The Politics of Fear and Why the Church Should Stay Far From It

Above: THE UNINSURED - Nemsley, 14, walked through Northwest Haiti Christian Mission's clinic on crutches in October, a week after visiting surgeons had to amputate his lower right leg because of cancer. If Nemsley had regular access to good health care, as most of us do in the United States, he probably would still have his leg.


I spend much of my time photographing in a country where health insurance is a non-issue because there is no such thing. In Haiti, virtually no one has anything resembling health coverage -- if you have the money, you pay a doctor; if you don't have the money, you just don't get better. Or perhaps you die.

Haiti's derelict economy affects doctors as much as it affects patients: Namely, there are hardly any doctors. Even if a Haitian had the money to pay for a specialized surgery, for example, there is a strong chance he would have to leave the country to find a doctor to perform it. A Haitian doctor there told me recently there is one pediatric surgeon in the entire nation.

None of this is new, of course. It's been that way for decades. But it's been on my mind lately as America watches what could potentially be the final days of the debate over health care reform on Capital Hill.

For me, the case for health care reform has always seemed entirely without any need for defense. It should be a no-brainer.

Full disclosure here: I have a bias. But it's not of the "conservative" or "liberal" sort. My bias is that I call two places home -- one place is Haiti, where I have seen firsthand the devastating effects of poor health care, and the other place is Kentucky. In Kentucky, nearly 700,000 people are uninsured, 16 percent of the population and one of the highest rates in the United States (per the Census Bureau).

That fact should be unacceptable to anyone with a pulse.

Anyone who has been on the losing end of America's dysfunctional and discriminatory health care system would support reform, right? (Even my wife and I have been burned by our insurance company, even though our age and good health supposedly make us the industry's most desirable customers.)

Unfortunately, reform has not come easily . The political rhetoric surrounding this issue has been the most vitriolic and, dare I say, uninformed of any issue I can recall (then again, I was thankfully not alive during Sen. Joseph McCarthy's tenure).

Which is why I, like most folks, will just be glad if Congress passes something -- anything -- and all the talk fades out in time for us to enjoy Christmas morning.

But what concerns me most about this whole situation is that the driving force behind the debate (at least among the general public) has not been facts, reason or civil discourse. Instead, the motive has largely been fear. Most Americans acknowledge there is a problem with our health care status quo, yet the arguments of those who oppose reforming it seem to boil down to fear -- fear that we might not do it perfectly, fear that it might cost money, fear that it would force us to rethink some things.

But the most consistent and obvious fear has been this: If we allow reform to pass, it would cede power to the "other" political party, and that would surely cement America's long and perilous slide into ruin because "those people" think differently than we do.

What is so sad is how much we Christians have bought into such fears.

Beloved, we in the Church have put far too much stock in politics. If we truly believe that one civic leader or another has our destiny in his or her hands, then we have tragically lost sight of the transcendence of God. He is ultimately in charge, not democracy or its mechanisms.

We must not forget this: As Christians, we know who wins in the end! So I am compelled to believe that whether health care reform is passed perfectly or botched splendidly, I will still be able to trust in the God who keeps his promises to watch over us and keep us.

That is the root of faith, is it not? And that also means that I refuse to pay any attention to politicians, radio talk jocks, self-described entertainers, and anyone else when they are more interested in getting reactions and consolidating their reputations than they are about seeking the truth.

In the health care debate, reform proponents have worked tirelessly to craft solutions to the problem, imperfect though they may be. Opponents have done little but retort with fiery speeches, occasional lies, and tired political cliches about "big government" and "small government." Though some criticisms leveled against reform are certainly valid, few if any legitimate alternatives have been proposed.

This should not be a politicized, right-versus-left fight, but it has sadly been reduced to that. It's hard to imagine how anyone could favor inaction at all costs, especially when lives are quite literally at stake.

So this Christmas, as organizations like the one where I work seek funds to provide health care to thousands of sick and dying people in poor nations, let's hope that millions of sick and dying people in the world's most powerful country can hope for the same.

And let us Christians, who should know the power of Christmas better than anyone, refuse to have anything to do with the politics of fear.

The Great Fall

Baby photos, normally not allowed on this blog, are being permitted just this once for Christmas. My wife made me do it. And I admit, I do think babies are cute. This one belongs to my neighbor.

What Makes Someplace Home?

