More You Might Be...

You might be a missionary somewhere in Guyana if...

…Your definition of running water is: grabbing a bucket, running down to the creek, filling it up, and running back up the hill

…You’ve ever had someone try to barter with you for your sibling while you were in the market place (for the record I refused=)

…You are now qualified to write a cookbook called “101 ways to cook pumpkin”

…You’ve ever been tanning out in the jungle

…Your idea of hitchhiking includes boats instead of cars

…You have any idea of what it means to “lime,” to “dasha somethin’” or to “Sus-de-heights”

…You’ve ever uttered the phrase “ hey, look, there’s white people” (and you’re white yourself)

…You remove your shoes before entering any house without a second thought

…You’ve ever had the thought cross your mind that it might be cool to get malaria once just so you could say you’ve had it

….You can now nonchalantly pick a worm out of the piece of fruit you’re eating and continue eating it

…You’ve nearly been stoned for preparing a meal one day that did not include rice

…You know the difference between a star apple and star fruit

…You are aware that a pineapple plant will only produce one pineapple…ever!

…You’ve ever turned the room upside down looking for a giant centipede that disappeared under someone’s bed

…Your idea of entertainment includes running to the airstrip to watch the mission plane land and take off

…You’ve ever put buckets out to catch the rainwater

…You’ve forgotten what it feels like to take a warm shower (but are entirely grateful for running water!)

…You’ve ever climbed up into the rafters trying to extricate bats in the middle of the night

…You find yourself using words like vexed, jeer, fatigued, and gaff in your everyday vocabulary

…You’ve ever gone to the internet and been disappointed because you didn’t get a single email

5 miles for a sloth?

June 4, 2009

If there was any doubt before, the students of the little school in the jungle were now certain that the resident white girl was utterly mad. After all, what sane person would trek off through the jungle 5 miles one way just to see a sloth? But this is exactly what she had done. One phone call from the other white girl in Mashabo and she was off, she didn't even wait to eat lunch. As her friends shook their heads, and wondered to themselves about her mental soundness, somewhere down the jungle trail she was walking quickly toward her destination...

Not long after my arrival in Guyana, I had assembled a mental list of the animals I particularly wanted to see. First and foremost a jaguar, but some of the others included a tapir, a giant anteater, a capybara, and a sloth among others. One would think that soon after living in the jungle for a few months I would have been able to check off the objects of interest, but as one friend delicately put it: "You're not living in a zoo!"

In the past several weeks, my sister, who is now living over in Mashabo, reported that several times sloths have been spotted in various locations around her village. Although she had not been lucky enough to be in the same location as these interesting mammals at the right time, she informed me that it was currently sloth mating season so she was hoping for a personal encounter. I advised her that if she did happen to spot a sloth, she should catch it and call me. No matter the time, I was resolved to walk the 5 miles just to see the unusual creature.

Then one morning, after I finished my CPR class, I received a phone call. A breathless voice on the other end of the line blurted out "Come over here quick, we caught a sloth. We'll tie it up so you can see it." Without even a second thought I grabbed a small backpack, a water bottle, and an umbrella, just in case, and quickly headed off in the direction of Mashabo.

One hour, and ten minutes later, I arrived at my sisters house. There on the ground, with a long rope tied around his middle, was a real live sloth. He looked pitifully awkward trying to crawl in the grass with claws made for tree dwelling. Reaching down, I lifted him up to get a better look, and he quickly latched on to my side much like a small toddler would sit, perched on one hip. His long neck ended in a very small head, that reminded me of an old man. As he looked around, his mouth seemed fixed in a permanent smile.

For the next hour, while my sister finished up her afternoon of classes, I entertained our small friend. After school was finished for the day, I was joined by Alexis, and a troop of school children who gathered around to watch and laugh as the white girls "hugged up on" the sloth, and took multiple pictures. The rest of the afternoon was spent interacting with the unique mammal, I couldn't help but wonder at God's apparent sense of humor in creating such diverse, and sometimes comical creatures.

