Written: Friday, March 15th 2013
(This entry got a bit long!)
It’s been a crazy week! It’s one of those weeks where more
than once I’ve found myself saying, “Yep, this is Finca life…”
Although if
it weren’t a little crazy I wouldn’t have the time right now to be writing this
thanks to a “rain day” school was canceled. That’s a whole other story which
I’ll get to.
I’ll take
you back to just last Friday. The teachers (both our local Honduran teachers
and the missionary teachers) had just gotten back to The Farm after a retreat
and a local natural hot spring. It is a very tranquil place that used to be a
busy resort, but after Hurricane Mitch hit the area in 1998 the Canadian or
American owners haven’t done much for upkeep. When we got back I had just a few
hours to make the deadline for the Farm’s newsletter. Which by the way all of
you who have donated (except anonymously) will be receiving your newsletter in
the mail or email around Easter. Anyways, I had just come back along the beach
from the resort where I’d been using the internet to email the articles and
photos to our director stateside. I made it back a few minutes late for the
start of Stations of the Cross with the intent of taking photos of the stations
to also email them to Andrea. Amid the craziness I am just now realizing a week
later that I don’t know whether I ever actually did send those final photos.
After stations it was time for an
arts and crafts hour with the youngest boys or at least those that had been
behaving relatively well. With a bit of cardboard from a care package, egg
cartons, scissors and paint the boys made mini volcanoes. This then turned into
a mini lesson on volcanoes. It is really inspiring to me how much those boys
crave knowledge. 10 year old Brayan wants to be a meteorologist, but after our
art session wants to be a volcanologist too.
I got back to our house a few
minutes late for dinner during which on Friday’s we’ve decided to read the
upcoming Sunday’s readings in Spanish and English and share any thoughts on it
or just reflect. I felt bad being late, but that is life here.
After dinner we (the missionaries) went to
sing “Happy Birthday” to Jose Isabel who just turned 14. It is tradition for us to make a card and sing
to each of the kids along with any of their siblings. At the end of each month
we have a big celebration for all the birthdays of the month. That reminds me
it’s already have way through March and I need to start thinking of this
month’s party.
From singing it was on to a
meeting. It was finally my chance to sit down and chat with Julie a wonderful
lady from the states who visited us for a week to do a number of different
retreats. We talked until about 9:30 just sharing stories about how we each got
connected with The Farm and other stories of our travels over the years.
When I got back I ran into Laura
(one of our missionary nurses) as she was just sitting down to eat her now cold
dinner which we saved. I had noticed she wasn’t around during Stations of the
Cross but only because one of the girls had a really bad cough. I didn’t think
much of it, but when I realized she hadn’t been around for dinner either I
asked what happened. It turned out she’d been at the hospital in town with one
of our 8 year old girls. I had just been at her house earlier that afternoon
taking pictures for the newsletter and she was napping. No one seemed to know
what happened other than that she was unconscious for about 10 minutes then
said she had a headache and was dizzy. I’m told she never hit her head so no
one really knew why she was sick.
After spending 5 hours in the
hospital with no answers Laura decided it was best to bring her back to The
Farm for the night. Laura stayed with her at St. Valentine (the spare house
where a missionary family would typically live) for the night so she could
monitor her. Saturday morning Erin Marina got a call on the clinical team phone
which is left on for emergencies. “Hola…. Hola…Hola,” came a small child’s
voice from the other end. Somehow while Laura was still sleeping our little
girl got her hands on the phone and must have just dialed the last number that
had been called. Thankfully she had only called one of the other missionaries.
It was a good sign that whatever happened she was back to being a normal
mischievous and curious 8 year old.
That night it was the missionaries’
turn to hang-out at the houses while the house parents took a couple hours off
to watch a movie or just hang-out elsewhere and take a break. I decided I would
cover House 1 (the littlest girls) since they are my designated “special
friends”. Before heading over I checked in with Laura to see if there was
anything I should keep an eye out for. I was told that our “8 year old prank
caller” had been doing well all day running around and acting normal, but if
she said she was dizzy or had a headache to let Laura know.