I don't have the perfect answer to that question, but it must have something to do with the security to comfortably embrace imperfection and even feel comforted by it.

Miami International Airport redeemed itself a bit today: I gorged on exquisite Cuban food (Haiti is nice but no culinary destination, for sure) and felt welcomed by a city where I speak the language (that would be Spanish in Miami, still not much English to be found there).

But the real homecoming, as usual, began on the flight from Dallas to Lexington: Our rag-tag group of passengers crammed onto the Embrear commuter jet and most of us nailed our heads on its the low ceiling. The man in front of me couldn't get his seatbelt around his bulbous figure and requested a belt extension piece. To my right, a well-dressed businessman was fighting nausea and explained to the whole cabin why eating that plate of hotwings was a mistake. A young redneck-looking man with impressive diction shouted from the rear into his phone at a woman, peppering his public conversation with innuendo that made the other passengers blush.

And as we descended into Lexington, we buzzed Commonwealth Stadium, its packed stands lit up in the chilly darkness as tiny white players ran some yards.

I smiled at the whole scene and actually teared up. There's no mistaking this place and the twangy accents of its inhabitants. I love it here.


Above: Our normal return-trip routine, recovery.

Tax Dollars at Work?

This is a road in Northwest Haiti, a main road of sorts - not the muddy part, the part under water.

Makes me wonder how we get anything done at all here. If you like camping everyday, this is the place for you.

It's been a great, great trip. I'll be back home in good ol' Kentucky in a few days, though, grateful for smooth pavement and fall colors. More later.

Divergent Paths

Who can know the complexities of a life? Who can really consider the thousands of abstractions that drive someone to joy, pain, love, loss?

What human could be fully understood by our frail minds, especially at first glance? We never have all the facts. Perhaps this is God's intentional design, a design that necessitates the perpetual exercise of grace.

A few images from this week:

The Blues

Recovering from a fever on the northern coast of Haiti. You can do that on a fishing boat, right?

The boy has one year left at best, maybe two.
There's a bulge on his ankle hunting him, creeping up through his body, a slow but tireless predator.
It hurts. It should be cut off.

Do you know what cancer is, the nurse asks his mother. She doesn't.
It's a disease without a cure. We can't save him.
But he can feel better. It should be cut off.

The boy's eyes are wet. What good are one and a half legs in Haiti?
But the pain would be gone. They would be a good two years. Better, at least.
How much is an ankle worth in a land with nothing, to a boy and a mother with nothing?
How much is it worth to live your last days without pain?

It hurts. It should be cut off.

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I've spent the past couple of days with a visiting surgery team, with docs from America, Canada, and Australia doing beautiful work. I watched a boy have his cancerous leg amputated and a man have his crippled hand fixed. Surely Christ's words were true in every sense: "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick."

Thank God for doctors who are willing to serve the sickest among us, even when the sick cannot pay.

Below: A hand surgery in NWHCM's surgery ward in Saint-Louis du Nord

A First and a Last

It sounded great at first. En route to Haiti, our flight arrived in Miami at around midnight and we figured we'd save our employer a little change by cancelling our hotel room for the night and just sleeping in the terminal, since we'd just be getting back up at 4am to catch our flight to Port-au-Prince.

Seemed like a good plan -- we already had air mattresses, and the occasionally magnanimous folks at American Airlines spotted us a few blankets. But in our naiveté, we didn't account for the shrill, high-amph, numbingly repetitive TSA announcements pulsing from the ceilings...or was it from everywhere? So we tossed and turned for hours in a cavernous and empty ariport, beaten by stern lectures not to leave our baggage unattended, all against the backdrop of a chortling third-shift cleaning crew making jokes in Creole above our beds, clearly with no intent to actually work that evening.

Our misery was marked every 15 minutes by an automated woman proudly announcing the quarter-hours. And in between all those voices, Miami's Mayor Alvarez chimed in from time to time on the loudspeaker, dutifully welcoming us to Miami and thanking us for choosing his airport.

Welcome to Miami, indeed. We were so glad to leave, and crawl into a quiet corner in Haiti where, tonight, we are going to get a great night's sleep.

Good to be back.

Missions, Reportage, and the Secret Lives of Disgruntled Wedding Vendors

There is a whole world working behind the scenes at every wedding in America. Sometimes it looks like this woman.

