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Nicaragua, October 1-9, 2005 I’ve thought about this trip many times in the past weeks and months and spent even more time getting ready for it. Once again, this trip is like no other, made up of different personalities, different locations, different situations. It’s amazing to see how each trip has its own personality, and this proves no differently. I looked forward to particular aspects, like seeing Dunia again, serving the pitiful people, and Tip Top! Those are the things that keep me coming back. It’s been a long, rough, last couple of weeks. I’ve been working over 50 hours a week, trying to keep up and catch up with the workload. Work has been very stressful lately and I still have been spending ~20 hours a week working on mission preparations too. This trip is a welcomed break from all of the craziness. Now I can concentrate on the mission for the next few days. There’s always small miracles that seem to happen with every mission trip. It seems we’ve had some luck on our side already. We had a great trip in our escorted bus down to the Orlando airport and arrived right on time. One of the baggage supervisors stepped up to the plate and really hooked us up with getting us checked in and saving us some money. We knew we had two items oversized and should have to pay $100 fee each to get them through the system. He not only bypassed that for us, but helped tape boxes, get all of our glasses and supplies through security without a problem, and check all of our baggage straight to Nicaragua so we wouldn’t have to take all of our 24 pieces through customs in Miami. He earned his hefty tip, but it was a huge cost savings compared to the $200 we were expecting. Airports are airports….it’s not somewhere you would take a person for a date. Although we did have a wonderful lunch at Macaroni Grill inside the Orlando airport, the waits, the loading, the stuffy airplanes are all the same. Just as we were on the tarmac about to take off from Orlando, we were stopped. For whatever reason, Miami wasn’t accepting any incoming flights so we had to sit and wait to take off…about a 45 minute delay altogether. Once we were in Miami, we had two more hours to waste, which turned in to three anyways due to our second flight being delayed waiting for the plane coming in and being prepped. Finally to Managua an hour past schedule. It was a nice surprise to be on the plane, bored, and all of a sudden remember that I have a library of praise music in my computer. It was my connection to church back home that I already missed, along with Billy. He and I practice praise songs every week since he’s the lead guitarist for our praise team. We both agreed we would miss our practices together and this was the smile on my face that I needed to feel like I wasn’t too far away. Listening to just three songs put me in a wonderful mood and made me realize this could be a great tool for using throughout the week for our evening wrap-up sessions and abbreviated church service. God works in mysterious ways! Getting everyone through the Managua airport is always questionable until we are through customs. Again we had luck or God on our side. Since our plane was delayed, we would be the last arriving group of our five groups of people arriving that day. All of the airport workers were tired and wanted to go home. As a result, when we were pointed to the side to go through the customs checking area, the man looked at one box of glasses, my ‘letter of authentication’, and thought, “This is NOT how I want to spend the rest of my night!” He called his supervisor over and motioned to him all of the carts (6 in all) that were stacked high with equipment and luggage. Immediately the supervisor came around the front and started taking our customs slips because they just simply wanted to go home. I guess there is a small advantage to arriving in Managua so late. John Gehrig, Paul Stewart, Luanne Danes, and Isaac & Armando were waiting for us at the airport. After some quick hugs, we loaded up in the bus and hauled ourselves and luggage across the street to the classic Las Mercedes. Check-in proved to be its typical standard…disorganized. Although I had gone through group sales to reserve our rooms, all that had proven to do is guarantee our rate. After a slow and painful check-in, I was soon reminded of ‘Nica time’ versus ‘American time’ and got all of our group assimilated with their roommates and keys to their rooms. Many of us hadn’t eaten since the Macaroni Grill we had back in Orlando so we were exhausted, but also hungry. Since it was almost 10 pm, many places were closed. We convinced the one driver for the hotel to take us with the shuttle down to the Esso gas station so people could stock up on drinks and some dried-out fried chicken or pizza that had to be under the heat lamp for the last couple of hours. We were all happy to return to the hotel with drinks and petrified food in hand and meet at the tables under the porch to chat and finally relax. Our typical chairs poolside by the bar were out of the question since everything was soaking wet from the rains we were soon going to realize never stopped while we were there. While some people went straight to bed to get a good night’s rest, the remainder of us spent a couple hours getting to know each other and catch up on others since we had seen each other last. John Gehrig had already been down in Nicaragua for almost two weeks for some very important ground-breaking projects with the Nicaraguan government, VOSH, and UNESCO. He was happy to spend some time with some English-speaking people that he knew and liked so well. Sunday morning we met for breakfast after sleeping in a little bit. We had to wait for Nelson to arrive on his flight before making the long trip to Chinandega. We gathered after breakfast for a Sunday morning church service led by Pastor John. He had done his homework and even had bulletins ready for us along with communion wafers and wine. My dad, being the elder that he is, took great pride in preparing the communion table with John, pouring the wine in the individual cups John had brought along with spacing them perfectly on the restaurant tray we borrowed. The service was a nice way to start off the trip and the week, being reminded why we were there, and what this is all about. Even the non-members commented on how it was a nice service, with a skit read for the sermon, and a few classic hymns sang acapella to round it out. Afterwards, it was time to pack up the bus and wait for Nelson. John Gehrig and I headed over to the airport to greet Nelson while the rest made sure all the luggage and supplies were packed up in the bus, ready to go. Nelson got in without too many problems and we were on our way to Chinandega via Leon. All of my newcomers enjoyed seeing the big city of Managua and watching the scenes change to the countryside as we headed towards Leon. It was only Sunday morning, but we had already been drenched with rain several times as it rained, then downpoured, then stopped, then rained, etc. all morning and actually for the rest of the trip. We’d go through a pattern in the bus of putting the windows up part way, all the way, down again, up part way, and on and on as the weather changed by the minute. You can imagine what a bus with 23 people and no airconditioning smelled and felt like in the warm, humid, and damp conditions! We stopped to eat in Leon at a new Tip Top! No Nica trip is complete without it, so this was a great way to start the trip off. Both Johns and myself commented on how Leon had changed since last time we were there. It appeared as if the economy was doing better and there were more businesses and better infrastructure since last time we were in the area. More to come on that later with the microbank story that proved to be correct! With our tummies