning when we all lay down under the stars for the briefest of naps. Young and old were injured from head to toe and two dead were delivered to our gate. I held one ladies head as she delivered at our gate. A little baby boy that Teresa and Amy massaged into life. This morning the second parking lot baby was born at the end of my driveway as we finished cleaning up my house. Teresa had about 10 minutes of sleep and is going full throttle today.

Thanks for all your prayers. People continue to show, increasingly outside of our limits of care and we will soon run out of supplies. Many have asked how they can help. It would be difficult and daring to try run to Haiti right now. The houses were not all that collapsed. It appears communications and infrastructure are crippled too. I do not believe that commercial flights are coming right now. We believe that international relief organizations will appear soon and giving through them may be the best early option. Above all pray for God to hear the cries and answers. He is the only one big enough to hear all the suffering.

Happy Veterans Day

2009-11-11T21:29:00.009-06:00

On November 11th, 1918, the Great War came to an end. Twenty years later the US made Armistice Day a federal holiday. We began remembering the 11th day of the 11th month as Veterans Day in 1954. Let's remember and thank all who have served.

Some of Eleanor's favorite veterans.

Ed Lovelidge, United States Army

Great-Grandfather

Jerry Smith, United States Marine Corps

Great Uncle

George Smith, United States Marine Corps

Great-Grandfather

Patients of Job

2009-11-10T21:47:00.004-06:00

As an example of suffering and patience, brethren, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord.

Behold, we call those happy who were steadfast. You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful. (James 5:10-11 RSV)

I've found the book of Job to be a difficult book of difficult difficulties. We move at a pace of about 2 chapters an hour in our Bible Study and it doesn't seem like enough time to unwrap all these ideas of suffering, difficulty and destiny.

Things felt pretty difficult around here today. Explaining after exams why glasses won't help, why surgery won't help, why medicine won't help. And that's after fighting through an exam. Why so difficult?

Does anyone vote for less difficulty? The idea comes up quite a bit in the form of the Question of Evil. As in, if God is all love and all powerful why so much nasty stuff around here? I see sickness, I see death and I see lots of people that can't see.

We would probably all vote for less difficulty. I don't think we would get rid of it all together though. That would be too strange and we wouldn't appreciate the good things if nothing was ever less than good. So how much difficulty would be enough?

That's the problem. We don't know. God pointed out to Job there was a lot he didn't know and there is a lot we don't know. How much evil should we allow in the world? I'm glad I don't have to give the answer.

I do know good can come from difficulties. My wife was sharing a devotion the other day (here) about how I had been sidelined with an illness and knocked out of my normal flow. That turned out to be an important time of listening God used to lead me to Haiti.

Passport photo. Difficult.

Hike. Not so difficult.

They Were Right

2009-07-30T21:26:00.003-05:00

St. Augustine was right. He said basically that we forgive infant's their selfishness because we know that they will grow out of constantly crying for everything. I was a little worried that I would resent the baby being so needy and I was feeling some pre-guilt over my pre-sin. Well, the wonderful thing is, I don't resent her. When she needs I want to give. Resent the baby? Parents know that you don't. If you are not parents yet, know that you won't. I think Augustine left out the other reason we forgive children so quickly. They're so cute.

Everybody that said forget sleep as you know it was right. Even if the baby ever did go to sleep at a normal hour or sleep through the night, Dad wouldn't. Dads have to go over and make sure the chest is moving up and down even if it means a quick poke. In which case the baby won't sleep through the night. They don't like pokes. Dads in Haiti have an extra duty. Mosquito patrol. A weak, wind-up flash light and a tattered fly swatter can add up to hours of non-fun.

And when I said I probably wouldn't blog as much after the baby came, I hit it right on the head. A few of these blogs are post dated with old ideas or writings I came up with at the time. Self-fulfilling prophecy?

What do you look like at 2:00 am?

What a Difference a Day Makes

2009-07-13T21:56:00.007-05:00

I picked the bow.

Our little gal is so much better. The neonatalogist didn't press for a lumbar puncture today because her other lab work was good and she is looking healthy and acting hungry. Her breathing slowed down after a few hours and she was able to start holding her temperature. We've gone to nurse her 5 (?) times today. I say we; Teresa does the work and I hold her afterwards until she falls asleep. Her Aunt Sara and Tom and Carla (we're still debating "Mimi and Grandpoppy" vs. "MeeMaw and Poopsey") all got to hold her today. Hopefully mother and daughter will be released into the Minnesota wild tomorrow.

Thanks for all the prayers, encouragement and inquiries. Her first hours mirrored the hair, dirty and spikey. Now she's looking and living pretty clean and smooth.

I'm putting some video from day one and day two below. They should be small enough for even those using Haiti internet.

I'm a Dad. She's a Mom. It's a Girl!

2009-07-12T10:44:00.008-05:00

Eleanor Nancy Price everybody!

Our little girl came into the world at 2:33 this morning. We had been in the labor room since for about 33 hours, and T had been pushing for an hour and a half, but when she came it was all a blur. Since T had a cold and a fever she had been put on antibiotics earlier in the day and we had been warned Eleanor would need them too when she came out. When she seemed a little distressed during delivery we knew we wouldn't be the only ones poring over her when she was out. Our doctor whisked the little purple one out of Mom and over to the neonatal Nurse Practitioner standing by. As Teresa caught her breath, Eleanor wasn't allowed to catch hers since they were clearing her airways of mucus and any meconium that could have entered. She wasn't overly responsive at first and only started to show good color and muscle tone after vigorous rubbing. Teresa got to hold her for less than a minute, but since she wasn't breathing well we turned her over to the NP's again to take her to the special care nursery. All the grandparents got a good look at her as she made her way down the hall, but I was the only one that got to accompany her into the nursery. She eventually became nice and pink and her breathing slowed a little. Since Teresa's water was broken about 10 hours before delivery and Eleanor's white blood cell count is elevated, they are checking her for signs of infection today. The chest x-ray looked clear and she will get a spinal tap later to check out the meninges. After about an hour of sleep Teresa got to go with me to the nursery.

We enjoyed hanging out with our girl for a little bit. Her vitals signs were good and breathing improved while we were with her. She's still huffing and puffing too much for T to nurse her, but we hope she can later today. She already makes some neat faces and although she prefers bright lights as fixation points, she would occasionally look at her parents as we spoke to her. She's got this really cool spikey hair-do right now and we found her first freckle. A few million more and she'll catch her Mom. We prayed for as we left and it was so good to finally touch her hand and not just Mom's belly as we blessed her and committed her day to the Lord. Pray for us, T's recovery and our little daughter today as she faces her first trials.

286 days

2009-07-10T22:59:00.004-05:00

That's how long T has been pregnant. Wow. We are in our labor and delivery room and I'm accompanied by constant lub dub of the fetal heart monitor. I don't know how we've gone without one. Maybe they make a travel size one we can have the whole time for the next baby. The nurses here at Fairview Southdale have been very nice and Teresa is situated and just trying to get comfortable. Pretty much everything between her shoulders and ankles hurts, itches and is cramping. I brought the camera along so I can include some pictures of our situation.

Our view from our big baby room.

Me in the daddy chair.

Here we go.

Hospital time

2009-07-10T14:34:00.002-05:00

Teresa has done a wonderful job making a home for our baby. She's so comfortable in there that she doesn't want to come out on her own. We had hoped and prayed this week that things would get moving naturally, but they did not. We had a doc visit this morning that comfirmed that our little one has battened down the hatches. The doctor's fall back plan is now in effect and we are going into the hospital tonight. They will start my wife on a therapy that will open the passageway for the baby. In the morning if all is well, she will be given another medicine to induce uterine contractions. Hopefully we'll have some exciting news tomorrow.

Not Yet

2009-06-29T15:24:00.008-05:00

A little fun with lighting while waiting for Dr. Flad.

No news on the baby front, doesn't mean no news. Teresa and I are well and have been enjoying time with her sister's family, the Thompsons, in Minneapolis. We were here to cheer on Kate on her second birthday and helped with the swim party for Eloise's fifth. Teresa and I have caught up with friends in Illinois, Wisconsin and Minnesota not to mention all the ones we can talk with on the phone since we are in the States now. Some of her family from Illinois visited last week, which allowed the very important scheduling of a game of "Settlers of Cataan".

Everyone in Chris and Sara's congregation at Hiawatha Church, has been encouraging and helpful to us expectant parents. There are many new families there and we can't wait to add our little one to the Sunday crowd.

We took a hospital tour last Saturday at Fairview Southdale where we will deliver. It was helpful to see parking and entrances, labor and delivery entrance, triage room, labor room, recovery room and nursery. Apparently this having a baby stuff is pretty involved.

Remember us as we ready ourselves. Especially pray for Teresa's rest.

Sisters having pool fun.

Teresa's cousins visited us in Minneapolis.

Teresa's 39 week check up with our FP.

Doctor Visits and Visiting Doctors

2009-06-12T22:40:00.003-05:00

We hardly know what to do with ourselves being surrounded by cool summer weather, well-paved roads and all kinds of ice cream vendors! God has continually blessed us both with faithful supporters to stay overseas. Now we are relying on supporters to stay here. After a great couple of days with the Davis clan in Ft. Lauderdale, we've moved on to stay with T's family in Roscoe, IL. Barb and Mark kept us fed and entertained and showed us off to their friends. We enjoyed sharing our work in Haiti with their small group from Hope E.F. Church.

We're now in our longest static spell. We are co-residing with the gracious Thompson's in Minneapolis (Teresa's sister and bro-in-law and family). The weekly check-ups with Dr. Flad have been going well. Teresa is healthy and so is our baby. Still looking for the magical formula to get Teresa to sleep at night, though.

Yesterday we were able to visit with the Geddes family in Plymouth. On Sunday, Lori is headed to our clinic for a week. She has been to Christianville before and we are really happy that she could make time to come down this summer.