As soon as I walked into House 1
all of the girls bowled me over anxiously grabbing for the puzzles, cards and
coloring books I’d brought. A few took to coloring and puzzles while I played
Uno with a few others. After about a half hour later the youngest girl who’d
had the dizzy spells sat down on her mattress next to me saying she was dizzy
and her head hurt. I told her to lie down and rest for a minute and one of the
other girls brought her some water. Unfortunately, her headache got worse and she
started burning up. I sent the oldest girl in the house next door for help and
they sent someone for Laura. It took all her little might to sit up and sip
more water. I’d ask how many fingers I was holding up and although she was no
longer responding verbally she’d show me on her fingers. I felt her pulse in
her wrist which was pounding. All I could do was to keep her comfortable on my
lap and continually make sure she didn’t slip from consciousness. Thankfully,
she never lapsed into an unconscious state.
The rest of the girls seemed
completely unfazed by their friend’s sudden dizzy spell which was not making
the situation any better as they all continued to run around and shout. That is
all the girls but one who sat at her feet occasionally rubbing her friend’s
shins to show her compassion. That same little girl told later that night, “Yo
llore para ella. Estaba sentando
aqui en el porche y gota cayo de mi ojo.” (I cried for her. I was
sitting here on the porch and one drop fell from my eye.) It almost made me cry
to see how much those girls really do love each other. Although they may not be
biological sisters they may be even closer to one another than siblings.
Laura got over to the house shortly
after I sent for help and was able to take over while I ran all over The Farm
to find one of the house dads who could drive them to the hospital. By the time
we got her and Laura loaded into the car our little girl was more with it. She
was still burning up, but was able to keep herself sitting upright and was again
looking around.
The next 2 days were spent at the
hospital in town. Emily (her social worker) and Laura (her nurse) took turns
staying with her while waiting for a doctor to actually show up to work. I have
not personally been to the hospital in town, but I am told that it is just a
large room filled with rows of beds. We got a few requests from Laura of things
to bring with when we came into town for Mass in the morning. It was a reality
check when Laura asked us to bring a roll of toilet paper and hand sanitizer in
case they were stuck there any longer. I knew the hospital was under staffed
and only government funded, but seriously……. They didn’t have toilet paper! We
got a backpack put together including a coloring book and markers for them and
in the morning headed out for our next adventure.
We (the
missionaries) decided to walk into town along the beach since we were short on
drivers to take people to Mass. It was a really beautiful walk and great
exercise first thing in the morning. I had never walked further along the beach
than the resorts so this was a great chance to see the area we call home. We
passed by a few small jellyfish washed up on shore, a beautiful crab that
looked like a 2 year old had taken finger paints of every color to it, and a
handful of fishermen in their small canoes casting their nets for the day.
That walk was not only a good
chance to pray and think, but was also a good reality check of how blessed we
are at The Farm to have vehicles that can make the trip to town in 20-30
minutes verses the hour and 15 minutes walk. We sent a couple people to check
in on our pair camped out at the hospital. Our little girl was doing just fine
and ready to go home, but since it was Sunday the doctor would not be to work
until 7:00 that night. Leaving without answers was not ideal since this was her
second dizzy spell in as many days. Eventually a doctor showed up, but I don’t
really know if that provided any answers. Since that incident she is doing much
better.
Monday we welcomed a missionary
group from Franciscan
University Trujillo area. With each group was a priest
and their main mission was not service but bringing the sacraments (Baptisms
and Mass) to those who have little access to them.
Their “coastal team” went out to
the neighborhoods (Guadalupe, Betulia and others) along the coast. If you look
at a map of Honduras (with the regions labeled) find Trujillo which is in the
department Colon (equivalent to a large county or small state) then look to the
East (the right) along the coast and that is where this group went. They
literally went to the end of the road. Betulia is on the edge of the department
“Gracias A Dios” which is the Honduran jungle. I’ve heard from other missionaries
that beyond Betulia the only way to get around is by boat.
I’m told the wilderness also makes
it a prime spot for drug trafficking. I’d spoken with a guy working with an
American military group in our area. He said their mission is to build infrastructure,
relationships, security and education all in hopes of driving drug traffickers
into a smaller area where they can then “flush them out”. However, I digress.
