Tender mercies

I still have some photos and a few stories to tell you about our Dominican Republic adventure, but I wanted to tell you about a slightly freaky thing that happened to me yesterday.

There has been a lot of talk lately, in the circles of my universe, about the tender mercies of the Lord. I think the following incident may have been one of them.

I've been trying to build up my music therapy business with elderly groups, so I was in Canby, a small town about 20 miles away. Upon leaving for home, my mind wandered a little (not an unusual occurrence) as I was negotiating the streets of Canby and I missed my turn. I switched on TomTom and started following his commands. He took me through some tiny residential streets and it didn't seem like I was getting any closer to my goal. One last turn into what looked like a cul-de-sac and I began to silently curse my Cockney friend.

As I approached what I thought was the end of the short road and just as I was thinking Oh, I guess it curves to the right, a white Jeep-like vehicle careened around the corner towards me. It was going much too fast for the narrow road, maybe 40 or 45 mph, and the car was obviously out of control. Brakes screeched and the car veered around the outside of the corner and smacked into the back of a small red wagon that was parked about ten feet away from me. The sound of the crash reverberated through the formerly quiet little street.  The white car's hood crumpled and flew open, glass shattered and rained onto the road. The red car's rear end took a mighty dent from the impact. The whole incident took less than two seconds and I didn't even have time to think Help, he's going to hit me!


I stopped my car to see how the occupants of the car had fared. There were two or three 20-something-looking young men in the car and they quickly exited the car to inspect the damage.  Within seconds a young couple ran out of the house, to see their poor car looking decidedly totaled. I started to drive slowly away, all the time watching them in my rear-view mirror and figuring that they had it under control. Then I stopped, because I realized that I was the only witness to the accident. I backed up and asked the young woman if I could do anything to help. She walked over to me and I could see that she was distraught and trembling. She asked me how fast the car had been going and I told her Very fast. We talked for a few seconds and I gave her my business card and told her to call me if I could help in any way. Then I left, as I had to get back to Newberg for piano lessons.

As I drove home, a tad subdued by how close I had come to being the one with the totaled car and perhaps some major injuries, I thought about serendipity. How did I just happen to be victim of a TomTom distraction so that I was turning that corner at the exact moment that the crash happened? In my book, it was more than coincidence. I may never get a phone call about the incident, but the drivers of that car know that there was an eye witness and that they will be held accountable for the truth. So maybe I was God's instrument for taking care of the young couple who owned the red car.

I like to think so, anyway.

A reminder of the good things

In light of all of the chaos in the world right now, I am taking a break from travel blogging and posting a little piece that my Canadian-Aussie-Qatar-resident friend Mark wrote for me a few months ago. I thought we could use a reminder of all of the good things for which America stands.
It's the first of two parts, hence the abrupt ending.


A non-Americans’ view on American exceptionalism.

I was born in Canada, the national pastime of which is finding ways to define oneself as not American. So for example, in Canada, unlike America we have; Celine Dion, Shania Twain and free health care while Fox News and other hate mongering programs are banned as a matter of national pride and decency. In spite of the daily brainwashing on the evils of America, many thousands of Canadians visit the United States, work there, shop there etc. Some even marry Americans and secretly many of us know that the US is not really all that bad. In fact, we kind of like it.

The United States of America stands alone in many ways. There is the strength and size of the US economy and military. Add to this the cultural influence that America has in areas as diverse as feature films, automotive styling, sports and even cable TV and it becomes clear that the USA simply cannot be ignored.

There are many in the world like myself who welcome this influence wherever it is found. But there are others from whom it seems nothing good can be said of America.

Hence the American embassy here in Doha Qatar, is the most heavily guarded complex in the city, with the possible exception of the Emir’s palace. There is an on-going low level war with those who hate America for being, in their eyes, the embodiment of everything decadent and unholy. Although, it seems that America’s main crimes are that it allows people to say and do, come and go, buy and sell, basically whatever they like as long as no one is injured. Worse still, these freedoms which date back to the time of George Washington, are now extended to both genders.