You'll find her and others on my newly updated website. In particular, the reportage section is completely redone, a fun little project in all my free time (when I should have been sleeping). Check it out here.

But the bigger news is that the new Northwest Haiti Christian Mission website is finally live, the product of hundreds of hours of development work and the cause of a few gray hairs. All told, we're pretty excited about the result. Judge for yourself here.

Erika and I will be back in Haiti in a few weeks for most of October. It's been a long time out and too many hours in front of the computer, so we're excited to get back there (and always humbly grateful for the opportunity to have such an awesome job).

The new NWHCM.org


The new reportage site

Who is my neighbor? This guy is.

I don't shoot this sort of family portrait very often, just for the occasional friend or family member when they ask. But in a way it's beautiful because, the few times I do such jobs, they take on an added layer of meaningfulness for me.

This guy is Eric. He's a firefighter, a golfer, a proud new dad, and most likely the world's greatest neighbor. Our neighbor.

Moving in next to Eric (and his wife, Leslie) has been one of the biggest joys in our journey of first-time home ownership. They have helped us understand just how powerful and transformative genuine community can be: Eric and I share tools, store things in each other's sheds, and swap favors (I shot photos of him and his daughter, and he's painting our house). Our wives take turns swapping meals. We watch each other's dogs. We wave and say "hi" to one another across the yard at nearly every coming and going.

The thing is, were we not neighbors, we probably would never have known Eric and Leslie. We run in different circles, have pretty divergent interests.

But the beauty of community is that it forces us out of our default sets of commonalities like work, hobbies, church and social affiliations that we typically use to limit whom we associate with. Instead, community allows the everyday demands of mundane life to unify us in common purpose -- I need a ladder and you've got one, and suddenly we're friends. It's as simple as that.

But community only works if you make a little old-fashioned effort, like borrowing a cup of sugar or six nails for that project you're working on, rather than getting in the car and burning gas to run to the store.

I think this is the beauty of Christ's message of the Good Samaritan. When he was asked "Who is my neighbor?", Jesus responded with the parable of a Samaritan who helped an assaulted man alongside the road when no one else would. Jesus asked, "Who was the neighbor to this beat-up man?"

The answer, of course, was that the neighbor was the one who found solidarity with a complete stranger (and a cultural/racial "opposite") simply because he saw a need and had the opportunity to meet it. No more common ground was necessary than that. It was not a forced or guilt-driven act, simply a chance encounter born of circumstances.

Maybe Christ meant to tell us that neighborliness is just the art of recognizing what's right in front of us.

Ah, summer love.

Getting the last weddings of the summer out the door, just a few from the wedding and engagement highlights reel. Like a chick flick movie trailer...

The same. But different.

Weddings are pretty formulaic, lots of sameness. But unique moments sneak into the routine. Amazing the experiences we're allowed to witness, to immortalize in a frame, when you think about it. A few from this summer.

A Long Absence

Above: Cape Enrage, New Brunswick, has been dubbed the best view in Canada. Shot with Canon 5D MkII, 17-35mm f11, stitched panorama. (Click to enlarge)





Above (2): The Bay of Fundy is home to the highest tide in the world. As the sun and the moon wrestle each other for control over a thin, continent-sized sheet of water sitting atop the Atlantic, the tide in Fundy can rise and fall as much as 50 feet in a day. At Hopewell Rocks in New Brunswick, the water recedes to reveal something like a soggy Stonehenge, sandstone towers perched at the edge of mile-wide mudflats. Shot with Canon 5D MkII, 17-35mm f5.6, stitched panoramas. (Click to enlarge)

---

A number of people have commented that it's been too long since I've posted anything, and so here I am returning to feeding the blogosphere beast.

Erika and I have been thoroughly distracted this summer with a number of weddings and home-improvement projects. But mostly, I've spent far too many long hours working with a team of people on a new website for Northwest Haiti Christian Mission. Any of you who are web developers know just how complicated (and painstaking) it can be coordinating a number of parties and interests to build a content-intensive website. And any of you in the nonprofit world know how much work it can be to slog through the red tape of online donor management and child sponsorship management.

Fortunately, the nearly year-long project is almost finished, and I'm really excited about the storytelling potential of the new website for the mission. I'll fully admit my involvement is partly self-serving. Ordinarily I wouldn't have much interest in investing so much energy in a website, because I've never seen myself as much of a website guy. But I believe in the possibilities this website will open up for disseminating photo, video and multimedia projects in new ways, and thus I believe it has been well worth my time. I believe in the power of storytelling to change lives and propel ministry, and this will hopefully be a valuable tool to that end.

