The last few weeks have been some of the most wonderful of my life.  I wanted to share the FULL story, here below, with all who have been keeping up on our work. 

Hello all,

What would the packing list for a 10 day excursion across the Himalaya include?  Perhaps, in the traveler’s large rucksack tents, stoves, hiking poles, $200 hiking boots, $20 socks, cases of provisions, pots pans and utensils would be found.  Carrying such a load on these mountains would prove daunting indeed.  I wonder if the one carrying it would even be able to look up and enjoy the trip they were making under such a burden.

Few things have impressed me as much as the story of the peregrini.  They were Celtic monks who would set sail into the frigid North Atlantic Ocean.  What made them exceptional was that, in their sect, using sails and oars was prohibited.  It was their desire to be driven by waves and winds to an unknown destination.  It was their belief that wherever they landed was the predestined place for them to share the joy of God with others.

I set off on my journey scantily equipped for a western hiker but carrying too much baggage to be a true peregrini.  In my small red backpack was a single change of clothes, a simple first aid kit, a bottle of water, a few chappati covered with jam, some almonds, a jacket, reading material, some personal effects and a large Pictorial Dictionary of Sign Language.  On the back of my bag was strapped a pair of elbow crutches.  My first destination was Puchowk to visit a village girl named Adrena who suffers from MS.  I knew the way along the first hour of trail (given I visited Adrena once before last Dec.) but was clueless as to the path for the 10 days to come.

Before even reaching Adrena’s house a boy came to fetch me.

“They sent me to get you.”

“How?  They didn’t even know I was coming.”
Continue reading An Uninvited Guest

Hello all,

Since sending out the letter which informed our friends, family and supporters of our decision to resign from IDEAS, we have received many messages.  The message we originally sent out contained a few gaps and was missing some important information.  In particular many of our supporters inquired as to where they should now send their donations.  While we have sent in a letter to IDEAS informing them that we intend to resign, our working relationship will remain active until August 1st of 2009.  Since we are terminating our working relationship on good terms and with mutual understanding, our IDEAS account will remain open during this transition period.    Continue reading Clarification and our potential USA itinerary

Hello all,

Last week I set off to visit the village of Nok Dara with two female teachers as my guides. There is a primary school there under the supervision of Father Felix. I went to assess the population in the area and its need for healthcare. Leaving the road behind, we climbed together up through the traditional villages. With one ear I was listening to the wind rustling across thatched roofs, children whacking down grass for the livestock, foot operated rice threshers pounding out the kernels and a wooden plow quietly slicing through the earth and with the other I was listening to the 2 Lepcha teachers chatting in Nepali between their puffs of breath.

“Did you hear the new ring-tone I put on my mobile?”

“No, what?”

“Summer of 69 by Bryan Adams”

“Oh, really I love that one and what a great ring-tone!”

Unexpected paradoxes and juxtapositions come part and parcel with living in India. The old and the new live in such a strange tension here. Who would expect village schoolteachers who earn $40 dollars a month to have mobile phones? Who would expect to hear about ‘Summer of 69′ in the middle of a non-road-accessible Lepcha village perched in the Himalayas? Continue reading Old and New

Hello All,
 
            If I understand correctly, an ultrasound is just a fancy echo.  When its sonic waves hit something solid, something real, they are reflected back to the sensor.  This appears as white light on the monitor.  On the other hand, the areas that are empty, nebulous, void only appear as a blank darkness on the black screen.  Receiving the 2D print outs, we looked at the images of our child.  On the paper it was written, “3 vessels detected”.  Sure enough, there our baby floated… as if suspended… by three little vessels of life.  The membranes around our child had earlier separated.  The fabric of its world had seemed to be falling apart.  But after waiting, resting, eating and praying we had our proof.  It was proof in black and white. Sure the pictures were lacking a dimension, but still they didn’t lie.  All was healed.
  Continue reading Ultrasound Resolutions

Hello all,
 
     When the Ganga (the river Ganges) reaches the end of Varanasi the water is so polluted that it contains no dissolved oxygen,  thus eliminating any possibility of flora or fauna.  Thirty open sewers within the city limits pour into the already toxic river.  The Ganga has also been called the ‘river of life’ but as it exits India’s most holy city there is only a tide of death.   my brother mark,  his wife Nicole and my nephew Lincoln came to visit us, so we decided to make a pilgrimage of sorts to the longest continually inhabited city on the face of the earth. Continue reading India is Burning

