Friday, February 26, 2010

In which Tim and Kim get engaged (to each other)...

It gives me great joy to announce my engagement to Kimberly Dykwell, my girlfriend of the past year. I proposed to her yesterday evening, at the restaurant in Santo Domingo where we had our first date, and I was very pleased that she said yes. I can't wait to begin our life together! Knowing and loving her has been the most exciting and wonderful experience of my life, and I am so thankful to God for all that He has done to bring us together. I am very blessed.

Kim, like me, is a Peace Corps volunteer here in the Dominican Republic. We met a few months after I arrived, and began our relationship in December 2008. She lived about seven hours away from me at the time, so we were only able to see each other a few times a month. She extended her service, though, and was able to move to a town about 30 minutes away from my community, where she has been living for the past four months. It has been so neat to share the Peace Corps experience with her. We have shared so many memorable experiences, like walks on gorgeous beaches, funny cross cultural experiences, killing tarantulas with machetes, and so much more.

I've known that I wanted to spend my life with her since pretty much the second date, but getting a proposal arranged was logistically complicated. I had to arrange for the purchase of a ring in America, get it safely shipped here, think of a creative way to propose, all while concealing it from the person who I spend a large amount of my time with. Not easy, but it all worked out. I prepared a photo album for Kim, which contained a poem about the story of our relationship and relevant photos. I carved a hole in the final page, where I stuck the ring. She read the book, turned the page, saw the ring, and exclaimed "WHAT??". I got down on one knee, told her how much I loved her, and asked if she would like to spend her life with me. She said yes!

We are so excited about this time in our lives. We finish our Peace Corps service in about two months, and will be returning to the US. We will announce an official date for the wedding as soon as we get home, if not earlier. We are so happy that during our trip in June Kim was able to meet so many of my friends and family, and that I was able to meet hers. We look forward to seeing many of you this summer, and sharing our joy with you! Thanks for the love and support.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Regarding relief...conclusions

I left the hospital this morning, and I am on my way home. The past week feels like it has lasted a year. I suppose it's the combination of long hours and high amounts of sensory and emotional in-put. I have learned a lot, and I doubt I will be able to unpack it all for a while.

I have a lot of seemingly contradictory emotions. I feel joy for things like Haitians escaping from rubble, American doctors giving up time and resources to help people they have never met, and people working together for a common goal despite linguistic and cultural differences. I also feel discouragement about the sheer size of the crisis, and the number of obstacles that are preventing real solutions from emerging. Selfishness, incompetence, corruption, despair, and racism remain strong.

It is saddening to hear the pain in one individual person's story, and then to multiply that pain by the number that have been killed or displaced. It is a little overwhelming.

But as my new friends like to sing: Haiti is Alive! I hope I get a chance to continue being connected with relief efforts. I definitely want to keep doing this stuff in my career.

Thanks for following my story. I am going to bed now.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Regarding relief...Day 6

It is my last night here at the hospital. My shift is over, and another volunteer has come to relieve me of my duty with the translators. It is hard to believe it's only been a week. I feel very close to the people I have spent time with, and it feels like a year.

Despite the sadness of the situation we are responding to, there are things happening that give me a continuing faith in the capability of people to cultivate good in the midst of evil. This evening I walked around the camp for my last night time round. I visited with some patients, and went to a neighborhood store with some American doctors, chatting about life and enjoying the cool evening breezes. Then I made my way to the front porch, where I spent some time joking around with some of the Haitian workers and learning new words in Kreyol. I went into the hospital and took a look at a baby who was born here in the hospital just a few days ago. Then I went upstairs where the Spanish team of medics insisted on hanging out with me on my last night, and we ended up staying awake until 1 AM, eating, drinking and laughing.