Littlest Missionary Tour

2009-05-25T12:37:00.002-05:00

Dr. J and Lot Bo T have released their most recent schedule:

May 23, 24 Davis Home Ft. Lauderdale

May 25 Haitian Consulate Miami

May 26 O'Hare Airport Chicago

May 27 Fletcher Theater Roscoe, IL

May 29 Hatian Consulate 2 Chicago

June 2 Thompson's old BR Minneapolis

June 4 Luke's B-ball Diamond Minneapolis

July 31ish Granpa Tom's Cabin Anniston, AL

Aug 6 Benedict Lake House Benedict County, TN

*New Baby P will be joining Dr. and T somewhere along the circuit. Shows thereafter will feature the trio.

Generations

2009-05-01T12:29:00.000-05:00

One of the great responsibilities and pleasures we are approaching is the naming of our little girl. Since we don't yet have a name selected, I have enjoyed the side project of selecting grandparent names. Now, on Teresa's side of the family, the grandparents are known as Nana and Grandpa Mark. Good names. Respectable. Solid. Stuck. That's right, there's no changing of previously named grandparents. The only clay I have to work with is on my side of the family. So when I write of "Meemaw" and "Poopsey" coming to visit me, you'll know those are the names I've chosen for my Mom and Dad, respectively. The jury is still out (especially the jury composed of my Mom and Dad), but I think we've found some winners.

So Meemaw and Poopsey came to visit us in Haiti. We really enjoyed them and not just because they helped me finish painting or because they brought us 52 cake mixes. They made us feel special and loved . . . and they paid for us to eat at the guest house! It felt surreal to take a picture of my Dad videoing Jim who was looking at the new baby on the ultrasound. Surreal, but good.

Stealing

2009-04-13T14:48:00.003-05:00

There almost seems to have been a theme around here lately. The last couple of months have been filled with things "not turning up" or "just walking away" to use the popular euphonisms. Our pup, Piper, is probably the most overt offender, if not the most serious one.

Beasts have no qualms about taken things meant for others. Our inner porch is covered by an intentional base layer of white paint that a human put down. It is also accented with earth-tone streaks from puppy paws Piper has deposited while depriving the cat of his food. She continues to grow longer and will soon have no need to jump. Postive - decrease in defacings of the porch. Negative - skinnier, whinier cat.

Besides our cat being defrauded, there was the case of the jogging beef. Teresa and CK and I were on our way back from a grocery run when we unknowlingly picked up a stowaway. This guy held on to our tailgate for who-knows-how-long as he inched our cooler closer to himself. Teresa caught him in the rear view running across the street with our bags. We pulled over, but couldn't tell what was missing. When we got back to C'ville, we were missing 8 lbs. of ground beef (we were shopping for other people too). No taco salad or meaty spaghetti! Good grief. I've got a beef with that beef theif.

That was the only story that I could make rhyme, but there have been so many more. A friend had her purse stolen in town. Some more friends had someone in their home take stuff and hide it from them. Another ministry at our mission had a ton stolen from them by a worker. Two missionary houses were missing money and jewelry after a work day. Somebody I knew took the iPod out of our truck and then lied about it.

Stealing is infuriating. It's a combination of loss of property/idea/time, selfishness on someone else's part, and usually an accompanying powerlessness to rectify. It's especially maddening here where the culture has high regard for cleverness and an emphasis on ends.

The Israelites in the desert didn't have any excuse for tearing their society apart with the sin; sowing mistrust and crippling enterprise. God forbade it in the commandments given to Moses. Stealing happens in a lot of ways and I like the definition Bob Deffinbaugh gave in his sermon from Exodus 20:

"Originally, I thought that a good definition would be: Stealing is getting ahead at another person’s expense. I think this definition has some merit. But upon more reflection, I have decided on this definition: STEALING IS TAKING FROM OTHERS WITHOUT GIVING IN RETURN."

I've stolen in this sense. So has everyone I know. Sometimes the only way I can control myself when I feel a sense of outrage here is to look at how someone has wronged me and think about when I did that to someone or how I can avoid doing it in the future. The Deffinbaugh sermon ends with his thought,

"May God enable all of us to give without expecting to receive anything in return, rather than to take without expecting to give anything in return."

Happy Birthday Maw

2009-03-22T15:49:00.003-05:00

Dear Maw (my mom likes for me to call her this),

What a year, huh? Do you remember last year's birthday. You know, number __ . All of us here were busy with our missionary retreat, so I almost missed calling you. I managed to squeeze in a phone call and talk to you and Dad after a long day. That was the same day Teresa and I talked about starting our relationship.

I got to call you earlier this year, though. I remembered to whip out the Digicel on the way to church and call you guys up before you left the house. My wife was sitting next to me and your soon-to-be grandbaby was bouncing along too, safe with mom as I dodged the cows.
So, it will be a whole 'nother year before your next birthday. What kind of fun stuff do you think we can cook up before then?

Love,
RP

Here's Mom with her dad. She spent her birthday

with him this year.

reMarks II

2009-03-08T20:50:00.003-05:00

And many were gathered together, so that there was no longer room for them, no, not even about the door: and he spake the word unto them. (Mar 2:2 RV)

I like to remember those oil paintings of Biblical scenes we had when I was young and learning about the Bible in Sunday School. I don't know if I saw one of this passage or if I can just picture the same sort in my mind. . .

There is the Master seated on a chair in the one room of the house with his disciples standing behind him, heads cocked trying to take in every good word he says. People are inside and out of the house, but they part in the middle so that we can see Jesus through the front door. There is definitely a crowd, maybe thirty or forty people crammed in and around the house, each well-groomed and taking up his allotted 6 cubic feet of personal space. They are leaning in politely to listen to the Teacher while the glow from His robes silhouettes their profiles for us.

I like to remember those paintings, but I rarely do it now while I'm reading the Bible.

When I read Mark 2:2, I think of those days in our clinics when I can't get in the front door to see the people that want to be seen so badly that they won't let me get in the front door.

I think of the smell of pushing through the crowd and the thigh, arm, head and toe that are touching me while representing for different patients. I think Jesus' talks were like our announcements at the clinic- heard by a few of the closest, but drowned out for the others by political conversations, histrionic appeals for healing and vendors peddling snake oil and fried things. Crowds that want something are a common theme in Haiti - and in the gospels.

Voodoo

2009-03-06T20:22:00.001-06:00

A trip to eye clinic usually means improved clothes, smell and behavior from most of my patients. There are outliers, but the majority fancy up a bit just like Americans do when they are headed to the doctor. This, combined with the fact that Christianville has made many inroads into the community, means that a lot of my days start with looking at a fairly well-dressed, apparently happy crowd singing songs of faith on the clinic porch.

Exposure isn't conversion, though, as my wife's TB test demonstrates. I can't look at the people and know exactly what their life is like at home. There are many independent Christian churches, Baptist churches and Churches of God in our area, but there are also a lot of voodoo temples.

I asked a staff member one time if voodoo temples and/or priests had jurisdictions or if they were nebulous . . . I said I just hadn't seen much of it going on and hadn't thought about it much. He said, "They are all over, especially where I lived on the mountain. A lot of the witch-doctors have come through here. You've prayed with them, before." I didn't know that. He went on, "I always wondered why they let you pray with them. You can watch for them. Usually they are the ones that don't close their eyes and just stare at you when you pray." I had noticed some of that going on.

We had a young man the other day that had some inflammation in his right eye. I was trying to determine onset and asked if his eye had been hit. "Maybe" he said, "I was sick so I don't know what happened to my eye during that time." If I don't understand their individual words I ask them to say it again, but if I know the words they are using, but don't understand what they are saying, I send them to my tech.

I sent the patient for some lab tests, so I knew I would see him again and we could straighten the history out then. When he was gone my tech explained, ". . .he was living with a voodoo priest and passed out. I don't know if that was a seizure or an evil spirit, but he did things he doesn't remember. That's why he said he maybe hit his eye. He's back living with his family know and they wanted him to come to Christianville."

Mat. 12:22, Mark 6:12-13, Luke 8:12, Luke 9:42

TCP

2009-02-25T06:30:00.005-06:00

I've been doing a lot of work the last few months on gettting our internet up and running. Our only real option here is satellite internet so the dish went up at Doug and Amy's house and then we began the long, ugly, arduous task of connecting our house. All that to say, things like gateways and IPs and domain servers and TCP all have a lot of meaning to me right now.

TCP- Transmission Control Protocol definition from Wikipedia

But TCP already had a lot of meaning to me.

TCP- Thomas Chris Price

It's my dad's birthday today so I thought I would feature him here.

To tie the birthday together with the computer stories, here's one I remember of him.

We got a PC when I was 14. I had only been around Windows PC's a few times at school after they ditched the Apple IIE for some shiny new Hewlett-Packards that did things like play CD-ROMs and allow you to change the desktop background.

When we came home one day to find our very own set up in the living room, I felt something like a Jetson or Matthew Broderick from Wargames. Dad hadn't even called a professional, he set the whole thing up himself! Years later, after having to have done the same thing myself a few times I'm still impressed. We were soon heavy into Chessmaster, Mavis Beacon and the Time-Life Encyclopedia on . . you guessed it . . CD-ROM.

So, happy birthday Dad and thanks for doing all those things you did. You know what I mean.

Man/Dog Melodrama

2009-02-16T18:44:00.004-06:00

Unfortunately, over 4% of my blog entries now include doggy demises.

Paco had too many nicknames to fit on a headstone . . .PacPac, 2Pac, Haiti's largest dog, Stanky Dangle . . so his grave is an unmarked plot next to the depot that held his 50lb. bags of food.

There was a garage open yesterday, so I peeked in looking for some extra barbed-wire to cinch up that corner of the fence the ole boy is always jumping over . . oh right, was jumping over.

The ringing of the church bell at 6:00 and 4:00 is a lot quieter without the obligatory howls. I think I laughed every time he did it.

We had a lot of good times in the beginning. Me, dragging him back from the eye clinic, or the English academy or the guest house. Him, dragging laughing toddlers around on his back in the memorial garden. Knocks at the gate dragging both of us out of our lethargy as we sat on the porch in the afternoon sun.

I'm sad to say we weren't that close in the end. He didn't want to see much of us or the house after Teresa and I attempted our hand at veterinary medicine and tackled his swollen ear. It eventually healed, but he remembered.

He died in one of his comfort spots. Lying beside the gate like he had done so many times waiting for me to come home.