It's not all been easy or fun, of course. But we're wrapping up a fantastic two-week trip in Maine and New Brunswick to visit family, and I think my wits are finally returning. There are places where remoteness and isolation wrap you up like an old sweatshirt, make you feel safe. This is such a place.

More to come soon.

Subjectivity and Ethics in Nonprofit Media

Yesterday I went with a guide and Erika to meander around Saint Louis du Nord and shoot some portraits of people in the community. I grabbed my ringflash and a couple of Speedlights, just for fun.

Saint Louis is not the easiest city to do walk-around shooting, so it was an adventure that stretched us all, to say the least. But I was pleased with the images we came away with.

As I was chimping through the portraits, I began feeling like I was staring at a textbook study in photojournalistic ethics. PJ ethics are not well understood by most people, and by writing about them I definitely risk labeling myself as a nerd. But since I think photo ethics apply as much (if not more so) to nonprofit organizations as they do to news agencies, it seems worth exploring a bit here.

First, two images in particular:





These portraits are similar, but obviously there is a big difference in the mood conveyed between the two. I personally like the second one because of the sense of drama and, well, I think most photographers are sort of drama queens.

But the question of which photo to publish involves more than just personal preference. Which image is more truthful? Which one is more respectful? And what mood should we be conveying with our images?

Visual Honesty
On the question of visual honesty, most photojournalists have a basic standard: The content of an image cannot be manipulated in Photoshop. That is, no removing from or adding to whatever was in the frame when you shot it. Obviously the lighting here is moody and not entirely "natural," but that's generally considered acceptable because it can all be done in the camera when you release the shutter. After all, even using a flash at all is not "natural," be we do it all the time.

But beyond the idea of manipulation, PJs begin to differ on what is ethical in terms of content, especially when portraits are concerned. I'll sum up my standard simply by saying that it's OK to "pose" someone or even use a prop (neither of which I did in this image), so long as it's not misleading to the viewer.

For example, I was recently trying to photograph a doctor treating a patient, and I was having trouble gaining access. Someone suggested I dress a bystander in scrubs and then "set up" a photo. For obvious reasons, to present viewers with an image of a doctor who is not in fact a doctor is, in my mind, misleading and unethical. I am not shooting commercial or stock photography -- this is real-life stuff with a documentary ethic. If I tell Northwest Haiti Christian Mission supporters that we treat sick people, then they deserve to see real photos of real doctors.

In the case of the photos above, I have to ask myself which expression is more representative of the girl's personality and culture? In this case I get off easy, because she seemed like a pretty happy girl, but she's also Haitian, and most Haitians don't smile in photos. They prefer a more serious expression.

Respecting People
Central to a Christian ethic of photography is a respect for your subject. Seems like it should go without saying, but there are plenty of PJs who have little or no regard for their subject's feelings. If someone clearly does not want me photographing them, I respect that. It happens a lot in Haiti. There are exceptions, but for me they really only apply when photographing people in times of great distress amid, for example, a public crisis of some sort. It is rarely appropriate to "sneak" photos of people after they have refused permission, because at that point it becomes voyeurism.

Now, that does not mean that a subject needs to be comfortable with me before I photograph them. There are lots of instances when a subject allows me to shoot but may never really be comfortable with that. That's OK with me, if their minor and fleeting discomfort is going to contribute somehow to the greater good. I'm never really comfortable at the dentist's office, but I still allow the dentist to do his or her job on my teeth.

Nor does respecting your subject's feelings mean there are never times to be aggressive in your photography. If it can be done respectfully -- and that is often a case-by-case judgement call -- then it seems appropriate.

Message
Finally, the issue of what message we send with our images is essential to consider, and is really the question that arises with the photos above.

Let's assume hypothetically that happiness equals being fed and well cared for.

If this girl is smiling in my photo, does it mean she's happy? And if she's happy, is this image a call to help her with international aid, or is it a call to celebrate the fact that she does not need help?

The question is relevant because I can get just about anyone to smile in a photo, even a poor, starving girl. But would it be responsible for me to capture a smile on the lips of a dying, victimized child?