In a time of despair, people still laugh. In the midst of brokenness, people from different nations come together to find community. People may die, but new life is still beginning. Everywhere I look I see signs of hope. The Haitian people have dealt with so much difficulty for so long, and this earthquake was a real sucker punch. But the Haitian people are strong, and I believe that with a little support from the rest of the world they can rebuild their world out of the ashes.

It's been a good week.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Regarding relief...Day 5

Not all wounds are physical. This is another thing I have learned during my time here at the refugee hospital. The people with bandages are not the only ones who have been seriously hurt by the earthquake.

I have gotten to know my team of translators pretty well during the long hours we have spent together, helping patients, moving boxes, doing odd jobs, or just sitting in the shade. They represent many different parts of Haitian society. Some of them were college students before their university collapsed into rubble. One guy is a lawyer who travels all over the world. There are also some of them who were manual laborers or unemployed before all this happened. Some have come to the hospital because a family member is a patient. Others just showed up because they wanted to help. But some of them are here because they have nowhere left to go. One of my friends escaped unharmed from a collapsed house where ten people in his family were killed. Another guy lost his wife and daughter in the quake, but still carried his injured sister across Haiti to get her to our hospital. The doctors were unable to help her, and he lost her too.

Lots of the guys I've gotten to know have stories like this. I can't even begin to comprehend the depth of the sorrow they must feel. There are a few psychologists working here, and they have been seeing people day and night. I think that even when the cuts heal and the bones mend there will still be a lot of pain. How could there not be? Every family has been touched by death.

It is easy to get down, but I am so amazed by the resiliency of the Haitian people. Their sense of humor and optimism is irrepressible. Even in the sick wards there is the sound of laughter, and smiles everywhere. And every night there is singing.

I have watched a lot of disasters on CNN, including this one in the early stages. This is so different. Pain becomes much more real when you know the name and shake the hand of the person who is going through it. It makes complacency difficult.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Regarding relief...Day 4 (part 2)

One more funny note today...

The translators have started calling me "Barack Obama." It may have to do with the authoritative speaking voice I use while conducting meetings. When I remind them of my skin tone, they laugh and say that I am actually Bill Clinton.

It is important to smile.

Regarding relief...Day 4

The days are busy. Apart from managing the translators, I seem to have ended up with the semi-official job of "cultural liaison with the Dominicans." I suppose having a handle on how to speak hill billy Dominican Spanish makes me a good fit for this job. It basically means that I am the one to handle the relationships with many of the Dominicans whose cooperation we need to keep things running here. I talk with a lot of truck drivers, janitors, public health representatives, and people like that. In the last few days, though, I have started dealing with the military.

It all started when I greeted a group of officers who had a lot of medals on their chests. It turned out that they were a General and a Colonel who are responsible for the security of our neighborhood, and particularly our facility. Military presence is very concentrated here at the border. So I greeted these guys, and was giving the standard talk about how they can feel free to ask me any questions, share concerns, etc. Then the general took a look at my name tag, and noticed my last name. He slapped my back and told me that his last name was also "Brown" and he pulled out his name tag to prove it. Apparently he had a British grandfather. The officers roared with laughther. Now every time I see the guy he makes a joke about how we are long lost brothers. This morning he gave me a tshirt with the logo of his unit on the front. This afternoon he wanted his picture taken with me. I guess I have made an impression.

I am hoping that it is a relationship that works out to the advantage of the effort here. There is a lot of racial animosity between Dominicans and Haitians. I think the military is nervous about potential threats to our operation. I am thankful that they are being cooperative, and are very concerned about our security. It is easy to worry about all the things that go wrong every day, but it I've learned that is also important to appreciate the things that work out to the advantage of everyone. I think our security situation is very good. I will try to post my group picture with the General when I get a chance.

Regarding relief...Day 3.5

My recent entries may give the impression that all is gloom and depression here at the hospital on the border. While the greater situation is very sad, and challenging things happen every day, there is still a lot to laugh and smile about. How could things NOT be entertaining when you have groups of Haitians, Americans, Dominicans and Spaniards all operating on very little sleep?

