The After Brigade Party

The short three day medical brigade ended last night and in order to celebrate we had a big dinner at the house of one of the Rotary members. Everybody who had helped out with the brigade was at the dinner and we had a blast eating, watching parts of the Honduras vs. Panama game (which we lost), telling jokes, and listening/dancing to marimba music. At the party I grouped up with all the medical students who were here from San Pedro. They were almost all right around my age and wanted to “go out on the town” which is a little ironic when you’re in Copan. There’s not much to do...and I never do anything on the weekends but hang out at home. The med students convinced me to go to Las Piscinas with them, which is a club, bar, hang out spot that I had never gone to in the evening. Thank goodness they didn’t want to go into the club, so we just hung out in the bar which has karaoke! This medical brigade was a couple of firsts for me. I was getting in on tooth extractions earlier in the week and now I can add onto that singing karaoke and dancing salsa with a Latina.:) That’s right, I sang La Bamba! I had such a good time and when the night was all finished and I was dropping all of them off at their hotel they all told me to make sure and come visit them in San Pedro. I was already planning a trip there for visiting another friend...now I can visit my medical friends and sing karaoke in San Pedro as well.:)

Another Brigade Day

I was sitting down for my enjoyable lunch on Tuesday at school when Profe Norma comes walking up to me and says, “Mr.....there’s a medical brigade tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday in El Jaral. Since the kids are in exams we can’t send them so we need you to go all three days.” Of course I had to put on the face of, “Oh well...I dunnno, I need to check with Diana. I’m not sure if I can miss school for three days.” But really what I was thinking inside was more like, “WOOOOOOOOO!”
As it worked out I got to take two sixth graders with me to help me out and they did a great job! I started out the day in oral surgery. I didn’t really seek it, it more just fell into my lap. If you know me well then you know how I feel about other people’s blood. My mom tells me, “Zach, you’re going to get married, your wife is going to have a baby, and you’re not going to enjoy it because you will be passed out on the floor.” Well mom, you would have eaten those words today as I was holding kids hands while they got teeth ripped out. It’s so brutal! I had some blood squirt onto my arm several times, had my right thumb almost squeezed off, and got to talk each patient that came in through the operation. The hardest was one girl who couldn’t have been older than 17 years old. She had teeth on both side to pull (and this is all with local anesthesia). The first tooth broke off and the doctor had to dig out a root. Then on the other side he had to pull and pry as well and it took about a half hour to take out two teeth. This girl shed one tear, just one! The doctors were sitting there working and scrapping saying, “This is amazing. I can’t believe that this girl isn’t screaming. I would be bawling at this point. I’m amazed at how much pain this girl can stand because this would be excruciating.” She made it through without any major complications though. We were all quite impressed with her.
The funny point of the day came when I was working with general medicine in the afternoon and a man came in complaining about his diabetes. Then he kind of back tracks and says, “well, I don’t know for sure cause I’ve never gone to a doctor for it. But I’m pretty sure.” Then after some more questioning he back tracks to say, “Well I don’t really know what diabetes is.” Honestly?! I thought you were supposed to have diabetes! Well to be sure the doctor ran a test on him with the little glucometer. This is the funny part, the man is a coffee farmer and works with his hands, and has for the past 50+ years. When I think of tough hands I like to think of my late Grandpa Gordon who had fairly tough hands from construction...well this guy put my grandpa to shame. The doctor made one poke in the finger....nothing....so he tried a poke on the side....a little tiny tiny bit but not enough for the test. Then he poked another finger, nothing....then a fourth time.....nothing. He finally just pulled out the needle from the machine thing and jammed it into the guys finger to draw a drop just barely big enough to run the test. And after all that the guy was completely normal with a 97 blood sugar. As it turned out, apparently somebody confused his back pain/pinched nerve that he had with diabetes. I’m not sure how that one works out, but the doctor got it all figured out in the end.
I think that thus far this has been my favorite medical brigade this year, good stuff.:)