It's silly to worry about a relationship with a dog, but T and I talked about that twinge of regret that we had. We don't want any more of that feeling.

Mat 5:22b-24 But whoever says, ‘You fool!’ shall be in danger of hell fire. Therefore if you bring your gift to the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift.

It's a . . .

2009-02-10T14:26:00.005-06:00

I'm going over right now to see the ultrasound of our baby. Teresa is at twenty weeks now, so after today we plan to start concentrating on names for a ti fi or a ti gason. Anybody got any guesses?

Teresa tells all

reMarks

2009-01-10T13:51:00.000-06:00

I am often asked what is different about life in Haiti. The answer is usually a bigger cut than anyone wants to chew on, so I find a way to break it down into smaller peices. One of the interesting things is how I interpret passages of the Bible differently.

We had begun a study of the Gospel of Mark and in reading it with Teresa, I saw the stories unfolding in a new way.

Mar 2:1 And when he entered again into Capernaum after some days, it was noised that he was in the house.

The people had started coming from everywhere to see Christ after he healed a leperous man. He took a small break to go into the desert, but when he returned everybody in town knew it. Whenever we return home after a break there are a few hours of stillness before the knocks at the gate begin. When the people hear that we are home, they come for their monthly installments, to ask for odd jobs to do around our house or to tell us what/who has been injured/fired/promiscuous/damaged and needs to be medicated/compensated/neutered/replaced. Teresa's phone may ring once the first day, but three or four times the second day and more the third. People ask when she will be in Jacmel and assist them or might she be in Port for the weekend and can take care of a debt they have there.

I like that the verse says noised. With screens and not windows between us and the Haiti-scape, we are treated to a Kreyol cacaphony almost around the clock. It is funny to think that some of those conversations are about the Prices who have entered Christianville after some days.

Price Winter Tour Announced

2008-12-07T11:52:00.003-06:00

December 12 & 13 Ft. Lauderdale

mission team update at community christian church

December 13-24th Anniston, AL

the prices with the prices

December 24th-later Roscoe, IL

christmas with barb and mark

earlier-January 8th Minneapolis

freezing with the thompsons

January 8th-10th Anniston, AL

packing with the prices

January 11th Gressier, Haiti

hope someone fed Paco

Second Helpings

2008-11-28T21:25:00.004-06:00

Sometimes when television shows return for their seasonal programming, they play a little catch-up with the viewers -- you know, a collection of short stories about the things that happened while on break.

Hopefully, most people got full on good happenings from family and friends yesterday and it left those narrative bellies stretched and ready for a little more. Chronological order is for the mango birds . . I'm going in come-to-my-head order.

Thanksgiving in Haiti

Some of us spent Thanksgiving (also known around Klinik Je as Franck's birthday) wondering who broke into the mission office and made off with our payroll and assorted other monies. I know the original Thanksgiving was an occasion for the recently arrived Christian Anglos to share and receive bounty with their more entrenched native neighbors, but I think this new interpretation is a little bit of a stretch. Plus, I was still hungry after it happened.

Luke 12:32-34 Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.

Sell that ye have, and give alms; make for yourselves purses which wax not old, a treasure in the heavens that faileth not, where no thief draweth near, neither moth destroyeth.

For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

*Every one at C'ville is fine. We haven't seen confrontational burglaries around here. More dead-of-night, hope-no one-sees-me type of raids.

June 17, 2008

Jabez and Djouly. A little Haitian boy and a little Haitian girl.

Better accounts of Jabez have already been written by those who knew him better and loved him longer - pyesinhaiti.blogspot.com and tinhaiti.blogspot.com. Jabez had a difficult start to life and the family that he was given to didn't keep him. My wife delivered him in Seguin and his mother died shortly thereafter. When he needed a family the Pyes took him and loved him and raised him as their own son. By joining their team he got to be the star of one of Haiti's larger families, the Haitian Children's Home in Jacmel.

I don't know that many outside of Christianville have heard Djouly's story. Djouly had a difficult start to life and the family that she was given to didn't keep her. S and E helped get newborn Djouly into the hospital and then took her home when the hospital didn't do anything for her. E makes sure that she goes to school and eats well and has nice things.

I didn't get to comfort T before she left to comfort our friends in Jacmel after they had lost their little boy. Jabez had died in the morning and she left work as soon as she could. I watched her truck go to the end of Rue Lasalle and then go left and I took a left myself and headed home. I thought it might be her a second later when the phone rang, but it was Djouly's family. She had exited the schoolyard after her kindergarten commencement and seen me across the soccer field. I went over to congratulate her and tell her how nice she looked. Everyone around was so proud of her. A few days later in Jacmel I heard stories from all those that Jabez had touched. Many, many tears and a few laughs and a lot of gratefulness for having known such a blessing of a child. Everyone around was so proud of him.

Bored on the Fourth of July

Php 3:20 For our citizenship is in heaven; from whence also we wait for a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ:

Heb 11:14-16 For they that say such things make it manifest that they are seeking after a country of their own. And if indeed they had been mindful of that country from which they went out, they would have had opportunity to return. But now they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed of them, to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city.

Sometimes American holidays roll by and I don't even remember them. It's hard to forget that one the first week of July, because I never called it Independence Day - it was always just "Fourthovjuly".

Being here while many others were celebrating their being somewhere else made me miss a few things about the States. In particular on this day I was missing the lines. You know the lines at the Post Office or Walmart or filing out on Sunday morning. The nice American queues with 2 to 7 people in front of you and plenty of personal space in between. Lines came to one because I was in one, among one or looking for one - the better part of the morning.

I had to get an exit visa for my trip out in August and I made sure I showed up at the Immigration office in Port early in the morning. I didn't make sure that was the office that I was supposed to be at, so after meandering through some Haitian catacombs and coming out in what looked like a county jail I was informed that where I needed to be was actually Deejee Eee. I didn't know where Deejee Eee was so the office staff kindly repeated the word over and over until I still didn't know where it was. Finally I guy wrote "DGI" on a piece of paper and told me to get a taxi. I didn't tell him that I had my own car.

I headed downtown to where the government buildings are and parked my Mitsubishi in the middle of what looked like a college campus built, abandoned and cursed in the 1950's. I walked around the grand edificed buildings asking and pointing and sweating. Finally a guy selling papitas (fried and salted plantain slivers - yum) gave me a pssst and a thumb jerk. I followed around a couple blocks to where he showed me an abandoned car dealership that had been converted into a corral for people. I slipped my guide some gourdes and moved into my new home, DGI. I stayed in a line, or a mass, or something like a tube of toothpaste where people are the little pastelets, at DEPARMENT GRANDE INSANITIE for a few hours. I'm not sure why everyone else was there, but when I got to the front and all were handing the bouncer five and six pieces of paper I just said, "exit visa". I was able to go straight to a desk give them my info, go to another desk and pick up my info, go to another desk and pay for my visa, go back desk no.2 and get my receipt for my visa, and go back to desk no.3 and get my visa. As I was leaving a man on the street said something very patriotic to me, "Go home white", which reminded me that it was the Fourthovjuly and I remembered.

Note: DGI doesn't really stand for the big insanity department.

Pocket Psalms

2008-06-06T14:17:00.001-05:00

I carried a doubly folded piece of printer paper full of my scribblings to the medical clinic for one thing. I used it for another.

My new fiancee was having something done at the clinic and I wanted to have some things to share with her to calm any anxiety she might have. (She ended up not being very anxious, by the way) I had some various scriptures and one entire Psalm she had committed to memory and that I was trying to memorize.

As I waited for the staff to finish their day, Sandy Wilkins called me in to her office where she and others were praying over a 25 year-old man who had been diagnosed with metastatic cancer. He had also, that day, given his life to Jesus Christ and become his disciple. I didn't really know what to pray, so I turned to what I had been learning.

These are some of the things I was able to pray from Psalm 32:
Blessed is this man whose transgressions are forgiven . . .
Blessed is this man whose sins are covered . . .
While he kept silent his bones wasted away . . .
Let everyone who is godly pray to YOU. . .
YOU are his hiding place . . .
Protect him from trouble . . .
YOU are surrounding him with songs of deliverance . . .
YOUR unfailing love surrounds the man who trusts in YOU . . .

Please say a prayer for this man and his family. We don't know if the Lord will be suffering with this man long, if he will be ushered into glory soon or if God will show His mighty mercy through miraculous healing. God is good.

The Story of Yes

2008-06-03T16:46:00.002-05:00

add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to knowledge self-control, to self-control endurance, to endurance godliness, to godliness preference for your brothers and sisters, to that preference . . .

love.

I wasn't nervous that day, although I had been the days preceding. I had fought for Saturday and yet a lot of the way it worked was just grace. I arrived at the anticipated morning with my cover story intact - the Christianville gang would head to Basin Bleu, near Jacmel, for some weekend fun and to celebrate Stacey Bloomer's birthday. There had been some talk of other destinations, but I held on, gently and repeatedly asking everyone to consider the beautiful waterfall on the south side of the island. Teresa and I started our relationship there. Sitting in the shade of the cliffs, we first talked of a romance between us and committed ourselves to finding God's will for our lives together. I wanted it to be in this place that I would tell her I loved her. That I would ask her to be my wife.

After packing lunches at my house we headed out in Teresa's truck, weather permitting Kyle and Smitty to ride in the bed. T, myself, Stacey and Tiffany were inside the white missile as it headed over the mountains toward Jacmel. T made good time as always, only slowing down to let me drive across the swollen river at the mountain's base. I had given her buddies in Jacmel a heads up about the weekend, hoping they could meet us afterwards for dinner. Danny and Leann did me one better and trawled to Basin Bleu in their GMC Jimmy and brought along a few of the orphans for guaranteed raucous fun.

After the hike to the falls everyone was warm enough to tackle the cool mountain water. Kyle and Ryan Smith immediately went for the high dive, while the rest of us started lunching. I took my own turn later. I'm not sure if Teresa was more surprised that I proposed or that I had jumped off the thirty foot cliff with her engagement ring in the pocket of my swimsuit. Don't worry, it was zipped shut.