full, we continued on to Chinandega. Once we arrived, Nelson serving as my translator, went with me to get us checked in to the Hotel Cosiguina and get ourselves acclimated. The staff proved to be thorough and relatively efficient considering what they were up against! We soon realized that Chinandega is by no means on the same level as Leon. The hotel we were at had the only restaurant in town except for a pizza place and a take-out Chinese place (not sure how we felt about that). Sandor, the director of the Lutheran church there, offered to take us to the coast for some great seafood. Considering the hotel was not really prepared for us to eat there that night, we decided to load back up on the bus for another grueling ride in the rain, out to Corinto, Nicaragua’s main port city. Later in the week we learned a little more about Corinto. It is Nicaragua’s main port city, and along with that comes a lot of foreigners. Prostitution is most prevalent there and it’s usually with girls ages 13-18. The highest number of AIDS cases, hepatitis, and STD’s are in this city because of it. Sailors, truckers, and the like take advantage of what they can. From the little we saw, it is very isolated so it is easy to understand why people wouldn’t know there is a world beyond this port town. We did see dozens of 18-wheelers lined up along the sides of the road on our way there in one area, but didn’t understand until later in the week what that was all about. The saddest thing is to realize how young these children are that are affected by this. It’s often that we will see a 20-23 year old mother with one child on a hip, and another one in tow, tugging on her shirt at our clinics. Often, their occupation is Ama de Casa, a housewife. This isn’t because these are young women who had children out of wedlock or something of the sort. In Nicaragua, a 20-year old person is considered old. It is not unusual for people to get married at age 13 and up. The government regulates school up until 6th grade so many outlying areas do not even provide an education past the 6th grade level. That makes it understandable that 13 is then much later after you ‘graduate’ from school. Sandor had told us about how two of his pastors for the surrounding villages, a 26-year old and a 32-year old will have a very difficult time ever marrying. They are considered very old and spinster-like and have to face the fact that they will never marry. As a result, that is why it is not unusual for children to be having children as we would see it in this country. Nevertheless, I would like to see Corinto in the daytime to see what it is really all about. We arrived at the restaurant that night in the wet and damp port town. The air smelled of the fishy ocean, and the sounds of the crashing waves were beautiful. The breeze was a brisk warm one, making for a fun setting for a meal on the water. Most of us had never seen or been on the Pacific Ocean, so this was a first for us. There was an old shriveled up lady, a drunken man, and a young boy, probably around ten, that were in the vicinity of the restaurant begging for a few coins from the gringos that arrived. Everyone filed past them in to the restaurant area. We all indulged in some great seafood including $10 lobster meals, Pacific shrimp, fish filets, and the like. The restaurant staff, although warned by Sandor that we were coming, were overwhelmed with a group of 20-something that wanted split bills. In their logical minds they decided in order to keep track of what people drank, they would put the ‘empties’ on the floor behind the chairs. It was comical to watch people blame their table neighbor for the bottles under their chair. Eventually, the waitstaff realized this wouldn’t be such a good idea when someone had to get up to use the restroom. All the bottles, glasses, etc. ended up on a spare table and we cashed out at the end of the night on the honor system, telling the staff what we had consumed so we could pay accordingly. The few beggars that were waiting outside the restaurant for us sheepishly asked for a few cordobas again as we left and were lucky enough to get a few coins from a couple people. We made our long trip back to the hotel and retired for the night. Monday’s clinic can be summed up in one word: WET. Definitely the wettest I have ever experienced. The charts peeled off the walls even with duct tape. Equipment had to be moved out of the way of downpouring rain, in-between the thatched roof chapel area where the docs worked, and the tin roof areas surrounding, where we cramped all our other stations. The papers had drip marks all over them and the stickers on the dispensary bags would not peel off, except in tiny pieces, like a bad price sticker….better to write the scrips on the sheets. We saw 296 patients from 8 am until 6 pm, and it drained all of us. It was relatively dark, often feeling like it is 8 pm instead of 12 noon. We were all standing in damp, puddled areas. Somehow, we were all still working and handling it okay. It’s interesting to note that although it is near the end of the rainy season in Nicaragua, this is more rain than even what they are used to for this time of year. In true Floridian form, we just can’t get enough of hurricanes. Like most Floridians, if the hurricane isn’t coming over our state, we don’t pay nearly as much attention to it. Most all of us had forgotten that Hurricane Stan was passing over Mexico while we were in Nicaragua this time. It was a category 1 hurricane, and it’s outer bands were dumping massive amounts of rain on Central America including Nicaragua. It made sense once we were told about this because we would get a massive downpour for 15-20 minutes, and then it would stop. Maybe an hour later it would happen again. It was very sporatic with misting rain, downpours, or nothing at all…just like any hurricane I’ve experienced. Thus, we can now say that we rode out yet another hurricane in our lives! The second clinic day proved to be just as productive as our first. It was fun to walk around and see each station running like a well-oiled machine. Most all of the people working on this mission had never been on a mission before and the most training any of them had was working at our local clinic at Gainesville Community Ministries. A very small scale compared to the numbers we were cranking out here. Each person had seemed to find their niche. Ino, Nelson’s mom, was on her first-ever mission trip. She is passionate about her son’s work and vision care. When we started our trip, I thought I would put her in the visual acuity area as a translator, honing in on her native language of Spanish from living in Puerto Rico. I soon realized that Ino had a different idea and would be running the registration area. She was passionate about the fact that the informational sheets had to be filled out correctly in order for the doctors to give the best care possible. I let her run with it and she proved to be my ‘Registration Nazi’, like the Soup Nazi from the Seinfeld sitcom. There were two local volunteers also helping in registration, but they both knew Ino was in charge. She commanded the flow of traffic, the lines, the proper way to fill out the forms, and who does and does not get through. She was wonderful. I’d hire her as my registration supervisor any day. She loved what she was doing and I did too! Visual acuity was ran just as smoothly. Warren, Gladys, Marj, Laura, and Judy kept things going. Warren served as translator for the four lovely ladies as they cranked patients through, but at the same time taking time to find out who the people were and what they were about. All week it seemed Warren would come to the dispensary saying, “This is my friend! How did they fare?” He’d tell us a bit of their story and we all appreciated it. That’s all part of why I do what I do and everyone else does too…we