Saint Mark's Church

The main road disappears, and we are met by a posse of young, armed officials dedicated to our safety for the duration of our stay in Concepcion del Norté.  Those who participated in our last mission agree: we are penetrating into a  deeper, more rural area of need in 2011. The terraine is a challenge every step of the way. Our van, takes the trip in first and second gear. We're following our supplies, and everyone has fallen silent. For near an hour, we drive through lush, mountains spotted with live-stock and young men, carrying machetes. Some wave to Padre in the lead vehicle.  Livestock cross our path frequently. Disorganized corn fields, banana plants and coffee groves line the way.  We briefly encounter a cluster of homes, but these disappear as we continue on our way. Then emerges a church. And children. Lots of children. Swarming us with excitement and joy and wonder. And we know why we're here.

Father Madrid ties his cassock with rope in an elaborate and pleasing way, with two fine loops and an elaborate, central knot, and that knot tells a story of a skill he possesses. Having arrived in Honduras with 400 pounds of medical equipment and the personal luggage of 15 missionaries, we were instructed to pile our bags in the back of a small white pick-up truck. Higher and higher the luggage climbed, all the while Padre lassoed rope over and through and around till finally a precarious tower of our belongings resulted.   Swaying this way and that through the potholed roads that led us from San Pedro Sula to our home base in Santa Barbara, each knot proved its purpose. Each knot bore the perfect amount of stress. Each knot contributed to the stability of the whole cargo. That -- and a prayer -- got out stuff safely to it's destination.

After treating some 65 families (193 people), fourteen year old Alberto came to the door. "No no.  Come back tomorrow," we told him. Alberto says nothing but only raises his arm to show us his hand which is disfigured with swelling,  red and "hot," filled with serious infection. Alberto was polite, but fixed his eyes on us boldly as if to to say, "I hope that you think this is important.

We think it's important, Alberto. In fact we think it is perhaps the most threatening malady we've seen this day. Despite the late hour, everyone agrees that the right thing to do is open Alberto's hand, create a "wick" for the infection to drain, put him on antibiotics and follow his wound every day we are here.

Alberto showed enormous courage as local anesthesia was administered, his tears, the last vestige of a boyhood passing quickly. Dr. Prest opened his wound, drained, packed and wraped it. Dr. Moreschi wrote for two antibiotics for Alberto to begin promptly.

We all piled in the van for the arduous ride through the mountains to our home base in Santa Barbara. The gaurds wished us well at the bottom of the mountain  and we clip eagerly home.

There was a bit of well-deserved, congratulatory chatter in the van, but mostly the ride was quiet as we nodded in and out of half-sleep. God, bless our team. Bless the people of Concepcion. God bless Alberto.

After a good night’s rest, our team awoke early and traveled to Concepcion del Norte.  It’s just under an hour journey from our hotel through spectacular hills and lush valleys with mountains in the distance.  Cattle and farms line the roads.  The town of Concepcion is much more remote than our last experience in Trinidad, and as a result more depressed.  We found out today that a medical team has not visited in over seven years. 

The level of poverty is striking to us.  One member of our team who travels frequently in Central and South America commented that it is by far the poorest place he has ever been – and seeing it again after several years was a sharp reminder of this fact.  We notice that both in and out of the towns, most people live in homes that are little more than shacks.  Much of our journey to the village is over poorly kept dirt roads; people walking down the roads are eager to catch a ride on the back of a pick-up truck that we are using.  It appears that many people survive by subsistence farming – we see small crops of corn and bananas all along the way, and small herds of scrawny cattle being driven by old men.  Men and boys are riding small ponies for transportation.  Obviously medical attention has not been readily available here.

We celebrated Mass at the tiny Episcopal Church with Padre Hector, who oversees fifteen such small churches.  It was a wonderful service – their sincerity and gratitude is palpable. 

After the service we began the task of transforming the church into a medical clinic.  Pews were moved to form treating areas; desks were placed to make a pharmacy and triage area; a tarp was hang from the ceiling to make a private exam/procedure area.  And medications and supplies – so much more than we had last time! – stocked benches and pews. 

The church is lead on a more daily basis by Delma, who introduced herself as the pastoral leader.  She had us over to her lovely home for a gracious meal and expressed how excited she was to work with us in the coming days.  Her generosity was overwhelming. 

We journeyed back in the rain and arrived at our hotel in time to make some final plans for tomorrow before having dinner and then an early night.  Delma anticipates us seeing a lot of patients over the next several days – potentially many more than we treated the last time.  It is scary and inspiring.  We have an amazing team of medical professionals, and an unbelievable core of parishioners.  We have abundant supplies.  We have hosts that are eager to help, and glad to do so.  And we have our faith – faith that has gotten this far, and that will continue to be our guide.  Tomorrow we begin!

We made it!  Fifteen individuals – from all walks of life – converged safely at the airport in San Pedro Sula this afternoon.  Our group was split in two, and aside from the stress and predictable delays with moving and coordinating a group this size, the journey was largely uneventful.  A certain Continental ticketing agent was especially helpful in making sure our suitcases full of medications and medical supplies got on the aircraft cost-effectively.  And the best part was that we moved those suitcases through customs in Honduras without incident. 

Upon our arrival we were greeted by representatives from the Episcopal Diocese of Honduras.  We then met up with some of Brad’s old friends and ate a spectacular lunch – a truly warm welcome to this grateful country.  From there we traveled to Santa Barbara and checked into our hotel.  Tomorrow we will rise early, attend mass at the church in Concepcion del Norte, and then begin the process of rearranging pews and setting up our clinic. 

Arriving in Honduras I was reminded of two striking features of the landscape.  The first is the land seems unusually fertile – it is green and lush, with evidence of successful farming all around.  And the second is the presence of mountains in nearly all directions.  This is a fecund country, but one that is constantly facing obstacles.  The largest obstacle – and the most obvious when traveling here – is the striking poverty.  Poverty that far exceeds anything we have in the States.  As we begin our mission tomorrow, and as we try to bring what help we can this week, we will be facing plenty of mountains in all directions.   And we are ready.