Foreigners at Pierre Payen Hospital: Mamba babies and medical specialists

Scuttling, scraping daggers on the tin roof. The rats are active again. The sound makes me cringe and uneasily eyeball the cracks in the cement walls of our tiny house.

It’s a cool, mournful evening after the first rain in a week.

I feel stressed out today—this week has a sense of urgency, especially as my time left in Haiti dwindles. The clinic is in serious need of an organizational overhaul, and not just for supplies and storage. The staff is incredibly busy, but without an administrator, it is not operating efficiently. I’m praying it will get better, because today reception turned away several sick babies and elderly people. The doctor was home in Port-au-Prince with a cold, leaving only two nurses to see all patients.

There is a team of American doctors and Canadian nurses visiting the hospital in Pierre Payen until Sunday, including a pediatric urologist and orthopedic surgeon.

Caroline and I have a lot of time to pay to Haitian waiting rooms.

We woke up earlier than usual to rally the moms of babies in the Medika Mamba program requiring extra medical care. It was hotter than ever, and even with the raspy air conditioning, the truck reeked of sweat.

I hardly notice the smell anymore, this pungent perfume of hot bodies. But today it made me pine for ice water and a swimming pool… And some Febreeze.

Perre Payen Hospital has a homey guesthouse and a large, well-constructed facility with high walls and breezy ventilation. Once we were admitted past the guard at the iron gates and thrust among waiting patients (some sitting, most standing, but all cramped in the hallway clutching their files), a nurse arrived to sort the babies to specialty doctors and therapists based on their needs.

The hospital examination rooms were roomy, but sparsely supplied, painted in the surprisingly antiseptic hue of yellowing newspaper. The orthopedic doctor had only an exam table, a wheelchair, basic orthopedic wraps and an x-ray machine. The urologist had an examination table and a packet of sterile gloves, seeing patients behind blue surgery drapes pinned above the doorway like flapping laundry.

The foreign staff walked fiercely from room to room, hair frizzed and sweat rolling. It was funny to watch them move while Haitians patiently waited, falling their faces with manila envelopes containing scribbles of their insides and histories of their pain. More than once, I was grabbed and asked to translate. I am sorry I had to refuse them. I am trying to hard to wrap my brain around Creole, even with my French language background.

James is a 13-month-old with an ectopic bladder. His condition requires multiple specialized surgeries to repair his bladder and reconstruct his genitalia. He lives in Sous Bogne, the little community below Canaan, and in a previous post I talked about my visit to his home with Katie my first week in Haiti. He has been rejected from two hospitals in the states already for lack of funding, especially because he will need a lot of recovery time and after care following his surgeries. As the pediatric urologist examined him, we were told nothing new… except that he is at the perfect age for surgery and that his condition is treatable. The doctor said it will be almost impossible to treat him in Haiti, and offered his contact information for his hospital in Nebraska.

Please pray that James’ surgery will be accepted and covered by this doctor’s hospital. He will need to stay in the states for a while, accompanied by someone from Canaan because it will take months for his mother’s birth certificate to be found in the Haitian national archives. James needs the surgery now, and Haitian time is slow time. I wanted to throw up my hands and scream when the doctor explained the specific microscopes her needed for an effective surgery and recovery.

Haiti doesn’t have this type of medical care readily available, especially not for babies in poverty.

A little girl, Gueraldine, has had severe joint malformations. She was discontinued from the Medika Mamba after failing to gain weight, but she’s still scrawny and malnourished. After she fell in February, her wrists began to jut abnormally, which was formerly diagnosed as untreated breaks.

The orthopedic surgeon who examined Gueraldine today gave some clarity—it’s a congenital condition, and the x-rays revealed missing bones in her hands and wrists. The doctor and physical therapist were able to mold her two removable splints out of casting. It was painful to watch the baby scream as they pushed her angular wrists into normal positions and wrapped them tightly. However, it was a relief to learn simple stretches the mother could perform to aid in proper growth and development. Plus, the baby doesn’t need extensive surgery, which was a relief to the mother and us—less letdowns and hoop jumping this way.

