Trigger

It was a busy day yesterday: lots to take in, lots to deal with. I went to sleep at about 10:30 mostly due to exhaustion--a good exhaustion--but that was not to last. By 3:30 a.m., my mind was wide awake, processing, not interested in sleep. This is not new for me. It happens often. I can only take in so much before I have to stop and think about it. I am great in a crisis. I forge ahead, directing others, solving problems, always walking out of the smoke. Then, some time later, I deal with what I have been through. Life has been busy lately, with Haiti thrown in just in case I dared to think that I might get my head above water, and I know I have a backlog of “stuff” to process. It is great to have 4 solid hours of think-time this morning, but why now? What triggered the need to process this morning? Children singing. The universal language of music.


Yesterday we went to an orphanage where 4 of the students we sponsored come from. Dr. Ray wanted to check out some of the local orphanages anyway, so we killed two birds with one stone. They have 99 orphans here from age 2 to age 17, both boys and girls. They had very little warning that we were coming but warmly received us and gave us a tour. I am not the kind that loves to hold the kids and play ball with them. My strength is more in evaluating buildings, drainage, security and so on. That is pretty much what I did--asked about the agriculture they teach, looked at the mulberry seed harvesting they do, stuff like that--while Dr. Ray talked to the house mother and the kids.

All the kids assembled in the chapel to hear a message from us, and I took the opportunity to meet with the boys taking classes from Grace at CCIT and talk with them a bit. We took a picture (note: they are smiling this time!) and then we went inside. There were opening remarks; Dr. Ray gave a motivational speech about education, caring, and community; and then the children sang for us. Not just Mary had a little lamb, no! They sang hymns in three part harmony. They did not just sing out of duty; they sang with joy and heart. They smiled. They beamed. Music is a part of this community, and it is alanguage that we all understand. I stopped thinking about the construction techniques of the chapel, of the politics of helping, of the flight we might not catch because of the rain. I stopped thinking about it all and was simply inspired.

It was the voices of the children that triggered my minded this morning, their voices focussing me on what needs to be done and reminding me why I am here, why this matters. Their voices are helping me process all that I have experienced, put it into perspective and carry on. Thank you, and keep singing!

Clinic to the Stars - April 17 (by Gordon Gilchrist)

Sorry...That should have been "Clinic Under the Stars." The power is a bit flaky here! I have just returned from the new Zowkathar clinic building, and it is a thing of beauty if I do say so myself. No Kappa says it is the nicest building in town, and I have to agree with him. Although the official opening will be in January, The community will start to "test drive" it next week, I suspect. The current clinic is a small, 2-room, wooden building; the new clinic is 9 rooms and made of concrete, brick and tin--a big improvement!

Many people have worked hard to make this happen, and many dollars have been raised abroad. Medical Mercy Canada has worked with their sister organizations in India and A Better World has worked in Canada. Ultimately, it is the local people who will run the clinic with guidance and financial support from MMC. There is no shortage of need in the area, that is for sure! This has been a great example of a collaboration that has worked.

There are always technical issues with a new building--that is why I am here--but sometimes the issues are bigger than expected. When we started this project, the town was to supply water, but, since then, the town demand for water has outstripped the supply. There has been a draught, and the amount of developement in the area makes this place look like a boom town. Be that as it may, we still need water. We have looked at a number of options including pumping from the river, storing rain water, and having water trucked in. The cheap farmer in me is thrilled that we now have a composite solution that will meet the immediate needs of the clinic, at least.

I met the new doctor at the old clinic I suspect he is anxous to move into the new digs! He will be living in the clinic until a house can be built. He should feel lucky. If I had this building in Haiti, I would have 20 families living in it! Now matter how bad off you are, there is always someone else worse off! The same holds true in the other direction: no matter how well off you are, there is always someone with more. Perhaps we should learn to be content with what we have? But, I digress. The people of Zowkathar will be very happy with their new clinic, and if you had something to do with making this happen, pat yourself on the back. Good job!

On a completely unrelated note, every trip seems to have a first of some sort. This trip is no exception: I saw my first pineapple growing! It would be a fun exercise to list everything you have ever eaten then see how many of those items you have touched while they were alive.

Unplugged, But Not By Choice - April 17 (by Gordon Gilchrist)

I am unplugged again, but it is different this time. I didn’t plan this, for starters! I can usually count on getting internet at certain spots along my route, but this time it has not happened. The hotel was full; we did not stop at CCIT in Champai; and there is not even cell phone out here in Zohkathar! I am still writing when I have a minute (usually early in the morning when I can’t sleep), but I feel more cut off this trip than ever before. I am safe, healthy, happy, but cut off. I did a week unplugged before without trouble, so what is the difference now?


Expectation, is all. This morning I was up with the first light of dawn. I am staying in a very nice guest house overlooking the Burma boarder. Again, it was very quiet. Again, it was the voices in my head that pulled me from my sleep. But today I looked out at those on the receiving end of the racial rant. As I worried about being disconnected from my family and friends, I looked down at a Burmese family on the India side of the river--truly unplugged, disconnected. Unplugged not just from technology but from their homeland, their family, and their culture. Children who will not see their parents birthplace, children who will be judged by their name first and their actions second, children who will have to create a new culture with elements from their past and present.


I have yet to make the trip from Aizawl to Zowkathar without our driver stopping somewhere to drop off a letter or a package along the way. It just seems to be a community service the driver provides. Although I am unplugged, this blog is getting to you because of a network of friends: a driver willing to drop off a memory stick with Grace at CCIT; Grace willing to download and email this it my editor, Crystal; and Crystal willing to work her magic and mount this for the rest of my family and friends to see. As long as I have friends, I will never be completely unplugged.