La mano que da, recibe

La mano que da, recibe (The hand that gives, receives).

An intentional look back at my year at Padre Damien House in Ecuador, and some thoughts about leaving the country and the transition back home.

''Leprosy work is not merely medical relief; it is transforming frustration of life into joy of dedication, personal ambition into selfless service'' –Mahatma Gandhi

Sr. Annie Credidio wasn't supposed to start a hospital.  The nun with the Brooklyn attitude came to Ecuador over 20 years ago to be a kindergarten teacher.  A friend invited her to mass one day at the leprosy wing of the hospital of infectious diseases in Guayaquil.  What she found broke her heart.  There were cockroaches in the food, inconsistent wound care for the patients' chronic ulcers, and mice running around—who at night would get into the patients' rooms and chew away at their toes.  In short, inhumane conditions.  She felt God calling her there and knew she needed to do something.  With no experience whatsoever, she dove right in...

  

Flash forward 20 years.  That leprosy wing is now Padre Damien House, a House of Hospitality and home to around 40 in-house patients and several hundred more outpatients.  What Sr. Annie has been working for in these past 20+ years has been for a humane life for her patients; in essence, a place they can call home, that ''oasis, the little cell of joy and peace in a harried world'', as Dorothy Day would put it.  I arrived at Damien last year both intrigued and curious to learn more about leprosy (now called Hansen's Disease), a disease dating back to Biblical times.  I've spent the last year at Damien on weekday mornings from 8:30am to 1pm.  What I've found this year goes far beyond what any textbook could teach me about Hansen's.  I can honestly say that I've found a family, ready to open their hands and hearts to a strange gringo with a severely-lacking Spanish vocabulary.  I found a place where conversations meant more than big projects, where presence meant more than status, and where Gandhi's ''joy of dedication'' could be lived out.  As Sr. Annie reminds volunteers, we're choosing to cast our lot for a year, to walk with the patients in their pains and struggles, and to step into a world that many have forgotten.

Don Leon grew up like many young men in the campo (rural) part of Ecuador, working in the rice and fruit fields with water up to his knees.  Roughly 95% of the world's population is not susceptible to Hansen's, but Leon was part of that small percentage that, due to differing immune responses, could contract the infectious bacteria.  It takes several months of prolonged contact with someone who carries the bacteria to contract Hansen's, and can take years to show the initial symptoms of skin blotches and decreased sensation in the extremities.  However, for most workers in the campo, leaving your work (that makes just enough to support your family) to take a bus several hours to a big-city hospital just isn't an option.  As the bacteria progresses, it seeks out and attacks the cooler parts of your body—the eyes, nose cartilage, earlobes, and peripheral nerves in the arms and legs.  Over time, the swelling causes the peripheral nerves to become trapped, and when oxygen can't flow freely, the peripheral nerves in the arms and legs slowly die and the patient loses sensation in the their hands and feet.  The most dangerous effect of this loss of sensation is the loss of pain sensation.  One patient we did nerve testing for came in with a cut on her finger she received while cooking—the cut was all the way through to the bone but she didn't feel a thing; she only knew it was there when she saw the blood rushing out.  Without this pain sensation, repetitive stress on the hands and feet can lead to ulcers and eventually infection and bone resorption.  Don Leon is one of the oldest residents at Damien, and lived through the horrid conditions before Sr. Annie arrived.  His lack of pain sensation in his feet meant that he didn't wake up when mice would chew on his toes at night, only knowing what happened when he saw his sheets covered in blood in the morning.  Leon's ulcers on his leg were so severely infected that he had to have the same leg amputated twice—first below, then above the knee.          

However, the good news is, just like Leon, all the patients are either cured of Hansen's or finishing up treatment.  Hansen's is completely curable through a 3-drug treatment provided by the World Health Organization.  If treatment is started early enough, no lasting effects will remain.  The several former patients of Damien House who are now full-time employees at the foundation, with spouses and kids, are living examples of this.  For patients like Leon, and others who couldn't start treatment until after significant nerve damage, daily wound care is needed to wash the ulcers and keep them infection-free.  One of my most powerful experiences at Damien has been assisting in wound care, washing ulcers that in many cases leave no skin on the feet.  I had the opportunity to clean the wounds of Fortunato, one of the most jovial patients, on Holy Thursday this year, and it was a joy for me thinking about Jesus washing his disciples feet on that same day so many years ago.  Even with the difficulty of daily wound care, both Fortunato and Leon don't drop the smiles from their faces; something I'll remember long after my time at Damien. 