The Haitian doctor Jean Robert was expecting a pediatric cardiologist to be with the team of Americans, so the 5-year-old requiring heart surgery for her defect was turned away. She’s been waiting for 2 years now to see a pediatric cardiologist with the means to operate in Haiti. Unfortunately, the specialty equipment is difficult to come by, especially for short-term doctors and surgeons.

Since the team does have a general doctor to see all the patients that don’t fall into the available specialty categories, there’s another baby at Rousseau with a chest and lung malformation will still need to be looked at, although our hopes of specialist treatment are dashed. After the Mamba mobile clinic Wednesday, we’ll be bringing the mom and the x-rays we obtained in St. Marc to wait once again in Pierre Payen.

Waiting, waiting and more waiting. It’s so difficult for me to sit still and accept that this is how life rolls in Haiti.

People die waiting.

Caroline and I vented with M&Ms and danced the cha cha with some of the younger girls, Magdalena and Jessica. It was my first genuine smile of the day, besides entertaining the babies in the sticky hospital heat. Thank you to chocolate and my fiesty Haitian friends.

It’s only 8:30, but I want to just lie in bed and decompress. I need a massage, but I'll settle with some IB profen for now. The mosquitoes are munching.

Mango guts, melon cores and chunky Mamba thighs

Posing with the fruit purchases... so happy!

Mangos smell rich and womanly under their soft yellow skins, sweet and steamy and damp like fresh mountain rain. Their perfume mesmerized me as I zigzagged through Montrouis’ open market, skirts swishing as women bargained and young boys begged, their hands held open like empty prayers.

After dulling my palate with two weeks of rice, pasta and white bread, the flavor almost choked me. There’s something embarrassingly sensual about biting into a mango, tearing the skin with your teeth. Juices dripped down my chin, and I felt like a child. Or a vampire, sucking zealously on raw flesh.

The texture of a mango is similar to a fine pâté once you get past the stringy bits near the skin. The hard core is a palm-sized heart, emerging from the goopy fruit almost alive, like the trembling meat in an oyster shell. I saw children sucking on the mango hearts like lollypops, leaving the cores smooth and brown.

I had never peeled a mango before, and some of the younger Canaan girls laughed as my fingers clumsily stripped the fruit to keep the precious orange heartstrings intact. The 12-year-old, Marceline, took the mango from me and stripped it meticulously with a knife, peeling it like a sweet potato. Under the swaying tungsten kitchen lights, the naked mango looked and felt like a slimy fist of raw chicken.

Our purchases from the market, minus a couple of mangos we couldn't wait to devour.

Caroline, the full-time director of the Medika Mamba malnutrition program in Montrouis arrived back at Canaan this week from a month-long hiatus. She picked up Creole after only four months mission work thanks to her background in French. I would have been lost without her navigation through the Montrouis fruit venders.

The key, Caroline said, was to play the vendors against one another and let them compete for business. We drove the Mamba truck to the middle of Montrouis to exchange USD for goudes. A bare-chested Haitian man lazily flicked at flies as he did the transaction: 800 goudes for $20 (40 goudes for every dollar).

The market starts on the curb of the winding highway of down-town Montrouis and extends a hair's length from honking tap taps or gestures of high-speed passers-by, filling the market with a stench of diesel. Haiti's Rte 1 cuts through the market's bustle, while a tangle of merchants with massive bowls or cracked tupperware aggressively wander like auctioneers. The more relaxed of the vendors sit under lopsided shelters, displaying everything from glass-bottled beverages to raw meat dizzy with flies.

As soon as we had money, women with huge bowls of melons, avocados, limes, mangos and spiky green and brown fruits I’ve never seen before swamped us. Unable to negotiate in the chaos, with fruits thrust under our noses and rubbed against our skin amid yells of “bon bagay!” (meaning, “good thing!” in Creole), we climbed in the truck and rolled down one of the windows. Caroline bargained ruthlessly, chastising the women as they advertised their wares at twice the street value to us blancs.