Hello All,
 
     On November 5th at 10:30 am Amanda, Asher and I were in a van driving towards Phuentsholing, Bhutan.  My mom, 2 aunts (Kay and Janet) and Brenton and Drew (2 of my co-workers in our ECTA Endeavors project) were high overhead on a Druk Air Flight leaving the Kingdom.  Our meetings with different government officials and Bhutanese NGO’s went very well, the Queen was delighted with our proposal, we found a great sight for a pilot project in the region of Haa, the weather was dry and cool, the days where cloudless with impeccable views and I gained a good 5 lbs. due to all the yak meat that I ate.  Thanks to all these factors the long, winding drive to Phuentsholing was passing quickly blurred by my daydreaming.  I dreamed about living in one of the quaint, rustic farmhouses warming up next to a bokari on a snowy day.  I dreamed about flying over the mountains in an ultra light aircraft evacuating patients from remote villages and Amanda delivering babies in a hospital that actually appreciated her presence.  I dreamed about drier monsoons, riding my bicycle around to different villages on health visits and Asher attending the local school dressed in a gho.  I dreamed about the better days that could be on the horizon.
     Suddenly, the window beside me exploded and I was showered with fragments of broken glass.  I looked through the brokenness to see a women staring at me in shock.  She was in her 20’s, a Nepali, dressed in rags, faced baked like leather by the sun and holding a sledgehammer.  A chip from a rock she had been breaking caused the incident.  Soon the driver and the project foreman (an Indian Military Engineer) were arguing.  Continue reading Three Questions

Hello All,

Community Development, Empowerment, Humanitarianism, Social Work, Development Work, Social Entrepreneurship, Missions… people have used all kinds of words to describe how spent we our time in Daragaon.  Amanda and I spent most of the last 5 1/2 years living and working  there.  At first, my time was spent on building trails to link this remote village with the outside world.  Soon after, Amanda and I helped to start a school to educate the children of the region.  Eventually the realities of the health crisis in our area pushed us towards the realms of medicine and midwifery.  Sometimes our work involved cutting fodder for goats and constructing buildings. Sometimes our work involved delivering babies and treating meningitis.  Sometimes our work involved drinking tea around a kitchen fire and reading books to children.  We’ve done a lot of things in Daragaon but the goal in doing all those things was always the same…  to see love born into our little village.  Our methodology in our work is quite simple.  First, identify a perceived local need.  Second, empower the local community to tackle the issue.  Third, train and equip the local community. Fourth, hand over responsibility to the local community.   It became evident earlier this year that people were starting to become dependent on us and it was time for us to leave Daragaon.  Dependency is the antithesis to what we’ve worked for.

Continue reading Naivete and Nativity

Hello all,

Devi went down to Rimbic on market day. Two parents had begun to carry firewood again so the Food for Thought program was reopened. She bought fruits and vegetables that do not grow in our village to introduce a larger spectrum of vitamins to the malnourished kids. On Wednesday, we asked Himal to carry up the produce. He made a lame excuse and said he would carry up the load on his horse the next day. He didn’t. On Friday, we asked him again, but he decided to sleep the day away instead. On Sunday, Jai Narayan carried up our goods in a burlap sack on his back. The rotten produce leaked through and wet his shirt. Smelling the load from far away passersby asked him, “What are you carrying? Whose it for?”
 Continue reading Rotten Tomatoes

Hello all,

Knowing that my cabin has been left unattended and in disarray, I wake early. Outside the front door of the Swasta Kendra, our new residence, a patch of sunflowers is in full bloom. Even though it is only 4:30 a.m. they stand expectantly facing eastward. The skies are full of heavy damp cloud. I wonder if their hope for the sun will be appointed or disappointed. After 10 minutes of walking with wet corn leaves slapping my cheeks, I reach my old cabin. I notice that the jungle orchids planted around it have all wilted and gone. Sticks and nubs remain where blossoms once hung; the long slender leaves droop laden with monsoon moisture.
Continue reading He Comes

Hello all,

It is only a short walk from the end of the vehicle road to the trail which descends to Siri Khola, yet it exhausts Amanda.  She rests in Maiju’s house as we wait for the carriers to arrive.  They come.  We drink tea.  It is a sparkling clear day in the heart of monsoon.  Since Amanda’s feet no longer need to be elevated, the men vote for using the chair instead of the stretcher.  A piece of wood is nailed across the rear two legs of the chair.  A namlo is slung under its feet.  The person to be carried is lashed in with blankets.  One man balances and carries the load.  Suren comes up to me and says,  “Sir, you delivered my baby when my wife was having a very hard time.  You helped me out… now it is my turn.” Continue reading The First Week of the Rest of Our Lives