eyes open. i noticed.

Today was our last mobile clinic.  We have done over six clinics at this beach servicing this smaller community, but this time everything seemed different.  When you carry the knowledge that whatever you are doing is going to be your last time doing it the entire experience seems to change.  Everything seems to present itself differently even if the events play out exactly the same way as every time before.

The tree that sheltered the dental cleaning area seemed taller, greener.  The small bench joined at the base of the tree appeared more inviting like open hands welcoming people to lie upon them-safe, no fear.  Nobody pushed and shoved their way into the clinic.  Nobody greedily grabbed numbers out of my hand.  They all lined up in order waiting their turn patiently.  Fear was absent from their faces replaced by the familiarity in mine.  When I asked how they were doing in Creole each person responded politely looking me in the eye and to my surprise asked me in turn how I was doing.  The usual shouting and arguing that once filled the area was today quiet.  My name was no longer shouted identifying an unknown, but rather spoken like a friend.   I recall looking around me, the dark clouds looming overhead, the air more crisp, the sound of waves crashing on the beach more striking, and the entire shore line was buzzing of the World Cup.  Radio announcers turned to max volume carried high intense energy surging throughout the country- loud sheers startled me without fail bringing news of a “GOOAALL!!”

Children huddled close to the dental bench sitting, legs crossed, hands in their laps, mouths open, watching as I one by one cleaned their sugar caked teeth- plaque begging to be removed.  Their faces held curiosity, trust, body language grasping for the unknown, eyes searching out my smile, and laughter bursting in the air like small fire crackers bringing a sense of wonder to anyone within ear shot.  I tried to limit my patient count to 20 people, but the kids kept bringing their friends to my side seating them at my bench; I did not have the heart to say no. 

One by one my “on-looker entourage” crept forward attempting to sneak a peak into their peer’s mouth.  They wanted to see what it was I was so enthusiastically probing at and possibly perplexed as to why I had such an enthused grin on my face.  What can I say?  I love doing what I am doing.  Every ounce of plaque removed is a potential cavity warned off- at least for a few more weeks.  Nick had to keep telling them to “chita” or “sit down”.  I would giggle quietly to myself at his attempt to allow me my working space, but as I said before “last times” offer new understanding so I permitted the kids to venture next to my lap presenting a view into what cavities looked like.  I was a curious child too; no dentist or doctor ever turned down the chance to educate me about what it was they were doing.  I didn’t have a mirror for the kids to look into while I cleaned their teeth consequently observing the kid after them was the best I could offer.  Every time their eyes lit up mine did too; every time they pointed to ask a question my heart filled with excitement; every time I witnessed a child brushing his or her teeth and examining their neighbors mouth I selfishly felt an enormous amount of pride.

When the last child sat up giving me a big hug I silently placed my tools in my bag, picked up the last remaining trash, slipped off my gloves, and slowly zipped up my dental bag slipping it over my shoulders.  I was done here.  I told them in Creole “Do not forget me.  I will never forget you.”  The kids threw big hugs my way and scampered off down the coast.  I don’t think they understand I was leaving. 

Over my morning cup of coffee I have been asking God to surprise me (a close neighbor and friend said it worked for her) and show me what I need to see surrounding me.  This clinic was such an event, but God had bigger plans in store for me…this was just to get my attention.

When all our bags were packed into the skiff our good friend and volunteer translator, Janel, invited us to walk with him. 

Nick, Noah, Sky, Ben, Ryan, and I jumped at the chance to see what Janel had to show us.  We followed him up and around the clinic to the beginning of a narrow dirt path tucked between a small home and cactus bushes.  Some of the children followed us in holding our hands reaching to grab our backpacks, and stealing a feel for our hair (this is a normal thing here…they are in awe about our hair, never let an open hand go open, and fight to be close to our side).

The path carried us along through high bushes dropping us alongside a slow moving river.  Across the river you could see an elderly lady perched under a tree sowing some clothes and what could possibly be her elder daughter reading a book at her feet.  Laundry lay on every available bush attempting to dry with the humidity in vain.  On our side of the river we overlooked a large open field with grazing cows, wild hens, and loud calling goats.  Palm trees scattered the field offering limited shade for farmers and animals alike.  And beyond the green plain, a mountain range ascended into the sky clouds hovering heavy at the top.  Beautiful.  Janel continued us on smiling to himself at what I can only imagine was to the expressions on our faces.  We must have looked like we have never seen such a sight-and to the normal Haiti going traveler they wouldn’t if they never took the time to notice.

After a few minutes we came upon a bridge made of an old metal car frames bolted together interlaced with tree trunks-we crossed on at a time.  Janel pointed out plants reciting their Creole name with us in tern giving him the English translation.  He is a very smart young man eager to learn what ever anyone will teach him.  As we neared his house we crossed water ravens and irrigation systems.  Janel politely addressed everyone passing us on the road and he seemed to be quite popular.   Walking under tall trees I welcomed the forgiving shade minding my step of small farm animals scurrying about the damp soil.  Janel pushed back a low palm branch and as if I were walking from night to day the land around us changed dramatically.  No leaves lay stomped about, trash was nowhere in sight, and I was standing on gravel.  Small pebbles and rocks were arranged neatly according to color to create a path and encompass patterns around trees.  Specific areas were designated for cooking, cleaning, and clothes washing.  Pots and pans stacked carefully to one side, while clothes piled up gently across the way.  Two houses stood separated by another petite path with an older lady, white hair in braids, wearing a beautiful lace dress greeted us with a big smile and an enthusiastic wave.  She called of Janel, kissed him rough on the cheek and slapped him on the shoulder like your favorite Grandmother would do after embarrassing her with pride.   We continued only a few minutes longer to reach Janel’s Aunt’s home, his Uncle’s home, and finally with a gleaming face introduced us to his family and home. 