As the sun began to creep closer, and still closer to the horizon, I knew that very soon I would have to begin the 5 mile walk back to school, if I did not want to be caught walking in the dark. So the two of us set out into the jungle to find a suitable location to release our new friend. After seeing his slow, clumsy movements on the ground, I was surprised to witness his rapid ascent as he climbed up into the green canopy, and was soon out of sight.

Hiking back up the hill toward her house, Alexis and I couldn't help but speak with excitement about the days activities. And as I began my 5 mile walk back toward the school, I almost wished that in my travels I would encounter another animal on my list: the elusive jaguar...

I'll Fly Away...

May 12, 2009

The ringing of my phone roused me from my slumber; I pushed under the edges of the mosquito net, and fumbled around with my free hand for the source of noise. Sleepily I answered. “Hello”

“Is this Liz?” a male voice with an American accent asked.

“Yeah it is”

"Hey Liz, this is Gary. I’m headed on a flight to Paramakatoi and I have an extra seat, do you want to come?"

All thoughts of sleep were unceremoniously shoved from my mind, as I quickly answered. “I would love to, what time are you leaving? And when would you be back?”

The questions were answered, a time was set to meet at the airport, and we hung up. I looked at the clock: 7:12. Ugh it was late for me, but after all I had been awake until after 1 am making use of the wireless internet. When you only get online once a week (if you’re lucky) for an hour or maybe two, internet become a precious commodity and you take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself to use it.

Alexis, Nathan and I were in G-town since Nathan was leaving to go home today. The night before we had gone out to eat with him for an early birthday dinner, then spent the rest of the night on our respective computers. Now it seemed that my time in town would be double productive and I would finally get to go on the flight in the mission plane that Gary had been promising me since my arrival back in September.

At 9 o’clock a horn honked outside and Judd, a pilot with AWA, and I headed out to the waiting van. Gary and James, another mission pilot were waiting, and we set out for the airport. On the way we engaged in conversation about topics that can only be truly appreciated by individuals with an affinity for airplanes. It was then that I found out that our flight plan would take us directly over Kaieteur Falls, the tallest single drop falls in the world. If I was excited to be flying, now I was even more excited to have a chance to see the Falls, something I had been wishing to do sometime during my stay in Guyana.

Soon we arrived at the airport, loaded the plane with the supplies that we were flying to Paramakatoi, did the preflight, filed our flight plan with the tower, then we were off. Once again I was reminded of the fact that with each flight comes an increase in my desire to fly yet again. Almost like a drug, flying gets into the veins of those who love aviation, and with each new “fix” the appeal only seems greater.

We soared through the azure blue sky, occasionally passing through the puffy white clouds that were scattered around us, the jungle below a rich green occasionally broken by a river that gleamed in the morning sun. In the distance I could see a line of rain clouds, and I prayed that the weather wouldn’t deteriorate. Our first stop was at the BMMC airstrip to pick up the daughter of the missionary family who lived in Paramakatoi and deliver her with our supplies.

Soon we were airborne again, headed west/southwest this time toward Region 8. We hit thicker clouds soon after resuming our journey, and I learned that true instrument flying is much different than flying “under the hood” to simulate instrument conditions as I did in flight training. We bounced and tumbled a bit before breaking out above the clouds to a clear blue sky and bright sunlight. Now straight toward our destination.

Soon the clouds below us began to thin so that the terrain below was visible. At 9,500 feet the trees below resembled enormous fields of broccoli. Then suddenly, almost without warning, ahead I saw mountains jut up out of the green jungle, we had reached the escarpment. At Gary’s direction, I began to descend down to 3.500 feet. Low enough to have a perfect view of the Falls, but still with enough altitude to clear the granite walls we were flying above.

Then, up ahead, I could see the top of the falls coming into view. Closer and closer we flew, and with each passing second the Falls appeared larger and still larger. Gary took over the controls so I could act the part of excited tourist and snap pictures as we flew past.