Even without one leg, Leon hasn't seemed to have lost a step.  I've joked with him about having a wheelchair race around the hospital, but have put it off all year because I know very well that he would beat me.  It wasn't until the last several months that I grew closer to Leon and began to spend a lot of time with him.  But it all started when I asked if he could teach me the art of hammock-making.  This guy can churn out a custom-made, Ecuadorian-colored hammock made of fishing twine (strongest material—these hammocks are guaranteed for life) in no more than 3 days.  I needed about 3 months.  But those 3 months I spent learning to weave my hammock were days I will not forget.  I'd ask him just about every day if he'd found his amputated leg yet, which would send his high-pitched whistle of a laugh roaring through the men's section.  He'd usually retaliate with a question like ''What were you doing in the kitchen yesterday you vago? (translation: lazy person).  You should have been working on your hammock, not stuffing your face with patacones''.  All the guys in the men's section seemed to take an interest in me weaving the hammock, coming to watch us work and joke about how I'd finish in two years.  I felt proud when Leon invited me to accompany him to Mi Comisariato (a grocery store) across the street from Damien House a few weeks before our last day to buy a few essentials.  I wheeled him across the street, popping wheelies at his command, much to the dismay of concerned on-lookers.  Once inside, I found an Iron-Man halloween mask and proceeded to wear it through the store as we bought some oil, sugar, and eggs.  We must have made quite a pair—a gringo with an Iron-Man mask and a one-legged Ecuadorian laughing up and down the aisles.  Last week, at our despedida (going away party), Leon presented me with a hammock he had made with the colors of the Guayaquil flag (blue and white) to go along with the one I had weaved.  An incredibly kind act from a selfless and joy-filled man.  To my hamacka profesor, thank you...I will not forget those fun days!

                                                                     A little weaving...

                                                                         The master!

Unlike Leon, not all the patients are in need of daily wound care.  Many choose to stay and live at Damien House because their families either cannot or will not care for them.  Sr. Annie is very adamant about never turning anyone away, and there has always been a bed for anyone who needs it.  The strong stigma that haunted lepers in the Bible still, to a certain extent, exists today.  Without a home or support system to return to, Damien House is the only option for many in-house patients, and the patients see Annie as an angel sent from heaven.  One group from the U.S. that helps Annie out considerably is appropriately named ''Annie's Angels''.  Annie's Angels is a peripheral nerve surgery team that comes down to operate on Hansen's patients like Niño, one of my best friends at Damien.  Niño is probably the most active 85+ year old I've ever encountered..he's always wheeling other patients to wound care or running to unload the donations truck.  Everyone calls him Niño (little boy) because he's small and skinny, and he loves to joke around too.  Almost every day, he'll sneak up on me while my back is turned and reach into my bag to steal whatever contents are inside, usually some bread from breakfast.  I've become adept at stealing his hat off his head without him noticing.  When the medical group came, I got to walk with Niño through the surgery process, hanging out with him the day before and waiting with him in pre-op before heading into surgery.  Once inside the OR, the surgeons make small incisions into the arm and leg, working to widen the tunnel through which the peripheral nerves run in order to decrease the pressure on the nerves and prevent further nerve damage.  The surgeries can have dramatic effects, allowing the patient to regain some sensibility and regain wider use of their hands and feet.  I was lucky enough to watch the surgeries up close in the OR, talking with the doctors as they made the incisions and opened up the tunnels.  It was an incredible experience with the group, but it was even more special to accompany many of the Damien House patients through the surgeries.  For Niño and Leonor, another patient who had a foot surgery, it meant a lot to have us volunteers there in pre-op, the OR, and post-op when they woke up.  I didn't realize just how special my time with Niño had been until our despedida, when he came out of his room crying, gave me a slip of paper with his cell phone number, and said I best be calling him because he would no longer have his ladron (robber) amigo around.