The Franciscan group also sent a
handful of missionaries up to the high mountain communities. I give them all a
lot of praise because other than what they had in their packs that group along
with the coastal team were dependent on the hospitality of those around them.
Another group visited communities lower in the mountains; a different one each
day before returning to the resort next door to us.
The last group was here at the
Finca. The four of them helped our maintenance men put a new coat of primer in
all the bedrooms for the kids and house parents. Each morning I’d meet them at
our gate and get them situated for the day by translating what they’d be doing.
After that though the missionaries and our maintenance crew were on their own
to try and communicate.
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of
that week went by in the typical blur from 5:40 a.m. to after 9:00 each night
plus the added busyness the volunteers. Monday after getting them orientated I
headed off to school at 9:30 to collect, correct and write the new assignments
into the notebooks of my 16 1st graders and 11 2nd
graders. My English classes are then from 11:25-12:05 and 12:05-12:45 which is
not an ideal time for squirmy little kids. It’s the end of the school day and
usually the hottest time of day. Somehow we make it through, and the 40 minutes
is never actually enough time to do what’s needed.
After school every Monday is the
teachers meeting. This is typically a half hour of wasted time at least for me
so as soon as I can I try to sneak home.
Right from the meeting it’s back
home for lunch and then to survive I snuck in an hour and a half nap. Yeah, I
know most of you reading this would die to take a nap. I don’t claim that my
work is any more exhausting than yours, but I think we can all agree the rare
nap is needed to survive.
At 4:00 it was off to rally the
Franciscan volunteers and head over to House 1 to take the girls to arts and
crafts. We spent the first half hour with the girls who were “on green” (a.k.a.
behaving well) to the playground. Then we went back to the house to get the
last little girl who was on yellow since arts and crafts is a yellow level
activity.
The kids each picked a volunteer to
work with and decorated their new t-shirts. Each of the houses has matching
shirts by color for the monthly Finca Olympic competition. Each of the girls
put “Casa 1” and their name on the back of their lavender shirt plus whatever
other crazy design they wanted. Most of their designs just consisted of
splatter or finger painting with as many colors as they could.
That took us right up to dinner
time. The Franciscan students left for Campamento (the resort next door) and I
took the girls back home. At 7:00 that night we (the entire Finca) had a
Spanglish Mass said by one of the priests with the Franciscan group. After Mass
there was Holy Hour for the missionaries.
I didn’t stay though because as
soon as Mass ended I turned around to see one of our house moms with her 6 year
old daughter sick in her arms. The little girl is one of my 1st
graders and one of the sweetest well-rounded kids I’ve ever met. She had the
same symptoms as my special friend in House 1 had just a few days before. The
common thread seemed to be that both their houses had just been painted with
new primer. Whether that is the common thread we still don’t know. I was
equally worried for her since she also has asthma.
I told her mom that we should head
over to the clinic since Laura and Ashley were over their already with the
other little girl who unfortunately again had a dizzy spell during Mass. Thankfully,
she was doing relatively well compared to the other night. Her house mom took
her back home after they checked her out.
We got to the clinic but neither
Ashley nor Laura was there. I had them sit on a bench outside and I went in
search. I ran into Laura halfway back to the house on her way back to the
clinic. She’d been searching for Gatorade for our little girl in House 1. We
switched off. I got the Gatorade over to House 1 and she got a nebulizer
treatment going for the other little girl. By the time everyone was back home
and our little girls were sleeping I was very relieved to have taken that hour
and a half nap. After a 16+ hour day it would be a short night.
Tuesday… I wake to the
cockle-doodle-doo of a dozen or so roosters. There are just the earliest
glimpses of blue light coming in as I glance at my watch. 5:15 a.m. … I’ve got
two options I think to myself: Try to go back to sleep for 25 minutes or take
that shower that I opted out of yesterday. Somehow, I get myself over to the
shower. I turn the knob and despite dreading the cold water find myself saying
a quick prayer that enough water actually comes out to shower. It doesn’t take
long to wake up after being doused in 40 some degree mountain stream water.
