Wednesday, September 14
Woke up looking forward to my breakfast, chiefly for the caffeinated portion of it since throughout most of the night it was 88 and humid. I breakfasted with a woman from France who has come to work with the music school (at which I volunteer) for the year. Conversation in French and Kreyol, hah!
At the office we spent time in prayer and singing as we've been doing every day lately (yay!). We have a lot going on these days and it is so good to recognize the hand of “Gran Mรจt la” (this is how the Kreyol Bible translates “LORD God”, but it literally means “the great teacher/master”). Some of our day's activities:
Look up flights – I have to go to Orlando for a medical conference next month, then straight-away to Argentina and Peru for meetings, trainings, and follow-up. My co-worker Osse will be going to Argentina, and since he doesn't speak Spanish or English should really travel there with me or our Dominican co-workers. Since we have internet today we start to look up flights, but are stalled by not knowing if he will be able to pass through certain countries without a visa. We try to call consulates but the phones aren't working – it is suspected that the new internet company is combining with one of the major telephone companies and their work has interrupted service.
October 15 is Worldwide Handwashing Day! UNICEF has supplies: soap, buckets, posters. We work on filling out a request (in French, ouch) for these materials. In addition to our usual house-to-house teaching we'll be doing some local radio spots and events in schools and churches.
Solencia, a trainer and friend, comes to the office. She's had an abscess on her leg that she would like advice about. I examine her leg. She also tells me about her godmother's uncontrolled asthma, Solencia is worried about her. I give her suggestions for her godmother to take a preventive medication regularly, along with a list of steroid inhaler options (I don't know what's available here).
A team of four is coming from Detroit next week to make badges for our volunteers and see the communities where they work. We discuss again which communities we'll be going to on which day and make a few changes to the schedule.
Dina, a woman who recently moved here from Nicaragua to marry my former co-worker Enoch, comes in the office to discuss a lesson she needs in Kreyol, one of the basic ones we do upon starting to train our trainers to work with perinatal topics. We don't have this lesson in Kreyol yet and had quickly translated just the supplement for a training last Saturday, but Dina would like the entire lesson today for a training she's planning in a village tomorrow.
We fill out a report for the Ministry of Health on last month's activities. As much as possible we try to work together with the government authorities.
Osse and I will be going to Port-au-Prince at the end of the month for a meeting with the Association of Christian Health Organizations. We contact those in Port-au-Prince that we've trained to see if they would like to meet.
It's late and my co-workers Evelyne and Osse are getting ready to go home. Anias, another trainer, comes in the office to collect his things and start his 1 ½-hour motorcycle ride home. We hear raindrops starting on the tin roof. He pauses, and it starts pouring. Anias says, "Well, I could leave my bag here, with all my life in it. And my shoes so they don't get wet." Osse answered, "And your clothes!" Anias: "Great idea! All the other vehicles would move aside: get out of the way, there's a crazy naked guy on a motorcycle coming our way!"
Anias leaves (clothed) and Evelyne and Osse decide to wait a little to see if the storm will subside – they are leaving by motorcycle too. We have to shut the windows because the rain is streaming in and it's steamy hot. The internet stops working due to the rain. We go into the second room of the office because it has a ceiling which muffles the sound of the rain. A group for which we will be doing a training in the south next month has sent us an old lesson they would like to use if we think it's appropriate for CHE work in urban settings in Haiti, since that's where some of the participants will be working. Up till now the CHE work in Haiti has primarily been in villages. Since I'd downloaded it before the internet went out, I verbally translate it from the English for my co-workers to see what they think. Nope. I translate another lesson that we have used in South America as an introduction to how to do CHE in urban settings – it's a go. Written translation of that will have to wait, though – the rain has slowed down a little and my colleagues leave.
I meet the woman who prepares my evening meal and take her blood pressure, since I also act as her doctor.
This morning I'd loaned the woman who washes my clothes some money – her son broke his leg and a few days ago she asked me for help. Tonight her brother – my mango supplier – comes over to thank me. He tells me that God also gave me a gift today – the rain made it cool enough that I should sleep well!