One adrenaline rush wasn't enough, so I returned to sit under the waterfall with my lady. I thought the time had arrived, until she jumped off into the pool with one of the little girls. I waited patiently alone until she could be coaxed back for some one on one time. I helped her up next to me as the rest of the group watched from afar. We were in sight but only through the translucent cascade of water that afforded a little privacy and kept my words just for her ears. I guess I have a bent toward speeches, because afterwards everyone asked what took so long under there. In the end, I said a lot of words that we will probably forget. She said one that meant everything.

Read T's version here http://tinhaiti.blogspot.com

Teaser. . .

2008-06-01T01:51:00.002-05:00

The truck was cramped. The weather was cloudy. The river was swollen. The pool was cold. The sandwiches were a little dry. My sandals were uncomfortable. The rock was crowded. The ring didn't fit. She said yes.

A perfect day.

Fear versus . . . (part II)

2008-05-05T15:09:00.000-05:00

An adoption story in first-person. . .

I had just left a meeting with our new guest house coordinators when one of them, Doug, hollered that they needed a car. He and the CV Board President, Mark, had come over yelling something about an abandoned baby. I grabbed a flash and my phone and we jumped in the mean green machine and headed out. We made it a couple of yards before I had to stop for the other people that wanted to go. I let Tingue hop in because he's got the brightest flashlight around and the unknown guy gained passage by being the only one that knew where the baby was. The five of us hurtled through Reserve and out into the muddy plains beyond.

After a couple of rights I figured out which way we were headed and had a small suspicion. "If we end up on the highway I'm going to be upset," I said to no one in particular. Everyone in the car spoke English except the guy that was leading me to the highway through cow pastures instead of the road that came out the other side of Christianville.

We burst out of the bush onto the highway and stopped beside a two story structure that had a smattering of Haitians behind it. We fumbled through the dark to get to this newborn that had reportedly been left in the river.

with a little third-person . . .

Mark: "This is the baby? Umm, this isn't what I expected. She's not a newborn and she looks pretty good."
Me: "She has nice Osh B'gosh clothes on?"
Doug: "She looks pretty good."
Mark: "What do you think doc?"
Me: "Her eyes look fine to me."
Mark: "What should we do doc? You're in charge. Should we take the baby? I mean how does this all work."
Me: "Ummmm."
Doug (holding the baby by now): "How old do you think she is?"
Mark (to the people): "How old is this baby?"
Haitian Chorus: "One month." "Two weeks." "The baby is twenty-two days old."
Mark: "So the baby is 22 days old . . ."
Me: "Mark, I don't think they know how old the baby . . "
Doug: "How do they know how old the baby is if she was abandoned . . "
Me: "Okay. What's the baby's name?"
Haitian Chorus: "How should we know?"
Me: "Oh. They're onto us now. It didn't work."
"We should leave the baby with them until the morning and come back."
Tingue: "The police say the baby has to go to an orphanage."
Me: "Well, we can talk to the police in the morning."
Tingue: "They're here."
Me: "Where?"
Unknown guy from my car: "Here."
Me: "This guy is the police? How do we know he is police?"
Tingue: "I voted for him."
Mark: "I guess that settles that."

with a very little sixth person . . .

So five guys and a baby girl headed back to Christianville where she would receive a thorough looking-over, a diaper change and an attempted Christening. Rita, Amy and Sue awaited to shower her with attention and baby wipes while we were given the challenge of naming her. Rita wanted to use letters from all the rescuers names. Some of the better efforts were Dorymatin and Marydot. My personal favorite was Ti Dork. She was eventually named Magna by the woman that took her - the sister of one of our Medical Clinic workers. I guess a mother knows.

Fear versus . . .

2008-05-03T19:39:00.001-05:00

Multiple choice "When I feel afraid I want to . . . "

A. Get over it
B. Be comforted
C. Have my mind taken off of it
D. Wallow in pity

The Bible offers: E. Be adopted.

For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. Romans 3:15a

Literally, to be placed as a son of God. The answer isn't to ignore fear, analyze fear, forget fear or fear fear. The fear may be legitimate. It could be something we don't understand, something we can't handle, something we've faced before and failed at. That's why the answer is to be put under an abba Father that knows all, handles everything and never fails.

I've spent several of my weekends at the beach with workers and kids from two orphanages in Jacmel. Teresa has been long time friends with the Pye's from Haitian Children's Home and Michelle from Hands & Feet project Haiti. When their respective bus and pick-up unload, the serene Caribbean coast erupts in a cacophony of girly giggles, boys lining up impromptu soccer sides and toddlers munching on sand and coconuts.

One such Samdi, I was playing keep away in the ocean with a little plastic ball - which is terrific fun when you are two feet taller than the other players. One little guy never got distracted and kept calling for me to throw, which I did ad numbneum. There were plenty of kids playing, but they would wander in and out of the water and get involved in other games. This guy was sold on the ball game. He was hesitant around the other kids and played with a nervous energy that increased to a noticeable awkwardness when the other kids were getting ready to leave. I still didn't know whose were whose, so I looked at Danny Pye and said, "This isn't one of your kids is it?" "Nope." I knew he wasn't. He didn't have the same happy, smiling peace as the other ones.

I don't know if the little guy was an orphan. Maybe he had parents, but they weren't visible. Maybe he was taken to the beach by some friends. He could have been one of the coconut boys who comb the beach, selling fruit that's not theirs for money they can't keep. I saw us leave together and him leave alone.

There was a conversation later as to if the children in the homes ever resented their restrictions or discipline. The answer was "Maybe, but they know they have it so much better inside these walls."

Quiet Riot

2008-04-15T14:12:00.000-05:00

Everyone wants to know how things are down here. Well, let me explain how well informed I am. On my way to airport Saturday with Teresa, her mom and Stacey, my Dad called to tell me that the Parliament was working on ousting Prime Minister Alexis. I was driving in Port, about 3 miles from the Parliament building and he was sitting in Choccolocco, Alabama. The Intraweb is a powerful thing.

Christianville life has continued with little signs of the strife just outside. My patient count was definitely down since folks couldn't cross all the blockades on the highway, but we stayed open each day and all my employees showed. Sue Witt had to move back her with her babies because the area down the highway a bit was getting rowdy. Teresa had a rock thrown at her car and a couple of flats from all the debris. The Medical Clinic had some tough days because some of their Haitian employees couldn't come and sending patients to the hospital in the capital became almost an impossibility. Stacey had to postpone a trip home, but only for a couple of days. All the burning Goodyears reminded everyone here of the bad years. However, my tires weren't stolen for the conflagrations. My yard has been free from unruliness, unless you count the bougainvillea bush I had to whip into shape Friday. Aside from the normal Paco / Skippy spats, I haven't witnessed any violence. Simply put, my week was spent in a quiet place inside the roiling surroundings.

There's a book on my bookshelf which I am rather ambivalent about. It was written by Elisabeth Elliot, which is exciting. It is a collection of short essays to be used as a devotional, which is disappointing. It's called Keep a Quiet Heart and she shares one of her own poems in the Introduction.

Lord, give me a quiet heart
That does not ask to understand,
But confident steps forward in
The darkness guided by Thy hand.

My daily distractions don't normally come in the form of riots, but they still come. We all need a quiet place and sometimes a suitable location can't be found.
In speaking of the discipline of solitude, Richard Foster writes:

Solitude is more a state of mind and heart than it is a place. . .if we possess
inward solitude we do not fear being alone, for we know that we are not alone.
Neither do we fear being with others, for they do not control us. In the midst
of noise and confusion we are settled into a deep inner silence. Whether alone
or among people, we always carry with us a portable sanctuary of the heart. -1

Isa 26:3 Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.

1- Celebration of Discipline, Richard Foster. 1978

The Feat

2008-03-20T08:11:00.000-05:00

So I'm telling stories that happened a little while ago. I guess that called being backblogged. Hopefully the excuse of needed reflection will serve as deflection for any objection born in dejection of those sensing rejection at my neglection of this section.

I got to build a road the other day! That's not the whole story - that goes like this . . .

On a Saturday past, four of us went to Seguin. On a Saturday past, four of us . . . That's a joke (Because it's pronounced Say Ghen) Seguin is the part of Haiti that looks like the Pyrinees mixed with one of the sets from the original Star Trek series. The limestone rock gardens popped up from the ground, teeth set in a brown, dusty jaw, and snapped at our steel underbelly. Providentially, none of them popped through the tires propelling our escort, which was a Ford, but not an Escort. It was a Ranger.

I was glad to rise above the tropical heat and find the misty coolness at 5,??? feet. I was also glad to trade in Dokte for some other titles:

Feeder and Rescuer of Sheep
My lunch was not only pleasantly augmented by the sandwiches Sandy, Stacey and Teresa brought, but also by the sheep that stood watching from across the stream, just in man-throw-reach of my surplus baby carrots. After the noon meal we meant to wade through the sheep again on our way to visit "The Cave of Wonders". One of the spooked woolies needed my help, though, as she and her leash were caught in some brambles. Sandy waxed Biblical as I avoided butt butting and tried to help the one that had gone astray. I took her muddy rope from around the bush and led her to a tree nearby for re-hitching. I wonder what the sheepdude thought when he came back?

Builder of Byways
We took a different road down the mountain than we had up. The "People of Taiwan" had supplied the concrete that bolstered the switchbacks on the serpentine highway and reminded us of the fact with anpil signage. One place the POT let us down was in a narrow corner about halfway down the mountain, where there is only room to drive if a bus isn't broken down in the middle of the road. Well, we did have a bus, and it was busted. We tried a quick run round the bus with our daredevil driver inching the white truck forward while I stood on the cliff and told her what percentage of her tires was rolling on thin air. It wouldn't fit, but I wasn't in love with our other options of waiting until the driver returned with help to repair the bus or turn around and burn an extra two hours on the road. I took a sharp rock and started hacking away at the problematic slope so we could terrace it and fill it in with rocks to make the road wider. One guy kept me astigmatic by pulling a large thorn out of the path of my hammering hand, but mostly the other strandeds just engaged in that most Haitian of traditions, gawking at someone doing something. (Actually, before it was done, a guy with a pick axe materialized to do the lion's-share of the work and two of the little boys helped me carry big rocks over to him.) I now have a video of the truck driving over Haiti's newest mountain pass.

