Gotta Come

Well, I take my team back to the mainland this morning for a day of rest and recuperation. They have worked hard and accomplished much this week. I'll take them to the airport to go home on Saturday and I'll pick up another small team and bring them back to the island with me. My daughter, Katie, will be on that team, so I'm excited about that too.

I love to bring teams down. To be sure, part of it is the fact that we can get lots of things done. The biggest thing for me, though, is that I love to share Haiti with folks. I remember experiencing it for the first time back in the early 90’s and how my worldview was pretty much turned upside down as a result. And I’m just convinced that being here is the only way to do it. Wikipedia can’t do it. Neither can power point.

Wanna find out about Haiti? Gotta come. If you’re interested in coming down with me sometime let me know. I’d love to bring you with.

Li Gou

Today I am happy to finally say that after months of waiting the xray system has finally been installed and calibrated. Three staff are being inserviced on its use right now. We are up and running! Thank you Bill Wright and Connie Pennock-Root for coming down for the install and inservice. Thanks too to Radiology Imaging Solutions and Spectrum Butterworth Radiology Department for their kind and generous donations of (expensive!) equipment and xray film. I love seeing collaborations like these come together.

Today my team went to a place locals call “the poor house." Here reside fifteen of this world’s most down-and-out creatures. The reason they are there, though, is that in addition to being poor, they have no one. No family who they can live with. No one. When I heard someone mention it several months ago, I walked down through the village and found them: “the least of these.”

Their cinderblock “home” consists of a couple of long-ish buildings, each with three rooms. Thankfully there is a latrine. They cook over small charcoal fires built on the ground. Their rooms have rocky, lumpy dirt floors. There are no beds at all. Everyone (not hyperbole here... EVERYONE) sleeps either on the dirt bedroom floors or on the uneven concrete porch or in the yard. The inside walls have never been painted and are so dirty black that when you step into the rooms it is like walking in to a cave. It is so dark you cannot see. And since there is no electricity you can only imagine the blackness that night brings around there.

The outside walls were once that characteristic bright green so popular in Haiti. But dirt and grime now cover those walls; they are anything but bright.

The concrete cistern that catches rainwater off their roof has cracks in it, so it leaks.

The people here are older folks, for the most part, although there are a few children. It is a pretty quiet place, where you’ll not find a whole lot of hope or happiness.

Today we painted rooms a light yellow and put smooth concrete on the floors of their rooms. We installed a small solar panel on the roof, which provides electricity for four LED lights. Tomorrow we’ll deliver 15 really nice beds that several of the guys built. And we’ll put mattresses and sheets on each one. And we’ll patch the cistern, so they don’t lose perfectly-good water.

My role for this particular trip down here has been that of overseer/coordinator so I’ve done a lot of troubleshooting and walkie-talkie-type stuff. When I rounded on the poor house this afternoon, I took with me one of those big orange coolers full of ice-cold lemon aid. After admiring the work being done, then, I filled these little plastic cups and just passed them out for these parched, dusty, beautiful people to drink. One old man was blind, and I had to crouch down and press in close in order to press the glass to his lips so he could have cold lemonaid. Between his swallows and as I lifted the cup back and forth to his lips I could hear his weak voice repeating over and over... "Li gou, Li gou" "It is good. It is good." One of the more poignant moments of my life.

Thanks, Freddy, for grabbing a camera and capturing this moment. I owe you one.

The Announcements

I saw this young boy at the hospital today. He suffers from cholera.

I heard from someone today that this cholera thing is all over the news up in the States. I don't know exactly how bad it is that they're reporting, but I do know that right now, just a hundred yards from me and my laptop are a several people recovering from this quick and terrible disease. I think, at least I hope, that they will be fine. Treatment for cholera is pretty effective with antibiotics and aggressive rehydration. The problem is that many cannot reach medical care before they are very, very sick.

I went to the church right down the road with my team this morning and the whole service was good. But I want to tell you about "the announcements." I frequently "do the announcements" at my own church back home, but I've never had to do announcements like theirs.

They only had one announcement today. The announcement in this church (and I'm guessing every other church in Haiti) today was about cholera: what it is, how to recognize it, how to avoid it, and what to do if you come down with it. They described how it is contracted through the water. They cautioned their people to not drink out of the river nor use that water to bathe or wash clothes. They explained the importance of good hand washing, of seeking immediate medical attention if they experienced rice-colored diarrhea. In very plain and frank terms they explained that cholera could kill them. And this is exactly how the announcement in church this morning ended: "If you get cholera you might die. Do you want to die or do you want to live? We want to see you next week, so follow this advice so we can see you next week."

Well, that about does it for the announcements in Haiti today. I guess I think of "the announcements" a little differently now.

Please pray for this little island of precious people. I don't want them to die. I want to see them next week.

Steve

Cholera

Arrived on the island this afternoon after a long day of travel. Loaded down our 32-foot boat HEAVY with project equipment, tools, and supplies and people. In the process of loading, my Blackberry fell into the water. Aargh!

Cholera is here on the island. This is very concerning, of course, as we do not know how widespread this could become. We will be fine... we are drinking safe water, but the vast majority of people on this island do not have access to potable water.

I'll keep you posted

Steve

I Have Much to Share

These children were forced to have class outside because of the severe earthquake damage to their school building. This week we will be building them a roof to cover them from the sun and rain.

Early tomorrow morning I will arrive in Haiti for a two-week period. I have 16 people coming down at various times over that time to hang out with me and to work with me and to, hopefully, capture a piece of the vision I have for La Gonave... this dot on anyone's world map. A dot that would probably disappear if you placed a push pin on it. But a dot where 100,000 souls live under the same sun that shines on you and me, and who breathe the same exact oxygen atoms that we have breathed in also, at one time or another. We cohabit this ball, these Haitians and me, and it makes me think. Why am I so lucky?"

Today, my forced exhale betrays my impatience over someone who cut the line in the airport McDonalds. Tomorrow, I'll hold hands with a kid who hasn't eaten in three days. And I'll remember again that God gave breath to both of us. And that we are brothers.

I ask for your prayers for Haiti this week. In a land where, already, diarrhea is the primary cause of childhood death, cholera has raised her ugly head, stealing 140-some lives here over the last couple of days.

I'll probably blog alot while I'm here. I have much to share.

Steve

Perspective

A few weeks ago I took a professional videographer to Haiti with me and we spent time doing an aerial video survey of much of the island of La Gonave. I enjoyed seeing the island and villages from different angles and perspectives. Evan Fiddler, there in the back, enjoyed seeing the island while pretty much dangling out the open side of our plane.

Evan gathered great footage. I gathered a fresh perspective and deeper appreciation of an island and her people.

I'd like you to come

There it is, 12 miles across deep, warm Caribbean waters... LaGonave. Where life is hard for 100,000 people. Where I have chosen to make my difference, with God's help.

On Thursday, November 18, 2010, we introduce Starfysh to the world. I'd like you to come.

Mark your calendars.

Steve

Hot Dogs for Haiti

Brian and Jen had a crazy idea a few weeks ago. They thought they'd invite a bunch of neighbors, family, and friends to their place after work on Friday evening for hot dogs and lemonade. They stuck a big pickle jar on a card table and asked for donations to help children through Starfysh.

Sue and I stopped by. What fun! Simple: hot dogs and lemonade and chocolate chip cookies. It was crazy busy. I saw one guy stop his car in the middle of the road in front of the house, run up to stick money in the jar, then run back to his car and keep going.

They made $1700 in that two-hour, front-yard tailgate party. Man, there is good money in hot dogs.

Clear your calendars for Thursday, November 18th at 7PM! Details coming....

Steve