Haiti Mission 2011

Dear friends and family,

Kids in rural high mountain village carry loads
to market several miles away every the morning.

On November 25^th, Abigail Proctor and I will making her first and my second trip to Haiti to volunteer with a International Healthcare Ministries (IHM) medical relief team, seeing to the physical and spiritual needs of the largely forgotten rural peoples in the mountainous regions of Eastern Haiti. I had a special opportunity last November to serve our Haitian neighbors and left, not with the feeling of accomplishment I'd expected, but with an indelible desire to do more. Life is not easy in rural Haiti. The desperation and poverty is difficult to fully comprehend for people like you and me. 

 Many rural Haitians lack even the most basic amenities like running water and sewage. Children and women may have to walk miles over steep, unpaved terrain, carrying buckets of tepid water just to cook or wash themselves. Since the 2010 earthquake, infrastructure connecting the remote outlying areas to the urban centers has been largely cut off. Roads for transporting goods are dodgy at best and many have been slowly (or dramatically in some cases) washed away due to the erosion endemic to the Eastern mountains. At our clinics, hundreds of men, women and children would line up for the rare opportunity to see a doctor and have their medical and nutritional needs met. We'd drive in off-road vehicles, sometimes for hours, up heavily pock-marked roads, and perilously steep grades. A large line would invariably be awaiting our arrival and we would set up shop in a mission school, church, or a deserted government building.

Dr. Sorg and our team of translators navigate the steep cliff-
lined rural "roads" of rural Haiti.

We saw a measurable impact on the communities. We saw frighteningly severe cases of anemia in women and children, babies with intestinal worm infestations, and men with very serious infections from untreated injuries. All who came benefited in a tangible way from our interactions as we provided medical care with absolutely no strings attached. Our primary objective, outlined by International Healthcare Ministries, “will be to share the love of Jesus Christ by providing primary healthcare for those in need. [Because] Caring for peoples' physical needs will often open the door to address their spiritual needs as well.”

Men, women and children, most of whom have traveled
for miles on foot, wait to be seen by our medical team.

This is your opportunity to partner with IHM and me, to help rebuild and strengthen this disease-oppressed, and poverty-stricken nation of 7.9 million people. I urge you to take this opportunity to make your resources really count toward something that God will surely bless and multiply (John 6:9-14). The donations will cover the cost of lodging, local transportation, medical supplies and other materials needed during the course of the mission. It looked for a while as if the trip maybe cancelled due to problems with accommodations due to the frequent storms and other set-backs in the country. That didn't change my deadline for these funds though, so please act quickly so that the medicines can be purchased as soon as possible. My deadline is September 30^th. Yeah... not much time, but I know we can still do this.

There are several ways to donate: You can donate directly by clicking the "donate" button on the upper right side of my mission blog. You can also donate through the Orangeburg Avenue Baptist Church at 313 E. Orangeburg Ave, Modesto, CA 95350 specifying that this is for “Haiti Mission – Zach Greenlee” in the memo line. If you'd like to donate in any other way, please write me at z.d.greenlee@gmail.com or call me anytime: (209) 918-4044.  Thank you to those of you who gave so generously last year and also thank you for your continued prayers.

Sincerely,

Zach Greenlee

I post a lot about the Haiti mission in this blog, here are some posts I recommend if you'd like to learn more:

• Mission to Haiti Quickly Approacheth
• IHM Medical Team Visits Rural Haiti
• Stand Back and Look: A Personal Inventory
• The Future of My Medical Mission

Stand Back and Look: A personal inventory.

Something that we probably don't do enough of is take inventory of our life experiences and stand back for a moment. Stand back, look at those experiences, and consider the question, "What is this all coming to? Where are these experiences taking me?" I'm in one of the scariest pursuits of my life. I just applied to Stanford's Physician Assistant program. If I get in, it is going to be a very tough couple of years where my family and I will have to make some huge sacrifices. On the other hand, if I don't get in, I'm not sure how I'll take it. This has been something I've been working very very hard for. I've been working toward this goal for a very long time, and not succeeding will inevitably lead to some serious self-evaluation. Even sharing this with you is difficult because this could give you a front row seat to me falling flat on my face. However, I feel indebted to my friends and family to share this experience because you are the ones who have made it possible to get this far. The following is my Statement of Purpose letter written to my PA school admissions staff.


This letter took weeks of work and a lifetime of experiences to write.



