Nicaragua Mission 2010

 
 
 
 
A week has now passed since we returned from the medical mission trip to Nicaragua.

I'd like to share some of my journal entries from the trip:

February 27th , Day One
Finally got to bed@2:30am and was up again around 6:30! Wow! When did I become capable of functioning on so little sleep? Adrenalin, I guess. I’m very excited to be here and have the 4 precious students who came along.

My “before” impression of the kids:

T - outgoing-no problem! This one’ll talk to anyone and really jump in.

R – shy, a little worried, but seems to smile a lot, eat a lot, and generally go with the flow.

K – a bit shy at first, but friendly and kind. This person will make friends slowly and stay friends forever, I think.

C – very cheerful, this one will fit in fine. This student’s laugh rings through the air—you can always tell who it is.

9:05pm
Wow! That was a long day of goody bag prep. We spent hours putting shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrushes , lotion, bar of soap, and comb into goody bags to be handed out with the prescriptions at clinics. We also had to break down thousands of vitamins from bottles into packets of 30. We forgot to label the first 500 vitamin packets we put in goody bags—OOPS!
We finished a total of 812 adult bags and 541 kids bags, then ran out of vitamins. We’re shooting for 2,000 adult bags in total for the week and 1,000 kids bags. We’ve got a long way to go.

All four students worked non-stop except for a walk up the hill in the afternoon to clear our heads. C didn’t go because he got lassoed to carry some stuff to the dental clinic in town.

I’m sooo tired! And I see that K has fallen asleep while writing in a journal. Goodnight!

February 28th, farm clinic, Day 2

Awake since about 4, I think. A mosquito was buzzing around my ear—conveniently sharing the mosquito net with me—Yikes!

On the bus on the way to the farm, I was talking with Marta, one of the university of Matagalpa volunteer interpreters. I asked her about her family—there are six siblings. I asked if they have water where she lives and she said “Oh yes. Once a week.” She said they fill containers with the water to last them until the next time they can get water. We talked about university and her church. She said she heard a good sermon about how we wake up with huge stones in front of us each day that we face. We must keep our eyes on God to overcome the obstacles. I wondered if people in Japan wake up feeling that they face big stones, and if so, are those stones life and death problems like no water to drink.

March 1st , school clinic, Day 3

There was a sign in front of the school that said JAPON (or Japan) and a dollar amount listed. A young man who was one of our interpreters told us the money for the school where we held our clinic today was donated by a Japanese organization. He said there are a lot of factories from Japan and Taiwan in Nicaragua. He used to work for a Taiwanese factory in the office as an interpreter from 6am-5pm everyday for $200 a month. The actual factory workers who were sewing clothes made $250 a month, because they kept working past hours to earn more money.

I took a photo of R, K, and Marta working. Marta tried to get out of the photo, saying “I’m crying,” but wiped her eyes and joined the photo. Later I asked her why she was crying and she said while she was interpreting, a patient was telling her such a sad story about her life that it made her cry. Marta’s very tender hearted.

I sense some volunteers feeling frustrated about the imperfect treatment we can offer.

But some help, some love, is better than nothing, right? I feel joyful as I do the work. Brush and fluoride some teeth, encourage them to brush 3 times a day, send them off with a “vayo con dios” and a smile . . . Even if it doesn’t “take” the first time, they’ll begin to learn, won’t they?

I think I’ve learned patience by living in Japan. Things don’t change quickly there. But, with time, things do change. As a foreigner living in any country, a person has to learn patience if they want to get along. Patience is the key.

March 4th, day 6

Today we went to a BEAUTIFUL mountain village. K and I did fluoride treatments with Sue. Again the kids were so sweet, and K, of course, jumped right in and did a great job!

March 6th, leaving Nicaragua Day 8

My “after” impression of the kids.
I don’t feel right calling them “kids” anymore. I’ve seen all 4 of them work and share and make the best of every situation thrown at them in Nicaragua. They’ve grown. Or maybe I’ve just gotten to know them well enough to see that my babies were all grown up in the first place.

T - just as I expected, was a leader, a friend, and a steadying and vital part of the entire mission.

