VOSH Wrap-Up and a Guest.

Hello friends.

Tonight is my last night in the Hilton. While I'll miss the fluffy pillows and the marble in the lobby, I think I'm ready to get back to my strengths - life without running water and making my own bed. Anyway, I'm going to give a tiny bit of information on the past few days and a little bit about the next, and then I'll turn it over to a special guest correspondent.

We concluded the final day of the clinic on Thursday. It was once again a lengthy day filled with meaningful moments, from the heartwarmingly joyous to the heartbreakingly cruel. We restored sight to a 103 year old lady, and minutes later explained to a 17 year old mother why her 3 year old daughter will never see. There was also the uniquely miserable task of turning away potential patients who arrived too late, even when they had walked for hours to be seen. Registration was closed at 1pm (as had been widely advertised), but steady trickle of desperate patients continued to plead their cases until we finally departed at 3:30. Although we did continue to register a handful of exceptionally needy cases (primary school students, young mothers, and the nearly blind), it would have been impossible to admit everyone, as we still had over one hundred people registered and waiting at 2pm. Turning away the others was a poignant reminder that despite having seen 1,800 patients in three days, we hadn't even scratched the surface of the work that needs to be done.

The experience was a challenge in many ways, and yet was also fabulously rewarding. The people I met and the perspectives they brought were both enlightening and refreshing. If every doctor in the United States joined these men and women in taking one work trip per year, a lot of good could be done in the world. I know for certain that the experience of translating, holding lights and drops and lenses, and just being in the room while they worked brought me a whole new understanding on the kinds of work that can (and needs to) be done. Sure, it isn't the Peace corps (What with the safaris and the Hilton and such), but the doctors of VOSH and other groups like it have a valuable contribution to make, and they are brave enough to make it. And that is outstanding.

Anyway, tomorrow morning Dad and Blair and I are heading to Nakuru to stay with my host family one more time and to visit REPACTED, Nuru Ya Jamii, and maybe the Lake Nakuru National Park. In the mean time, my father has agreed to put a few of his experiences on the record. So, without any further ado, the words of Terry Simpson:



Hi, it’s me the guest blogger, Dad. If you are like me, you have been enjoying reading the past postings. I’ll try not to disappoint.

I’m here in Nairobi. From reading my son’s past postings, you know we’ve been working with a VOSH mission, providing eye exams and glasses to 1800 Kenyans. The trip has been a true smorgasbord of experiences and emotions.

First, let me speak as a parent. I feel great pride for my son. His language skills and knowledge of the issues facing Kenyans in particular and East Africans in general has been enlightening. His street savvy will be comforting to his Mom, when I’m able to report that he is fitting in quite well and he is quite safe. His caring is contagious. Nevertheless, he remains merciless when driving a bargain with the street vendors.

Driving from our western style hotel to our work site every day, we pass through Kibera. I am told it is one of the world’s largest slums, home to more than one million people, exceeding the population of my home state. The conditions here are deplorable, truly deplorable. In writing about it, I have a sense of deja vous for the college exams I took unprepared because I’m writing on a subject I know very little about. Like that student, I feel not a little guilty in not knowing about the subject matter, because I should know more than I do. How can I be enjoying my comfortable life when so many are living with so little? I suppose because I live more or less half way around the world the situation here has been easy for me to ignore. My shame is that soon I will be back home and re-engaged in my own life, and may well continue to ignore the issues many are compelled to live with daily.

As an unskilled VOSH volunteer my daily work consists of standing in front of a long line of people waiting their turn to enter one the exam rooms to be seen by an eye doctor. Some speak English fairly well with a nearly-British accent. Most speak only a little English. Of course, I cannot speak their language at all. Some are shy, but many wish to converse. Most of them are residents of the slums of Kibera. They read my name tag and introduce themselves to me, calling me by name. They are polite, friendly and appreciative of what VOSH is doing. They ask about my country and tell me something of theirs- mostly about the lack of jobs and opportunity. But each one who is conversant, there are many more who are not. For those with whom conversation is strained, the long wait in silence is difficult.

For I while, I was taking photos on my camera. There are many photogenic faces in the crowd. But that, too felt a little awkward, like I am taking something from them without permission. So, I put my camera away. But then, a thought occurred to me. Thank goodness for digital cameras with display screens that allow for instant gratification. Showing the photographed persons their pictures brought smiles to their faces and their friends’, which led to more pictures and some level of communication between us. Stern looking faces soon became smiling faces and a re-shoot of the picture with the smiling face. Sharing the photo made me feel less like an intruder, more like an invited guest. More importantly, the photos and the experience of taking them will make it less likely I will forget them and their life when I go home.

-T