When we finally agreed on a fair price, the rapidly truck filled with fruit:

For $5 (US), we bought 13 plump, healthy avocados, picked that morning just miles down the road.

For $1, a handful of fragrant limes. For $2.50 a piece, two swollen and aromatic melons.

For $5, a bucket of mangos, warm from the afternoon sun, that made us drunk and salivating from sweetness.

Total price: $16 US, and we watched as two of the women strutted back home, finally selling all their goods after a long day at the market.

Caroline, Amy, Robin and I devoured the fruit, speaking only with “mmm”s and “ahhh”s.

The avocados need a few days to ripen, but with some garlic, lime juice, salt and pepper, we plan to make guacamole to eat on chips that a missionary team is bringing for us Saturday, per Caroline’s request. We prepared a fruit salad with the mangos and melon, juices marrying in a ceramic mixing bowl and nestled in one of Canaan’s industrial-sized refrigerators. I hope we can stretch it out over all our meals tomorrow, but we put such a dent in the mangos we might be back at market tomorrow.

Today was incredibly fulfilling, in addition to belly-filling. Canaan operates on routine, and I’ve fallen into the predictable cadence as I start my third week in Haiti. Wednesday means Medika Mamba at Rousseau, the rural hospital in the mountains. 

We had quite a few babies graduate from the peanut-butter based malnutrition program today at Rousseau, and Montrouis Tuesday. I love seeing emaciated babies transformed into giggling bundles of meaty arms and chunky thighs. We document these transformations with photographs, and the difference is astounding.

Graduation from the Medika Mamba program is the difference between shriveled, stunted bodies and those healthy rolls that make me smile. It’s death conquered by vitamins, protein and crucial calories.

Women and babies line up for Mamba assessments at Rousseau Hospital.

Twins get undressed to be weighed and examined.

I am exhausted, though. Caroline led us on a 2-hour hike into the mountains. My sweat glands were on overdrive as we climbed the steep rocky path. Like most afternoons, the air felt smarmy and damp and made my glasses slip incessantly down my nose. Out of nowhere, the mountains in the northeast echoed with thunder, and my sweat mingled with dense raindrops.

It’s so peaceful here, watching lightning blaze in the mountains while the coast is serene, untouched blue.

Between mountains and sea: first day of clinic work

The view of the ocean from the hill above Montrouis. The clinic is just downhill to the left.

The scraggy dogs sleep all day under limping mimosas, but at night howl and moan and rustle past my bedroom window until sunrise. My day began at 6 am. I woke up covered in sweat, sun and stagnant heat but I slept peacefully through most of the night, with the occasional interruption from barking dogs.

The scrawny dogs that live at the bottom of the Canaan
hillside are constantly battling over territory with the
Canaan pastor's guard dogs.

After a breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes smothered in Medika Mamba (Creole for "peanut butter medicine"), the enriched peanut butter used to treat malnutrition. It's not much of a Haitian breakfast, but the peanut butter is a staple here, where Canaan houses 60+ orphaned children. 

Today was my first experience at the community clinic. The new building still needs a tremendous amount of construction and electrical wiring, but it’s functioning well. Three nurses and a doctor staff the clinic during the week, as well as several receptionists and “floaters” who take vitals staff the clinic and help with patient consults. Remembering names has never been my strength, so I'm trying to focus on meaningful introductions. Luckily, the staff speak French and some speak a little English, so I was able to communicate and learn some Creole phrases. It's amazing how harsh syllables are sometimes the only separation between Creole and swooning French.

View of the mountains surrounding Canaan, a short walk
uphill from my house.

Elsie, the clinic's head nurse, taught me how to take the patient's vitals before their consultations -- an extension of the clinic used to triage patients. For most of the morning, I weighed infants, helped elderly Haitians onto the scale to take their weight in kilograms, and took temperatures and blood pressure. When the trickle of patients halted, I filed in reception. It was daunting at first, with more than 17,000 patient files from the past three years are crammed into two filing cabinets, but I finished in time for lunch. 