want to get to know who the people are as a human being, not just a patient number. Those are the things that make the amazing stories. Those are the things that make us realize the impact we are having on these people who share this big world with us. Paul may have been one of the most changed people during this trip. Reason being, he learned so much about the pathology of the eye. Paul is in his first year of residency, earning his M.D. He intends to continue on to become an opthomalogist, but this was his first intense hands-on with patients. He said it would take him about a month to see as many eyes as he saw in four clinic days. He himself found he was working almost twice as fast by the end of the week because he was becoming more familiar with what things were that he saw and how to diagnose them. He strictly did pathology all week and loved it. He is a great doctor and really took the time with the patients to listen to what they had to say instead of pushing them through. Anyone watching him could observe he truly cared about each patient. The autorefractor station was a station filled with testosterone. Dick, my dad, and Pastor John rotated working the machine and testing people’s eyes. It was funny to watch these guys try to figure out the mechanics of the machine and all of its parts. I knew they would work well together. John is trained to be sensitive to people and their needs, but I wouldn’t necessarily put Dick or my dad in that category. Those two are very similar in many aspects including skills, abilities, and people skills. I think both have softened considerably since having grandkids come in to their lives. I observed one of the most beautiful things in this area. The machine that does the testing is stationary, so people’s heads have to adjust to fit in the machine accordingly for them to complete the proper testing. For adults it was fine, but children were often just too small to be lined up correctly with the headrest. When I went over to check up on them, I saw a little boy, probably 8 years old, sitting in Dick’s lap as he was tested. Dick used his lap as a booster seat for this little boy and helped keep his head in place as my dad tested his vision. Dick had the most gentle touch with this little boy. It was truly a grandfather touch, loving and caring. He also really enjoyed passing out mini candy bars to each child that came through his area. I think deep down, he’s probably like my dad…a guy who was so strong and stubborn in his ‘working years’, but now can cry at the drop of a Little House on the Prarie episode. All five of the doctors I had on this mission did an amazing job. I already told you about Paul and his greatness. Nelson and Luanne were also with us all week long and are familiar with mission trips in Nicaragua and how to see massive amounts of patients quickly without jeapordizing quality of care. Nelson served not only as an OD, but my personal translator for much of the trip also. He’s a workhorse not to be reckoned with. Both were great go-to people all week for strange scrips and how to properly match, etc. Ampy and Dunia were both only with us for half of the week. Where one wasn’t, the other was so we were well-covered. Ampy was a wonderful surprise brought on by Nelson. She practices in Puerto Rico and like all the rest of the docs, truly cares about the patient. Dunia was her beautiful self as always, and loved working with all the children…her favorite. I would not have traded any of my docs and can only hope they will all be back in the future. The dispensary was like a beehive. Busy buzzing all the time with lots of people in and out of it. Barb, my mom, Sue, John Gehrig, Russ, and myself kept the place moving. Sue was a wonderful repeat mission-goer so she required no additional training or help just like Russ and John. Barb and my mom were new to missions, and to dispensing also. Barb had helped only once or twice at GCM, so for the most part, the two of them were new on the scene. By the second day, they were both handling the majority of the workload along with Sue, giving John and myself the ability to deal with administrative things. Russ was a glorious advisor for those crazy prescriptions and of course the best frame-bender around. His wisdom and knowledge in that area is amazing. I always feel so honored to have him on my team, knowing he will make sure each patient has not only a correct prescription on their face, but a comfortable feeling pair of glasses as well. The line was long, people were patiently waiting in the rain, and the bees were buzzing inside the clinic, moving patients one chair at a time through the clinic stations. Mid-morning, Pastor John, John Gehrig, and myself went with Sandor to go visit some of the communities we were serving. Our first stop was El Piloto. It is literally right off of the Pan-American highway, in the middle of nowhere it seemed. As is customary, when we arrived, two young ladies were sweeping the dirt floor for our arrival. A church has been built in this small community, but it is not complete. The walls are up and a very secure cement structure is in place. Currently the roof is made out of corrugated plastic pieces and water leaks on to the dirt floor. Sandor is hoping to have money donated to put a metal roof, windows, a door, and eventually, a cement floor inside of it. The people of El Piloto are very proud of this church and take care of it. There were flowers planted all around the church entrance and mini-hanging baskets hanging off the front of it, made out of a cut soda bottle and some string. This church was the only structure of substance in this tiny area. Next door was a woman with her three children in their yard. The house was more like a lean-to, made out of logs and a thatched palm-branch roof. The only thing that was off the ground in the dirt ‘tent’ was the baby’s playpen/crib which was covered with splashed mud and dirt on the sides. The yard was strewn with twine, used as clothesline, filled with bright white clothes and the like. I came to the conclusion that they must keep all their clothes hanging all the time because there is no place to store them inside their hut. There are no dressers, no drawers, no shelves. The woman’s only stove is an open fire in the corner of the hut. She owned a large cast iron pot and a big plastic bowl. We could not see any other cooking items. The yard was busy with a couple of roosters, a hen with 4 baby chicks following closely by, one skinny horse, and two piglets. All of them were responsible for scavenging for themselves. They spent all their time with their eyes looking for food on the ground. All of this was most amazing because it was constantly raining while we were there. The yard and hut was mud all the time. The clothes on the line were constantly wet. The fire had to be inside the thatched-roof hut in order to keep from going out. We in the states call that a fire hazard. These people call it a way of life. Next Sandor took us to another village close by. This area did have a school in it along with the skeleton of a church that was hoping to be built. Since the walls were not poured yet, that church looked more like a big prison cell with the bars coming down from the roof to the floor. Opposite of El Piloto, this church had a floor and roof, but was lacking the cement walls and windows. Finally, we went to El Viejo and saw a church completed. El Viejo is an actual city outside of Chinandega. The church was located in town, on the corner of two streets. It was painted bright yellow and had a beautiful big wooden door. Junior, the pastor for this church, met us there and opened it up for us to observe the interior. Just the night before Junior’s house had been robbed. Many clothes and all his money was stolen. Although a police report was filed, the chances of recovery of such things is next