R- was an avid learner who carefully watched everything Dr. Kirby was doing and asked GREAT questions after the clinics. R is a calm and strong person who doesn’t waste words. I predict that his future patients will instantly trust him for his thoughtful and thorough ways.

K - I have learned that K was once very shy, but challenged difficult situations, like traveling abroad or volunteering as a mentor to foreign students in order to grow. It was a conscious choice that has reaped great benefits. Now, K appears confident, outgoing, and capable of anything to me.

C — our youngest member, reminded me of a puppy at first. All of that extra energy, like a puppy that’s always looking for something to chew on. But I saw him take on the role of big brother to kids that we met and realized that it takes real maturity to continue to smile and play game after game with them.

Poster Presentations

 
Last week I got to have one of those special moments that make the life of a teacher seem worthwhile. I got to see 15 nervous young students stand courageously in front of several doctors and scientists and make their first poster presentation ever in English.

Even though their accomplishments have very little to do with anything I taught them, I was very very proud. I was proud to see them work hard, improve, and then stand up to do something that some of them dreaded doing. And they did great!! I was near tears as I watched each one of them stand up and present. Every time they repeated a word to get the pronunctiation right, I imagined them hearing my voice in their heads repeating those difficult pronunciations over and over again. I know they were also hearing the voices of their professors who conscientiously took them through the steps of their experiments and then watched over them as they put together their presentations.

I watched 15 young people grow that day. I expect they will grow far and beyond anything I could imagine for them. It won't be long before they are pushed out of the safety of this university nest. And when they go, I and their other professors will stand back and cheer as we watch them fly.

Good job guys! Good job!

Class Trips

 
It's a pleasure to watch my children growing up with so many great friends here in Japan. One highlight of school life in Japan is the "class trip." As a high school student, my daughter got to take a 3 night 4 day trip to beautiful Hokkaido to ski with her classmates. Although she didn't grow up in a skiing family, she did grow up in a "rise to any challenge" family. Therefore, she tried.

I laughed when she described the ski pro that gave her class lessons. She said he looked so cool and amazing as he skied down those snowy slopes, but when he took off the hat and goggles he looked just like "Nobita-kun" in the anime "Doraemon."

I guess being really good at something can make someone look really good. I guess I'll have to get started working on being really good at something.

FT

The Power of Crow's Feet

Although some of you know the story of when I first met my husband, I thought I’d relive that fateful day once more for you here.

Picture this, a much younger me—23 to be exact, in the fall of her second year in Japan. Don’t forget to picture me “cute,” because I was VERY cute back then. It was October of 1988 and Halloween was quickly approaching.

Over my first year in Japan I had already come to the conclusion that I would never have a romantic relationship with a Japanese guy. Why? Let me list the many reasons.

1. When I lived in Tokyo for the first 6 months of my life in Japan, I had to take the train to my language school every morning at rush hour. I stood squeezed between Japanese business men who smelled unusual to me. I was accustomed to the heavily cologned smell of Western men, and couldn’t quite adjust to this new and unusual fragrance which I later learned was probably a combination of miso soup, seaweed, and fish that had been eaten for breakfast often complimented by the scent of cigarette smoke (remember this was in the olden days when most businessmen stood smoking on the train platforms and even sometimes smoked in the trains). Please understand that I mean no offense by this odiferous observation, it was just new and unusual to me. (I have since been told that some people think that Westerners smell like butter).

2. I was, 99% of the time, looking down on the men around me. I don’t mean that I thought I was better than them, I mean I was literally looking down on them. At a height of 167cm, most of the men of my generation that I met were either at eye level or smaller than me. Fortunately for my tall daughter, the younger generation is getting much taller—it must be from all of those McDonald’s hamburgers or something! Anyway, I’m sorry to have to admit to this prejudice I have, but I really really wanted to meet someone taller than me. I just felt too clumsy and huge around guys who were not bigger than me.

3. Well, this one is obvious, I couldn’t speak Japanese well enough to have any sort of deep conversation with anyone and I didn’t know anyone who could speak English well enough to have a meaningful conversation with. I really wanted to communicate well with the man of my dreams.

4. Not a single Japanese guy had ever shown the slightest interest in me romantically, or if they did I hadn’t realized it.

