Jungle Clinic

The elderly Quechua man hobbled into our clinic supported by two canes. He wore a "Franklin L. Williams Middle School, Class of 2007" shirt, doubtless a donation from the US which obviously did not suit his 98 years. Although walking was a struggle for him, he slowly made his way around the room, greeting all of the volunteers and waiting patients personally. He spoke only Quechua, and his hearing was very poor, so our communication was mediated by a translator shouting into his ear.

This man was one of the 30 patients we treated at our clinic on Saturday in the Chapare, the Bolivian jungle 6 hours from Cochabamba and a major center of cocaine production. Patients began showing up an hour before the clinic was to start, having walked for miles from their homes in the countryside to see the doctor.

Some of these patients had waited too long for medical care. One girl came in with an infection in her foot from a thorn that had punctured her big toe over a month before. Because the infection was so severe, our doctor could only give her antibiotics and a referral to a surgeon in a nearby city. Many came in with vitamin deficiencies, and we gave out shots of vitamin B12 like candy. A few came in with chronic headaches, and, while we gave them pain medication, we also gave them an anti-parasitic drug and instructed them to visit a nearby hospital for neuroimaging. In that part of the country, neurocysticercosis (brain lesions from a parasitic infection) are very common.

The treatments we could offer in a one-day clinic were limited, but we did what we could. It's hard to see so much need and only be able to meet a small part of it. Even in cases where we were able to offer a complete solution to the medical problems presented, we knew we could not even begin to address the poverty we saw all around us.

As we drove home that night, we passed by wooden shacks with light pouring through the cracks between the boards. No light escaped from others, probably because they didn't have electricity.

Despite this, our volunteers were struck by the joy they saw on the faces of those we treated and in the pastor we stayed with and his family. The pastor explained to us that things used to be much worse in the Chapare, in the years past when the drug trade was at its height. Despite the money circulating through the region, the area was less developed, and there was less hope. God has been working there, he explained to us, and he participates in this work every day by broadcasting the gospel in Spanish and Quechua on his radio station. He has opened his home for volunteer teams, like ours, who are able to alleviate, to a certain extent, the physical needs of many there.

Although what we are doing seems very little, it is part of the light breaking into the darkness in Chapare. Like the homes we saw spreading light into the jungle, we are spreading rays of our Father's love. Right now, the light seems dim, but we know that one day, the night will shine like the day.

New Creations

This morning started out slow at the hospital coffee shop, so I stood in the back of the waiting room for awhile and listened to Nestor Hugo preaching to the patients. He had a CD of worship music, and he'd play a song and sing along and then talk to the people about the message. He had one song on repeat for awhile, one about how in Christ we are new creations, that we are no longer what we were. God is the one who heals, Nestor Hugo explained; he alone can make us new. I listened for awhile while he preached in Spanish; when he switched to Quechua I came back to the cafe and waited for customers.

The rest of the morning I stayed busy at the cafe, before returning to the guest house for lunch with the volunteers. Two of them are working on preparing a lesson for the girls at an orphanage that we visit frequently. Most of these girls have experienced abuse, which makes the lesson the volunteers are preparing -- about God's plan for sex -- particularly sensitive.

The volunteers are focusing on education, making sure the girls understand the way sex affects people, physically and emotionally. It's something God created, they will explain, but many have abused this gift.

They especially want the girls to know that they are not responsible for what has been done to them, but that they have a choice, from now on, about what they do with their bodies.

These girls, who have no choice about their past, have a choice about their future. They have been treated as if they were cheap, but they are so precious that our God died to make them new.

2 Corinthians tells us that "if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold new things have come." I often forget that this verse is followed by this next sentence: "Now all these things are from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation, namely, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and He has committed to us the word of reconciliation" (2 Cor. 5:17-19).

The message Nestor Hugo was expressing this morning, is the same as the message we're trying to bring. It is the message that has been entrusted to us -- the message of reconciliation, of hope, of the opportunity to be made new.

La Amistad (Friendship)

One of the volunteers has commented that each week here in Bolivia seems to have a theme-- generally one that we didn't plan. (Not that we don't plan; it's just that in Bolivia, things often turn out different than you expected.) This week's unplanned theme has been friendship.

This past Friday, I began serving coffee and tea to patients and staff at the hospital, as a service to them and as a way to build relationships and learn about their lives. This project is named "Cafe Xelda," in honor of the grandmother of Michael Wawrzewski, HOH's founder. She gave him his start in missions, and this new branch of the ministry is in her honor. So far, it's been a really great way to connect with people at the hospital, both staff and patients.

Yesterday was a slow day at the hospital, and I got to sit and talk with several staff members and hear about how their work is going. Today, I met a couple who work at the Adventist University, whose daughter is a tour guide. They're going to have her call me to possibly arrange Spanish lessons for volunteers. I also got to meet a young couple with two adorable little girls. They asked me about the hospital's religious affiliation and told me about their history with a controlling church, which they have now left. They were really wounded by this church, and they seem reluctant to try again. I told them that I thought that people create rules that God doesn't approve of, but that what is really important is for us to know God and his love. They invited me and the volunteers to come over for dinner this weekend, and I'm excited for the opportunity to talk with them more.

We invited a couple of the doctors over for lunch today, as a way to thank them for all they do for us. Now, those of you who know me are already aware that I'm a bit (okay, really, really) clumsy. Most of the time I've been here in Bolivia, I've somehow managed to pretend to be graceful. Not so today. In the course of the meal, I managed to send food flying across the table and to spill soda everywhere. I also managed to make some completely ridiculous Spanish mistakes. (For example, I said that medical residents in the US aren't supposed to work more than 100 years a week!) The doctors were very nice about the fact that I made a complete fool of myself and didn't even laugh at my blatant errors-- a sign of true friendship, I think!

One of the hospital administrators is becoming a great friend to us, as well, and Letitia (a volunteer) has decided that she is the one we will grill about all of the things we're perplexed about with regards to Bolivian culture. (If someone tells you that an event begins at 12, what time do you really show up, since it won't start for at least half an hour after that?) One of the guards invited us to come meet his family, and one of the doctors has invited us over for dinner.

Our language skills (or lack thereof) are still a limiting factor in our communication, but we're really beginning to build friendships here despite that. Miscommunication can actually be an asset in building friendships, we've found, as it gives us something to laugh about!

All in all, this week has been a blessing. We feel more at home here, knowing that we have friends we can call on, and we're enjoying getting to share in their lives.