All too soon we were past the Falls, and it began to recede into the distance. We continued our flight, and soon landed in the small mountain village of Paramakatoi. After dropping off our supplies and passenger, we began the return trip to Georgetown, again flying over the mountains, jungle, rivers, villages, and several smaller waterfalls. Gary told me many stories about mission aviation, some humorous, others sad, and still others touching. As we landed again at the Ogle airport in G-town, I was reminded yet again of all the reasons I love flying, and also of why I want to be a mission pilot.

Baramita in Pictures

Nathan during one of our house visits

Taking BPs during the home visits

Nathan flying kites with the kids

Little did mom know that she
raised two jungle monkeys =)

Footsteps into Baramita

April 5-10, 2009

As we loaded our luggage and ourselves into the familiar yellow plane, bright and early that Friday morning, a group of villagers crowded around to bid us farewell. To one side stood our translator, and his family, his cute little daughter Olive smiling shyly at us from behind her hand. I saw some that I recognized from the clinic that we held all week, children in school uniforms, and other villagers whose faces had become familiar over the course of the past week.

Finally, after more pictures were taken, goodbyes were said, seatbelts were strapped into place, and a prayer was offered for safety, we began the taxi to the end of the runway. Judd expertly maneuvered the plane around, pushed the throttle full forward, and we began to roar down the runway. People and buildings whizzed past, and soon we were airborne watching the runway, buildings, and small huts become smaller and still smaller. As we flew on, over a seemingly endless sea of green jungle, my mind wandered back to the day we arrived in this village in the same yellow plane 6 days ago…
That day I was flying, following the heading that would take us to a distant village that I had only heard about but had not yet seen. Beside me sat Laura, one of the AWA pilots, and behind me sat Nathan and Alexis, and a lot of baggage and supplies. A plume of smoke in the distance drew attention to the small clearing in the vast green expanse of trees below. We circled the runway, set up for a left downwind approach, and landed on the grass runway that was the center of the village. Many unfamiliar faces lined the runway, and several approached to help unload our belongings and carry them into the small community building that would house 10 of us for the following 6 days. The familiar faces of Bill, Laura’s husband, and Danniela and Micah, her two small kids also greeted us. We had finally arrived in the small, remote village of Baramita, a name that had become familiar to me over the past several months although this was my first time to see the village that I had heard so much about, and that had a need for a nurse or health worker that perhaps I would fill in the future.

The village of Baramita is located far out in the jungles of Region 1 in Guyana. There are only two ways to reach the village: fly nearly an hour over the jungle as we did, or walk for about 1 week from the nearest port town, Matthew’s Ridge, through jungle and swamp. The village is built around a gold mine, which is the main source of income for the villagers. It is quickly evident who benefits the most from the mine, their larger and slightly more modern houses and small stores/rum shops line the runway or are built up on the nearby hill. The others, who are the majority, have houses that are scattered in a 2 mile radius throughout the jungle, accessible only by walking along a maze of narrow jungle trails. These houses are the typical wooden house, situated on stilts, assembled from boards hand cut with chainsaws, with thatch roofing material. Some structures that we happened upon were simply wooden poles that supported the thatch roof with several hammocks strung underneath, and their few possessions tied up in the roof to avoid the rain. Over 50 percent of the villagers speak and understand only Carib, an Amerindian dialect, and the majority of them are unable to read. Health care is also limited to these villagers, it is well known that the local health worker will usually only open the health hut for a few hours throughout the week. If he is not at the health hut, he is likely to be found drunk at one of the nearby rum shops.