It was difficult to communicate with patients with French alone, as the majority of Montrouis speaks only Creole. I need to improve my bedside manner -- a Bonjou is not enough to help assess patient needs. I did a lot of pointing, my own timid version of Creole I had overheard from the staff (and filled the rest in with French when I was unable to convey myself) to direct patients to the scale and to unbutton their sleeves for the blood pressure cuff. Haitians are friendly and to the point, especially when they come to the clinic. The smiles in Montrouis are infectious. 

I love it here.

There were not as many patients as there normally are, 60 versus the normal 80, so the clinic closed early. I went on a hour long hike with Amy and Robyn, volunteers from North Carolina who are leading the Canaan kids in a summer English reading program. Just up the hill from Canaan is a gorgeous view of the ocean. Villages sprawl from mountainside to the beach, elegant and haphazard. 

Villages scatter the mountains surrounding Canaan.

We followed a rock-paved road for a mile, and I saw a few mopeds hurl by crammed with 3 or 4 Haitian men and women and their groceries, clutching one another as they kicked up dust. A man on a donkey greeted us with a "Bonswa! Komon ou ye?" as goats wandered in the brush. I felt out of place with my camera strapped across my shoulder, looking like a blanc with my blond ponytail and grape-colored Keens. 

At dinner, I was able to speak French with the Haitian doctor, Jean Robert, and share a delicious meal of noodles with pieces of pepper, onion and raisins. Earlier at the clinic, I met Mis ("nurse") Marice, an LPN from Haiti who speaks French as her langue maternelle. It has helped build my confidence in the language, and has made it much easier to translate the patients' Creole. I could ask her to translate the Creole into French when English was not sufficient. Although I stumbled through my rusty French vocabulary, it felt fantastic to smile and laugh and talk about my life. It's a grounding experience to make a friend and delight in a language not my own. 

This is Canaan's cafeteria, where we eat all our meals.
Usually, we have to step over dogs in the process!

I am typing with some urgency because the generator is going to be shut off very early. The large generator that usually feeds Canaan electricity in the evening has broken down, so a tiny generator is burning the bulbs for the entire camp. There hasn’t been water in our house tonight, so I’ll make-do with the dredges of the laundry water and my spare bandana.

I'm off to bathe before the power goes, and the dogs claim the night. Bonwi.

Safe in Beautiful Montrouis

Lam veritab, the Haitian "bread fruit" we ate for
dinner tonight. Photo cred: http://www.haitiworld.net/index.php

I've arrived in Haiti. I'm safe, full of a delicious dinner and settling in the female staff house. Some of the kids who live at the orphanage have been following me shyly around, chanting my name mischievously. I can't wait to learn all their names, especially the spunky preteen who greeted me with a gut-squashing hug.

The flight from Miami to Port-au-Prince was full of expansive skies and layers of aqua, turquoise and lagoon blue waters. I've never seen so much depth to ocean. The Louisiana bayou has its particular muddy charm, but driving to Montrouis along the coast was like skirting trembling sapphire.

This is a beautiful country.

At Toussaint Louverture International Airport, I was one of the first passengers through customs because I had no checked baggage. I had to leave behind the toaster oven I brought for one of the nurses of Canaan at the airport lost and found because, to my surprise, the US has an embargo on any boxes to Haiti until mid-August. It was disappointing to leave behind the brand new appliance and frustrating, too -- especially because I was delayed 30 minutes simply searching for an official to help me find a place to leave the oven without causing a safety scare!

I boarded my flight to Miami at the last call and as the gates were closing. I was frantic and sweaty when I squeezed into my window seat. After a calming hour layover, I flew to Port-au-Prince next to a chatty Haitian student named Whitney. She's also a 21-year-old studying to pursue a career in medicine.