Undisputed Champion of the Spelling Game Played in Cars
I don't remember who taught me the game . . Phil, Allison, Kara, Jodie? I've played it in three countries now and find it to be much superior to any car games that involve counting things. Well you start with a letter and the next person has to add a letter to the front or back of the last letter without forming a word and so on and so on. If my memories haven't been altered, Stacey quit the game, Teresa got out on seborrheic, and Sandy was disqualified for putting an "x" before s-k-i-p-p-e to form ex-skipper. (She was later able find the word in newspapers and magazines but no peer-reviewed journals)

More significant things than my personal reincarnations were part of our trip too. In the hills of Seguin, below the mountain's top, there is a medical clinic. Built with a school and a church, it has a few exam rooms, a crooked satellite dish, a porch for star-gazing and clothes not-drying. It can get a little cool inside and a lot dark. It has full glass windows to let the light in and keep the clouds out. For over six years it has also had Teresa Murphy. She followed God's call to a hard place to do the hard work - alone in medical ministry among the mountain poor. It can be hard to appreciate those who stay - until, that is, their stay is up. We went with Teresa to see her home because she will leave soon to join us at Christianville. We have all joined her in prayer for a person to follow after her there. I won't say a replacement.

The Foot

2008-03-05T14:01:00.000-06:00

I like my right foot. It's a little bit more coordinated than my left - a result of hardwiring and those favored hours with a soccer ball. It is rotated clockwise away from the midline of my leg - a result of who knows what - but I still get along pretty well with it. It's a shade smaller than my left (I've heard 50% of people have different size feet). All in all I'm attached to my foot, and it to me. So, it was disconcerting to see it winking at me after swelling outside my shoe, sock and scrub pants leg the other day. The reason my leg terminated in a pink blob had something to do with the blister I got over the weekend. Apparently open wound + Haiti dirt = infection and cellulitis.
One of the benefits of the bacteria battle that ensued was a refamiliarization with my body's reaction to antibiotics. Erythromycin and I have a long history. The pediatrician would always prescribe this for me when I had my semiannual case of bronchitis. The tale went like this - I would take the pills and go to school. Mom would check me out of school because the sounds of my vomiting in the bathroom disturbed the other students. I would spend a day in bed while Mom called the doctor for another option. We did this many times. I figured since I'm an adult now, I could try the medicine again and could control my body in a better fashion. This was not the case.

On to the cephalosporins and their cousins the carbacephems. There is a 50% cross over of allergy with penicillins and cephalosporins. I can't remember taking penicillin because my folks always told me I was allergic to it. Well I figured I probably wasn't actually allergic and even if I was it wouldn't matter if I took a cephalosporin. The rash on my limbs appeared within 12 hours and the hives on my back within 24. Good knowing you Lorabid.

Congratulations to my new companion Ciprofloxacin. The infection in my foot is subsiding, the nausea is gone and my complexion is getting complements again. Also one of the rare side effects is changes in color vision. I'm kind of excited about that one. I'm ready for some new colors.

*That's a picture of my left foot from a couple of years ago . . . so close to being relevant.

The Feet

2008-03-04T14:09:00.000-06:00

Week summary blogs seem like a ducking maneuver, but a couple of those are what follow. Apologetically yours . . .

Isa 52:7 How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace, that bringeth good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!

Thank God for our recent visitors from Illinois College of Optometry. The students in their fluorescent scrubs, rolled through our clinic like a multicolored ball of smile energy. Dr. Mike Hutton from Pennsylvania kept us grounded with his experience and Nittany Lions attire. Watching the students work (and helping only rarely) removed me from the daily grind and demonstrated anew what our ministry is here. Loving people in the name of Christ by doing what we know how to do. Two of the guys in the group weren't eyeball inclined, so they cut and welded and fitted and bolted until a church without a roof got one.
The report I kept hearing around here was that the local people were drawn to the group, not necessarily because of the what, but because of the how and why. Men and women left their comfort couch, obeyed a specific call of Christ in their life and spent a week as servant leaders. Churches have been built here before and eyes are examined every week, but all those feet bringing good news sounded a distinct cadence that attracted.

On Saturday, I went with some of those feet as they climbed our backyard mountain. We bonjoued and gasped our way to the two churches on top of Ti Boucan. The mountain top was quieter than the mountain road and for our first moments at the summit church our only companions were the three men readying the sanctuary for Sunday service. They brought us chairs to stand around until self-reliance gave way to gratitude. We stretched and sighed and picked at the complainers. I picked at a blister and tried to pull my tiny ankle sock over the spot so my Sketchers wouldn't spill any more blood on the downward trek. Little did I know that blister would change my life forever. Or at least make the next week of my life feel like forever.

Count your many seconds

2008-02-15T17:01:00.000-06:00

What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him, and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him, And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?
(Job 7:17-18 RV)

It happens to me all the time, especially when driving in Haiti. I'll bet it happens to you too. That is, when we have a moment that effects a lot of the other moments around it. Sometimes I'll see an problem on the road in front of me and remember those 12 seconds I "wasted" looking for my phone at home. The other day I checked the locks on the clinic doors three times instead of the usual two. That optional tardiness led to a pathscrossing at the exit with someone I needed to speak to. I've literally dropped things under a bed or couch before, only to retrieve them and also find a missing reciept, a forgoten assignment or an essential document. Yesterday, I was a little rattled because we got off to a late start, again. At our normal morning prayer time no one was ready. I decided against what seemed to be better judgment and let everything play out -- you know, just see what would happen.
We lost just short of an hour of work time on a day with no shortage of patients. The grumpy doc force-smiled and prayed his way through the normal stopping time and on to the new standard. All those decisions and actions added up to a certain amount of time. It was the same amount that it took one family to get their father to the clinic that day. When I was ready to leave, an employee apoligetically stopped me and said that a patient had just arrived and he looked like he was in bad shape. He had been hit with a rock four days ago and now had severe infection involving the whole right orbit. After a quick look, we gave them fair to get to the hospital and a letter instructing what medicines to give him I.V. He probably could have found someone to attend to him elsewhere, but he found us. He found us open when we could have easily not have been. I don't mean to make our God out to be a kind of cosmic micro-manipulator, but seconds interact with seconds, opportunities weave with choices and the odds get exponentially smaller. He's got to be in the moments too.

A Walk to Remember

2008-02-01T11:45:00.000-06:00

Not that it is noticeable, but my shoes acquired a new layer of dirt today. I followed someone out of Christianville and to their village so I could see what they were talking about. Their house, actually. There had been some problems finishing it and they wondered if I could help. I could have driven some of the way, but would have had to get out of my machin eventually, so we legged it. The breeze was very pleasant and I might have avoided perspiration entirely except for the circulation-killing daypack hanging off my shoulder blades. To avoid the dragster motorcyclists on the straightaway we took the highroad - a little footpath on the bank. You would think people feet would make a wider swath than the hobbit trail we were on. The dark streak cut in the tufts of green was only about 10 inches wide. The earth looked really fertile. Like if you were to trim your toenails there the ground would grow feet. The geography changes so quickly on walks around here. Flat pasture, rolling creek banks, thick tufts of trees, rocky paths that disappear behind thickets, brown heaps of mountains. We passed lots of people and heard lots of bonswa's (and some "hey you's"). I saw some patients of mine. One, who fights a corneal dystrophy, was riding her bike home from school. She had on the normal school attire. Shiny black shoes, maroon skirt, white blouse and a red University of Wisconsin sideways on her head. She said hello too. I finally got a look at the house, and it does need some work. Right now, four people are staying in the room with a roof. I'll show you what I mean with the picture. Google sketchUp is great!
By the way, there are a lot of books that have been left at my house here over the years. I read a certain one last night. That Mr. Sparks should be ashamed of himself.

The Psalmist

2008-01-31T23:42:00.000-06:00

My friend drew the legal pad from his backpack and flipped the yellow sheets back until he found what he wanted. So; he did have evidence for me. I had asked him if he was writing. He's had a lot of free time lately and, knowing him, I suspected that he was. The lyrical French text was lost on me, but I realized what it was from the numbered stanza form. He hadn't been able to attend the youth conference at his church this year, but he provided them with an original song. It was taken from one of the Great Physician chapters, Matthew 9.
The evangelical vignettes do seem to lend themselves to verse. Jesus is explaining himself through words and deeds. He is brought a man with palsy and cleanses him from sin. When the Pharisees grumble he makes him to walk again, as well. He calls Matthew out of a toll booth and goes to dinner with his crowd, the tax collectors and sinners. He explains to the disciples of John why his disciples don't busy themselves with attempts at righteousness and simply enjoy the presence of the Lord. While he was on the way to heal an official's daugther a faithful woman was made whole again just from touching his garment. He gave sight to two blind men according to their faith and a mute man gave praise when Christ banished the demon from him.
To visit my friend I had to drive some miles down the road and enter a locked gate. A guard on bicycle led me from there. His was a funny silohuette; knees bent and thighs out ninety degrees from his body. The bike was a medium, but he was an extra large. The denizens smiled as the circus went by - a giant on a bicycle and a blanc in a green Montero. My approach took me past seven concrete block buildings with open windows and doors. Men were sitting around talking quietly or playing cards. A few women were walking, there heads and hands conspicuously free from burdens.
It's not my place to say why my friend's thoughts centered on the healing Christ, the caring Christ, the Christ who visited; but I do know where he was when he was writing them down. This place is secluded for a reason - it's a sanitorium. Those with tuberculosis come here to stay and to recieve treatment, as he has for the last two months. The houses are organized by severity of disease. He started out in one where people died every day. Now he is in a house were they don't. He has a bed against one of the walls in an open room, just like the other twenty men do. He keeps his belonging in a backpack or under the bed. He's weary of this place, but hopes to be out soon. He said he hadn't written lately because he had lost his pen. I knew that one in my shirt pocket would come in handy one day.