Short/Long Term

I was recently blessed to be part of a short term medical/missional brigade which came to the Copan area. They went to several aldeas (villages) in the area to work with local health and building projects. In one particular village is where they built a church. I was so thankful for the group to come and it was a nice break from school (although I only went one day of the 5 they were working).
I was reminded through this group of my constant belief that short-term trips over-seas...which I might consider anything with a time line (such as one week, one month, one year, etc)...are so much more self-gratifying. It's not a bad thing really. It gives a chance for the people on the team to see "how the rest of 'em live" and do some good in the process. I think that people can learn a lot from only serving for one week in a third world country. However, for a lasting impact I'm increasingly convinced of the need for permanent missionaries and just servants in general. I give mad props to missionaries who have been in one location for years and years at a time. Now, I don't mean servants like the one that spit-shines your floor...I just mean someone willing to help anyone and everyone that they can.:)
My grandma gave me a book on tape (cd actually) about Roberto Clemente a couple years ago that was amazing. Clemente was such a maverick (for lack of a better term) and was passionate about serving his "family" in Latin America. He died in a plane accident while attemping to take relief supplies to earthquake struck Nicaragua. Roberto Clemente said, "Any time you have an opportunity to make a difference in this world and you don't, then you are wasting your time on Earth." I love that quote.
This is a little bit "distraido" (distracted), but I think that the point I'm trying to make is my same-old same-old. Be willing to serve those around you, far from you, and in between the two. Because whether you're in a location far from home or at home, for one week or one life...when you have the opportunity to make a difference and you waste it, you're wasting your time.

Los Momentos Buenos

The first week back at school I had the “grand privilege” of teaching for a couple days before a teacher came back from Christmas break. It’s not necessarily the worst behaved class in the world but they have their moments of hellions. Anyways, I got through a couple of days in the class and was thankful for the regular teacher to be back (as I think most of the kids were too). On Friday last week I was sitting in the office with the directors going over some things when one of the students walked in just to say hi. I asked him how things were going and he said that he had missed me and just wanted to say hi. He came up and gave me a hug, looked at us for a little bit, there was a pause in the conversation and then he left. Later Diana told me that the same kid had gone by the library to look for me and she said to look in the office. It’s a new kid at the school this year and while his behavior is not always the best, he’s a pretty well behaved kid...and apparently a suck-up too.:) It was one of those good moments of teaching though. One of those times that I thought, “well I guess this isn’t the worst job in the world.” Now don’t interpret that last sentence as a hint that I’m staying here another year....ni invente (don’t even go there).
Los buenos momentos en la escuela vienen de vez en cuando. Vienen en la mirada de un alumno expectante, en la sonrisa de un niño en el recreo, en las indiadas de un catracho, y sobre todo vienen cuando los busco. En un día que me levanto y me digo – hoy sí voy a trabajar con ganas y lo voy a pasar bien con los cipotes – eso es lo que hago, lo paso bien con ellos siempre pensando en lo mejor de todo. En vez de ver aquel alumno atrás aparatando, veo los demás que prestan atención con ganas de satisfacer al maestro. Lo mismo me pasó el año pasado en la clase y empiezo a pensar.... ¿será que la vida es así? ¿Cuando nos levantamos y nos decimos que vamos a vivir con ganas que lo hacemos? En esto empiezo a creer...no es lo que la vida nos da, es lo que damos a la vida...que sea ganas...que sea penas...logramos lo que buscamos.

La Guerra es el Fracaso

I love that line in Spanish, “fracaso.” It can be defined several different ways and they are all great in this sentence. “Was is the flop/fiasco/bust/debacle/dud/etc.” I’m reading a book by Jorge Ramos right now called El Regalo del Tiempo (The Gift of Time). In this book he talks about various experiences he’s had in life (he’s a famous news reporter for Univision. Anyways, here’s my translation of his little diddy on war that I really like. For those that want a challenge, I also put the original tid-bit down.:)

“War is the ultimate failure.
War is the absolute confirmation that we fail...that we are not as clever as we thought, that we haven’t learned from those who fought (and died) before us.
War is the ultimate non-sense.... I have been in five wars [as a journalist]...and I can assure you of one thing; there is no good war.” – Jorge Ramos

“La guerra es el fracaso.
La guerra es la absoluta confirmación de que fallamos...de que no somos tan listos como pensamos, de que no hemos aprendido de los que pelearon (y murieron) antes que nosotros.
La guerra es el sin sentido.... Me ha tocado cinco guerras...y les aseguro una cosa; no hay guerra buena.” – Jorge Ramos