archeology

here we have the beginning phases of unearthing/resurrecting 2 old boards given to me by a good friend. many waves, many stories already embedded in the sun-aged glass. sea tramps. hags. salty dogs. i've surfed the yellow one despite its need for some basic repairs. it loves point breaks (steamer lane's perfect sand bars this winter). the blue fish needs lots of therapy. i've replaced the tail (both sides) and done loads of glass work and sanding. she still needs a hot coat and some more sanding... these are acts of love for boards otherwise destined to collect dust and go forgotten. today; a little break in the craziness, able to surf the favorite home break with some favorite people. sun, waves, happiness. cant wait to introduce these 2 new boards of mine to the central coast of oregon.

one person at a time...

tent camping ala haiti field hospital. this is where staff sleep, and also where tuberculosis isolation patients are housed. lots of people in a small space. 105 degrees f. during the day. sticky...

this is a self-portrait of myself and Kensy, one of the haitians employeed by project medishare. the haitian workers worked 12 hours a day, 6 or 7 days a week. Kensy's home was destroyed in the earthquake so now, like many haitians, he is homeless. several of his friends were killed when the earthquake hit. before the earthquake he had been going to school, so he spoke english quite well. he translated for me and helped us do all kinds of things from moving patients on stretchers to circulating in the OR. he worked night shift (with me) and told me that he had to try to find a quiet place to sleep during the day and hope not to get mugged or killed while sleeping. He averaged about 3 hours of sleep per day. amazing.

late night emergency splenectomy. this patient was run over by a bulldozer while trying to help his neighbors rebuild their homes. OR in a tent. also amazing.

this is another view of the operating room. very rustic: plywood floors, flies in the air, lots of noise, bad lighting. probably a surgeon's worst nightmare. the surgeons were so great-- smart, flexible, hard-working, tireless. almost no one slept during the whole week, but the general surgeon, a young resident from Johns Hopkin's was there for every case. he probably only slept about 3 hours a day. catch as catch can...

this is the adult ward. each nurse had 20 to 25 patients. no privacy. no room for anything, just army cots lined up bumper to bumper with about 3 inches of space between each person. no blankets, no sheets, family sleeping on the plywood floors next to their sick loved ones. i gave everything i had to these patients before i left: clothes, blanket, sheets, pillowcases, even my shoes and, of course, all of my food. if i could go back, i would bring cases and cases of shoes and bedsheets and lots of canned tuna and sardines. everyone is protein deficient, totally malnourished and trying to heal from major trauma. sometimes it is way too overwhelming to think about...

the best thing i heard while i was there was from another nurse. she said, "you showed up. sometimes that is the most important thing: they know that someone cared enough to show up." all we can do is help one person at a time. here, there, everywhere we go.

peace.

haiti: gone and gone

this is a view of the cathedral in downtown port-au-prince. it's hard to capture the essence of a natural disaster --the feeling of desperation that is in the air around you, all of the time. haiti is the poorest country in the western hemisphere, plagued by decades of corruption, violence, genocide, disease and deforestation to the point of desertification. there are few viable pieces of farmland left after the 'papa doc' and 'bebe doc' regimes feom the 1960's through 1980's. this hereditary dictatorship bankrupted the country leaving no money for basics such as fuel, electricity, water. the citizens of haiti cut down all of the forests in the country for light and cooking fuel. within 15 years, the entire country was deforested. during the monsoon cycles, all of the topsoil is washed away. almost nothing grows in haiti anymore; their past cash crops of sugar, tobacco and coffee can no longer thrive in the nutrient-poor soil. the border between haiti and the dominican republic is the only geopolitical border that can be viewed from space. haiti is brown. the dominical republic is lush and green. it's quite tragic.

this is the context within which the earthquake happened. it is estimated that 230,000 people died; however, there are many hundreds of building that have not been entered. undoubtably, there are many more bodies yet to be found.

this is a view of one of the tent cities that populate the immediate area outside port-au-prince. the slum of this city is considered the most dangerous place in the world. currently 99% of haitians are unemployed. there is no official military in haiti, so the UN and the United States are there en masse to help keep things in check. every day there are riots. people are desperate and hungry. most of these tent cities have no running water, no sanitation, no toilets, no law enforcement. we treated gun shot wounds on a daily basis at our field hospital.

honestly, we couldn't tell if this was a new tent village or one of the existing slums that has been part of port-au-prince since before the earthquake. living conditions in haiti are really, really bad. from what we could tell, this was a permanent encampment, and this exemplifies what life looks like in the city.

this is a line of people coming back from a UN food drop. there were lines for miles through port-au-prince. traffic was stopped for hours. there is no telling where this food goes or how it remains in the hands of those who need it. most of the people we helped in the hospital were extremely malnourished and dehydrated. many people have malaria, tuberculosis, dyptheria, typhoid... things we only hear about in the United States.

there are many more things to show and tell. i have only just begun to process this trip. it will take me many moons to get it sorted out in my head. i have gained a perspective i will never lose... i have been humbled by the haitian people, their strength, their will.

i will post more in the coming days, as i am able to make some sense of it. as for these first few days back in Oregon, i am thankful for things that i never even knew i had.

2 women fishing

you never see two women fishing

it makes no difference where you go

in this world,

the job of fishing

is a man's.

you might see three men fishing;

or two men and one woman

--maybe even a man, a woman and one gull

stretching out its wings, sitting one-legged,

patiently watching for signs of life

on the igneous rock at Depoe Bay.

tonight at dusk i saw a woman

casting out her line into a tumultuous sea

steely grey and frothy white with winter horses.

upon glimpsing her

my heart began singing with possibility:

stereotypes crashing hard, broken.

the gull took to the air

with its usual cry of mourning,

fighting a salty gust from the spitting clap of a breaking wave.

the fisherwoman staggered in her boots

then leaned back, reeling in her line

just as another form appeared

from behind the frozen lava:

the (unexpected, disappointing) boyfriend figure

fully outfitted beyond reach of imagination,

head down-turned, ready to call it a night.

meanwhile the woman and the gull

finished the story

together in the disappearing sky.

home. death. love. (3 haiku poems)

what pulls you southward
towards the sun like a goose?

is it lack of home?

all night i pondered:
nothing can touch loneliness

(the truth about death)

told her loving was
something made. tactile. earthly.

a dream in three parts