Whitney gave me an airborne "tour" as we flew over the wounded city -- fleets of white and tarp-blue tents, rusted tin roofs and thick, clay colored rivers. She sounded distant as she recalled how the landscape shifted since the earthquake, almost like she has been estranged from a close friend. She shook her head as we passed the neighborhoods still in ruins, but sighed whenever the gorgeous water framed the turmoil. The wing of the plane seemed to trace the edges of tumbling mountains, draping the landscape in patchy brown and green as we descended.

The driver was late to get the the airport, and I had no problems waiting in the shade until a large Haitian man grabbed me and tried to bring me "to my ride." I asked him who he was with, and he said "for your organization." He obviously was not with Canaan. When I refused, he walked alongside me and demanded a tip until, exasperated, he finally moved on to harassing another passenger.

A very kind British relief worker saw me awkwardly shuffling at the exit of the airport and offered to call Canaan for me. She spoke quick, succinct Creole with one of the staff members find out when my driver was coming. This allowed me to relax and calmly refuse the several taxi drivers who approached me, speaking a melodious jumble of French, English and Creole.

When my ride arrived, I learned quickly why they were late. Traffic in Haiti is unpredictable, and it seemed like there were no rules to the road. Drivers on tap-taps (little trucks with an overhang and benches that serve as crowded taxis) peeled out without warning. Large UN vans barreled treacherously between men on scooters and bicycles. The roads from Port-au-Prince were were rocky and jarring and I was dripping with sweat in the back of Canaan's truck (no AC, no rolled-down windows) for the two-hour drive to Montrouis. I fell asleep for a leg of the trip and woke up with a pool of sweat at the small of my back. Hello, equator!

We had a delicious dinner of Lam veritab, known as "bread fruit," baked with SPAM into a potato-like textured pie, as well as pasta with raisins and green beans. Although my stomach has been upset today from the anxiety of traveling, dinner was fantastic and soothing.

The generators were turned on around 6 as it started to get dark. I'm grateful for Internet access and the opportunity to let my friends and family know I'm happy and safe! I'm getting my mosquito net and bunk set up. Here are some pictures of my cozy setup.

The top bunk gets the most breeze, and away from the rats and critters!

My cozy bunk in the female staff house.

It's been thundering all evening and sprinkling on and off, but I'm enjoying the damp, salty humidity. It's finally hitting me I'm here: this is my home for the next 5 weeks. The rough-looking mutts littering Canaan have started howling, and I'm missing my little German shepherd puppy, Vivienne.

No pictures of Montrouis yet, although there have been so many times today my heart has ached for the camera I shoved, without batteries or a working memory card, in my carry-on. Woops. Those will come soon, though!

Thanks for your prayers! I'm praying for a beneficial transition into life here at Canaan, and hoping I can be used here at the community clinic in wonderful ways.

Bonwi, my friends.

MINUSTAH: My lasagna dinner with a representative from the United Nations in Haiti

United Nations emblem.

I received an e-mail Sunday from a family at St. Paul Lutheran Church inviting me to share dinner with them and their house guest--a man who works for United Nations from Port au Prince, Haiti. His name is Emmanuel, and he is Minustah de la Mission des Nations Unies pour la Stabilisation en Haiti, or the United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti.

Although Emmanuel is a native of the Republic of Burundi, he has been working in Haiti for several years in telecommunications. It was so wonderful to talk to him about Haitian culture, political affairs & Haiti's newly elected president (popular musician Michel Martelly), reconstruction after the earthquake, and NGOs in Port au Prince. He said that from his experience, Port au Prince is "not a problem" and not dangerous for travelers as long as I do not wander alone in the "red zones" or accept a ride from someone I do not know when I arrive at the airport. This is reassuring to hear from someone involved with the police in Port Au Prince.

