Reflections of the Medical Mission in San Pedro Sula, Honduras

Reflections of the Medical Mission in San Pedro Sula, Honduras
On Wednesday September 17th , my Dad and I joined a medical mission group from Michigan, which included three doctors, two dentists, other volunteers and Brother Jim Boynton, a Jesuit brother who was my high school World History teacher and who invited me to join the trip. The trip was coordinated by Central American Ministries (www.camon-line.org/), an organization which focuses on development of schools, health clinics, and micro-finance loans in trash dump communities throughout Central America. We conducted a three-day medical clinic in the school of Ocotillo, a community of about 5,000 people, who survive by collecting materials from the trash dump and selling them, and is located on the outskirts of San Pedro Sula, Honduras, one of the largest industrial centers in Central America.

Without much idea of what I was getting myself into, besides "translating to Spanish for a medical mission trip," I had immediate hesitations about joining a group of middle-aged white Americans for a "mission" trip. However, this short-sighted concern and assumption of mine was soon to change after a couple of days working alongside people in a very challenging, yet rewarding project. Being placed in such an environment allows one's humanity to come out and can break through some of the thickest of barriers. My life in the Jesuit International Volunteer Corps in rural Belize is drastically different from the doctors, nurses and volunteers from the States. Furthermore, a North American background in general makes it difficult to truly understand the reality that the people of Ocotillo face on a daily basis. Regardless, the three days we spent together united us and impacted each person in very different yet mutually rewarding ways.

At 7:30 in the morning our group of about twenty stood on the San Pedro Sula street in front of Hotel Ejecutivo, along with two police officers (our body guards), and loaded the medical supplies and donations into the back of a pickup truck and headed towards the part of San Pedro Sula that most people don't even know exists as a human dwelling. After a twenty-minute ride, we turned onto a dirt road, passed through police barricades, and stared in awe at the homes, constructed mainly of recycled materials, that lined the roads on the outskirts of the dump. As we approached the gate of the trash dump, the thick stench that billowed into the van and the hundreds of turkey vultures flying overhead made my stomach begin to churn. Not because of the smell or the vultures, but because I knew what we were about to enter was going to open my eyes like never before to the struggles people face when their human dignity is so stripped away and survival is so fragile.

After about fifteen minutes of conversation between the police and trash dump guards, we passed through the gates and entered the dump. In one of two oversized vans filled with Americans, I felt like we were on a ride in Disneyland as our group stared in awe and snapped pictures of the men, women and children as if they were dressed up characters. Unfortunately, they were human beings, just like us, but whose day's work is raking through old trash and desperately ripping through newly dumped trash bags as if the bags contained gold. Instead their treasure was plastic bottles and aluminum cans that they would hopefully sell to recycling services. I was told the average person lives off of two lempiras a day. Twenty lempiras equals one dollar. You can do the math. Even though I was grateful for this eye opening experience, it was very uncomfortable being with a group gawking at and photographing these people and with nearly a dozen digital cameras. The term "poverty tourism" kept repeating through my mind. Tears came to my eyes as we drove through. Why must people be forced to compete with the turkey vultures and starving cattle in order to survive? Hasn't humanity advanced beyond the hunter and gatherer stage that I learned about in high school World History from Brother Jim?

For three days, hundreds of people lined up outside the classrooms with amazing patience, in hopes of being seen by a doctor, something very rare for the people Ocotillo. Scabies, parasites, flu like symptoms and body aches were the common issues found in nearly every child who came in. Infections, headaches, skin fungus, pelvic pains and discomforts, and all other sorts of unknown complications were common in nearly all the women who came in. The most difficult moments were trying to calm and restrain the patients as the doctor attempted to clear the wax, dirt and bugs from their ears. Doctor Phil, from University of Michigan Medical Center, said he has never had to remove a bug from a patient's ear. By the second day, he was routinely debugging ears.

Much of what people came in for was untreatable due to our limited resources and brevity of time. The doctors often advised and sometimes demanded people go to the clinic, but most refused, like the one elderly man with multiple fractures on his dangling arm but refused to go despite the transportation we were going to provide him to get to the hospital. It's difficult even to imagine the humiliation many of these people must have felt in their attempts to see a doctor and get help at a hospital or clinic after being sent from place to place or told to come back and never getting the much needed help they deserve. Despite my frustration and times of doubt as to what three days of this would mean a month from now, I do believe that the time we spent was very helpful for many and reduced the suffering of many, even if just for a short time. Since the projects that Central American Ministries (CAM) has developed are ongoing, this is only a small piece of the puzzle. The goal of CAM is to help empower individuals and increase opportunity for the youth that will hopefully change the cycle of generation after generation picking through garbage. Maybe Antonio, the lanky boy who helped us with logistics around the school, will never become a doctor like he hopes. Nevertheless, I have faith that through the continued work of CAM, it may one day be within the realm of possibility for his children to pursue higher education and the job of their interest. Otherwise these people will continue to be ignored and forgotten as they have been and as are many in similar situations around the world.

This trip was another reminder of how rewarding it is to step outside our reality and experience the lives of people who don't have everything at their fingertips like us privileged upper middle/ upper class Americans who came down. It is easy to get so caught up with our own busy lives that we forget how extremely privileged we are in contrast to the misery so many people live in. I believe that trips like these, despite their discomforts and "poverty tourism"-like dilemmas, can change the way we live our lives and light the way towards social justice and greater equality throughout the world.