Continuing the promise in the DR

Well, we are back out at sea again. Our time in the Dominican Republic flew by, it’s hard to believe we were there for 12 days and are now already on our way to our third stop: St. John’s, Antigua. DR had been on my list of places to visit for some time, so I was excited when I heard it was one of our stops during the Continuing Promise 2009 mission. I must admit my original vision of going to the DR involved beaches, meringue clubs, and Presidente beer, and not during a job with the Navy as part of a humanitarian mission with not even a single hour off to be a tourist!

I must say, working with the military has definitely given me a new perspective of what hard work is. Starting at 0500, announcements blare over the 1MC (loudspeaker) on the ship calling people into the CASREC (casualty receiving area) where they muster into groups onto boats taking them ashore to begin their long workday in the Dominican sun. Then, they arrive into port only to be herded onto buses and taken to their respective work sites. For the Seabees, this means long days of exhausting construction work in the hot sun. For the medical staff, this means setting up the medical stations where patients will be treated according to area- dentistry, optometry, pediatrics, or general medicine.



One day I arrived to one of the medical sites early at 0800 only to find hundreds of people already lined up outside the gates, and we weren’t even due to open the doors until 0930. Some people said they had been waiting since 0400. Once people started streaming inside, I was amazed to see how organized our folks were at getting people through the check in process to be seen by the doctors. Since I speak Spanish, I helped out where I could, checking people in at admin and directing them to the right spots. At one point I was translating for a dentist and witnessing three teeth being pulled, while also babysitting for the patient’s four month old!



Then at the end of the day, the sites get packed up, the masses from the USNS COMFORT ship are loaded back on the buses, dropped off at the marina, and packed onto boats for the ride back to the ship. By the time we get back to our hospital ship, we are smelly, sweaty, hungry, oily from repeated applications of sunblock and bug repellant, and disoriented from the choppy boat ride in the late afternoon swell. Usually we have just enough time to change and grab dinner before the mess line is closed, then it’s off to the evening meeting. By the end of the day everyone is so exhausted from the hard day’s work yet so content from the feeling of having helped so many people.

While I didn’t have a chance to go to the beach, I did get to know a lot about the Dominican culture and meet a lot of people. The Dominican culture is a mix of many influences- including the laid back Caribbean vibes (being late is never an issue!), a unique Spanish accent and slang (which at time was so hard to understand it didn’t sound like Spanish at all), and amazing cuisine of Latin, Caribbean, and African influences (you’ve got to try the mafongo!), and of course friendly and warm people. Overall, it was a great mission in the DR, and I’m already planning my next trip back (on vacation, of course!)

Daybreak arrival to Haiti

09 April 2009

Being at sea on a US navy ship gives you a whole new concept of time. There are no windows, so you have no idea if it’s light or dark to give you sense of the time. And people are up and working hard at all hours of the day, so there is no regular work schedule that would give you an idea of the time. It's easy to lose track not only of the hour but also what day of the week it is. This is why I always make sure to take a moment out of the hustle and bustle of the p-ways (passage ways or hall ways), stairwells, wardrooms, offices, mess decks, meeting spaces, etc. to step outside and admire the wide open seas and skies. This morning it will be to watch the sunrise as we pull into Port-au-Prince, Haiti.

The USNS Comfort (T-AH 20) first left Norfolk, VA on 1 April, and this morning we arrive at Haiti, our much anticipated first stop of seven nations on a tour to provide medical assistance to underprivileged peoples in Latin America and the Caribbean. Our vessel: a hospital ship. Our sailors: a hodge-podge of Navy, Army, Air Force, Marines, Coast Guard, civilian mariners, NGOs (non- governmental organizations), health care personnel from various countries (including Canada, Netherlands, France, El Salvador, and Nicaragua) along with other civilians, such as myself. I have been on navy ships before, but never with such a mix of folks from different backgrounds. We really are a sight to see. Old, young, big, small, uniform, civilian attire, all living and working together to with the same goal: to help people.

At the early hour of 0600 I am the only one in my office, and for a brief moment I am alone with my thoughts, before my colleagues start filtering in, joking, laughing, smiling, planning, briefing, thinking, brainstorming, executing. It is this moment of the day, before the chaos of the world and the day begins, that I love most at sea. As I sit here at my computer, I think about our four month journey ahead, and especially our upcoming two busy weeks in Haiti.

Today we launch the supplies ashore, in preparation to set up medical sites for care, some will be treated on the ground, and some will come back to the ship for surgery. Our Navy Seabees will carry out some repairs at a local hospital. And, volunteers from the ship will join in a community relations project to paint and clean up a pharmacy at a local hospital. I am anxious to see Haiti, a place I have read much about but never seen with my own eyes. For now, I will climb up the 7 flights of stairs to the flight deck to admire the sunrise, with Haiti still in the horizon, and enjoy the last moment of silence of the day before having breakfast in the mess decks with 900 of my closest friends.