Emmanuel's native language is French, and striking up a conversation in French helped overcome some communication barriers, though we mostly talked in English (and reminded me how rusty I've become since my month-long backpacking trip in France!). He said that being a French speaker allows him to understand Creole very well, the official language of Haiti, so I definitely need to intensively work on my conversational French. French is mostly spoken by the Haitian educated elite and remains the language of politicians, whereas Creole is spoken by the majority of the general public.

On a different note, I have been kicking myself all morning for forgetting to take a picture to share with you all! After all, I started a blog to streamline my experiences into a cyber scrapbook, with both the blurbs and visuals. I'll be sure to take advantage of the photo opportunity when I meet Emmanuel again this summer in Port au Prince. He will be working during the months I'm in Haiti, so we're planning on meeting again.

I'm so grateful to have a friend from Haiti with whom I've shared a meal and good conversation. It makes me feel like less of a stranger to the country knowing he will be working in Port au Prince during the months I will be serving Canaan in Haiti. I'm looking forward to new friendships and the enjoyment of new cross-cultural experiences!

Edit (4/29): Here's the fundraising update for the end of April!

Fundraising Update: I bought my plane ticket!

Your financial support has come flooding in this week. With the help of generous friends and family, I've raised about one-third of the funds needed for Haiti.

Also, exciting news: I bought the plane ticket to Port-Au-Prince! I had to push back my departure date one day (to Wednesday July 13 instead of Tuesday the 12th) because the ticket price went up about $50 overnight.

The ticket was $693 after all the fees--the last one I could find anywhere under $700! God is so great.

Here's my itinerary for the medical mission, with the finalized dates. I'll be in Haiti for a total of 37 days:

Departing		Arriving
City	Date & Time	City	Time
MSY New Orleans	Jul 13, 2011 06:00 AM	MIA Miami	Jul 13, 2011 08:50 AM
MIA Miami	Jul 13, 2011 10:00 AM	PAP Port Au Prince	Jul 13, 2011 11:05 AM
PAP Port Au Prince	Aug 17, 2011 08:50 AM	MIA Miami	Aug 17, 2011 12:00 PM
MIA Miami	Aug 17, 2011 04:30 PM	MSY New Orleans	Aug 17, 2011 05:30 PM

Daily, I'm amazed at how generous and supportive everyone has been.

Here's the latest fundraising update. Funds raised: $1,025!

Thanks for checking in! Please read down through my previous posts about Canaan's history and other information about my medical mission in Montrouis, Haiti this summer.

100 Days Until Haiti

In 100 days, I'll be arriving in Montrouis, Haiti. This is an exciting countdown to begin!

I have my trusty black Sharpie dangling next to free calendar advertising for some anonymous insurance company. I'm looking forward to marking a big, fat X on the days as they pass.

Tonight, I'll be hanging out with my Young Life kids from Woodlawn High School. Many of them are also in the midst of fundraising for YL summer camp. When the financial side of missions becomes stressful, they're the best reminder that in the end, all is provided.

From what I remember of the orphanage renovation I participated in with Crosspoint Community Church while I was in high school, the fundraising was tedious and discouraging at that age. But the friendships I still have are testimonies to the experience: It's so worth it to have the opportunity to serve.

Today's post is brief to make time for some studying (the end of the semester and final exams are creeping up). For now, here's another fundraising update. Thanks again for your support!

$580 down! Please see my previous post about tax-deductible donations.

Missionary Account: Making Tax Deductible Donations to Canaan Christian Community

Canaan Christian Community is a charitable organization (IRS 501 c3) which means your donations are tax deductible.

To cover all my lodging, food, and any other expenses living at Canaan in Montrouis this summer, I need to raise $15.00 per day. I will be in Haiti for 37 days, which is $555.00. Canaan can start a "missionary account," which allows donations to be made out to Canaan, but used in my name to go strictly towards my living expenses.

On the downside, this amount does not cover the majority of my costs. In fact, I still have money to raise separate from Canaan to cover the cost of travel to Haiti and other trip expenses such as immunizations and anti-malarial medications, which will not be covered in the tax-deductible donations. (I unfortunately am not registered with the IRS as a non-profit organization). I am so grateful for everyone who is able to generously donate towards those outside expenses since I am traveling alone and without an umbrella organization for the medical mission.