5. I wanted to marry a guy who shared the same faith as me. I’m Christian but only one percent of the Japanese population is Christian, and in my experience, most of them were women. I couldn’t see a relationship with someone of a different faith working out for me.

And finally,

6. I was going to be returning to the USA after 3 years in Japan, so what was the point of starting to like someone only to have to leave them.

Well, obviously, even though my list of reasons NOT to meet and marry a Japanese guy seemed pretty convincing—God had another plan for me.

It was late in October when I first met Tetsuo. I was attending a Halloween party being held by the international students at Kumamoto University as the chaperone for two Australian high school students whose host parents didn’t want attending a university party alone. In preparation for the party, I dressed up as a big yellow mouse—complete with Mickey Mouse ears and cushions stuffed in my clothes to make be big and fat.

Several minutes after arriving at the party I glanced over at the door, when who should walk in but my Mr. Right. I know I listed several reasons for why I couldn’t have a romantic relationship with a Japanese guy, but they all faded away when Tetsuo Kuramoto walked into the room. There he stood, all 181 centimeters of him. He was dressed in a nice suit because he didn’t know anything about Halloween and the custom to wear costumes. But the thing that I will never forget about Tetsuo then and I still love about him now was his eyes—or more specifically, the wrinkles around his eyes. He was still young at the time, but he already had crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes. Those crow’s feet spoke volumes to me. They told me that this guy was a smiler—He smiled so much that he already had crow’s feet at age 25! And I realized that no matter how many strikes someone has against him, he can still win if he has a smile.

His laugh lines are much deeper now—which I like to believe is evidence that life with me has been good. And even though he (and I) sometimes smell like miso soup, seaweed, and fish . . .he’s still my Mr. Right.

A walk in his shoes: My Otoosan

In 1991 I married Tetsuo Kuramoto, only son of Akira and Keiko Kuramoto. In 1994 I moved into Akira and Keiko’s home in Minamata when Tetsuo was transferred to a school within commuting distance of their home.

My friends warned me, “don’t live with your in-laws” but I ignored them. It was my idea to move in with Tetsuo’s parents. I wanted my children to grow up knowing who they were as Japanese children. I wanted them to have a strong identity in both of the cultures they were born into. Tetsuo was busy with work and it was clear to me that he was not going to be the person who could pass on Japanese family traditions to my children.

My in-laws were always nice to me; though I’m sure I got on their nerves on a regular basis. As I’ve matured over the years, I can look back and really see that there must have been many times that their “foreign daughter-in-law” shocked and dismayed them, but they never showed it.

My father-in-law (Otoosan) was the strong silent type--a typical old-fashioned Kumamoto man. However, when he started drinking he became very talkative and liked to chat for hours as he sipped on his shochu (rice licquor). He told me stories of how he had lived in North Korea and was arrested and taken to Russia during the war. He miraculously worked his way home to Minamata, and upon his return tried to join the “kamikaze” but was refused because he was only 15.

I remember that he always went around opening all of the windows of the house on hot summer days. That was no problem, but it always made me crazy that he would open the screens wide too. I would follow him around closing the screens. I just couldn’t stand all of the bugs that came in when the screens were open. Otoosan, however, seemed to believe that it was much hotter with the screens closed.

I was a Washington-State girl, who grew up in the Northern land of small insects and closed screens that couldn’t be opened. There was nothing more shocking to me than the size, variety, and tenacity of insects in Kyushu. I sometimes felt that I should own a small handgun to protect myself and my family from the huge bugs here.

Anyway, Otoosan and I went on like that for many years. He opened the screens. I closed them.

Bugs came in. I screamed. Okaasan (mother) saved me.

Every time a giant spider scurried up the wall or I awoke in the night with the irritating sound of a mosquito buzzing in my ear, I would think “the screens,” and silently fume about Otoosans habit of opening them.

Until one day, when I made “the mistake.”

I was in my kitchen one day washing the dishes when I saw a big black bug flying around. I quickly started looking for a weapon as I thought to myself “the screens!”

I found a newspaper lying nearby, rolled it tightly and began my hunt. I followed the bug around, flailing my newspaper like a madman. The bug seemed fairly uninterested as is slowly flew around landing on the light far above my head. I decided to increase my arsenal by grabbing the bug spray.

