
Entry 12:45 PM. One year ago this minute, Haiti was home to one of the worst disasters in recent memory.... later that day an earthquake hit.
... excerpts from Haiti
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.
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.
Dear Patients and Friends,
After 18 years, now, of investing my time and energies into a tiny mission hospital on a small island off Haiti’s mainland, I find myself unable (and unwilling) to extract myself from that work. I am drawn, like a magnet, to the precious and needy people there and have decided to raise the stakes of my commitment and investment in that land. And I am about to ask you who know me and trust me to find it in your hearts to support me in what I am about to announce.
Over the past year of soul-searching, I have come to the stark realization that the impact of my work in Haiti, while significant down there and gratifying to me personally, cannot grow significantly under my current modus operandi of personal trips and projects. The time has come to involve you, my patients and friends. The time has come to multiply myself, to leverage the great human resource that is mine... in you.
This all said, I am pleased and excited to announce the creation of STARFYSH, a grassroots nonprofit which will greatly enhance the positive difference I can make for a small island of about 100,000 of the world’s poorest, hungriest, and sickest people. It is grassroots because it almost had to happen, the result when people with pent-up energy all of a sudden have an outlet, a cause, for that energy. A cause that resonates.
I have a few out-of-the-chute things I want to do during this first year, but the most urgent is to feed a bunch a kids who are going hungry right now. As you read this letter, there is sea-container full of plates, glasses, silverware, cook pots and cook stoves churning its way through Caribbean seas on its way to Haiti... enough to feed 1,000 children at a school right down the road from the hospital where I work. As it stands, these kids will not eat unless we can make it happen. And, while I know there is a world of needs out there, I figure I can make a difference for this village, for this particular bunch of hungry kids. And I humbly ask if you would help me feed these kids.
72 cents will feed a hungry kid a good, nutritious meal. Feeding them every school day adds up to $15/month, $180/year. $720 would feed all 1,000 kids on any given school day. Any way you concoct it, it’s cheap. And I am determined to feed them.
I have a pipeline of projects being developed, all cool and worthy and needed. They are increasingly-strategic, with issues of sustainability built in, but right now... today... food is what is needed to bring these kids out of their malnourished state. 72 cents a day will do it.
I promise that 100% of your gift will go to the project of feeding these kids. Zero will taken out for other things. Also know that whatever you give will translate almost immediately into the sight of a smiling school child holding his or her plate while it is piled full of rice and beans.
If you will help, you can drop off or mail your tax-deductible gift to my office in Saranac (107 North Bridge St. Saranac, MI 48881) or mail it to Starfysh 3725 Oak Creek Court SE Grand Rapids, MI 49546. Make checks out to Starfysh, and write “Feed Kids” in the memo line. Please provide your name, address and email so I can send you a thank you and receipt.
If you’re OK with grassroots and want to learn more about the island of La Gonave, Haiti and what I am up to down there, explore starfysh.org.
We can do this.
Your friend,
Dr. Edmondson