Sleep has created an amusing set of circumstances for me. For some reason I do not rank high enough on the totem pole to have a bed reserved for me. I have to sleep where I find space. On the first night I found a bed, and appreciated it. On the second night I was on a very comfortable leather couch in the waiting area of the hospital. Last night a group of volunteers arrived very late, so the waiting area was far too loud to sleep in. I had to be creative. A nurse saw me roaming around like a zombie, exhausted after 18 hours on my feet, and advised that I take a look at the operating room. Sure enough, it was quiet, dark, air conditioned, and empty apart from all the surgical equipment. So I pulled in a cot and bedded down right next to the operating table. I slept very well. I wonder where I will be tonight...

Monday, February 8, 2010

Regarding relief...Day 3

(I am on the Haitian border, aiding with the earthquake relief effort. These are my stories)

Today was tough. Due to pressure from the local government, we are having to reduce the number of people within the hospital compound. This meant that today we had to make sure that each patient only had one family member staying at the hospital with them. Most families have had two or three people staying and caring for the patient. We had to go from family to family, explaining that they had to decide which of them was going to get on the bus that was going back to Haiti.

This is one of the most difficult things I have ever done. The Haitian people are extremely family oriented. These patients have lost their homes, and in many cases their limbs as well. Now we had to go around and tell them that we were splitting up their families for the time being. There was a lot of heavy emotion. Some patients refused to be separated, and tried to get on the bus wearing huge casts and with pins sticking out of their open wounds. Family means that much.

I feel stuck between the logical understanding of the practicalities involved with this operation, and a deep compassion for the people and a desire to do anything, no matter how unreasonable, to keep their lives from getting even crappier. It is not fun.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Regarding relief...Day 2

(I am currently at a hospital on the Haitian border, aiding the earthquake relief effort for about a week. These are my stories.)

What a day. I experienced a lot. I carried stretchers to operating rooms. I watched a medical helicopter take off. I had to scrounge to find food so that hungry people could have at least one meal today. I heard poor, homeless, injured refugees singing praise to Jesus at the top of their lungs. It was a full day, and I feel tired, frustrated, encouraged, satisfied, pessimistic and also excited about the world. Let's just say that I am learning a lot.

It all started when I got up at about 6 AM, to get ready for the early morning meeting with the team of translators. We assigned them to specific shifts in designated parts of the hospital. Apparently a lot of these guys have been working 24 hour shifts, following doctors around to translate their conversations with the patients. Not easy work. The translators are physically exhausted, emotionally drained, and are getting absolutely no compensation for doing a pretty important job. We have started making sure they get extra food at meal times to try to keep them happy. This meeting is the last specific event I remember from today. I am tired, but things also operate in such a whirl wind of activity that all that manages to stay in my head is a series of pictures, impressions, ideas and feelings.

The patients are mostly here with limb injuries. Almost everyone has either had an amputation, or is in traction. It is not easy to see, especially the little kids. It seems that most of them were just in their houses or at school when the quake hit, and the walls came down. It is encouraging to see them getting very good care, though. We have operating rooms, physical therapists, psychiatrists, 24 hour nursing attention and lots of other medical amenities that would not otherwise be available to these folks.

That being said, it is certainly NOT the mayo clinic. The patients are in crowded, dusty tents on thin worn out mattresses. They get fed twice a day with food donated by the local government. Lunch is a pile of greasy rice, and dinner is about half a cup of very liquidy oatmeal. Not exactly the kind of food that is ideal for someone recovering from a traumatic injury. There is no TV, AC, yummy hospital food, or caring relatives coming to visit. Each patient is allowed to have one or two family members staying with them. They have no connection with the people back in Haiti.