to impossible. What’s worse is what the money was intended for that was stolen from his house. The churches down there are provided with pallets of powdered milk through Orphan Grain Train. The pastor collects 10 cordobas (16.85 cordobas to $1US) per child per month from the families in the area. In return, the pastor provides enough powdered milk to cover the needs of each child for the month. Junior had just finished collecting the milk money and was scheduled to turn it in to the church office the next morning. Pastor John and I felt devastated that this happened and wanted to help. The milk money collected was only ~$60US. It seemed like such a small amount to us, we dipped in to our Misc. church envelope and provided Junior enough funds to cover the milk money along with a little extra to buy himself some new clothes. Junior was so taken back, he was almost in tears. He really didn’t know what to say. It felt good. The three of us headed back to the clinic feeling moved and wanting to somehow show the real Nicaraguan way of life to the others. By the end of the day, we had planned a surprise trip for the rest of the group on our way out of town the next day. Sandor arranged for us to go visit the refugee camp just outside of town. While we were on the road with Sandor, he had gotten a phone call from his brother, Ricardo in Leon. We were to call to First Lutheran back in Florida as soon as we returned to the church. Something bad had happened. All of our minds had been racing: John’s daughter had a cold when we left, my grandfather was expected to pass away any day, so many different things it could have been. When we arrived back, Pastor John called the church and was eventually transferred to Ken. The news was as tragic as it could have been. Russ’s son-in-law had died while running that morning. He was only in his thirties. John went in to pastor mode and took Russ and Laura aside to tell them the horrible news. Immediately arrangements were made to get them back to Managua and on the first flight out to head back home. There was a sadness that hung over us the rest of the day, even though we continued to press on at the clinic. I had a tear in my eye and had to turn away when I saw Marj walk up to them and say, “I am SO, so sorry. Trust me, I know what you are going through. If there is anything I can do, please let me know.” It was an ironic but comforting moment for all of them since the Trippensees had offered so much comfort and sympathy to Marj when she lost her daughter to this world only a few weeks ago. We all tried to express our sympathies to them before they loaded up in their taxi and headed back to their family. Nevertheless, the clinic was rocking when we returned. John Gehrig and I felt proud that the clinic was running well without us there and the numbers were being pumped out just like a manufacturing production line. The young, the old, the great, the small were all being served and leaving with smiles on their faces and a warmness in their heart. The church was passing out Spanish bibles to anyone who wanted one (a gift from Orphan Grain Train) along with brochures, pamphlets, and other reading materials. The rain kept coming and going all day, but the clinic pursued on. A reporter for the local newspaper came through the line and asked to interview me after he was finished. I obliged to his questions and thanked him for his time. An article was to run in the Chinandegan paper that evening. Ampy
had a very interesting case that afternoon. She had a patient, Diana
Calero, only 16 years old who could not even see the eyechart in
the visual acuity area. She was a beautiful young lady with big
brown eyes and silky long black hair. She had distinct features
that made her one of those naturally beautiful people. Ampy was
working in the pathology station at the time when it was Diana’s
turn. Although her eyes were healthy on the inside, she could not
see anything and she had never had glasses. The extent of her vision
was possibly the very blurred outline of buildings, but nothing
more than that. Ampy wanted to see this shy patient all the way
through the process, so she brought her over to the phoropter. The
autorefractor readings were showing -15.00 and We finished up the day with seeing the chief of police and a few of his deputies. We packed up our clinic and headed back to the hotel to celebrate our success. We had seen another 340 patients. The evening finished up with dinner at the hotel and some relaxation and socializing, getting to know each other and reflecting on the world around us that we were experiencing. Wednesday morning proved to be an event-packed morning unlike we had expected. I had surprised the group the night before telling them of their special field trip we would go on this morning. After breakfast, we were scheduled to go out to Santa Patricia, the refugee camp just outside the city. We would be escorted by two police officers for our safety. Everyone packed up their suitcases and supplies on the bus and we loaded up along with the two police officers and Roberto, a wonderful local who had translated for us the past two days. Roberto grew up in this refugee camp with his mother. He was recently married and lived in a different part of the city outside of the camp now, but his mother still resides there. Roberto is a driver when work is available and helps the church translating while his wife is attending the University in Leon to become a lawyer. He has really made a good life for himself compared to the conditions in the camp so we all felt so proud to see his accomplishments. Loaded and ready to go, Issac was ready to pull the bus out of the hotel’s yard when we realized the entranceway to the road was blocked by someone who had parked their truck there. The next hour and forty-five minutes was spent while all the men tried to figure out how to get this vehicle out of the way. The women cackled in the bus making fun of the men (too many chiefs, not enough Indians concept) but eventually almost all of us filed out also due to heat on the bus and/or potty breaks. Most everyone was in agreement that rolling the truck forward out of the way temporarily was the easy fix, but the two police officers with us didn’t want anything to do with that. Whoever owned this vehicle obviously had money and therefore had more authority than these police officers. Thus, they could get in trouble if the owner said something was broke or missing after the truck was moved. Some people split up and went door-to-door, business after business trying to find the owner of the truck. Eventually, the police gave in and the guys rolled the truck forward while Issac pulled the bus out on to the narrow street. Traffic was stopped while he did this. It made for a Kodak moment and finally we were on our way to Santa Patricia. Surprisingly, this refugee camp was not that far away from the center of the city. It is literally only three blocks off the main road. Only a few blocks away from the hotel, we transitioned from paved road to dirt and within two blocks, the camp was evident. Instead of rows of cement houses, it was a dismal array of shacks and mud as far as the eye could see. This camp was created in 1989 after the Sandinista and Contra wars and after Hurricane Mitch. Many men, women, and children were lost in these two major catastrophes along with the mudslides that were a side effect of the hurricane. The large majority of the people who live in this camp are widows and orphans from these catastrophes. Previous to this area being a refugee camp, it used to be cotton fields. It was taken over by the government and given to these people with squatters rights. In the last six months, they were finally given tin roofs instead of plastic covering the shacks. They will be given a title for their 20x20 plot of land within the next few months. This