A Different Different

2008-01-29T22:22:00.000-06:00

Today I hung out with some friends, hit the office supply store, got some pizza and watched CNN. I always tell folks it's different here, but that probably sounds a little like your Saturday, huh? Well I'll stick to my guns. My friends were two ladies who have committed themselves to poking, prodding, sticking and sometimes healing Hatian people. One drove, while we other two dug in and fought the two score mosquitoes that had seemingly spawned overnight in the back seat of the truck. It took the white Ford ranger an hour to get to the office store, in spite of our chauffeur's Craftsmen-series-level abilities. We double-parked, jumped the sewer/gutter, dodged the shoeshine boys and split up as I went to look for file folders at Stetcher S.A.. I haven't had the file-cabinet themed Kreyol lesson yet, so I was struggling a bit to communicate my needs to the desk attendant. T walked in about that time and came to my rescue. I asked her how to describe file folders. She looked at the lady and said "File folder". The lady pointed upstairs. Wish I had thought of that.
I found what I needed and the attendant upstairs counted them and wiped them down at one desk and then took me to another desk to bag them. She warned me not to carry the bags by the handles as that would expose me to the unnecessary risk of spilled folders in the sewer/gutter when the bags would most surely split along the bottom seam. Business here has that old-fashioned TLC.
If you're in the mood for Americana in Port-au-Prince the only question is Domino's or Domino's? We hit the red, white and blue pizzeria in Petionville about 1:00. I always like to affirm the enterprises that accept credit cards, so I offered my Visa when our total was set. I stood at the counter and the automatic card reader sat in the corner as employee patiently called in my number over the phone. He schucked my little rectangle through the card printer twice and gave me one of the receipts. I think he thought he was finished, and acted a little surprised when I signed the receipt, pulled out the carbon for myself and returned the paper to him. He looked confused so I told him he didn't need the other receipt. He tore up that receipt and then blew out a breath and asked "Sa va?" I said, "Sa va." The pizza was delivered to our table in 30 minutes or less, was blessed, and then eaten. Pretty good stuff.
I got to watch CNN at a nice store with household appliances, furniture and supposedly parts for diesel generators. T went downstairs to the parts . . well, department, to get started on the negotiations. S and I stayed upstairs and tried to looked interested in the patio furniture and blenders. I took up a folded arm pose in front of one of the TVs and caught up on happenings in the US (What's this about Birmingham drag racing?). When two or three Haitians replicated my posture I got a little self-conscious and went downstairs to check on the generator parts conference. T had in hand a Model name and number and part number, but was ultimately foiled. The parts-guy, mechanic types kept disappearing and reappearing with things not needed, laughed and smiled a lot, made us feel like we didn't know what we were doing, and never showed up with things needed. I guess things aren't that different here. No offence, UK.

Emergent C

2008-01-11T10:44:00.001-06:00

The first week back is full of firsts. The first meal - a peanut butter chunk protein bar. The first mission team - a group of 7 from Illinois, Michigan and Colorado. The first gecko incident - opening a cupboard having one scurry to the ceiling and one launch onto my chest. The first (and second and third) reminder to buy meds - Serge crooning "We need Diamox. . . Diamahooooox." And the first emergency.

The pastor next door came over Sunday afternoon to grab me. I had just come back from getting diesel for my machin and an all important 100 gourde digicel card for my phone. Between breaths he said someone had called from Leogane and he had to get there right away. Already wary of loaning my car out and ready to see the action, I volunteered to drive. We didn't go through the town but took the bypass which consisted of a paved road that continues for a short distance. Then we drove over the surface of the moon before the pavement picked up again. I pulled over under watermelon tree (at least that's what it looked like) and joined the group already headed down into the small gathering of homes. We wandered through the chickens and pig puppies until our guide stopped to duck into a plywood house. He came back in a minute with an ancient wooden chair, presumably for the doctor, and a washtub-sized load of mangoes. He gathered to him an oil jug full of milk and then started fiilled a plastic sack until it stretched and bulged with the green fruit. All of this was done slowly and casually as an old woman joined us and kissed us on the cheek. I was waiting for them to tell us about the fire, or sick person or polluted water when the pastor explained - this was the emergency. He had visited and helped the family in the past and now they had something to give back to him and it couldn't wait another day. That's what I call urgent caring . They were so happy to pay back just a little of what he had given. I bet they're the kind of folk that throw elbows and jump pews to get to the offering plate.

Waiting's the Worst

2008-01-04T23:29:00.000-06:00

The airline, which will remain anonymous, we'll call it AA for Anonymous Airlines, had a melee on it's hands. I've never been part of a riot, but the area in front of Gate D 39 of Miami International came close, what with the shouting and pointing and Miami 5-0. After my flight was cancelled I did a lot of waiting. Maybe it's not so bad. I had time to remember what it was like the first time I flew out alone for Haiti. I had time remember that laughing at things that are out of my control is a lot easier on digestion. I had the chance to meet a young woman going to Haiti to administer some parochial schools. I had the chance to listen to her questions and even answer a few of them. I had the privilege of standing next to a pastor from Port-au-Prince and a violin instructor from Jacmel. I had the time to get some Cuban food and even a milkshake -

"Tiene Batidos?"
"Si."
"Me gustaria fresa."
"No tenemos fresa."
"No tiene fresa. Que triste. Chocolat."

-even if it wasn't strawberry.

Most of all I had a free refresher course in what it is like not to get my way. I guess that's not so bad.

Checkered Baggage

2007-12-06T15:59:00.000-06:00

So before I get to the US I have to stop here in Miami for a little while. I do love John Candy, but not really the planes, trains and automobiles. We made it from my door to the American Airlines counter in an hour and twenty minutes, which sounds fantastic if you have driven the route. It's less impressive if you have seen the route on a map. We're talking twenty-something miles. I met some nice guys in the airport that were returning to Georgia after working in Haitian orphanages. They asked if I knew the orphanage. I didn't, though. There are probably as many orphanages in Haiti as churches in Alabama. So far I've said Mèsi to three airline officials. None of them were Haitian. I had the opportunity to fill out two customs declarations – mine and the guy's next to me. I hoped it was because his English was poor and not because he didn't want his handwriting on anything that could be considered evidence. After we landed and had a round of applause for the pilot, I started the 16 mile hike through Miami Interanational. I had a moment of panic when I dropped a tissue into the toilet in the airport. The automatic flush made mince-meat of it, though, and I was rushed back into the world of ample water pressure. By the way, I'm coming home for a holiday break. Gripping tales of the life in the bush in Choccolocco, Alabama to follow. Feel free to drop by, give me a call or bring me some prostaglandin analogs.

Kid Stuff

2007-12-04T07:14:00.000-06:00

Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.

Now when I passed by thee, and looked upon thee, behold, thy time was the time of love; and I spread my skirt over thee, and covered thy nakedness: yea, I sware unto thee, and entered into a covenant with thee, saith the Lord GOD, and thou becamest mine. Ezekiel 16:8

and walk in love, even as Christ also loved you, and gave himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God for an odour of a sweet smell. Ephesians 5:2

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39

Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself up for it; Ephesians 5:25

But God commendeth his own love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8

Hereby know we love, because he laid down his life for us: and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. I John 3:16

Herein was the love of God manifested in us, that God hath sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him. I John 4:9

Untitled

2007-11-30T22:44:00.000-06:00

I had a mentor that liked to repeat, "Remember, everyone has a story."
Obvious isn't it? Well it may be, but I usually like to concentrate on my story. "Move that hunk o' junk tap-tap and let someone that took Driver's Ed have a chance at the road!" "Can't you make your kid stretch out over only one pew at a time, I'm trying to be a respectable preacher-listener here!" That's my usual fog of existence, but sometimes it lifts. Sometimes I have a moment with a person and realize that they've had a lot of moments before that one.
Normally, the number of unread books and ceiling fans at my house would keep my indoors on a free day, but today I went for a walk. With the clinics and schools, Christianville is a relative hot-bed of afternoon activity, but the area gets bucolic pretty fast. I hung a gouche at the soccer field and within a couple of minutes of walking, it was just me the cows and the banana trees. I did hear a few hey you's *, but it was mostly tranquil. I decided to climb the mountain road despite risk to life and limb. The path isn't that treacherous, it's just the mounted motorcyclists of death that come hurtling down the mountain with their engines off and 2 to 3 passengers in tow that cause the problems. I think most of us around here have had a weak moment when we wanted to throw a chain in their spokes as they passed. Today was no exception, I made a couple of hasty retreats behind bushes when the daredevils approached. Part of the way up the mountain, one of the bikers waiting for a fare haled me and I went over. I made the mistake of answering in Kreyol so we were doomed to stuttering and repeating next to his bike with Ronaldo and Zhang Ziyi painted on the front. His name was RoRo and he lived close to Christianville and went to the church of one of my employees. He asked me about America and if we had big mountains. He asked if I had a car and had traveled to Florida. He wanted to know if I was able to finish school and then told me that he had not been able to. He's 29 now and still wants to graduate. He had to quit and get a job some years back when his mother died. His English is pretty good, but I think he liked hearing my Kreyol. When we finished he offered to give me a ride, but I was still in a walking mood. He eventually got a fare and they passed later, waving. I walked home thinking maybe these guys are more than grim reapers with two-cycle engines. Does everyone have a story? I think so, and the title is not so important.

**(Hey you's are ubiquitous around here. They occur when a Haitian that knows only two words of English sees a white person. It does no good to respond to or ignore a hey you; they just keep coming either way.)

Mesi Anpil

2007-11-17T15:14:00.000-06:00

It's that time of year to start making our lists. Mine is a little different this year.

I'm thankful for pavement, concrete, even cobblestone.
I'm thankful for powder blue helmets and flak jackets on men far from home.
I'm thankful for spacious, seaworthy containers.
I'm thankful for trustworthy Bible translators.
I'm thankful for email and encouraging notes.
I'm thankful for family and the times that we spoke.
I'm thankful for classmates who choose to give
when they have their own new adventures to live.
I'm thankful for the ol' Memorial clan
and how they rose to support the plan.
I'm thankful for those, who true in the past,
Continue on now, so the clinic will last.
I'm thankful for propane and water and light.
I'm thankful for batteries that last through the night.
I'm thankful for Misyes who hike miles
to the new country doc.
I'm thankful for Madanms, all smiles
and winks when they talk.
I'm thankful for tutors and mentors and friends
and all of the hours we've managed to spend
laughing, studying, working, and playing.
Eating, crying, singing, and praying.
I'm thankful for Titus and James and Luke.
I'm thankful for my new reading nook.
I'm thankful for prayers from the saints back at home.
I'm thankful for the Spirit, given freedom to roam.
I'm thankful for God and His just, only Son,
I'm thankful for life, that's just only begun.