If George Washington did not exist he would have to have been invented. The reluctant President was eager to serve but reluctant to take and hold title. Much to the dismay of the European aristocracy, Washington shunned suggestions that he become the “King of America”. No doubt influenced by Thomas Payne, the last thing Washington wanted for America was a monarchy. Washington set the pattern for the American way. That is a nation that does not shrink to take on responsibility and leadership in the world but at the same time does not seek to rule and dominate other nations. Washington and his colleagues, the founding fathers, sought to create a ‘light on the hill” to inspire the world.

So it is not surprising that the USA, having arrived at a point of military and economic supremacy at the end of World War 2, sought no opportunity to colonize the world but rather implemented the Marshall plan in Europe, and set conditions and provided support in Japan and Germany so that they could develop into powerful trading partners. It is also no surprise that the United Nations would be based in New York and to a very large extent funded by the USA.

The United States has come a long way from the time of George Washington and even from World War 2. Many of the incidents in American history are not so inspiring as the gentleman president and the light on the hill. During a period of expansionist European colonization, the USA also expanded, displacing Native Americans. During a time when slavery was practiced worldwide, it was legal in America. When European powers were warring with each other for foreign territory, America went to war with Mexico and later Spain and annexed large territories including most of the western USA, but also Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Philippines.

But somehow America has always seen its way through, justice through rule of law and the will of the people have prevailed. So that now the Native Americans have land rights, and legal recognition, the slaves were freed and given voting rights and Cuba and the Philippines were given independence (notably before most European countries gave independence to their colonies).

In the stillness of the night

Upon arriving at the bus station in Santo Domingo, we negotiated with a cab driver to take us to the temple. We got him down to about US$5, which we thought seemed pretty reasonable. Until we rolled up to the temple gates, about 2 minutes from the station. Crikey, we'd have walked if we'd known it was that close! But we did talk him into stopping at McDonald's on the way so that Lisa could get her Coke fix, so all was not in vain.

We stayed at the temple motels, a whopping $4 each a night. It was pure luxury, with unlimited hot water and laundry and kitchen facilities available for use, and nice people everywhere. There were a few panicky moments when we arrived, because our names were not on the reservation list. Apparently dear Bernardo, the concierge, had gotten the dates mixed up, which turned out to be a fairly common phenomenon. But we were soon settled into a comfortable room and then off for a walk around the temple, which was, by then, closed for the evening.

For those of you who wonder about Mormon temples, here is a link where you can read more.

Meanwhile, enjoy the photos, as we enjoyed the beautiful views of the temple and the balmy night air. 

It is a very photogenic temple.

Let me in, let me in!

Those are coconut palms, in case you're wondering.

The temple president and his wife, Larry and JoAnn Bair, are from Lisa's area in Washington, so we said hello to them and made arrangements to catch a ride to church with them in the morning. We walked to the grocery store (just past McDonald's, if you're wondering) and stocked up on a few groceries for the next few days. Then we sat on a wall outside the motel building and talked until we were tired enough for bed. 

Something about the journey we had just taken, the warmth of the evening, and the peace of the temple grounds made us both feel immensely contented.

Seven hours on a bus, with new video

Early Saturday morning we left MBH in a hired taptap. Taptaps are usually packed with people, as a fare is very cheap. I couldn't get past Martin's story of being squished inside a taptap with his face in the unshaved, smelly armpit of the woman next to him. So I didn't feel a bit guilty as people saw the deliciously empty taptap and tried to flag down the driver. Well, maybe a bit. The whole rich arrogant American thing, don't you know?

The bus trip was fairly uneventful. We were given breakfast about an hour into the ride. Pasta. With little shriveled bits of chicken (I think) and a good-sized dollop of ketchup on top.

Yum.

I ate about half of it, all the while ignoring the little voice in my head that was telling me to leave it alone.

I regretted it later, if you know what I mean!

Crossing the border was a hoot. The Dominicans are terrified of a cholera outbreak, so they make sure that precautions are taken at the cholera prevention station. We were all told to get off the bus and were directed to some outdoor sinks. We washed our hands, using communal bars of soap, and then we got back on the bus.
What?
That was wrong in so many ways!
Then we drove to the customs shed. Bags were duly inspected, interrupted for a few minutes while the customs official checked and answered some phone texts.
Ho hum.

And I will say nothing about trying to go to the toilet in the back of a speeding bus on rocky, winding roads. Or about the lack of tp provided in said facility. Lucky I had Kleenex, that's all I will say about that!