And the opposite is also a valid question: If the girl looks serious, is she not happy? And if she's not happy, is the image a call for help with international aid? But if she is actually happy (and fed and well cared for), am I merely using her as a tool to manipulate Westerners to give money?

Theses are serious questions that all of us working with nonprofit media must answer, whether consciously or unknowingly. Unfortunately, I think we far too often see an image and immediately begin thinking about what we'll use it for, without considering the complete story.

And quite honestly, I'm not sure how I would answer my own questions about "Message" for the photos of this girl. I can only say that if and when the photo (or photos) is published, it should be done in a way that not only respects the subject, but also the viewers -- making sure that they have an honest set of information before them as they decide how to use their financial, spiritual, and physical resources.

A few other images from the day:

Under Armour Cameo

Last Friday, we all took a break from our various projects and endured a six-hour, butt-bruising truck ride to the Mole San Nicholas, a town on the very tip of Haiti's northwest peninsula. It's the oldest town in Haiti, where Columbus landed when he "discovered" Hispaniola. It's also jam-packed with old French forts, ships overloaded with charcoal headed for Port-au-Prince, and Under Armour models...or just some guys shooting photos. Chris Phebus is modeling.

It was a great time for all, and I think almost all of us bought 200-year-old cannonballs for around 50 cents apiece.

This week I'll be finishing up work on the malnutrition project, which had been going very well. Erika's leading a team of folks at NWHCM's primary orphanage, doing work with children in the mission's sponsorship program. No one can pull off something like that like my Erika. Truly she is amazing.

Ringflash and Easter

Today was Easter around the world, and in Haiti it marks two great things: The resurrection of Christ, and the end of RaRa, which is the Haitian carnival spectacle of meandering bands of drunken musicians (though that noun is a bit generous). RaRa also produces a good number of machete fights. Machete wounds are no fun, and they keep our clinic staff a little busier this time of year.

And just like folks around the world, a lot of Haitians buff up their shoes and break out their best dresses, hats and shirts for church on Easter Sunday. So it seemed like some fun with a ringflash was in order.

A big thanks to my friend Chris Phebus for assisting me and playing crowd control.

We've had a long week and an even longer weekend, but a great one. I'm looking forward to resting a bit tomorrow before hitting a bit more traveling.

Photo du Jour...Babies

I stumbled upon this one today while I was at a home for malnourished kids. They have lots of babies there, and like babies around the world, they have nap time.

There is something calming about this for me, something peaceful. Maybe I should sell it to Baby Einstein.

What other people do

In Haiti, I take pictures. But here's what some of our friends are doing (while I'm doing what I do). What would you do if you came to a place like Haiti?

Below: Patty Ciarla, a children's minister from Kansas City, pretends to do something medical with a Haitian girl visiting the NWHCM clinic.


Below: Valerie Phebus, a PA from the Univ. of Kentucky newborn ICU, does something medical (for real) with a Haitian girl visiting the NWHCM clinic.

Weddings site...updated!

So I finally dusted off my Flash skills and archives and found some time to update our weddings website. Check it out here.

Lots more images to swim through, and even a hidden song somewhere...

Haiti, with company

We're in Haiti again for a few weeks, and this time with the great company of Erika's sister and Chris and Valerie Phebus, two friends of ours from church. We covet every chance we get to share Haiti with someone new, and even more when those people mean so much to us.

Thanks, guys, for giving up your time to do something like this. I believe you will truly be changed forever by whatever is worked through your time here.

I'm jumping into some portrait projects and a reportage work on malnutrition and starvation in Haiti (hopefully). More to come...

Michelle and Rob

Rob and Michelle are one of those couples you just can't help but like. Something struck me about them from the moment we did their engagement shoot.

We just finished Rob and Michelle's wedding and I felt the photos really reflected the steadiness of their relationship -- Rob and Michelle, there is strength in you story and in your past that can fortify your marriage for the rest of your lives. You are truly a beautiful couple, and you pulled off a beautiful wedding, even despite the rain! Thanks for the chance to be a part of it.

It was a great way for us to start back into weddings for the year.

Home again, home again

We're back in the US for a good solid month before returning to Haiti again in April. What I most look forward to: sleeping in my own bed, playing with my dog, eating my wife's cooking, sitting in padded chairs.