However, I understand it's not for everyone. Here's what you can do to help AND get a tax deduction:

1. For a tax-deductible donation, please make the check out towards Canaan Christian Community.

2. Write Missionary Account: Brianna Piche in the memo line to clarify.

3. Please send the check to my address. I will send all the checks to Canaan together along with supplies I collect before the trip. (For privacy reasons, I will not put my address on the internet. Please send me an e-mail and I will forward you my mailing address).

4. Feel great: You just made my medical mission possible! Plus, now you can count your donation as a tax exemption!

5. If you would prefer to donate online directly to Canaan, please click here to access Canaan's Paypal donation account. The money will not go towards my missionary account nor my trip expenses, but there are so many beautiful ways Canaan can use your donation to help their children at the orphanage, operate their health clinic, and ultimately aid the Montrouis community.

As always, I'm interested to hear from you so please feel free to leave any comments or questions or send me an e-mail! Thank you for your prayers, support, and happy donating.

Destination: Montrouis, Haiti

First off, thank you everyone for your tremendous support. I've received an overwhelmingly positive response towards my month and a half medical mission to Montrouis, Haiti this summer. I'm grateful for all your generosity and graciousness! It's such a blessing to be provided for, and to have this opportunity. Your donations are truly bringing me closer to Haiti, but I have a long way to go.

Click here for pictures of life an Canaan Christian Community.

Here's a little taste of Haitian history and background on Montrouis:

Since the 7.0 magnitude hurricane ravaged Port-au-Prince on Jan. 12, 2010, many people found themselves homeless. Homes, businesses, Parliament and the Presidential palace were reduced to rubble. Many children became newly orphaned, either because their families were among the estimated 220,000-318,000 killed, or because their parents were no longer able to take care of them. Haiti has suffered from various acute diseases, such as cholera, from contaminated water sources--especially difficult to eliminate with the estimated 1.6 million Haitian people packed in slums. In the more rural areas surrounding Port-au-Prince, malnutrition is prevalent.

Montrouis is a town located on the coast in western Haiti.

Here's some information from Canaan and their mission in Montrouis:

Canaan Christian Community was established in 1991 as a community of Christians that welcome people who need a place to belong. Most of the 110 residents are children who either do not have parents or whose parents are unable to provide care for them for various reasons. The leaders of the community strive to provide a safe haven for all who live or visit here. God has blessed us with facilities to provide a comfortable home for both residents and guests. Canaan is designed to be a place of peace and preparation. The founders and current leadership at Canaan is Pastor Henry and Sister Gladys.

The community is located near the town of Montrouis, approximately 80 kilometers north of Port Au Prince, the capital of Haiti. Guests from North America usually fly into the international airport in Port Au Prince and are met by Canaan staff. It takes approximately an hour and thirty minutes to make the trip from the airport to Canaan.

Canaan Christian Community is built on a hillside near the national highway overlooking the Caribbean. The hillside surrounding Canaan is dry desert just like Canaan was when the community was first established in 1991. Since then, God has blessed the planting of trees that has resulted in Canaan being the only shaded community in the area other than directly on the seaside. The buildings consist of dormitories for boys and girls, staff homes and guest facilities. Recently, the government has provided periodic electricity for the area. Generators provide electricity in the evenings when the government electricity is not available. There is usually no electricity available during the daylight hours. Drinking water is hauled in by Canaan staff and put through a purification system. Water for washing, bathing, etc. comes from a well on the property that is not used for drinking water.

Meals are served to the children and the staff in an outdoor, covered cafeteria. Meals prepared by the cooks, consist of simple but delicious food that the Lord provides through the donations of friends of Canaan. Rice and beans are the staple food along with local fresh vegetables that are served when funds are available. Meat is very expensive in Haiti and not as readily available as in North America.

