Baking therapy

Well, remember the five minute friday thing. Scroll to the next post if you have no idea what I'm talking about. It's really cool because now the word for Friday has been stuck in my mind all week... grace. From what I'm told from a friend or two, it's kind come up randomly for them also. I looked the word up in urban dictionary.....  A favor rendered by one who need not do so; indulgence, divine love and protection bestowed freely on people. Hmm... those ideas rolled around in my head a bit.  Mostly, while I took full advantage of my first weekend not on the road in over a month. Scroll down 2 blog posts if you are wondering why or just click here. So, I planned a lazy Saturday for myself. Love it. Didn't leave the house not once the entire day! 


To be honest, I can't really sleep in because my internal alarm clock always seems to wake me up earlier than I want to be awake sometimes. However, I am always game for a lazy Saturday. You know the kind where you stay in your pajamas until at least noon if not 5pm, reading, watching TV, snacking, or better yet.... BAKING!  The light bulb went off in my head, I have an entire kitchen to myself, a lazy Saturday with nothing to do, and we have electricity....ooooo, what should I bake.

I love baking! It's like the ultimate stress relief.... well, for a moderate level of stress. I have learned too well that high levels of stress suppress the neurochemicals in my head that generate a joy from baking.  So, if I stop baking, it's probably a warning sign that all is not well.  Saturday, as I creamed butter, sifted flour and crushed walnuts whipping up 2 good creations to share with my neighbors, my mind drifted back to my Five Minute Friday Post... and grace.


The trip back from Restauracion every week was not fun. You probably got that idea from the prior post, but here's why it wasn't fun. The most frequently traveled roads from the Haitian border to the closest large city, Santiago, are lined with road blocks. Are we checking seatbelts or drivers license, hahaha, don't make me laugh. We have to make sure illegal Haitians aren't entering the country. Better yet we have to make sure that anyone who we decide even looks Haitian, be it dark complexioned Dominican or nappy hair American, can prove they aren't Haitian. It totally reeks of the Trujillo era when tens of thousands of Haitians and Haitian-Dominicans (people born in the DR to Haitian parents even if it was several generations back) were killed to 'cleanse and purify' the Dominican race. The test to see if you were Dominican or not was the ability to say the Spanish word for parsley, perejil. Haitians can't roll their r so if you can't pronounce that word you must not be one of us and off with your head. Seriously.

Well, I wasn't asked to say perejil, but over and over the guards would either try to strike up a conversation, to see if maybe I was Dominican with 'pelo malo' (bad hair, should be a subject of a post in the future) or if I was the Haitian enemy. The first 3 weeks, it was draining and I had no grace for them whatsoever. There was no love freely flowing, they got my full attitude complete with eye rolling and teeth sucking. Bad Jewel, bad. Not Christ-like. I know. I KNOW!! I know that didn't help, but it was my initial response to the injustice that is happening here. Reminds me of the apartheid system in South Africa where dark skinned individuals had to leave with their passbook to move about the city.  Finally on week 4, I made the decision to accept that these guards are just doing their job. They get paid like $150 a month, most are young 21 year olds proud to be serving their country. The issue isn't with them, but their government. Grace, give them some freely flowing love, perhaps they deserve attitude and questions about why this is happening, but show grace Jewel. Show love to these guards even as they are massaging your backpack looking for who knows what. No, there is no skinny Haitian hidden in my backpack. Promise.

In the comfort of my kitchen, with the delightful smell of carrot cake and lime coconut pound cake wafting in the air, I couldn't get the whole situation off my mind. My conscious decision to give grace liberally totally changed everything. Many times there are situations we encounter that are tough and may not change overnight. However, if we can change our response and move beyond the initial emotional response to the intentional decision to extend grace, to pray fervently and to seek out ways to be a part of the solution it totally will change everything.  

 Finally,  I arrived back to Santiago with a smile for once.  Grace does that... it changes you.

I had a mini celebration that Saturday by getting my nails painted. Here's me admiring my pretty nails.... but it's pretty obvious that I'm not used to having wet nails since I already have them messed up in no time... look close, you see it?

Stuck

Today marks 8 weeks since I arrived here in Santiago. I think it has all crashed down today and my shoulders feel heavy with the weight of it all. It's that moment when you are totally and utterly overwhelmed and you are at a loss of what to do next. That's exactly the point where I don't want to be, but yet here I am.  stuck. You know, unable to move, shut down, stagnant, at a dead end, helpless and just plain stuck.

Our mobile clinic has grown, yet you reach that point where you have to look at quantity and quality. We want to be able to serve people well. When Jesus fed the multitude they were well taken care of. He attended to not only their spiritual needs but their physical hunger as well. We want to care for our patients well...  there are those days that you meet patients who need specialty care, lab tests, imaging, etc, you don't have the right medicines or enough of the medicine and you just feel helpless.  How I wish for the IRIS system in Chicago to refer patients to the County Hospital. Yep, there was a LONG wait, but at least they were on the list, and at some point you knew their name would be called. Here, there is no list, there is no computerized referral system, no comprehensive referral network, there's NOTHING. So, what do you do with the patient who whispers that she is HIV positive, or the 18 year old with the history of thalassemia with a grade 4 systolic murmur that she says was never heard previously, or the 10 year old little girl who has a "ganglion cyst" with atypical symptoms like edema, decreased range of motion and pain. Let me not forget the many, many pregnant moms, who have no prenatal care, many of whom will deliver at home by themselves. You just feel stuck. What to do?