As the next several days passed, it found us holding clinic for the village, doing home health visitations, holding evening health meetings, and meeting the villagers. I still remember the first day of clinic, and what comes to mind is not the frustration that we all felt over being unorganized, or the untidy “health hut.” What comes to mind is the faces of young girls, still children themselves, bringing their own babies to clinic for immunizations, check-ups, or illnesses. What comes to mind is the shy smiles of small children who I knew would not be allowed their childhood much longer. In the first few hours of arriving, I saw only too clearly the great need of these beautiful people, and I began to feel the tug on my heart to somehow meet that need. This feeling only intensified as the week progressed. It surfaced again as I treated a 13 year old girl for an STD, then as I saw a 12 year old boy asking for condoms. Later I felt it again as I treated a man with a dental infection that was so bad, since he had no way of getting any kind of treatment, that he couldn’t talk or open his mouth. Yet again I felt it as our translator told us that he finished his Steps to Christ we had given him in one night and asked if we had any other books he could read, and also if we might have a Bible he could read.

Over and over again I saw the need, and was nearly overwhelmed with how great it really was. As I saw the searching hearts and the empty eyes, I again felt the call of the mission field that has been present in my heart since I read the book "Mission Pilot" and watched the DVD of jungle aviation for the very first time. While the road ahead may seem long, I know that it is the road God is taking me down, and He will be faithful to open the doors. The more I've worked down here, the more the needs seem to be endless. God needs willing hearts, willing hands, willing laborers. "The harvest truly is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest"

Week in Mabaruma

March 29th-April 5, 2009

As my dad’s group flew back to the States on Sunday morning, my sister and I were boarding a plane of our own, although of a much smaller size. We were headed for Mabaruma, a town in Region 1 that is the base for two AWA (Adventist World Aviation) pilots and their families. The first week would be a much needed week of R and R, and the second would be a week of health outreach for a remote village in that region.

Adrenaline surged through my veins as we picked up speed down the runway and then were airborne. This was my first time back in a small plane since leaving for Guyana last September, suffice it to say that I was thrilled to be in the sky again in a ‘real’ plane. We flew over the Atlantic coast, over the Demerara and Essiquibo rivers that I had only seen from the ground thus far, then seemingly endless miles of jungle before arriving in the small town of Mabaruma.

Immediately after arriving, Judd, one of the AWA pilots, asked me if I would like to fly with him to another village 30 minutes away to drop some supplies off. Needless to say, I was most willing, and we were soon off again. My flying knowledge quickly came back as Judd let me fly from Georgetown to Mabaruma, then again from Mabaruma to Port Kaituma, although my landings were a bit rusty, but I had a great time and we arrived in one piece.

The next week passed quickly. Alexis and I helped out some with local projects, we worked on painting the children’s Sabbath School room, helped out in the clinic, home schooled Laura’s (the other pilot) daughter Daniella on the days that Laura was flying, and helped out doing odds and ends when needed. We also had time to relax and do some sightseeing in the area. One day we went to Kissing Rock (no it does not get its name because it is a popular make out location=), another day we went to swim at a small waterfall, and we otherwise took time to unwind from the busyness of planning the mission trip and the school year. The change of scenery and activities was an enjoyable break from routine.

Then Friday afternoon my brother arrived in the same little yellow plane. He stepped out of the plane, and nearly blinded us with his pallor, but we assured him that he would soon adapt and trade in his white skin for a lovely tan color. We were thrilled to see him, and glad that the three of us siblings would be together for 6 weeks, the longest amount of time we’ve all been in one place in 9 years.

Quickly our last weekend in Mabaruma passed, and Sunday morning it was time to head out for our next stop: Baramita

Jungle Photoshoot

Some 'waterfalls' we went to one day to go swimming

Waiting for the plane to land the day Nathan arrived

One Small Child

Wednesday, March 25th, 2009

Our day in the clinic was supposed to be over. We had already seen 20 patients for minor complaints, done 2 simple surgeries that morning, and it was time for lunch followed by an afternoon of working on the mission house. Then, just as we were about to close up the clinic and head over for lunch, an Amerindian women stepped through the door holding her small limp daughter.