My stay in Montrouis will cost $15 per day to offset the costs of food, lodging and transportation to and from the airport, which is an hour and a half away in Port-au-Prince. If you're interested in a tax-deductable donation, you can send me a check made out to Canaan Christian Community, which will all go towards living expenses during the time I'm in Haiti.If you have any questions or want to be notified via e-mail whenever I update my blog for my trip, or during my trip in the future, please contact be at bapiche@comcast.net. Again, thank you so much for your support!

Haiti Medical Mission: Summer 2011

Dear family and friends,

Summer 2011 is promising to be both challenging and exciting. Once I finish summer school at LSU, I will be flying more than 2,000 miles to serve as a medical missionary from July 12^th to August 17^th at Canaan Christian Community’s clinic in Montrouis, Haiti, located about 50 miles north of Port Au Prince.

The clinic serves up to 70 patients each day, as well as many of the children at Canaan’s orphanage located on site. After a tremendous amount of prayer and months of correspondence with the head nurse and founders of Canaan, I’m looking forward to this amazing opportunity to share my love with one of the world’s poorest countries.

I am travelling alone without any support from any organization or group. Inspired by faith, I have planned this trip on my own, but cannot get there and back without the support of my family and friends. Anything from prayers to monetary support will help me on my journey! This is not a vacation or site-seeing trip. I will be spending all my time at the clinic, orphanage, or anywhere the clinic needs me helping the Haitian people. My main expenses will be for travel, food and shelter in the time I’m away: $2,950. Any extra money I raise will go towards the children living at the orphanage and clinic, but I still have a long way to go.

As a medical anthropology student and Christian woman, I am passionate about providing culturally competent health care. Canaan's medical clinic (in conjunction with the orphanage) is the type of cross-cultural setting I best serve.

I did quite a bit of research on organizations that pursue medical missions, and I learned about Canaan from my friend from LSU’s Tiger Band, Tommy Chapman, who served as a teacher at the orphanage last summer. Canaan feels like a good fit for my interests in medical missions, my skills in medical practice and childcare, and my desire to serve within a spiritually committed environment.

I previously travelled to Mexico for an orphanage-renovation project in 2005 and participated in inner city Houston ministry missions in 2006 with my home church, Crosspoint Community of Katy, TX.

Although I'm still a student, my professional background is in medicine: I work at both Baton Rouge General hospitals as an electrocardiogram technician and have also spent some time at Our Lady of the Lake Catholic hospital. I am comfortable working in a clinic, where I serve most often at the General hospitals, as well as in Emergency Room care. I’m saving all the extra money I make from my job as an electrocardiogram technician at Baton Rouge General Hospital, as well as babysitting on the side, to pay for as much of the trip as I can.

This trip embodies the work I want to do for the rest of my life.

I speak intermediate level French, and have always been drawn to Haiti because of its Francophone roots. The health clinic at Canaan no longer has any interpreters working at the clinic, and I'm thrilled to know that my enjoyment of speaking French can be used to help communicate with patients and clinic staff. Hopefully by breaking down the language barrier, Canaan can improve the degree of care provided to patients.

I’ll be documenting my journey (only when Internet is available) on my blog. My e-mail is bapiche@comcast.net, so please feel free to send me a message with any questions, concerns or words of wisdom. Please send me your e-mail addresses if you’re interested in receiving updates on how close I am to my monetary goal of $2,950. I will post expenditures on my blog and, if I surpass my goal, I will post the amount of your donations going directly to the clinic. If you're interested in donating, please e-mail me and I will send you my address!

For more information on Canaan Christian Community’s mission, please visit their Web site at http://www.canaanchristiancommunity.com/.

Thank you so much to supporting me in any way you’re comfortable with. I hope this letter catches you in good health and good spirits, and I look forward to hearing from you soon. I have approval from the clinic and they are expecting me, so I will need to purchase my plane ticket soon. Please be a part of this experience with me.

Love,

Brianna Piche