                                                                           Niño(s)

I was able to work on a wide variety of things this year at Damien: wound care, peripheral nerve testing with my man Jonathan, translating for medical groups, cooking in the cocina with J-Lo and the other ladies, and maintenance work with Edgar.  However, it is the hospitality and cariño (love) I received that has left such a big impact on me.  And now it's time for me to return that love.  Thanks to Chad Puclowski, one of the Rostro de Cristo retreat group leaders, we were able to set up a fundraising program on StayClassy, a new fundraising platform for non-profits.  Our hope is that every volunteer and visitor who passes through the doors of Damien will spread the word, help raise awareness about Hansen's Disease, and raise funds to keep Damien House open for these individuals who have become like family to me.  When Sr. Annie started Damien and broke off from the surrounding hospital, the foundation became completely dependent on donations and grants.  One of the biggest stresses for Sr. Annie is where funding will come from; as she often states, there is usually enough money in the bank to last another 2 months.  We hope that StayClassy can help eliminate this worry for her.  If every visitor to Damien House agreed to support Sr. Annie's efforts through a $10 monthly donation on StayClassy, Damien House would take a huge step toward becoming self-sustainable.  So, to keep my experience alive and to support my Ecuadorian family, I have created a fundraising page on StayClassy.  Access it at http://www.stayclassy.org/fundraise?fcid=251769 , where you can make a one-time or recurring monthly donation.  Every little bit helps!!!  As Jack Johnson's All At Once campaign states, ''An individual action, multiplied by millions, creates global change.'''

So, that's a little bit of the world I experienced this year at Damien House.  I'm now sitting here on the back porch by the hammock with a cup of coffee, thinking about leaving Ecuador in two days.  This spot has become one of my favorites this year, my place to pray, reflect, play the guitar, and read.  I feel excited to head home, but sad to leave behind such amazing people.  I feel a longing for more time to spend with the people, but feel so very grateful for the time I have had.  I feel like my efforts were not enough, yet I know I gave my best effort to truly ''be'' with these people.  Most of all, I feel thankful—thankful for the family I've found at Damien House and the Arbolito neighborhood, thankful to have spent a year learning a different ''way'', thankful for all the friends and family who have supported me throughout this year, and thankful for being ''ruined for life'' by what I've seen and experienced this year.

My physical contribution was so very small this year; it was mostly a simple ministry of presence.  However, I think this year marked the awakening of a deeper social conscious in me and a broadening world view.  It has reaffirmed the truth that we are all linked together by love and support at the human level, regardless of language or class status.  As I begin to try and put my year into perspective, I am constantly reminded of a quote from a book I read this year called Santiago's Children.  The author writes, ''In retrospect, although I'd tried on lots of fronts, all my contributions paled in the face of so much poverty, repression, violence, and need...what had changed the most was me'' –Steve Reifenberg, Santiago's Children.  Indeed, I identify strongly with his words; what has changed the most from this experience is me, and I know that my responsibility is to take the things I've learned in Ecuador and pour them out through a lifetime of service.

Thank you so very much to everyone who has supported me throughout this year, and who through generous donations, allowed me to live and love here in Ecuador for year.  I can't wait to share more of this experience with you when I return home!  God Bless and thank you for reading this year!

Paz, Amor, Ecuador (all rights reserved on that phrase to Ana Lopez :))

Cristobal

                                                                      Besito para Blanca

                                                                         Despedida!

                                                    Fortunato, another hammock master!

                                                              Don Isidro, despedida

                                   J-Lo y Pascualita, gracias por enseñarme a cocinar este año!!!

                                                        Fitting Leo with post-op shoes

                                                                       Mis panas!

                                                               Leonor y yo, despedida

Patience

This will be a short post, but hopefully sweet.  I figure short is better than nothing at all!  Time has been flying by here in Duran, and we now have one month left until the new year-long volunteers arrive and my compañeros and I head back to the U.S.  Family and friends, I can't wait to see you all in August and share this experience with you in person.  But until then, I'll be trying to soak up every moment I get to spend with neighbors here in Arbolito, patients at Damien House, and kids at Semillas.  I've been reflecting a lot on another passage from Henri Nouwen, and find the theme, patience, to be very appropriate leading into these crazy weeks ahead.  Nouwen writes, in Living the Moment to the Fullest, 

''Patience is a hard discipline.  It is not just waiting until something happens over which we have no control: the arrival of the bus, the end of the rain, the return of a friend, the resolution of a conflict.  Patience is not a waiting passivity until someone else does something.  Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment, to taste the here and now, to be where we are.  When we are impatient we try to get away from where we are.  We behave as if the real thing will happen tomorrow, later and somewhere else.  Let's be patient and trust that the treaure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand.'' 