I made a little slideshow for you. I have so many photos, taken through the window of the moving bus, that I couldn't put them all into a post.
Here's the deal. The first video has my preferred music, the second has better picture quality. YouTube has copyright issues with my music.
So, first, mute the sound on the YouTube video. Unless you really like Mozart, in which case ignore the following.
2. Press play and then pause on the first video and let it fully load. This might take a few minutes, so go check your facebook page or something.
3. Then, press play on the first video and click the YouTube icon on the second one. Make sure the sound is still muted.
Take that, YouTube and Sony music!

Then, come take a little trip with me.

Hope you enjoy it.

A final errand

First of all, thank you to those of my readers who have left comments. I am mostly writing for my own satisfaction at this point, but comments are always encouraging.

Also, Lisa has written a thoughtful piece here, if you would like her perspective.

Friday was our last full day in Haiti. We wanted to finish up our garden and were hoping to take some supplies to a nearby orphanage. Unfortunately, we couldn't find out the location of the orphanage and we didn't have a car anyway, so we gave up on the idea.

I had also heard about seven orphans who were living with their grandma and had very little food. The doctors thought it would be okay if we gave her some money for food and a few supplies, but said we would need to be circumspect because if her neighbours found out about it they would also want money. So we sent Lucien to exchange some of our American dollars and later in the afternoon, a little contingent from MBH set off along the road.

This is a common sight, as are women carrying heavy loads on their heads. I didn't get any  photos of that because pointing the camera at such close range seemed to be a bit intrusive.

More heavy equipment, this time with a woman driving.

Little boys always want their photo taken.

Not sure what was being built here, but it's something big. 

Of course, it may not get finished for ten years!

Haitian beauty.

Here is the house, in a much poorer part of the village. It is tiny, about as big as our family room. I imagine that most of the children sleep outside. Notice the succulent hedge. Most houses that don't have walls around their property have these. In the Dominican Republic, they surrounded whole farms.

The dog and chicken looked pretty healthy. 

The baby was, however, malnourished.

Such a pretty rooster.

I haven't figured out how everyone keeps track of their chickens, because they wander freely.

The house is crudely constructed. I wonder how well it keeps out the omnipresent rain.

We gathered tightly around Grandma and the baby so that no one could see as we slipped her the money. We didn't give her any supplies because it was impossible to do so discreetly, so the doctors told her to come to the clinic next week.

It is a thorny issue in Haiti, deciding who to help, because almost everyone is in dire need of some kind of help. And then the aggressiveness of the people who see help being given and want it for themselves is kind of off-putting, even though I can understand why they are so. It also makes interacting with any Haitians quite tricky, because at some point they will always ask you for something. Then, you wonder to yourself, are they only (helping me with the garden, walking with me, talking to me, etc, etc) so that they can get something from me? And in most cases, I think the answer is yes. 

More on this topic later.

Some Haitians love to have their photos taken and others are adamantly against it.

Guess which category these fall into.

This and that on Thursday

Thursday morning brought a crowd of hopeful people to our gate. It was a health clinic morning, first-come-first-served, with only time for about 25 people. Our guys reported about 100 people in the road. Tempers flared when Jason handed out the numbers, with arguments over who was there first and lots of yelling at Jason and each other. 

The system needs some work.

Once things settled down, people began to file into the waiting area and peace reigned.

Lisa and I had promised to make dinner in the evening and had given Lucien our shopping list. Lisa's plan was lentil soup and salad, but Lucien couldn't find lentils so she settled for beans. I had asked him to buy butter, apples, and milk, but when I started to cook he was in town and I couldn't find any of the ingredients except three apples. So I made naan using milk powder and some nasty margarine of the type that does not need refrigeration. The plan for dessert was German Apple pancake, but that went out the window when, as usual, we were without power. Cooking is done on a propane stove by the light of headlamps. 

I have to make a few observations about the kitchen. 

There is no refrigerator, so perishables are stored in an ice chest that is slightly (understatement) scary.

Also, some items that we Americans think are perishable are, well, not. At least by Haitian standards.

There are ants everywhere.