I first read the 20th century medical missionary, Dr. David Livingstone's appeal that “sympathy is no substitute for action,” when I was just a teenager. Even when I was young, these words were profound for me. Through years of heart-wrenching lessons from the urban emergency systems, travel to developing countries, and interpersonal relationships with the homeless, those same words seeded an unshakable sense that the life of every individual is of incalculable value and deserves to be invested in. Part of the answer to our national and global “need epidemic” is in building stronger, healthier communities, and that all begins with access to medicine. I am ready and motivated to help confront this epidemic, starting in my own community, California's impoverished Central Valley.

I lacked a meaningful understanding of the necessity of strong community until the Summer of 1996. I was 16 years old the first time I spent a few weeks working with runaway and homeless youth at an urban rescue mission with the organization Center for Student Missions (CSM) in inner city Los Angeles. Preparing dinners for terminal AIDS patients, sitting in dining halls listening to stories of abuse, drug addiction and sexual exploitation of kids my own age – at times uncomfortably squirming in my seat – I developed a sense of urgency that has never left me. After graduating high school, I traveled to Honduras to aid an embedded humanitarian missionary organization and witnessed first hand how unrelenting poverty affects a community. Awed by the level of despair in Honduras, and attracted to the prospect of positively impacting lives through service, I enlisted in the U.S. Coast Guard a year later. Whether delivering medical care to a boat loaded with interdicted migrants, treating a sick person at a homeless shelter, serving breakfast to Modesto's homeless on Sunday mornings, or traveling thousands of miles to volunteer at a remote clinic in Haiti, my desire to transition into the role of a clinician has only grown stronger. Haiti opened my eyes to a whole new level of desperation while treating the neglected peoples of the rural high mountain villages in make-shift clinics. Hundreds of men, women and children would stand in line all day to be seen by our only doctor. At one point, Dr. Jack Sorg, detained at a missionary hospital hours away from our rural clinic, entrusted me with the weighty responsibility of conducting the examinations and treatment decisions in his absence, an experience that affirmed and emboldened my pursuit of the role of Physician Assistant.

These experiences also taught me to never underestimate the value of gaining insight through overcoming obstacles. For example, after completing my active duty commitment to the Coast Guard, I moved back to the Central Valley with my wife and brand new son in tow. Job prospects were few. Employers were reluctant to hire a reservist due to the risk that I could still be activated in time of war or natural disaster. I could find nothing more than minimum wage jobs before eventually landing a position as an ED technician at a small community hospital making less than ten dollars per hour. On this meager wage, I scraped together my few resources and set out to earn a paramedic license at a school two hours from my home. I spent hour upon hour away from my family traveling, doggedly working to keep my small family fed and housed, and studying in all-night diners and cafes. We had no health insurance, one broken down pick-up we couldn't afford to fix, and an old, high-mileage Chevy Cavalier, yet we still succeeded in moving toward our final goal. We learned the hard way how to budget and make ends meet while pursuing a better life and a meaningful career.

The plights of those who find themselves on the fringes of society or in the vacuous abyss of the financially insecure working class resonate deeply within us because we have lived through these experiences ourselves. Building community through service and even sacrifice must be a priority of primary care providers. Particularly in impoverished areas such as the Central Valley, affordable (and even free) healthcare is not just possible, I now understand, it is essential in strengthening a community. This is the realization of a journey begun when I was just 16 years old. Through this amalgam of life experiences and hard work, I stand well prepared for this important next step in helping to serve my community.

Mission to Haiti 2011 Quickly Approacheth

Port-Au-Prince, Haiti from my plane.

Unbelievably, it has been almost a year since I embarked on my first journey to Haiti. I had no idea what to expect. I hadn't met anyone on the medical team yet. I had never been on Haitian soil before. I was frightened, excited, and determined to just tough it out, no matter what the trip turned into.

I kept a journal of the trip, as I always do, and jotted down some of my feelings as I first arrived at the International Terminal in Port-Au-Prince. Once of my favorite stories of the entire trip happened just as we landed.

The money that gets donated goes to a fund that is used to buy medicines directly. These medicines become my own legal property, which is important for customs reasons (although, I do not really understand the intricacies of these laws and rules). We were instructed to pack them in a way that they didn't appear to be merchandise because we would be taxed on them if the authorities thought that we were selling them.

I remember thinking, "How can I take 300 oral re-hydration salt packets in my luggage, along side gigantic unopened bottles of Amoxicillin, several boxes of brand new reading glasses, and an assortment of prescription bottles filled with enough blood pressure medication to kill a herd of wild horses and make it look like its my own personal stash?"