Thinking back now to that Tuesday I
think things passed by relatively normal. Morning Prayer at 6:00. Breakfast at
6:30. Meet the Franciscan volunteers at 7:30. Head to school at 9:30 until
1:00. Each Tuesday and Thursday I run the library hour from 2:30-3:30 for the
school kids who need homework help. I’m not sure what happened between then and
dinner, but somehow it was 6:00 and I had not accomplished all I’d hoped too.
During dinner (every other Tuesday)
we have a community business meeting. The first Tuesday is with all the
missionaries and at least one mom, dad or aunt from each of the houses given
that there is still someone there to watch the kids. The house parents are
usually there till 6:45 and then head off to rosary at 7:00. Our portion of the
meeting usually lasts another hour or so. We then end the night with optional
Holy Hour and before you know it it’s after 9:00 and all you want to do is
sleep. Once again your lesson plans still aren’t done, your department’s budget
hasn’t been looked at but the deadline is still encroaching, your clothes will
be on the line for yet another day (hopefully it doesn’t rain over night), the
birthday party isn’t planned and you still haven’t confirmed what time the
airplane is flying in tomorrow.
That all really makes me think how
well rounded my resume is now. I am a teacher, a catechist, a party planner, a
housekeeper, a department head (granted I am my department), an event planner
and an emergency management specialist to list a few things.
Wednesday was much of the same, but
with more excitement in the afternoon. We found out our new Pope is from Latin America and we got to watch a small airplane land.
The details of Wednesday are in a separate blog (keep scrolling down to the
next entry) entitled, “The Pope and a plane”.
Now to the day which led to my
chance to start writing this blog. (Which by the way I started a week and a
half ago.) Thursday, March 14th 2013 is quite possibly a day for the
record books at The Finca. It started out pretty typical, but a little rainy.
No one thought much of it. The Franciscan volunteers still showed up to do their
last day of painting. I was looking forward to the last day of English classes
for the week.
By the time I headed off for school
at 9:30 it was rainy hard enough that even running from one building to the
next everything got pretty wet. After about a half hour I went into the office
to ask the school’s director (whose been here since the Farm started) who was
driving the teachers and some of the kids back to Trujillo after school. I didn’t find her, but
I did find Alison (missionary/kindergarten teacher). She told me Ysmary the
Finca’s director probably was. I was wondering because I know some of our kids
who walk to school have to cross a couple planchas (they’re like bridges but
the river goes over instead of under), and I wanted to know if they could be
driven across since the river was probably a bit stronger from the rain. I was
told that the school’s director usually monitors the river and if need be ends
school early. However, no one seemed to know where the school’s director was.
I was not quiet satisfied and
wanted to know if it’d be safe for my little first graders to walk home. I
asked our security guard if he knew if the river was rising. He said it was
fine so I trusted him and went on with preparing stuff for class. The rain kept
coming down. Sometimes in torrents other times just a steady shower. I made the
mad dash to the 2nd grade classroom without getting too soaked and
then onto 1st grade. The pounding rain on the tin roof made teaching
even more difficult plus the kids were even more antsy than normal since recess
had been cancelled.
The final bell rang and there was
no keeping me there longer than I had to be. I was soaked from the waist down,
tired of yelling in class and ready to be done with the week. I got back to the
house for lunch in record time and had just changed into warmer drier clothes
when Kevin Kuehl (missionary and school sub-director) came into the house
saying the teachers and all the kids who have to cross the rivers were still at
the school. The rivers had risen too high to be safely crossed by car let alone
on foot. The Finca was now a refugee camp!
On the way Kevin Kuehl said we
should probably start thinking of a plan for the night because likely no one
would be able to leave before dark. I got to the school and started a head
count. We had all 9 of our Honduran teachers and about 2 dozen kids. Everyone
seemed pretty content watching a movie.
I finally stopped back into our
house only to find out the number of “refugees” was more than we thought. In
our living room/kitchen were the 4 Franciscan missionaries that’d been painting
(which by the way they had to stop since too much moisture was seeping in along
the walls) and 2 of their other teams. Among the new missionaries in our house
was one gal who’d picked up some sort intestinal trouble. We got her situated
in the spare bedroom with a couple thin mattresses, a blanket, sweatshirt and
plenty of Gatorade.
