Pikamabe

La Gonave.  37 miles long by 9 miles wide.
Home to more than 100,000 people.

There is, on La Gonave’s far western parts, a tiny village. They call it Pikamabe. Don’t know if it’s spelled right but that’s how it sounds. Peek-a-maybe. A man from Pikamabe showed up at the Starfysh house a few weeks ago to ask if we could give them some water filters, that they had had several cases of cholera in their village. It happened that Freddy, our teams coordinator had just arrived on the island to work on the island for a week, bringing with him four Michiganders.

It took four hours to get there from Anse-a-Galets where our house is located. It wouldn’t take that long on 4-wheeler ATV’s or on motorcycles, but in the truck we have to go so much slower because we can’t dodge the gigantic rocks and crevices like we can on the small vehicles. They journey was 32 miles each way, a lot of which was winding roads and turns. Nevertheless... 32 miles, 4 hours.

They told our group that no outsiders had ever come to their village. No doubt! Not on any map, Pikamabe is in the middle of nowhere. But there it was. And there they were, these precious people whom, I am sure, God has always known.

After the filters were installed and the village served our crew up a meal of goat, rice and beans, the village then presented us with a goat, in appreciation for our visit.  I’m not just sure what they appreciated more: the filters or the fact that we came.

I think it was mainly just because we came.

There’s just something about sheer presence. Showing up. Letting them know that someone knows who and where they are, and that they are not alone on this planet.

Gotta hunch we’ll be back.

Why the "y"?

Since the beginning, folks have asked why we spell Starfysh the way we do. Their question, simply:  “Why the ‘y’?”

I think the answer depends on when they ask the question. In early 2010, for example, my answer was, simply, “The ‘i’ was taken!” Nuts! Someone got to starfish.org before we could. Sounds silly.

Over time, however, as we have proceeded to define our vision of delivering transformation to an island of 100,000 people living in poverty, and then have set out to actually do it, we have heard the question less and less frequently.

“Why the ‘y’?”

• “Well, you know, we are unique. We’re no ordinary starfish!”
• “Well, you see, the ‘y’ stands for ‘you’ and you are what makes Starfysh special.”

Silliness. Truth is, the ‘i’ was taken.

I’m glad it was taken. Doesn’t oddness, after all (ahem, I prefer ‘distinctiveness’), bring a bit of its own value? And might not off-guardedness be a good thing if, in fact, it slows folks down long enough to consider new things?

Three years in, and our name is slowly becoming entrenched. (Google “starfish” and you’ll be inundated with over 14 million results. Google “Starfysh” and there we are, right at the top). It’s all good. Unplanned. No clever branding strategy. No high-priced advertising firm.

Just, the “i” was taken.

Heavenmarks

Early in the morning last Monday, up in the mountains of an island off mainland Haiti, a couple of dentists and their staff journeyed along the remote and dangerous roads to get to a village hidden from the world. A village that has never ever had a doctor or dentist to come and show any interest in them.  They were waiting for us, these precious people of Makochon, bringing with them the awful caries and abscesses they had been living with for so long.

Last Monday, before even the first patient was invited into that little church-turned-dental clinic, we gathered in a circle. With our nervous and sweating hands clasped, we dedicated this day, this week to the Lord, for had it not been God Who had called us here in the first place?

Why else would one leave the comforts and familiarities of home: running and hot water, spiderless bedrooms, and Applebees?  Why risk bumpy-road-back-spasms? Why put up with daily PB&J sandwiches when back home we could run down the road for a five..... five dollar..... five dollar foot long? Why put up with rats and roaches and ankle sprains (we experienced them all) if it weren't that something much bigger were at stake?

Is pulling a few hundred teeth really worth all the time and expense and inconvenience?

I suppose the answer depends on whom you ask. Some might argue that traveling a couple thousand miles to pull teeth isn't that wise a use of resources, that other investments would yield higher return. But if you asked the 50-some year old man who, in howling pain, walked nine miles to get to us, the answer would be probably be yes, it's worth it.

I'm not a dentist, so I could not be much help chair-side. This allowed me the perspective of standing back and taking things in. What a view! Standing back, I was able to witness a miracle: modern dentistry being delivered high in the mountains to a village that has experienced neither electricity nor running water. A remarkable sight.  You ask me if a mountain really can be moved and I would have to tell you yes. Yes! And I saw it with my own eyes last week.

I suppose being on the receiving end of a miracle carries its own bit of risk, too, and might not exactly be for the faint-of-heart. You could see it in those wide-eyed, next-in-line kids watching the dentists dive in after putrid molars like pelicans diving for sea bass. Plenty frightened over their upcoming miracle, many of them needed a healthy dose of comforting to go along with their Novacaine.

Starfysh's new remote mobile dental unit was inaugurated with little fanfare, uncaptured by Google Earth satellites searching for landmarks, not heavenmarks. But I saw it, and a few others. And I'm sure that God, from His much grander vantage point, saw it too.

"Heavenmarks." Not GPS so much as HPS. Coordinates where God comes down and does His thing.