Dirty Water, Wash Me Clean

2007-11-14T07:14:00.000-06:00

And his servants came near, and spake unto him, and said, My father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldest thou not have done it? how much rather then, when he saith to thee, Wash, and be clean? (2Ki 5:13)

Naaman's response to promised cleansing was outrage. It was going to be straightfoward, and . . . common. He got stuck on the method, which seemed mundane, and forgot about the result, which was to be miraculous. There just aren't units to measure this stuff. Which uses up the most faith - living modestly or praying expectantly? Is there more obedience in a heroic task or a muddy bath?

The other day when I was in front of the mirror checking for mosquito bites, I half expected to see a large indentation on my back. It has undergone a lot of patting recently. I even enjoyed it sometimes, when folks would tell me what great faith I showed in coming here. It's rather outrageous to move to a new country like that. But no, no. It's the obedience that is outrageous, not the circumstances of it. What would happen if I obeyed in the "common things"? Loving the patients as I pray for them. Treating my employees without partiality. Controlling my tongue so that blessing and cursing don't come from the same spring. Hitting my knees in intercession whenever the Spirit directs. I am convinced God will work as mightily through and get as much glory from these "everyday" faith challenges.

The passage ends up being double-edged. Naaman gets the chance to exercise his faith in a more daring way, but begs out of it. We don't see our opportunties as God does. Some will look big and others small. Our hope is obeying in all.

Wash me clean, dirty water

2007-11-06T11:46:00.000-06:00

The baptism of Amilton, or "how I spent my Saturday", reminded me of the verses about Naaman in 2 Kings. The verses about Namaan remind me of other things.

He saved us—
not by works of righteousness that we had done,
but according to His mercy,
through the washing of regeneration
and renewal by the Holy Spirit.
- Titus 3:5

I drove the baptism taxi on Saturday as we swung by the children's home to pick up a young man that had given his life to Christ last Sunday. Then the 8 of us, in a 7 passenger car went down 1 muddy road. The road to the ocean ( aka : largest local baptistery) was quite treacherous, but I had my 4-wheel Hi and plenty of backseat assistance. We finally stopped when the speed required to jump one bog looked to be detrimental to the cow standing on the other side. A quarter-mile hike through cane fields with the sea breeze in your face isn't a bad way to start a baptism service, though. I felt pretty safe with the cow guarding my vehicle and all. At the beach Jeff and Johnny did the immersing, my only contributions being finding the baritone part on "There's power in the blood"-kreyol version and picking Amilton up out of the sea so that he could put his shoes on without getting his feet sandy. He's just as serious and cool as the next Haitian teenager, but he couldn't help but smile as we clapped and hollered as he came out of the water.

Jacmel

2007-10-29T08:03:00.000-05:00

If Port-au-Prince is Les Miserables and Gressier Grapes of Wrath, then Jacmel is Treasure Island and Horatio Hornblower and Lord Jim. On Friday night my company, along with half of the island's southern UN contigent stayed at La Caplamandou - a staggered set of salmon and coral hotel sub-sets sitting high above, well, Cape Lamandou on Haiti's southern coast. It's the kind of place you expect see guys with peg-legs and rotten teeth hauling an oaken chest out of the crags and into the surf. I had my first and second Haitian ham and cheese sandwich at the hotel and my first hint of a Haitian sun tan (Remember optometrists are pretty much cave dwellers - inside with dim lights all day long). I spent most of my time as wingman and de facto money counter for the guy we were meeting in Jacmel. He and his family were watching out for an orphanage on that tip of the island. The tan is fading fast but the memories will last. Of Madame Jack - who has a bucket at her hardware store that you can put something worthless into, like a personal check, and get something magical back, like lots of Haitian Gourdes. Of the two unfinished concrete structures that will one day be finished housing for 60 orphans from the mountains. Of the shadey parking spot we took a safe distance away from the goat market so that the price per goat-pound wouldn't go up when the blancs were spotted. Of beaming children piling out of a truck at another orphanage run by the Audio Adrenaline frontman's parents. Of the little girl who was rescued after being born in the hole of a outhouse, how she survived the long fall and how the police that found her suggested the name she now has: Cristala - "Christ was there".

And the lesser to rule the night

2007-10-28T23:01:00.000-05:00

The advice was short, direct and usually heeded. Don't drive in the dark in Haiti. It's easy for a homebody like me to follow such a rule, but I also felt like I was missing half the country; so I wasn't too unhappy when the sun was busy elsewhere at the time we headed out on Friday. Christianville's director, his wife and daughters, another American and I piled into our ride at about 1900 in order to make the trip over the mountains and join another family already in Jacmel. Haiti is beautiful at night - and only partly because the roadside styrafoam doesn't reflect moonbeams too well. I watched steel gray palm silhouettes race across the dark blue background. The shorter wavelength palette was accentuated with little creamy orange flickers, a mystery to me until we pulled over in Carrefour-Dufort to get a snack for the lady. Aha - little candles suspended in old plastic buckets where the women sold fried chicken and pork and condensed milk and Advil. We started over the mountains and I gazed out my porthole and hoped our captain was watching the road. Me I was too - Haiti is beautiful at night! - busy looking at the mountains. Varying layers of silver-tinged navy that looked like slices of a cake that rose unevenly. (No Serge Cake references please) By day they look just like Columbus described them to the Spanish court. When Rey Ferdinand and Reina Isabella needed a description of the new land, "Double C" reportedly crumpled a peice of parchment in his hand and let it fall on the table. Glory to God for His crumplings and beauty in places that need it the most.

The Serge Cake

2007-10-24T13:59:00.000-05:00

The Serge "Extraordinaire" Hilaire birthday party was today. The birthday was yesterday, but my only driving employee was absent and I lent my manchin to a visiting mission team. I also didn't feel like making a cake on Monday night. Well, I didn't feel much more like baking last night - but I did - and so we have the Serge cake. Besides having a really nice and rhymeable name, Serge is a good worker and deserves a birthday cake. The Serge cake is a German chocolate base from a mix bought in Carfeurre. Their is no traditional topping because someone didn't know that stuff had to be bought separately from the cake mix box. Oops. That is not to say there isn't a topping, though. I mixed up some white chocolate jello with condensed milk and then saw that there was no way that was going to work. It looked a lot like chunky mayonnaise and is now buried in the middle of the cake as a surprise. I then found some french vanilla jello mix and combined it with milk and extra milk powder to make it more proteinaceous. It looked a lot like mustard so I gave serious consideration to making a hamburger cake. I added some confectioner's sugar to make it sweeter and give it the right color and consistency for a topping. That didn't really work either. Early this morning as I drizzled it over the Serge cake, I realized it looked less like the cake was wearing a nice outer layer and more like it had a serious infection. In a last ditch effort I wiped off the goo with paper towels, laid down a cut-aluminum-foil "S H" on the cake and dusted it with powdered sugar. I could then pull of the aluminum and have my honored employee's initials in relief. I scooped the cake up and took off to work. Cool cake + Haiti weather = wet cake . . so the powdered stuff soon melted away. I forgot about the Serge cake during patient hours and when I found it this afternoon there were two billion black ants feasting on the powdered sugar on the cake plate. They were not, however, eating the cake. Hmmm. Is that good or bad?

In memoriam

2007-10-17T14:15:00.000-05:00

I got the sad news about Thumper a couple of days ago. He was ever my friend and ally. Here's a list of some good memories. If you were privileged to meet him - whether in the piranha-like frenzy of his youth, or as a grumpier, older version of himself - perhaps you too have a memory. Feel free to add in the comments section.

When he ate Lauren's homework

The little black streak running around in the Blizzard of '93

When he ate 8 Little Debby cakes (and they say chocolate kills dogs, huh)

The time we put him in the dryer (we didn't turn it on)

When he ate the magazines under Lauren's bed

The numerous times he rolled our house, the inside that is

When he desperately wanted to eat Lauren's stuffed moose

His kamikaze attacks on the couch

When he used to try to eat my hands (pretty much his first two years of life)

The flute incident*

The story of the flute is too epic to place here, but if you leave an email address I will send it to you in lyrical form.

Second Helpings

2007-10-11T14:10:00.000-05:00

I'm starting to get ideas about Deuteronomy. Why all the law again in regards to when the Israelites actually have their land? I think it might have to do with helping. After a few weeks, I'm starting to get my feet under me here. I imagine after the Israelites drove out the tribes from Canaan and settled down in their own little place they felt pretty good too. It's when I'm a little comfortable and no longer chasing after God and grasping manna in the wilderness, that I start to look around and see how I can help. What should I say in this prayer that will inspire the mission team? What should I do with this patient so she will see how saintly God can make her too? What can I afford to build or buy for the clinic that will say God is big and powerful and likes things to be new and shiny and clean? How should I phrase my writing so others will want to contribute to our ministry or maybe go do their own thing? When David got settled in, he decided he would build God a house to live in (2 Saumuel 7). He didn't get to do that. When Solomon had built the Lord's temple he decided to make God's nation great by acquiring metals from Tarshish, horses from Egypt and wives from everywhere. (Compare 1 Kings 10 to Deuteronomy 17:16-17, that's scary disobedience) His helping led to estrangement. I'm trying this week to not be so helpful.