My job, besides coordinating the translators, is to do whatever I can to help out with the logistics of running this place. We volunteers do a lot of the dealing with local Dominicans. We are responsible for getting the food delivered and served every day. We serve as the cultural go betweens. It is not easy at all. American doctors like things the way they like them. In a situation like this, though, you have to work with what you have. Dominicans can be equally stubborn. I am learning a lot about international disaster relief strategies, but I won't bore you with that talk today.

We operate one day at a time, doing what we can to help the people in front of us. Right now it is unclear whether this place will turn into a long term care center. No one knows. We all work hard, and sleep is hard to come by. I am pooped. I will turn in soon, and try to write something more story-like tomorrow. I appreciate the prayers.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Regarding relief...Day 1

(I am currently at a hospital on the Haitian border, aiding the earthquake relief effort for about a week. These are my stories.)

I arrived here at the hospital around midday, and it has been a very busy experience so far. We are a few miles from the border. There are about 150 patients here, and about the same number of family members. Patients are layed out in tents, as most of them are still frightened to sleep inside a building, after having their homes collapse on them. There are a lot of sad stories here. People have lost friends, family members, and everything they have.

The doctors are mostly American and Spanish, here for shifts of a couple weeks. Peace Corps volunteers have taken over the administration of the facility. We distribute food, manage the translators, keep the books, and do all kinds of things to keep the trains running in week long shifts.

I will be in charge of coordinating the translator team. It is a group of about 20 young Haitian men, most of whom are relatives of patients. They were recruited for their ability to speak some combination of English/Spanish/Creole. They are not being paid. My job is to keep them happy, and make sure they are where they need to be to help the doctors. I start tomorrow morning. Look for stories tomorrow.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

in which Tim gets to help Haiti...

I know there is a lot of interest among socially concious people back home in what is being done to help Haiti. A lot of the relief effort has been concentrated here in the DR since we have more functional airports than Haiti does right now. The embassy is very involved, and all of us know aid workers or missionaries who have headed into Haiti to take a more active part in the effort.

They haven't let us Peace Corps volunteers go into Haiti yet, but there is a hospital set up on the border that has been helping a lot of refugees. We volunteers are going over their in shifts to help keep things running. The hospital is equipped to serve a few hundred patients, and during the first week after the quake they were seeing that many show up daily. It was a big mess. Kim went out there last week to be a runner and do whatever she could to support the doctors. As with most disaster relief efforts, things are very unorganized and high stress.

I am heading out there on Saturday. Things may have calmed down now, but I am sure there will still be plenty to do. I am not sure what to expect, but I am glad to be able to help directly in some way. I will write updates as I can reporting on what I see and learn. Thanks for the prayers!

regarding unexpected food poisoning...

Part of life in the Peace Corps is that you get diarrhea a lot. Usually a few times a month. Sometimes it is predictable, and sometimes it is a big surprise. Here is a case in point...

I spent the last few weeks doing a bunch of travelling. I was in Kim's old site, teaching them how to build a new model of stove. We were in the deep country side for about five days, and there was no sanitized water around. Oh well. I had to drink what was there, so I drank the well water expecting something bad to happen, but nothing did.

A few days later I returned home. I had to spend a day tromping around the very high hills way far away from my community where there are no amenities of any kind. Usually on day trips like this I bring my water bottle along, but I forgot. Uh oh. I was hiking hills, and I had to stay hydrated. I drank the river water, expecting to be up in the middle of the night running for the bathroom. But nothing happened.

A few days later I went to a Peace Corps conference at a luxury hotel next to the airport. We had three whole days of swimming pool, AC, cable, wireless, and best of all, an all you could eat buffet with the most amazing food I have seen in the last two years. I was stoked! But what happened? You guessed it. Two days into the conference I was curled up in the fetal position with crippling stomach cramps, nausea, and diarrhea. Four or five of my friends had it too. Apparently some of that good food was not very good.

So what is the lesson? I guess it's that no matter how long you spend in country you never know when the stomach monster will strike. Stuff just happens.
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