You pray. And pray. And pray. I'm starting to work on a resource list. Easier said than done, but I know there has to be other health ministries on the island. It's time to start looking for connections, people who will help and partner with us in providing care to our patients. It gets a little complicated by race relations on this lovely island. A large percentage of our patients are Haitian, and sometimes that feels like a bad word. I have a student who hides out in the other classrooms because the neighborhood kids pick on her that she has a Haitian teacher.  So, she doesn't want to be in my room anymore. yes, I know I'm not Haitian, but the bullies don't know that and that's all that matters to this 5 yr old. Besides, it shouldn't even matter!!!  Yes, Haitian can feel like a bad word to a kid and to many adults. .. There's also the kid who has a Haitian mom and a Dominican father. He decided last week that he was going to be Korean because he is tired of the teasing, and at least he would know "what" he is and can help people like our Korean pastors help people. This teasing at the school yard level has its root in the prevailing attitude towards the Haitian immigrant here. So, even though I'm looking for connections, you know, people who are on the ground already doing health ministry, yet, we have to make sure they are willing to see our patients, regardless of race.

At this moment, it feels like a big task, but I serve an even bigger God, who can give direction, vision, insight and provide what we need. Ministry here in the DR has been a blessing, but I have to be honest that today is one of those tough days. That's when I come to you, my friends, so, you can unite with me in prayer. The persistent prayer of the righteous will be effective. Here are some specific requests:

1. Pray for referral specialists who will collaborate with us and love our patients regardless of race.
2. Pray for laboratory services-- We desperately need access to some basic point of care testing and some simple hematology and chemistry panels, urinalysis, rapid HIV testing and follow-up. I'm praying for a Christian lab owner who will give our patients a discounted pricing and for increased financial resources to cover the costs of some in clinic testing.
3. Pray for strategic planning and vision for the mobile clinic.
4. Pray for race relations on the island.
5. Pray for financial resources. Pray about how God may use you to support one of these projects.
6. Pray that we will demonstrate Christ's love to all patients who trust us with their health needs.

Day of the Races

A week ago the DR celebrated the Dia de Los Razas, translated into English, Day of the Races. This is a uniquely Dominican holiday in place of Columbus Day that is celebrated in much of North America. Dia de Los Razas celebrates the heritage of the Dominican people, a mixed race of Indigenous Indian, African and Spanish descendants. Most teachers are sure to make a special project for the class to do to focus on the Day of the Races, but from my limited observation, most of the celebration focused on the Spanish and Indian heritage with a casual mention of the African ancestry.  This holiday brings me mixed feelings..... you see race here is a funny thing. There are Dominicans who are 5 shades darker than me who will swear that their color comes from the "Indio" in the family. There are also women who are in desperate poverty who will 'find' the money to go to the salon weekly to make sure their kinky hair texture is never visible. People are often referred to by their complexion, such as La Morena - the brown one, or La Prieta if the complexion is darker. The person with the lightest complexion in the family is usually referred to as La Rubia even if they are no where near blond.

I'm probably particularly more attuned to this just because of my own experience here as an African American. It's actually somewhat comical as folks will try to figure out "what I am". My complexion usually suggests Dominican, but then they take the double glance at the kinky hair and they give me a questioning "Tu estas haitiana?." I smile, and reply I am American. Humph. The puzzled looks always persist for at least another 10-15 seconds. I actually find it pretty comical that God has landed me here in this country with my brown skin and kinky hair. I have been able to ease into Dominican circles at school, but also flow into Haitian circles and fit in well there too with my African features.

 Recently I had a conversation with 2 girls in my kindergarten class. The one asks, "porque tu no vas al salon".... why do you not go to the hair salon? The question alone shocked me but even more her 5 yr old tone of disapproval caught me off guard. I smiled. Crismal, I really like the way God made my hair, I think it's pretty just as it is. She gave me a true Dominican non-verbal, umph, coupled with a certain wrinkling of the nose, that suggests she disagreed. I laughed.  The next Monday one of my students, a different one, shows up with her hair in cornrows with beads. I noticed right away as this 'Afrocentric' hair do is SO NOT typical. Of course I thought it was amazing, but even more so when her mom told me she asked to have her hair done like the teacher's. I've often heard that imitation is the most sincerest form of flattery and I definitely would have to agree.  However, my goal is not to create mini me's, but it does make me smile that these precious little girls are learning that they are created beautifully by God just as they are. If they learn their value and worth in the eyes of God at this tender age, I pray it will help them to navigate the challenging years ahead as a female growing up in a developing country.