Another guy in their group was
seated with his foot propped up and it looked pretty swollen. It turns out that
when their group (the coastal team) was coming back they had to take a boat.
They’d all gotten out of the boat, but just as he was halfway out a large wave
crashed the boat over his foot. Ashley examined it and said it didn’t appear to
be broken. For awhile it seemed that all 10 or so of them would be stuck as
well since they too had to cross a river to get back to the resort. However,
the deacon in charge of their mission was able to help them all cross the river
along the beach.
There were also 11 patients (kids and adults)
still in the clinic waiting to see the bone and muscle specialist who was
visiting from the states for the week. Most of those patients live hours away
by bus and walking. So while all the students and teachers were eating with the
houses the patients all came over to our place for dinner.
As the sun set and the torrents of
rain continued we had to get places set up for everyone to sleep while keeping
in mind that many of these people (especially the patients) are complete
strangers and we were dealing with kids some as young as 2 years old.
Thankfully, we had a couple dozen extra “colchones” (thin mattresses) in
storage since each of the kids received a donation of real mattresses earlier
this year. We got the colchones delivered over to the library for the men and
boys and the middle school for the women and girls. Unfortunately even after
scrounging through our stash of extra sheets and blankets there was not enough.
People were lucky to receive either a fitted sheet, flat sheet or a blanket. It
wasn’t exactly a warm night either especially when you’re already wet.
To my relief most of the kids were
still reveling in the “slumber party” and not worried that they were separated
from their families. It was harder on the teachers though who realized this
storm could last for days. From our storehouse we were able to put together
emergency kits for everyone. They included toilet paper, a bar of soap, candles
and matches. Amazingly throughout all of this the power never went out. This is
almost unheard of since the power regularly and with no warning goes out.
As for the patients we put the four
older women in the guest house, the men in the house usually used by a
missionary family, and a grandpa and his three grandchildren in the office. The
visiting doctor moved from the guest house and spent the night with us.
It should be noted that all this
went down while the number of missionaries at the Finca was just seven. Usually
we are a community of 13 (plus 2 in Ceiba), but Harrison and Haydee were on
vacation back home in the U.S. and Nicaragua respectively, Emily and Sara were
in Belize visiting friends of Emily, Erin Marina was in Ceiba covering for
Sara, Laura was in Ceiba taking our little girl from House 1 to a specialist
and Erin Lucia was trapped in town (on the other side of the rivers) at a hotel
with her parents and grandparents who were visiting.
When everyone was nestled all snug
in their beds (well… not exactly) the 7 missionaries holding down the fort
finally sat down together and figure out how we’d deal with housing, feeding
and keeping track of around 4 dozen people all while keeping our own kids safe
for possibly the next 72 hours until the storm passed. We re-divided up cooking
duties, wrote down rules, made plans for how to keep the school kids separate
from our kids and keep everyone entertained indoors. Sometime around mid-night
my head finally hit the pillow.
My watch then beeped about 5 or 6
hours later telling me it was time to get up and start cooking breakfast for
the 7 of us plus the 11 patients. It wasn’t until I stepped into the courtyard
that I realized the sound of rain on the tin roof had stopped. I looked up and
the sky was clearing! This still was not a guarantee that anyone would be able
to cross the river. Figuring it could take a few hours for the rivers to go
down I started breakfast. Just as the large pot of arroz con leche (rice
pudding) finished we got word that it was safe to cross and everyone was
getting loaded into cars. So as to send the patients off with some breakfast;
and to make sure we weren’t left with enough rice pudding for a week, we quick
took the pot and plastic cups out to their car.
I sat at the table eating breakfast
with the other 6 thinking, “Did the last 24 hours really happen?” We all had
the same look of relief and need for a relaxing day. Despite the fact that we
had all the teachers at The Finca and all the kids could make it in for class
there was no reasonable way to hold classes. The sky was clearer, but off and
on all day came spits of rain, then brief torrents, steady showers and hopeful
breaks of sun. All that mattered though was that we had earned a very much
needed rain day if for no other reason than to sit here and write this blog.
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