will give these people an actual sense of ownership for the first time in over fifteen years. As Issac made the tight turns down the almost impassible mud roads, everyone fell silent as they looked and watched. Nothing could really be said as you looked at the way these people lived. A big bus coming in to this community was surely not a common thing so as we continued down the narrow paths, more and more people started following behind the bus to see the gringos that were coming in to their world and to see what they were doing there. Our bus stopped three blocks short of the church that was built right in the middle of this community. This was a completed church, much like the one in El Viejo. School was in session for some of the students so the place was buzzing. As we stepped off the school bus, I directed people to walk to the church/school where people were waiting for us. Everyone took their time, looking at the shacks, yards, and children surrounding them as they made their way to the church. The chatter that had seemed so evident just a few moments ago on the bus had fallen silent as everyone simply tried to take it all in. Once we were inside the church, used as a school during the week, we became as interesting to the kids as they were to us. We all stared at each other in amazement. The preschooler table was filled with tiny little children, most without shoes. It killed me to see flies crawling on their faces like you see on t.v. when they’re talking about Africa. The children didn’t even try to shoo them away which meant they were used to it. Most of the people in my group had never been engulfed in a situation like this so I wanted to let them know these beautiful people weren’t any different than us. I turned towards my mom and dad and said, “You want a picture with these kids?” Immediately my mom reacted with a loud yes and my dad was right beside her wondering how they should sit/stand/kneel for their picture. I instructed them to ‘get right in there’ with them and soon my camera flash was flickering. That sent a wave of smiles through the crowd of children. When I showed them what they looked like on my digital camera, all of them fought to see what a photo really looked like. It sent a ripple effect to the rest of the group and soon everyone had their cameras out taking pictures of each other surrounded by schoolchildren beaming brightly and then fighting for a chance to see themselves. My group soon realized these kids were just kids and they were as sweet as any you had ever met. One of the teachers announced to us that they were going to sing two songs for us. I was elated as ever since I’ve seen Nicaraguan children sing and dance for me before and I knew it would steal any hearts that hadn’t already been stolen. Pastor John and I went up to the front to take video and pictures while the kids sang. They clapped and sang in unison the two most beautiful songs. The first one many of us had recognized the tune from back home. By the second song, most of us were singing and clapping in English. It took the children by surprise that we knew the song they were singing, let alone we were singing it in a second language. Nonetheless, it was a beautiful song, worshipful and comforting sung together by two groups of people, separated by two languages, but united by one God. One of the local women had brought in a five-gallon bucket of coconuts from her only tree. She carved a hole in the top of each, inserting a straw and offering one to each of us to drink the coconut milk inside. It was a welcome gift to each of us. A woman who had nothing, was offering us everything she had. The need and desire in this refugee camp is amazing. There is no public school, so the only school they have is the one attended at the church. Although all Nicaraguans are required to go to school through 6th grade, no one really regulates it, especially in places like this. Nonetheless, this church and school is bursting at the seams. There are 150 children in the school through 6th grade. Because of physical space, they have a morning and an afternoon shift so the kids only go to school half of a day. There are 400 families that live in the refugee camp and there are consistently 400 people that come to the church services every Sunday. They provide a bible study/Sunday school along with a 4pm church service on Sundays. They have a woman who serves as the president of the congregation along with a female deacon who takes care of the church. Although Pastor John thought this was quite liberal of them, I think part of it may be out of necessity since there are very few men who live there. After our coconut festivities, we all went on a walkabout of the camp. We made a big loop in a three block area. We visited the pastors house, his mother-in-law’s, Roberto’s mother’s place, the coconut lady’s house, and several others. The most amazing thing happened while we were walking along these mud streets. We hadn’t even gotten 50 yards away from the church when we noticed we had a following. All of the children had started to follow behind us and were gradually making their way to intermingle with all of us gringos. Soon, not a single one of us had a free hand because we had a child clung on to each of our hands. Many guided us around the ruts in the road and where to step. Many carried on conversations with us. Even though neither of us knew what the other was saying, we understood each other. We loved each other and that’s all that really mattered. The children giggled and laughed as the adults looked around in amazement. We were in the heart of one of the most devastating places any of us had ever experienced, and the people there were happier than most people we had ever met. If we pulled a hand away to take a picture of something, it was grabbed immediately afterwards as to not miss a moment holding our hands. To try and describe the devastation that we saw there is quite honestly, very difficult to describe. It’s kind of the same thing as trying to describe the Grand Canyon to someone. Pictures and words just don’t cut it. You have to experience it yourself to really understand. I had heard a number of times about how Orphan Grain Train sends cargo containers down to the refugee camp in Chinandgea, but never got the grasp of it until now. One picture in particular that I took seems to be relatively appropriate. A woman is standing in her yard with her four children. She had a corner lot so it was easy to take a picture. She and her oldest child were clothed, but of course had no shoes. Shoes were very scarce there. The other three children were completely naked. All three had enlarged stomachs, not because they were full, but because they were malnourished. Her shack was made with scrap pieces of tin and the occasional small log or branch. Many areas were covered with the famous plastic covering we had heard about which basically looked like a garbage bag opened up flat. There was one plastic chair in the yard and maybe six pieces of clothing on the clothesline in the back. That was about it. When I say these people live off the land, that’s exactly what I mean. I am not sure where or how they get their money, but there is no extra of anything. The occasional electrical wire ran overhead in the streets, by the houses. Some people were hooked up to it, but not everyone. It was always a live wire, spliced together in a very dangerous way, sometimes with something as simple as scotch tape. Often these wires were within inches of the tin roofs. The men on our trip were in amazement at the way this was done. When Pastor John mentioned he wanted to help these people, people in our group started digging in their fanny packs and pockets. By the time we were done, Pastor John presented the President of the church with $83US to be used for the school however they saw fit. It was pocket