You are all in my thoughts and prayers!  Que Dios le bendiga!

Cristobal

The Last Few Months...

So maybe yesterday was a blessing in disguise.  I spent most of the day in bed with a fever, chills, and the aches.  It finally got bad enough last night that Chase and Jazzy (I owe you guys!)drove me to the hospital to get a blood test for Dengue Fever (which, thankfully, came back negative).  I feel a lot better today, but am still relegated to the house.  Anyway, the blessing: I now have no excuse for not writing a blog post with all this time on my hands.  I know what you're all thinking: his last blog was in November?!  Is he still alive?  Yes.  And I will try to give at least some clarity to the last several months filled with grillos, rain, retreat groups, and of course, black paint on Carnaval.

            I will start by going back to December (just for you, Taylor Swift).  I took an overnight bus with my housemates to Quito, the capital of Ecuador, where we stayed with some awesome volunteers at the Centro de Muchachos Trabajadores.  Muchachos is a foundation dedicated to working with street children and providing educational opportunities for the kids.  We also climbed Mt. Pinchincha, with spectacular views of the city and surrounding mountainside (see pics!).  It was an awesome trip, thanks Muchachos vols for your hospitality!

 

            The next weekend, I led my first retreat group here in Arbolito.  A big part of the Rostro de Cristo program is hosting high school and college groups that come down to Ecuador for a week to experience life here.  I was blessed to spend a week with 12 awesome students and 2 incredible leaders from Assumption College in Worcester, MA.  The goal of their time here, much like our goal as year-long volunteers, is not so much to complete any specific project but to enter into relationship and ''be'' with the people.  They got to spend time at neighbors' houses, Damien House hospital where I work, and after-school programs.  It was an awesome week for me, and I think it was an impactful week for the kids as well!

            After my group left, my family came to visit!  It was such a blessing to have my Mom, Dad, bro Dan, and his girlfriend Tracy here!  We took a trip to Puerto Lopez, a sleepy little surf town on the coast.  We checked out ''Isla de la Plata'', a mini-Galapogos, and did some snorkeling with some really old turtles.  We also got to do a little surfing on the last 2 days...no wetsuit, in December....it was a strange feeling for this kid from Wisconsin.  One of the coolest parts of having them here, though, was the opportunity for them to meet the patients at Damien House, the kids at our after-school program, and the many incredible neighbors who have welcomed me into their homes this year.  It was a special time for me to spend with my family, and I think my family really enjoyed getting to know Arbolito as well!

 

 

            A few weeks later, perhaps my favorite Ecuadorian holiday took place.  The name: Carnaval.  The purpose: Douse anyone within range with water and paint in the 3 or so days before Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent.  I found no other purpose for the holiday, but I fully participated (see picture). 

   

                               

The couple days off of work also allowed my housemate Chase and I to travel to the campo (country) with our neighbor Elyer to visit his family.  Elyer, the first medical student from his village of Santo Domingo, lives with his Aunt here in Arbolito while he takes classes.  Chase and I spent two days with his family in Santo Domingo, playing soccer and basketball, jumping into the river, walking through his farm to pick all kinds of fruits I had never heard the name of, and yes, drinking from a coconut.  It was a beautiful place!  Thanks to Elyer and his fam for their hospitality!

    

            Experiencing the Lenten season and Easter here in Arbolito was really cool.  Shortly after Christmas, 3 Italian priests were sent here to Duran and began celebrating mass in Arbolito.  Padre Juan Pablo has been the main priest here at our church in Artbolito, and he has injected a lot of life into the parish with his enthusiasm, and most notably, with his sense of humor.  The youth group is growing again, I've been helping with guitar lessons for the youngsters, and the people are responding to a priest who is taking a genuine interest in their barrio.  On Friday evenings during Lent, Padre Juan Pablo led the Via Cruces, a stations of the cross through the streets of Arbolito.  We would usually start at the Church with a handful of people, and by the end we might have 50 or 60 people, all carrying candles and walking together.  It was a powerful experience for me, and humbling to see the reverence the people of Ecuador hold for the solemnity of Jesus's passion.  These words, written by a former Rostro de Cristo volunteer, speak to that identification with the Passion of Christ.