It was another great trip. I was going through some of my images and came across this gem, part of a larger project on a poor house in a small town in Northwest Haiti. I've always had a thing for guys smoking, not sure why, maybe a vicarious rebellion thing.

Poorism

Above: Children watch American missionaries drill a well in Salines Mayette, Haiti. Andy Olsen / NWHCM staff

Sometimes, an age-old concept gets a new name, and people start talking about it as if someone had just invented water.

In recent years, "poorism" – traveling cross-culturally to see abject poverty in person – has been the subject of much debate in some circles. Though it's a stretch to say poorism is booming, and hardly anyone is making much money at it, the idea has sparked a fledgling industry.

According to an excellent Smithsonian article, organizations are putting together tours in places like Mumbai and Rio de Janiero to open the eyes of people who, apparently, want to have their eyes opened. And I would add that missions and development organizations have been doing this for decades, though with overt not-for-profit aims.

Poorism's critics say that it dehumanizes the poor, exploits them for a profit, and is outright voyeuristic. They're right, really - at least if the whole exercise does not rise above mere sightseeing.

There is nothing new about wealthy folk wanting to step outside their socioeconomic comfort zones. Compassion International's Meredith Dunn muses in an insightful blog entry that while Christ's disciples, many of whom were well-off men with established positions in their communities, certainly followed Christ because of who He was, they might also have been intrigued by a man who was taking them to see huddled masses of Judea's poorest and most destitute.

Indeed, there seems to be a God-created appetite for adventure that is always calling us to hard places where people or things challenge our own status quo. There is something spiritual about it, something enlightening, something eternal. It is the best explanation I can think of for the success of National Geographic, the Olympics and, dare I say it, missions trips.

I have to believe it is a good desire. And I also have to believe that in modern times, it is a healthy one. If the trend of poorism is an early indication that the world's wealthy minority are awakening to the fate of the poor majority, and in fact are growing uncomfortable enough with income disparity that they want to see it for themselves, then surely we must say that demand for poorism is a positive thing.

But like any God-given desire, we have to temper it with love, mercy, intellect and self-control. If not, poorism becomes nothing more than a safari where animals are replaced by humans.

Perhaps at least one key to tempering that desire is relationship. As an organization that brings hundreds of "tourists" to Haiti every year, my employer strives to turn poorism experiences into transformational relationships between people, churches and communities. We want Americans to see Haiti for what it is and to be shocked by it, but we never want to leave their experiences at that. We want visitors to act, and we want to see the people and communities we serve free from whatever holds them down.

Without relationship, I don't know how that can happen. Even if admission is charged and tour fees are collected and 100 percent of profits are donated to the poor, the entire exchange seems to boil down to little more than a zoo agreement: You pay us to see them, and we'll make sure they are fed. The problem with a zoo is that the animals still live in cages, just really nice ones. No one gains freedom in a zoo.

To be sure, missions all over the world struggle to facilitate relationships perfectly. I've painfully observed plenty of travelers taking photos when it was not appropriate or humanizing to do so - and I confess I have been guilty of it myself on a few occasions. I've seen some who were clearly not interested in relationships, just an entertaining bus ride.

And I've observed that in Haiti, nationals are most reluctant to be photographed in cities that have had the most contact with foreigners. Perhaps that is because Haitians sense the risks of poorism, too - they know that a shutterbug is taking something from them with no intention of giving anything in return.

If there is anything to learn as we watch the growth in poorism in coming years, it's that curiosity and conviction alone are not enough to change the world. There must be something deeper - much deeper - accompanying it. That something will probably involve a lot of hard work, thought, and intentional interaction.

Isn't that what Christ was trying to teach His disciples as they shuffled along dusty streets themselves, engaging in a little poorism of their own?

Heroes

It's easy to idolize medical professionals, especially in international relief work. And it's understandable: They have arguably the most tangible connection with the poor, the sick and the marginalized, and their work produces the most immediate results in those people. Bodies are healed, lives are saved.

We must be careful not to put hands-on service on a pedestal above other forms of ministry, just as we must be careful not to heap superstar status on any Christian who occupies a prominent position in teaching, evangelism or pastoral work.

That said, I love hanging with medical folks. They do amazing work, they always have great stories, and they tend to lead me to interesting photos.