Several people were crowded around the tiny door opening perched up on a cement porch railing, seated on a wood plank bench, and leaning on their tip-toes over heads to marvel at the football match taking place on the television (the government has miraculously found the resources for day time power while they have suspiciously left the country only to decided that the power source will run dry after the world cup match is over just as miraculously as it came).  Dirty.

Janel pushed his way through the gathered crowed and stood tall in the doorway. “Rachel. This is my home.”  His smile couldn’t have been any bigger.  “Beautiful” I replied.  He quickly ducked behind a blue laced curtain and before I knew what was happening he was climbing hand over foot up a palm tree having changed into what I can only assume were his ‘play clothes’.  We all stood at the base of the tree cheering him on as he effortlessly reached the top.  One by one Janel plucked coconuts or “cocoye” dropping them to the ground. When he was finished, Janel, “monkey-walked” his way back down the tree laughing with ease.  I was impressed.  I don’t think any guy I have ever met could do what he just did- jungle book style. 

Before I knew what was going on, Janel disappeared from the group and reappeared back in his original shorts and shirt (okay so he just might rival me in fastest-dress-in-the-west award) carrying chairs and making a circle.  What a good host.  Still I am impressed. And still the astonishment continued.  After Nick, Ryan, Ben, Noah, Sky, and I were all comfortably seated in a circle under the tree, Janel and his two friends pulled out these huge machete knives and began to slice open the coconuts for us.  First they chopped off the very tops of the outer shell revealing only a small circular amount of the inner shell.  Then they cut a hole through it exposing the coconut milk inside.  We each were given our own coconut drinking its sweat milk from inside.  Sky told me that coconut milk was one of the best hydrating liquids as it carried the same saturation levels as our human blood.  Interesting fact for the day.  I needed the hydration too-it was hot out and I was parched.  Next the boys took our coconuts on at a time carefully chopping them in half allowing access to the young coconut meat inside.  They scooped out the meat which has the consistency of calamari (I know I couldn’t think of anything else) slightly firm, slightly chewy.  With every “wack” of the machete I gasped.  The boys looked up at me laughing and smiling.  I told them that we have had more than a few men row all the way out to our boat with half cut off toes, sliced palms, and missing fingers….who’s laughing now!!  They stopped smiling and cut with more caution now.  Haha as if the idea of chopping off a limb had never occurred to them before…strange.

Like I said, Janel was very polite, a great host, and nobody has ever brought out a machete to serve me a snack before…lol.  Nick wanted to climb the palm tree to try and impress me all the same…I told him not to hurt his ego…keep your feet on the ground…his boat mechanic skills was more than enough for me…haha. Men. Although he still thinks he can climb that tree…we’ll see about that.

When we were all done eating Janel took us over to see the old 1741 French bunker still standing just over a low rolling hill.  Made out of brick it was a standing symbol of their independence in 1804 with two old canons perched just 10 yards from the main entrance.  Unable to go anywhere without a following crowd of Haitian children as soon as we arrived near the fort we were surrounded!  They saw my camera and began posing for the lens.  As always I clicked away and showed them the final product laughing the entire time. 

When we finished with the fort Janel took us back around to show us his home football field giving me some strange bean thingy that he picked off a plant.  I made him eat one first.  Everybody laughed.  What the heck? I took a bite…chewed it…it was really good.  (Mom you would be proud of me trying new things).

Janel, thanked us for coming along with him inviting us back tomorrow to hang out and meet his brother.  We said we would try to make it weather permitting.  On the way back, Janel again greeted every person that past.  He ran into his best friend holding hands like best friends should.  Two young girls walked along side our group and when Janel noticed a thorn branch in the middle of the road, he stopped to pick it up tossing it away so nobody would step on it.  I think that is the moment I began to tell God I hear him.  I opened my eyes to see that even among destruction, fear, sever poverty, and even less opportunities, here was a person to show me different.  Never without a smile, a friend to all that pass, kind hearted, having nothing but giving everything, volunteering his time for the service of others, he even passed his chance to get his teeth cleaned asking me if another boy could take his place instead “he needs it more than I do. Please.”  Janel walks miles to university almost every morning, took the time to teach us Creole, took in the opportunity to practice his English, and like an older brother has a steady following of children obviously looking up to him.  A leader in his community God presented me with one hell of a positive. 

Eyes open. I took notice.

The skiff ride back I watched as Janel turned to walk back to his house his entourage following bouncing up and down laughing and breaking into song. 

Ben leans over at my obvious heartfelt expression and said “this is why we are here”.

Despite the rest, today sparked the reason my drive for dentistry is different.  The reason I will continue my passion for helping people in need.  To give the care that is needed where there is need for care- not exclusive to the United States of America.  And that is help.

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~ by nauticalhippo on June 26, 2010.