I began dispersing clouds of bug spray as I continued to flail my newspaper weapon. I was coughing and gasping, but the bug seemed unaffected. Eventually, however, the bug slowly flew in an erratic pattern until it reached the floor where I gave it the final blow with my newspaper.

I was ecstatic! I had won! The dreadful bug was dead.

I grabbed a tissue and carefully placed the bug in the newspaper and laid it to rest in my kitchen garbage can.

It was over. I had triumphed over the enemy.

Shortly after my victory, my son came up the stairs and announced. “Momma! Ojiichan (Grandpa) found a firefly and tonight he’s going to show me how it glows!” I replied “That’s nice honey.”

Later, I wandered downstairs and bumped into Otoosan. “Joshie says you found a firefly. Where are you keeping it?” Otoosan replied, “it’s flying around the house, I’ll catch it later.”

“Flying around the house!???”

My heart was suddenly in my throat.

I suppressed my feelings of panic as I calmly asked “Otoosan, what does a firefly look like when it’s not glowing?”

He replied “a big black bug.”

I ran upstairs to my kitchen garbage can, extracted the corpse of the bug I had killed and rushed back to Otoosan’s side.

“Otoosan?”
“Yes?”
“Is this the firefly?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sooooooooooooooooo sorry!”
He just smiled and said “I’ll find another one.”

I took a walk in Otoosan’s shoes that day. I saw things through his eyes for the first time. I saw the beauty in the beast, the fire in the fly. I learned that he knew how to see a treasure in something that I had thought was an enemy. And I realized that perhaps his patience with me had been because he could see the potential in his awkward, young, daughter-in-law.

The last time I was with Otoosan before he died, he was thin and feverish and lying in his hospice bed. He couldn't talk anymore. But he struggled with all of his might to sit up in his bed. He reached for me and moved his mouth trying to say something. I held his hands and said “It’s OK Otoosan. You don't have to say anything. I know. I know. And I love you too.”

December 9th

Today is my Mom and Dad's wedding anniversary. I'm happy to say that they have been married for 48 years. Wow! These days, I guess you could consider them a rarity. There aren't as many people staying married for that long--at least not to the same person.

Anyway, Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!

I love you.

FT

December 7th

Today is my son's birthday!  He's 14 years old--hard to believe.  Today is also Pearl Harbor day.  I like to think that my son was born on this day as a reminder to us of the peace that now exists between Japan and the USA. There's peace in our home, anyway--where the son of a Japanese father and US mother enjoyed his birthday surrounded by his family who loves him.

Happy birthday J!

Love,
Mom

Thanksgiving 2009

Last week, we took a day to celebrate Thanksgiving. We ate turkey, the usual fare for Thanksgiving day in the USA, and remembered the things we are most thankful for this year.

Turkey. Yum!

FT

Two Types of People

Today I was listening to a radio program when I heard something that struck me as very true, and important.

"There are two types of people.  Those who are hurting and those who will hurt."

The radio program was talking about the natural hills and valleys of life.  It was focusing on the fact that all people experience emotional pain at sometime in their lives--at the death of a loved one or friend, or when going through hard times at work or with family. But I thought it also pertained to the physical (and mental) pain of patients that my students will deal with as doctors.  It's true.  Everyone will feel pain at some point.  Emotional and physical pain are natural parts of the cycle of life. 

Native American

I've been having a laugh today because in the past few weeks I've been called a "Native American" several times.  Of course it would be lovely to be a member of that noble group of people known as Native Americans (historically called American Indians).  Unfortunately, I am not a "Native American" as my well-meaning students and friends sometimes say. I am a native speaker of American English which is what they are trying to say.

This is one of those difficult things about learning a foreign language--we sometimes say things that mean something entirely different from what we intended.  However, I think it is also one of the enjoyable things about learning a foreign language.  We get surprising opportunities to laugh, even in hard times.  We also get to hone our listening skills; to actually look into someone's eyes and pay close attention to what they're trying to say.  I think we forget to do that sometimes when we're speaking to people. 

Teaching a foreign language and living surrounded by foreign language teaches me to listen carefully, even to people I easily understand.

That's a good thing, isn't it?