change for us, but a huge amount of money to them. They were so grateful. We told them we would be back. So many of us wanted to take our children home. They were precious angels. Many of us cried at different points in the experience we had there whether it was the first initial shock or the saying good-bye to such a pitiful group of people. When we loaded back on the bus to head out of the camp and on to Leon, I knew the mission trip could have stopped there and I would have accomplished everything I wanted on that trip. Everyone’s eyes had been opened to the way most Nicaraguans live. John Gehrig and I had seen devastation like this before, but no one else had. I had just hooked 19 people in to wanting to come back, do more, and know all their material possessions at home were pointless. As we made our way out of the camp, we waved goodbye to all of our new friends. Issac’s sharp driving skills got us safely out of the narrow roads once again, and we were on our way to Leon once we dropped Roberto and the police off at one of the corners in town. We had a lot to do yet that day. Once in Leon, John Gehrig, Nelson, and Ampy were taking a cab in to Managua. Ampy was heading back to Puerto Rico and the other two had a meeting with the Minister of Health along with Dunia. They would bring Dunia back later that day. In addition, Lester was supposed to be meeting us in Leon…someone we had not seen as of yet. Like clockwork, we arrived at the El Convento hotel in Leon and things started to fall in to place. The three headed off to Managua, and Lester showed up. We got everyone checked in to the hotel and told them they had the afternoon to relax doing whatever they chose. Most everyone appreciated that offer and took advantage of it. I used Lester while I could and put him to work. He, Isaac, and Armando hauled all of our equipment down to the church while I went down to say hi to Ricardo and double check on our room set ups for the clinic the next day. We all ate lunch at the restaurant there. It was a bit annoying because it took us 1 ½ hours to dine for soups and salads. There were several large parties in addition to ours and I don’t think the restaurant was ready for us too. Either way, we ate and were on our way. After that, Lester, my parents, and I went to the bank so I could deposit the money collected from the first two clinic days in to the VOSH bank account. My parents got a real feel for what banks are like in Nicaragua and realized they are much more secure than American ones. Standard protocol is to leave all items outside the bank including cameras, knives, clippers, etc. and having to take your hat off if you have one. Somehow these few small activities took up most of our time that afternoon. At 4:00 pm, we were to meet at the front lobby. We were going to be heading out to Las Penitas on the Pacific Coast for dinner on the ocean. John Gehrig and I were supposed to have a business dinner with Orlando from SosteNica, a microbank out of Leon. VOSH is looking at investing in it. Seprodel is the parent company of SosteNica. It was founded in 1993 in New Haven, Connecticut by Alan Wright. The company started out with $25,000 as its start-up seed money, and now has a net worth of $6.5 million, SosteNica worth $1.3 million. There are 19 branches of SosteNica around the country and their headquarters office is in Leon. Orlando is the Credit Manager of the Financial Programs of the Leon office. SosteNica is a microbank which means that it provides small loans to individuals and businesses. When it started, SosteNica mainly focused on microbusinesses: grocery stores, barbershops, carpentry, bakeries, etc. for their loans. Loans were typically for $100US and were payable in one year. In addition to loans, SosteNica gives training to their customers to teach them how to properly invest the money and make correct financial decisions for their businesses. Within a year or two after the start of SosteNica, they did a market study in Nicaragua and found that the main source of income for people was agriculture. They then switched gears to focus more on the rural loans versus urban ones for several reasons. First of all, when farmers take loans out, they pay them off in full right after harvest time. As a result, they have less interest to pay and can get another loan sooner. The turnaround time on rural loans is a win-win situation. Secondly, urban loans take longer to pay back (usually the full allotted time) and are reliant on the economy. Anyone who has learned things about Nicaragua knows that it is not unusual for businesses to shut down when the Sandinistas are starting riots or when national holidays occur. It’s not unusual for businesses to have to close for a week at a time which obviously effects their income, profit, and loan repaying ability. The other positive thing that SosteNica has seen from rural loans is the ability to really make more of an overall impact on the economy of Nicaragua. Often, farmers will take out the initial loan for seed in the fields. Once harvest time comes and they’ve paid off their loan early, they qualify to take out more money to invest in more expensive things like cattle. SosteNica is also training farmers to grow things organically, without any fertilizers or pesticides so they can sell their products at a higher price and export them. Orlando was telling us of a program that was just recently approved by Seprodel, the parent company, to start exporting honey to the United States. They will be providing loans to beekeepers very soon to export this highly acclaimed honey that tastes different because of the natural flowers in the country. If you want to learn more about this program, you can log on to www.sostenica.org. Long and short, Nica time proved to be the trump card over gringo time, so we did not end up leaving for the coast until 5:45pm. By the time we got to the coast, it was almost completely dark. Pastor John and I immediately took our shoes off and jumped down in to the sand, wanting to look for shells, feel the coastal waters on our feet, and experience the ocean. It was a beautiful few minutes that we spent before getting everyone settled at the large long table they had set up for us. Close to the time that the dinners were being served is when Nelson, John Gehrig, and Dunia showed up. It was great to see my Dunia again, beautiful as ever. Everyone enjoyed themselves that evening. The service was quite good and the food was even better. There were quite a few surprised looks on people’s faces when their fish came out on a plate with head, tail, and all! Issac was the only one who could finish the entire fish and proudly showed off his skeleton. He was the equivalent of Sylvester the cat picking a fish clean. After a long evening of eating and socializing, we loaded back up on the bus for the trip back to Leon. We had another clinic to run the next day. Thursday morning was the same as most clinic mornings. There was a long line of people waiting when we arrived, and we were busy to work setting up amongst the wet, damp conditions. We were quickly starting, seeing patients filing through the stations. Relatively early in the morning a t.v. crew showed up from the local channel 52. They wanted to shoot some footage and do a couple of interviews. Ironically, Nelson had just had a patient who was a miracle find, knowing what she needed. Opposite of Diana from a few days prior, Hiliaria Guzman needed +10.00 glasses for reading. She had cataracts and hadn’t been able to see anything near for years. She wanted to be able to read her bible again, and once a pair of glasses were put on her face, she wouldn’t stop talking, thanking us and evangelizing to anyone who would listen. We asked if she would be willing to be interviewed and she jumped at the chance. This 60-year old woman gave the camera guys a run for their