Help you help me

2007-10-07T12:34:00.000-05:00

If you don't open you eyes I can't put these drops in. Sit still and this will go faster. Why haven't you been taking your medicine? Sure, that kind of stuff bothers me, but somehow it seems normal. Ironically, some of the most frustrating moments of the day come from people trying to help. I'll start with the optometry examples for those that like that kind of stuff. About half the time I go to instill dilation drops, the patient leans back away from me with their neck and head parallel to the floor in an awkward arch over my burgundy exam chair. This seems to be their favorite way to facilate easy instilation. Truth is, I end up doing a balancing act, with a foot on the chair pedal, perched over them, launching little bits of Mydriacil toward their faces and hoping it doesn't go in their mouths which are also usually open. I've learned to talk mainly with my hands. When I get ready to take pressures I grab their head and orient them due South. For if I just say, "look straight ahead", they point their nearest cheekbone at me, arc up an eyebrow and dutifully follow the blue probe I have in my hand with their eyes. When the exam calls for my rolling slit lamp to be involved, I know I have two probable dilemmas waiting on me. The first comes when I bring the slit lamp toward the chair - I need to move their footrest in order to get close enough to them. When I reach for the footrest, in an effort to help the dokte, they bring their knees to their chest with gymnast flexibility and try to hold position. This leaves me with a balled-up Haitian no where near the slit lamp. Once we undo that pretzel, I usually reach up to adjust my light or aperture or chin rest. When they see my hand up there they are eager to begin and usually place one or two hands on the chin rest, fingers extended, ready for the manicure. There are many permutations of the "I used her/his/their medicine or this home remedy" story, but my favorite happened on Wednesday. This little guy with red eyes was brought in by his Dad who was concerned. Apparently, Granpa was also concerned, because he had helped out by putting toothpaste on the little guys eyelids. Sometimes I don't even try to speak in Kreyol. When I read the patient history I just turned to the Dad and said, "Really. Toothpaste. How do you think that worked out?" Then again, I can't really talk. At my last physical the surprised resident said, "That's not really necessary. You can keep some of your clothes on."

Mouse + Cookie = ?

2007-09-26T07:47:00.000-05:00

For every 3 or 4 patients I see, there is one that has to go back home unseen. Many days, I will be stopped on my hundred yard walk to the clinic by someone that wants money or wants me to buy something or wants me to take them somewhere. My neighbor is a widow that takes care of orphans (talk about pure religion). Some have been adopted over the years, yet she never runs out of them. I've been on 4 international mission trips, but I know I've had to say no to the zealous leaders of at least three times that many. It doesn't take long to figure out that we can't help everyone, cannot fix all the hurts or right all the wrongs. Jesus told the leper of Mark 1 not to tell anyone about his healing, and had to retreat to the countryside when the man instead told everyone he ran into. The charge of Christ to love our neighbor as our self and the apostolic commision to remember the poor (Gal. 2) stands, but maybe we should follow the example of Jesus who did nothing on his own, but only what God was doing (Jn 5:19) instead of doing what we decide is God's work. As our missionary Bible Study continues in James, the suffering around us has been brought to the forefront. We all had something to say about it Sunday night, and afterward, one of my Christian literary heroes had something to say as well. It's entitled "The Missionary's Goal", but a better title would probably be "The Goal".
http://www.myutmost.org/09/0923.html

Asked for. Given.

2007-09-23T12:38:00.000-05:00

I drove to Port-au-Prince for the first time yesterday. I had to nail down my mail situation and get some much needed groceries. For those of you familiar with my past geography, that's a little bit like driving from Anniston to Birmingham to get some food stuffs. Such a trek is not to be undertaken alone, so zanmi mwen, Michel, and his best gal, Brendi, went with me. Michel was helping out some kids in his old neighborhood, so we were able to stone two birds in one trip. We made time for some fun stuff, like seeing a few animals at the Baptist Mission, (don't ask me why they keep animal in cages at the Baptist Mission) and getting some Americanized food at Epi'dor. The roads were atrocious, the traffic was slower than Moe's lassies, but the thing that made me most uncomfortable were the throngs. One road had been whittled down from three vehicle wide to one lane, b/c there were two lanes of people on it! It felt like I was driving through the beginning of a marathon. Seeing the meandering masses in their poverty and frustration really took a tole on my spirit. I was having such trouble identifying with them -feeling equality with them. On the ride home I asked the Lord to give me understanding about what I had seen once I had gotten home and could open up my Bible. It really didn't take that long. Our missionary Bible study has been going through James, so I started where we stopped last.

James 2:1-5 My brothers, hold your faith in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ without showing favoritism. For suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring, dressed in fine clothes, and a poor man dressed in dirty clothes also comes in. If you look with favor on the man wearing the fine clothes so that you say, "Sit here in a good place," and yet you say to the poor man, "Stand over there," or, "Sit here on the floor by my footstool,"haven't you discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?
Listen, my dear brothers: Didn't God choose the poor in this world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom that He has promised to those who love Him?

I wasn't that surprised at God speaking to me through the first verses I read. Last week in Bible study we covered James 1:5.

The Epi'Mac.

Clanging Cymbals and Dripping Pipes

2007-09-21T13:56:00.000-05:00

They are all a blur. I saw right at 185 patients this week. One thing I do, not only to minister, but also to keep my patience pants on (thanks KTL), is pray with every patient. It slows things down when I get in a rhythm, but that's a good thing. I realized on my first trip down, that it would be a waste to have a devotion with patients, give them tracts, and call ourselves a Christian Clinic; if the doctor was throwing people around the exam room. I do get frustrated (usually not with the patient themselves, but sometimes . . .), but the Lord has used that quick time of prayer to release tension in me and in them. Sometimes they raise their hands and pray in Kreyol. Hmm, two languages going at the same time. Is that praying in tongues? For those that are counting 185 is 20 more than last week. I'm getting a little faster. But hold on. If that sounds like a lot, you're forgetting the exchange rate. Apparently, my lab manager, Franck Charlemagne (candidate for "best name ever" award [remember Charlemagne wasn't only HRE, he was also king of the Franks!]) applies the monetary ratio to my patient load. He told me that in devotion he was trying to explain my adjustment period by telling the patients that a dripping pipe is better than no water at all. You see there are 7.1 Haitian dollars to 1 US, but the currency here is in Gourdes, which are 5 Gourdes to 1 Haitian dollar. So the exchange rate does make me out to be a dripping pipe. 185 patients/week comes out to between 5 and 6. Oh well. And I apologize for the bracket inside of a parenthesis.

H2whO

2007-09-18T13:59:00.000-05:00

There's nothing like getting in a little exercise before work in the morning. However, the chin-ups, push-ups, sit-ups and then stand up got me warmed up, so I headed to the shower to clean up from the toes up. Who needs a water heater - the cold stuff usually feels very nice. Showers are kind of a highlight around here, except when they speak to you. Mine said, "gurgle, gurgle, blah." That's right folks - no water at Christianville for a couple of days. Options:

A. Attack face and body with alcohol pads to get off some of the grime before going to work.

B. Warm ice on stove to make water for a wash-cloth to slap indiscriminately over corpus.

C. See patients in spite of personal odor.

I decided to do all of the above. It was kind of nice to turn the table and have my patients holding their breath around me. Thankfully the water was back this morning and boy did I enjoy it. I even shaved - a little.

Matthew High Five II

2007-09-16T16:01:00.000-05:00

One thing I was searching for and glad to find in my second super market trip was Kosher salt. I've never really been into it before, but AB (Alton Brown) uses it, so I made the extra effort. Well I needed salt anyway. The last doctor in the house had stockpiled spices like she was going off to a cooking war (Who needs a quart of Cumin?), but no salt. Maybe it was a blood pressure scare, maybe she was adequately iodinized- I don't know. All I was looking for was a little salt for the meat I was applying heat to. After about 30 minutes of vigorous searching I was drenched with sweat and that would have been as good to me as the small shaker I found in the dark recesses of the under-the-sink spinny drawer. The salt was caked to the bottom, had a yellow tinge and had no intention of leaving its cozy glass home. I did without. Not food, just salt. The food wasn't that great anyway. According to my most recent perfect gift, the Good Eats cookbook, salt isn't so great because it makes things taste salty. It's the perfect seasoning because it highlights and strengthens the existing flavors. Hmm, what can I add myself to today?

Matthew High Fives

2007-09-13T14:44:00.001-05:00

There are probably only a few people out there that think about light as much as I do. I dim the lights in my exam room. I tell patients to look at the light or to not look at the light. (That doesn't really matter, they do what they want most of the time) I watch them follow the light with their eyes. I send them off for surgery so that more light can get in their eyes. I tell them to wear sunglasses so less light can get in their eyes. I see the effects of that invisible light, UV radiation. I filter light to distinguish defects of the cornea or in the retina. I often forget to turn on the light beneath my chart and then wonder why my patients can't see. All of those lights are fine, but they don't hold a candela to the light I get really excited about every day. There is a street light next to the soccer pitch behind my house. The only time this light is on is when we are receiving power from EDH (Electricitie de Haiti) instead of running on generator or battery. This light allows me to walk to my neighbors' house without breaking an ankle. When it is on, I can use the washing machine or the microwave or blender without causing a crisis. Under its glow I can see the snakes and tarantulas I'm walking on (good?). It changes things when it shines. A light in a dark place is a wonderful thing.

2007-09-11T23:11:00.000-05:00

. . . this will be on my videotape

2007-09-08T20:00:00.000-05:00

If, like the song says, at the close of my life the important parts are highlighted in snippets on a reel, I think today would be in the mix. I moved to Haiti today. Move might not be the right term, but I will be living here considerably more than the US for the unforeseen future. There would have to be some special effects; without, in the plane ride scene you would only see my placid face and not my roiling insides. There would be some great aerials of Cite Soleil and the Port-au-Prince wharf area. A close up would show my drooping lids and mustering stubble. Of course the latter wouldn't belie my customary state. The hand cam shot from a low angle would best capture the spy-like manner in which I managed to move through ladwann (read "customs") with only one bag receiving a cursory look through. The emergence from Ayeropo Toussaint would probably be saturated so that the brightness of all the white concrete in the tropical sun would radiate heat from the screen. An Imax screen would best capture the spinal-shock roads and claustrophobic street vignettes in Carrefour. If only we really did have smell-o-vision, so I could share the meat section experience from Delimart. It wouldn't all be modern, raw, edgy editing though. I would need the dark, faded interior shots from the 1970's to document our late lunch at Tiffany's, where I ate steak and fried plantains and my waiter wore a tuxedo shirt. The denouement would be my walking to a neighbors to use the interwebnetwork and yelps of shock in the dark. For when the curtain opens at the theater there are running lights, but when the sun goes down in Haiti, everything goes black and the hidden gate guard says, "Bonswa dokte" and scares you to death.