The patients who come to our clinic often encapsulate all the harsh realities of life in Haiti. Our doctors and nurses do what they can, but sometimes treatment seems like a Band-Aid because the conditions that led to their ailment have not changed. I think I speak for everyone at NWHCM when I say that if we had the resources to change those conditions, we would. But unfortunately, we do not. So for now we move on, helping where we're able and entrusting God with the rest.

This past week, I met two people whose stories moved me and also made me feel helpless. In each case, the staff treated them as best they could and also did something perhaps even more powerful: befriended them. This is where the heroism of medicine lies for me - not in treating a patient, but in suffering alongside the patient and loving them, believing that their life is in greater hands than those of some doctor or nurse, even when that life slips away.

I'll just post cutlines here. For more background, please check out the wonderful blog maintained by Melissa Curtice, NWHCM's assistant medical director.



Above: Jesner Fragilis, 36, holds his 13-month-old daughter, Cassandra, in a recovery room at Northwest Haiti Christian Mission. Jesner is HIV positive, as was his first wife, who died of AIDS nearly five years ago. One of his sons died a few months later. Cassandra is being treated at the clinic for pneumonia and double ear infections. She is most likely HIV positive. Jesner's current wife is sick in Port-au-Prince, leaving the unemployed father to care for three children on his own. Shot Monday, February 9, 2009. Andy Olsen / NWHCM Staff



Above: NWHCM medical staff Maureen Moore, Melissa Curtice, and Vickie Cox pray with Widley, 6, and his mother. Widley is at the Centre Medical Beraca, a hospital in La Pointe (near Saint Louis du Nord), suffering from a probable intestinal obstruction. His belly is swollen and he will likely die without surgery. Missionaries affiliated with the hospital say there are no pediatric surgeons in Haiti, and there are no doctors at the hospital willing to operate on such a young child. Shot Friday, February 13, 2009. Andy Olsen / NWHCM Staff

Wet

Staying Dry


It's rained here in Saint Louis for nearly a week straight. Not just a drizzle, but windy, blowy, heavy, cut-it-like-Jello rainy. Cabin fever sets in quickly down here...

This is not like Seattle, after all, where life goes on despite the rain. Rain is like an emergency brake in Haiti - everything stops. Roads turn liquid, rivers turn deadly.

At least there's time to blog.

Generators and God's Pleasure

Eric Liddel - the Olympic gold medalist and runner and one of the most quoted athletes in Christendom - once said that God "made me fast. When I run, I feel God's pleasure."

Today, I watched another guy by the name of Chuck Graham lead a team of men from Kentucky as they moved two 150 kW diesel generators (machines about the size of a car) from a truck and down into a tiny room built to hold them. It was loud, tedious, strenuous, and (financially) risky work.

But Chuck - a diesel mechanic with an artificially-ruff facade who's been helping at this mission for years - managed to laugh the whole way through. There was a sense among the men surrounding him that they were working with something of a legend.

I was reminded that, in a way similar to Liddel, God made Chuck good with big, complicated, dirty machines. And when he works on them, he feels God's pleasure.

What else would keep a guy like him coming back to Haiti four times a year?

If a man could be ordained in a tool shop and anointed with axle grease, it would be Chuck. I guess saints come in all shapes and sizes.

Below: Chuck waving a generator into place

Soccer

This country is a mass of pent-up emotional pressure. Like a big dusty water balloon, it bulges and stretches depending on how it's squeezed.

At soccer games, sometimes the balloon pops.

We went to a match today in Saint Louis du Nord between the home team and Cap Haitian. Saint Louis took the lead in the second half, scoring the first goal of the game and loosing a horde of fans to rush the field. A few minutes later, a section of rickety wooden bleachers collapsed and four levels of people - hundreds of people - crashed to the ground.

Stretchers appeared and disappeared with people on them. About 20 people came to our mission clinic, roughly a half mile away, with broken bones and detached noses.

The game stopped for a few minutes but picked up again, and Saint Louis won. People rushed the field again and kicked off a party that will probably last for a couple of days.

Our mission medical staff - especially our national team - was phenomenal. They worked quickly and efficiently, treating those they could and transporting others to outlying hospitals.

In Haiti, even at a soccer game - one of the only places you can go to let it all out and forget about life - you just can't get a break.

A few images from the day:

Below:

1) Children who snuck in to see the game, and some who just snuck a peek
2) The victory celebration, with players riding shoulders
3) Treating the collapse victims at the NWHCM clinic