money. She had a few things to say and they weren’t going to get a word in edgewise. She was a wonderful witness to God and how he had worked wonders in her life and she considered those glasses just another part of how God takes care of his people. After they were done interviewing her, Pastor John and myself went in to Ricardo’s office for our two minutes of fame. Lester translated for us and we professed our purpose and reasoning for being there. It was a great way to get the word out about First Lutheran and VOSH. We were able to get a copy of the taping and will use it in our promotional pieces here in the states. That day, we had two low vision patients, a lot of kids, and many other people in need. We saw 272 patients in all. We had found another great translator for us named Hector. When the bus pulled up to El Convento the day before, I hopped out to go check on our reservations. He was on his bike by the gate and said, “Hi.” He asked if we were a tour group and I explained we were there to run a vision clinic. He was looking for work and I had told him where to show up the next morning. Hector proved to be a good translator and a really great person. He helped in the autorefractor area and in the dispensary. He was kind and caring to the patients, something we always look for. He worked hard the next two days and really appreciated the gifts he received from the gringos in return. One other surprise showed up at the clinic: Elida. She had worked with us in January and attends the University in Leon. She is very deep in to her pre-med studies and stopped by between classes to see us. Elida looked as beautiful and elegant as ever and even helped dispense a few glasses. She went to lunch with John Gehrig and I and went with Lester on a few errands. Paul had a great conversation with her since they’re both studying medicine and he speaks fluent Spanish. In addition, Paul’s mom had worked closely with Elida on the January trip in the dispensary. We are all hoping to be invited back for the wedding ceremony when Pablo (Paul) and Elida get married!! After our hard day of working at the clinic, many people gathered at the hotel for a happy-hour celebration. The table kept growing bigger and bigger as people filed in sporatically. Some would leave to shower up only to return re-energized. It was a day of celebration for everything we had accomplished so far and knowing we were making a difference. Cervezas (beers), pina coladas, and Chilean wine was in full effect. This was the one night we would be eating dinner there and retiring to our rooms. We bonded during those few hours maybe more than any other time that week. People who normally would have a Sprite even had one celebratory drink. From there, we moved in to the dining area to indulge in an amazing dinner. Shrimp cocktail, ornate appetizers, indulgent entrees, and heavenly desserts came and went on our plates in front of us. It was like a European feast, meant to be appreciated, not rushed. We continued to enjoy each other’s company and reflect on what God had done in our lives that week. The refugee camp was still very fresh in our minds along with the beautiful faces of the people we had served. After dinner was over, we casually retired for the evening in preparation for our final clinic day. Friday was anything less than chaotic. Nelson was flying out that day, so he had to leave the clinic by 11 am. We had to travel back to Managua that night so we wanted to leave while it was still light out, by mid-afternoon. Lester had to travel to Managua also for an important meeting with his boss, with the hopes that he would get promoted to a supervisory position at his job. Everyone was abuzz, trying to get as many patients through as we could. One patient came in with walking braces. She obviously had some sort of condition that she couldn’t walk without her arm braces to support herself. Instead of her trying to squeeze through the tight station areas, we had her sit at the dispensary and Luanne came and examined her there. She couldn’t be any older than 20, and luckily had very good vision. We were happy to give her a cool pair of sunglasses and send her on her way. We also had two patients in wheelchairs, both missing a leg or two. The doctors were great about accommodating these patients who could not fit in to the tiny rooms. There was one other girl that came through and stole my heart. She had the cutest little face and a smile that could light up any room. She spoke so slowly and eloquently with that tiny high-pitched voice of a four year old. She wanted her picture taken with me. She wanted me to meet her mommy. She wanted to come home with me (and I would have LOVED to take her home). She even asked for my address so that she could write me. I gave her mom one of my business cards and we took a Polaroid of the two of us together so she could have it. If she writes me, I may just have to adopt her, although I’m not sure how her mom would feel about that! Amazingly enough, we had seen all but about 15 ticketholders by the time we left the clinic a little before 5:00 pm. I left a box of readers with Ricardo so that the remaining patients could pick a pair of frames and be examined by a local optometrist in town and have glasses made. We had seen another 238 patients, bringing our grand total for the week to 1,146. We had done good work and were ready for some relaxation. We said our goodbyes to Ricardo and all the people in Leon. Nelson and Lester had already left earlier in the day so Paul was now my main translator. On our way back to the Las Mercedes hotel, we stopped at Santa Fe restaurant for dinner. Everyone was appreciative of the American style bathrooms with real soap, toilet paper, sinks, seats, and doors. The drinks were cold and the food was hot. Paul worked his tail off making sure everyone had ordered, got their orders, and the grueling task of splitting the bills. Santa Fe is always one of my favorites with some of the best Mexican food I’ve ever had. It seemed most everyone else agreed with that. After our tummies were full, we headed back to Las Mercedes, across from the airport, to crash for the evening. John, John, and Ino were flying out the next day and the rest of us were going to the markets in Masaya. John Gehrig was especially ready to go home since he had been in Nicaragua and El Salvador for almost three weeks. He missed his loving wife and the comforts of his own home. Very understandable. Saturday morning came fast enough. We were down to 12 people in our group. The funny thing was I was one of the best Spanish speaking people left!! I was already thinking how we would be splitting up in the market…groups of 3-5 and that meant I would be one of the translators. Comical to anyone who knows my Spanish, but nonetheless, Paul, Luanne, Warren, and myself would be the negotiators for our buying sprees. We headed out to Masaya and said our goodbyes to Dunia. While we were shopping, the bus drivers would continue on to Dunia’s house and drop off all the eyeglasses and her in Jinotepe. They should arrive back just around the same time we should finish up…or we had hoped! All of us shoppers had an agenda and the few that didn’t became pack mules for us that did! It was just like old times, seeing my father putting out his hand after another purchase to carry it for the women as they cackled and bargained. The poor man must have carried 20 bags in his arms with us saying things like, “Now be careful with that one, it’s breakable!” or “Ooh, this was a great bargain!” It was a time to be had by all. All of us were shopping for ourselves, but Gladys and I were both shopping for auction items for fundraisers as well. Christmas and birthday presents were in large quantities also. At one point, Isaac had found me and said hi to let me know he was there. When I found out what time it was, I was