            It is impossible to spend time in Duran, Ecuador without witnessing the joy that radiates from the people.  At first of course, what jumps out is the poverty, the heartache, the pain and sorrow.  It's hard to imagine finding hope in that setting.  But as you start to meet people and they allow you to enter their lives, their hope is contagious.  At the same time, their pain is very real, and every day can be a struggle just for survival.  For that reason the Passion of Christ is very relevant for them.  But just as real is the hope that it brings, for Christ conquered death!  He was condemned and crucified, something the people of Duran know all too well.  But he rose from the dead!  He has proven that good conquers evil, that life conquers death, that there is always hope in every circumstance.  Change may come slow, but it will come.  We may be poor, but have each other.  We may have a small house, and struggle to put bread on the table, but our family is united.  Life is hard, but God is always on our side.  Christ has risen, alleluia!!! Resucito! Aleluya!

            After our celebration of Easter, my second retreat group, from Xaverian Brothers High School, arrived for their week in Ecuador.  It was such a well-led group and I had an awesome week being with the kids.  Seeing my surroundings from 13 new perspectives was a refreshing change for me.  Thank you Xaverian Bros!

            Tomorrow is the return to school for many kids here in Ecuador after their vacations during the rainy season.  From roughly January through April, it rains.  A lot.  When it rains, all the creatures come out.  Snakes, rats, frogs, mosquitos, and, most notably, GRILLOS!  Grillos are like grasshoppers..harmless, unless they find your clothes, which they eat holes through.  The worst night of grillos, I remember looking up at the streetlight and thinking it looked exactly like the streetlight  back outside my house in Wisconsin when it was snowing.  But these weren't snowflakes, they were grillos.  Around that time, our guard also killed the biggest snake I have seen outside of a zoo with his machete.  Yikes.  I think it says a lot about our neighbors here; even though it rains, the streets flood, everything turns to mud, they keep on; they are resilient.  During the rainy season, with kids not in school, the attendance at Semillas de Mostaza, our after-school program, jumped up significantly.  For several weeks, we averaged more than 100 kids a day.  Fun, but absolute madness.  With 3 of us volunteers, Ricardo, and a handful of ''ayudantes'', we had our plates full.  Some days, all I could do was try to keep the kids in one spot to do a word search.  Needless to say, a couple of my activity plans that might have worked with smaller groups were a disaster with the numbers we had.  Even now, with our numbers back down a bit, I have days where behavior issues leave me exhausted and fed up.  I wonder if the kids are actually learning anything from my activities.  Basically, I wonder on days like those, if my efforts are worthwhile.  Reading ''Tattoos on the Heart'', by Fr. Greg Boyle, S.J., helped change my outlook a bit.  He wrote, ''All Jesus asks is 'where are you standing'? And after chilling defeat and soul-numbing failure, He asks again, 'Are you still standing there'?''  I have tried to begin to see my job not so much in terms of success and failure, but in terms of where my feet are.  Yes, I still try to plan good, educational activities.  But I am reminded that my biggest duty is to stand with these kids as a role model, friend, peer.  Someone who cares about them.  It's not easy.  It's something I will most likely struggle with  until my last day there.  But I know that standing with them is worthwhile.

            So, that is a little glimpse into the past few months.  I want to tell you all about Damien House and the work of Sr. Annie, it's founder, but I will save that for my next post.  Next week, I will be working for a morning or two at Casa Don Bosco, a Salesian-run shelter for street boys.  I will be accompanying two social workers as they visit the families of the boys who live and learn there.  It's something new for me, and exciting, so I'll keep you posted.  It's crazy to think, but we've been here in Ecuador for over 9 months now.  With a little over 3 months to go, I know our time here is rapidly coming to a close.  It will be a wild 3 months, with many retreat groups and preparations for the new year-long  Rostro de Cristo volunteers arriving in July (shout-out to the 3 vols coming from Creighton!).  I can't promise very quick Facebook responses, but know that you all will continue to be in my thoughts and prayers!  Thanks for all your love and support.  Cuidense mucho!

Cristobal

The kids at Semillas call me Nasuti, a defenseman on the local soccer team Emelec…any resemblance??

Playing a little guitar before Mass with two of my best friends and teachers down here, Frixon and Ricardo.