The look on the woman's face was unreadable, but her voice was anxious as she quickly explained that her little daughter had had 4 "fits" this morning and felt like she had a fever. The young girl in her arms was barely responsive, and felt extremely hot to the touch, so she was quickly brought back to our small exam room. Her still form was laid on the table, a quick prayer was offered, and we began our work.
The task at hand was to cool her down as quickly as possible. We began to bathe her in rubbing alcohol in an attempt to cool her small burning body down. This aroused her somewhat, and soon her screams were heard reverberating around the small room. An auxillary temperature read 102 degrees, meaning a temperature of 104 when adjusted for true body temperature. A dangerous range, especially for such a small child.

While Alexis and her mother continued to wipe her small body down with the alcohol, I began looking for a possible IV site, all the while praying that she would not be too dehydrated making it difficult find a vein. Thankfully, a good vein was quickly located, the IV was secured, and the cool fluids began to infuse into her bloodstream. As we worked, her mother told us that she had had diarrhea since the day before, and began to run a fever early that morning, then had her first seizure at around 9am, she had already had 4 seizures by the time she arrived at our clinic.

With the internal and external cooling underway, she quickly began to become much more alert, making her protests to our treatment loudly known. Soon, however, she calmed down and was able to sit up and drink some cool juice. In the next several hours, as the IV fluids infused, Alexis put her social work skills to work playing with her and involving her in her treatment by encouraging her to wipe herself down with the sponge. Later that afternoon, as little Taffeanna walked out of the clinic with her mother, Dr. Scott turned to us and said: "I really believe that if her mother had not brought her to the clinic for treatment, there is a good possibility she could have died." He went on to explain how quickly little ones can get into a downward spiral from something as simple as diarrhea that leads to dehydration and fever, something that I well knew from working in the ER. We were all very thankful that God was able to use us to minister to one small child, and as a result her whole family in the process.

Clinic Fun

Something that I thouroughly enjoyed while the group was here in Mashabo was the medical clinic that Dr. Scott and his wife, Rebecca, oversaw. While I immensly enjoy teaching, there are many days that I miss the hands-on medical work of the ER. Since arriving here in September, I have had several opportunities to use my nursing skills, but they seem to spread themselves out few and far between. Now, after working in the clinic with Dr. Scott, I have been reminded yet again how much fun it is to see patients, handle emergencies, deal with blood, and other such things that can only be truely appreciated by those of the medical profession.

Not your typical OR, that's for sure =)

Getting ready to cut

Removing the lypoma

Sewing it back up

Removing a cyst from a woman's scalp

Mission Projects in Mashabo

Anticipation and preparation; two words that accurately describe these past few months. Ever since my dad and his mission team purchased their tickets, thus making their trip a sure reality, I have been looking forward to his arrival. At the same time, I have certainly come to appreciate all the work that goes into the local end of a mission trip. My sister and I were bequeathed the task of coordinating all aspects of preparing for the group, aside from the building project, the details were seemingly endless…housing for everyone, shopping lists, menus, schedules for kitchen duties etc, hotel rooms in G-town, transportation via land and sea, evening meetings, temporary licensing for the doctor, I began to wonder if it would ever end.

Finally, the day came, and we traveled to the airport to meet the group. I cannot begin to describe how wonderful it was to see my dad arrive in this country I have come to love. Next came the cramped bus ride to the river, the wet crossing, the long tractor ride, and finally unpacking and settling in Mashabo.

Thus began the busy, fun-packed week of building, clinic, visitation, evening meetings and even some time for a bit of swimming and other such fun. All the work put into our end of the trip was well worth it, and I thoroughly enjoyed having my dad here.

Day 1: Starting with the floor

Day 2: Wall # 1 and # 2

Day 3: wall # 3 and #4

Day 4: inside walls the water tower

Day 5: Finishing touches on water tower, and working on the roof

The team that came down with my dad

A Few of the Reasons that I Love Mashabo

Here are just a few of the many reasons that I have come to love Mashabo...