shocked. We had spent 3 ½ hours shopping, when we had said we’d take 2 hours. Many of us could have shopped for much longer, but we decided to stop where we were and head back. All of us were elated with our bags of goodies and smiles on our faces. Off to the lagoon at Catalina we go! I was hoping for everyone to experience the beautiful lagoon at Catalina that we all love to enjoy. It’s always very windy and cool, but a welcomed breeze during the hot days in Nicaragua. This trip had been wet and rainy by any standards and definitely not hot…maybe in the 80’s. When we got to the lagoon, it was misting and you couldn’t even see the beginning of the lagoon due to the massive amounts of fog. We filed in to the restaurant that overlooks the lagoon since the breeze was actually quite chilling. We ate very well once again, getting our last fill of seafood for the week. After eating, we strolled in the shops along the edges of the parking lot there and tried our best to get a view of the lagoon. I did see the infamous ten cent horses standing in the wet rain, but couldn’t convince anyone to take one for a spin. People finished spending all the money they had at the last few shops buying souvenirs and the like. Paul, by far, got the best item of any of us. Many of us were joking with him that he should get one of the beautiful statues in this one tiny shop. The woman there had made all these sculptures by hand herself. All were pre-Columbian art replicas and beautiful. I found myself looking at these beauties and thinking how much I would like one in my house but how the heck would I get this thing home? They were two feet wide and three feet tall on average. All were scantily clad warrior women serving up offerings to their god, with a bowl, jug, or plate. Little did we all know that Paul’s wheels were turning and he was already thinking how he was going to get his new treasure home. Several minutes later, we were all commending Paul for making the investment in to his new ‘change holder’. He figured that was the best purposeful excuse he could come up with for buying it…it could be used as a change holder. As we rode back to Las Mercedes, we all compared notes on what we bought and what we had bartered the people down to. Once we were back at the hotel, everyone said goodbye to Isaac and Armando so they could head home to Matagalpa. Armando wanted to know when B.J. would be back. I told him in May and with that he smiled and gave me a hug. Luanne, Paul, and myself headed over to the airport to confirm our flights for the next day. Since there was a timechange the night we arrived in Nicaragua, we wanted to make sure the times on our tickets were correct. Good thing we checked because all of us had changes to our flight times and schedules. Our big group from Florida would be leaving 45 minutes earlier than planned. I went back and informed our group what the schedule would be like for the next day. Most all of us gathered with all our finds to have a show-and-tell presentation of our great deals and to get some reassurance from our fellow mission goers that we had great taste and even better bargaining power. We moved over to the restaurant area to have some dessert and a few last conversations before retiring for the night. All of us had to rearrange luggage to accommodate our souvenirs. Paul spent several hours packing his new baby around layers of dirty clothes, cardboard, masking and duct tape. It was an engineering masterpiece. He had used so much of his dirty clothes to pack it, he literally had nothing left in his suitcase to take home except the outfit he had on that night. We all said our goodbyes to Paul and Luanne that night, knowing they had earlier flights than us. They were a lot of fun and we hated to part ways. The next morning we were all ready to head back to the states. We had a lot of fun, but were ready for some drier weather (imagine thinking that Florida is drier weather) and our families. We actually made it over to the airport earlier than we had planned and checked in without any problems. I had to go with a ticket agent to the very back of the airport where the luggage gets loaded on to the airplane carts. There, I had to open a few of our supply trunks and the autorefractor for the screeners to check. They were very nice and quite accommodating after finding out what we do down there. Once we all checked through security, the women went at it once again! The airport had its share of duty-free shops and the women were bound and determined to spend every last penny they had. The men watched the bags by the gate while the women kept bringing more. At one point, Dick said, “I have to go with my wife because she’s out of money and she needs mine now!” By the time we boarded the plane headed to Miami, we had all felt fulfilled in so many ways. Dick had said that I lied about the Nicaraguan diet and that he ate way too well. Judy was so proud for keeping within her means, having a great time, and still having souvenirs and memories to show for it. Marj could finally find purpose in areas of her life that had seemed so empty. My own dad realized that he may have grown up poor, but he was rich compared to these people (a statement that to this day shocks me). Sue had decided that Lutherans aren’t so bad afterall! The Lanes, expert world travelers, stated that this was one of the most organized and nice trips they had ever been on. And in our heart, we all had Russ and Laura and their family close by. The day was long with chaotic airports, flights almost missed and baggage that didn’t quite make it on the flight. When we finally loaded up on our luxurious shuttle bus in Orlando, we were without three of the equipment cases. I had filed the claims with the airline and they would deliver them the next day via courier. We were all exhausted and not feeling so well, probably because we hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Although many of us didn’t feel like eating, we stopped at one of the toll plazas to get some Burger King to go. Nothing like a whopper and some greasy French fries to rocket you back in to the reality of America. Most of us felt better after getting something in our stomachs. The ride home seemed short in relation to the traveling we had been doing all day. Everyone took turns calling loved ones to let them know we were alive and well. After Billy knew I was on the ground, he called every half an hour, wanting to know how close we were and to tell me another couple of stories of what I missed while I was gone. Once we arrived back to the church, Vicar Jay and Billy were waiting for us. That arrival seemed just like a scene out of a mushy ‘chic flick’. I was in the back of the shuttle bus and could see the smile come over Billy’s face as we pulled up. He walked up to the front of the bus and was peering in, anticipating my exit of the bus. At the same time, I was trying to make my way to the front so I could get that hug from him I had been wanting. Excuse me, pardon me, I’m going to sneak around you, oops, sorry! as I made my way to the front. Finally, I stepped down, in to the view of Billy. I’ve never seen a smile so big on his face. As I stepped down, we didn’t say a word to each other. We just embraced in one of the longest hugs I have ever experienced. His fingers were digging in to the back of my ribs from holding on so tightly. My chin had to have been digging a hole in his neck. The world continued to move around us, but we were in a world of our own. I was right where I wanted to be…the same spot I was eight days before. Like any other trip, we had joined as a bunch of strangers, but left as a family. This group of people would forever be bound by one week long trip that had changed their life forever. Hopefully, we would all meet again one day soon….maybe May.
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