Cupboards, sinks, and counters are in a state of dirtiness that goes way past my comfort level. It's better if you try not to think about it or you would never eat the finished products. I am still amazed that we were not all sick, all of the time.

Other than the fridge, the kitchen is fairly well equipped. Except that the dishwasher doesn't work and, oh yeah, there's never power to run the appliances!

Next, I got started on crepes, using powdered milk, which worked quite well. By the time Lucien returned I was ready to start on the caramel sauce and I was happy to be shown the box of shelf-stable milk. Still no butter though, or brown sugar. I threw a few desperate prayers into the universe and started caramelizing some sugar. 

The propane stove is not a delicate instrument and the first batch hardened and stuck to the pan. I salvaged what I could and started over in a new pan, adding some water this time. After the mixture turned golden I added some nasty margarine and milk and some rather strange vanilla and managed to pull off a pretty nice caramel sauce. I sliced bananas and apples into the sauce, placed them strategically in the crepes and voila! the first dessert seen in the MBH compound in a long time.

We used the bottled water for all drinking and cooking.  

Lisa was doing something weird with chicken stock in the blender, which I couldn't figure out because we didn't have power!

Sadly, we were all so busy lapping up the crepes that no one took photos.

But here is the main course.

Be impressed.

Be very impressed. 

Lisa and I make a pretty good team, which is slightly unlikely because we are both very opinionated and strong-willed. We managed to subjugate our natural inclinations for the entire trip and let our passion and zeal work in our favour.

Pretty awesome, huh?
Misty took great pleasure in laughing at our eccentric ways and said we were like an old married couple.
Whatever!

Some exciting news from Haiti.... 

...our seeds are sprouting!

More awesomeness.

It's funny, one of my friends told me I was a hoot in choir practice on Sunday and wanted to know if I was high on something. 

Truth be told, I have been inordinately happy since being in Haiti, none of the usual post-holiday blues.

I think this kind of thing agrees with me.

Somehow, I don't think Jeff's going to be too happy to know that.

Are you Haiti-ed out yet?

Lisa and I spent the next couple of days digging in the garden and varnishing beds in the clinic. We were looking forward to Wednesday, when we headed back to the Baptist church for a health clinic. MBH mostly treats women and children, although they do treat a few men.

We started out in the cooler hours of the morning.

Misty and Martin stayed back at the clinic, in case anyone needed help while we were gone.

I was carrying the little bottles of naturopathic remedies.

They are heavier than they look.

Really, they are!

Lisa toted a roll of toilet paper and her water bottle.

Me, I had decided to hold it till we got back to the clinic.

Whatever "it" happened to be.

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

Still trudging....

...and admiring the very lovely funereal adornments on this building.

Some things just don't need translating, do they?

Finally, the cool shade of the church.

Sean is showing me how to take temperatures. 

Something about the temporal artery. 

(I had to look that up.)

So I took temperatures...

...while Lisa did blood pressures, which required considerably more talent.

Our awesome Doktes with Santo.

The translators, Lucien and Santo, worked as hard as anyone else.

I spent some time being the pharmacist at the table on the right, which made me feel very powerful.

I also checked the teeth of the children who were waiting to be seen. Children who had cavities scored a toothbrush and toothpaste. There was a startling correlation between cavities and lack of brushing. Big surprise there! It was a fun job, as some of the kids were reluctant to open their mouths for inspection and had to be cajoled. The moms finally got into it and were saying "brose, brose" (brush, brush) when I asked them if the kids brushed or not. 

One little boy took one look at me and started screaming. He was inconsolable. I felt a little better when he had the same reaction to the doctors.

Mission accomplished. 

I think we saw about thirty patients. 

Not bad for a morning's work.

My impressions of the day?

I love how the moms dress themselves and their children in their best clothes to see the doctors. It is reminiscent of a respect for themselves and the doctors that we don't see too much in American culture any more. 

The children, whether brought in by moms or grandmas, were obviously loved and cherished. 

They were often malnourished. 

Most of the children are given coffee to drink, which causes stomach aches and other problems. 

The doctors fight ignorance and superstition as much as illness. 

Many of the people waited for two or more hours, but the children sat quietly and no one got impatient or complained. It was an enjoyable and gratifying morning.

And the walk home was very hot.