I had nothing to worry about, for sure, because they really were gifts for the patients we saw in the rural clinics we were to visit in the coming week, but proving this to customs official whom spoke no English would be another story altogether. God certainly had a hand in getting this medicine to these people that he loved.

When getting on the plane in the international terminal, I ran into no one checking in that spoke English. Intimidated? A little, but really, in my line of work, I'm used to not being able to speak to the people around me and use charades and rudimentary hand gestures to convey important questions and directions.

Once on the plane, it was a expectantly light load of people flying from mainland USA to PAP considering the recent disaster and outbreak of Cholera. Heck, only an idiot would fly to Haiti unless they had a REALLY good reason. Because it was a light load of passengers, the stewardesses made the strangest request of the passengers.

This friendly Creole-accented voice and gleaming white smile took me completely off-guard, "Sir, would you mind moving to the back of the plane? The pilot will not take off until you move to the back of them plane."

I'm going to be honest, my mind immediately went to Rosa Parks' bus incident. I know, that stupid, right? They weren't discriminating against me. My ancestors weren't subjugated to tyrannical slavery and denied basic human rights for generations. But I could not figure out what was going on, but I didn't ask and just got up from my seat and moved to the back of the plane.*

As I walked back toward the rear of the fuselage a young woman caught my eye as she looked up from her lap top. "Hey there!" she said without a hint of Creole-accent.

"You're American?" I asked her.

"Yeah, sit here, I'll help you feel out your customs forms."

That was all the introduction I needed. I buckled up next to my new friend who turned out to be a Haitian born political analyst and third party observer for the upcoming presidential election. She knew everything about Haiti. In fact, she was actually an expert on Haitian foreign affairs and politics. I got a 90 minute lesson on Haitian history (not just the Wikipedia version I had read in the hotel the night before) and two note book pages full of notes on safe places and where to find help in case of an emergency, including her personal mobile phone number and the phone number to her hotel where she was staying with the international press corps.

The medicine and medical supplies I carried in my luggage.

The last bit of advice she gave me was to stay with her once we got through immigration because the Customs agents in the international terminal had been increasingly difficult to deal with and were recently caught "skimming" valuable material that could be sold on the virulent black market. Some of the most valuable, in light of the cholera epidemic, are antibiotics... GULP.

I did my best to stick with her through immigration, but she got through the line much faster than I did because of her dual citizenship. I didn't have any trouble in immigration, there were just some minor communication problems that slowed things down, significantly.

Then we were allowed to identify and grab our on luggage from a pile of bags thrown haphazardly on the airport black top. We then formed 2 single file lines as we came up to customs.

I had seen my friend waiting for me with her one carry-on bag but she was rushed by airport security to get through customs and not allowed to wait for me. I saw every other person on the planes baggage get sorted through with great caution and diligence. Most of the passengers had no actual baggage, only garbage bags that they had thrown their clothes and other travel articles in. I watched the customs agents rip them open, comb through the content and toss the belongings off the table with an attitude that said, "Come on! Someone's gotta have something more interesting in their bags."

They checked every single bag, without exception ahead of me. I was carrying a very heavy sea bag loaded with medicines, a large suitcase with medical supplies and equipment and a back pack with my personal effects. My heart started beating wildly as I approached the Customs agent who never even made eye contact with me and just waved me through the line. Wait. Read this next line carefully. This customs agent was looking for the exact kind of stuff I was carrying, he checked every bag before me and after me, but waved me through.

It took me a second to realize what was going on. I even asked him, "aren't you going to check them?" He didn't understand me, and just as well, it was probably a stupid question.

I ran into the nice young lady who had tried to help me before we were separated while she was waiting for her escort. I told her what happened, her jaw dropped. She was speechless, literally speechless. We didn't get to talk any more, but she had known that I was there as a medical missionary and probably has a better understanding of what happened there, or of how unusual this was. But there was no doubting it, God wanted this medicine in the country.

*Note: I came to find out that the reason the pilot wanted me, and a few others to move toward the back of the plane was to even out the load for take-off and landing. I'd never heard of this before, but it was a small plane, and kind of makes sense

If you would like to donate to the upcoming Haiti Mission, you can either donate to Orangeburg Ave Baptist Church in Zach Greenlee's name or use the Donate button in the upper right corner of this blog. Thank you, and please remember this mission and the people of Haiti in your prayers.

Thank You.

Children in Quicroix, Haiti, December 2010.

You made a difference in the lives of complete strangers today through your donation. Thank you.

That's what giving's all about.

Zach Greenlee 

Mission to Haiti 2011

On November 25^th, I will making my second trip to Haiti as a medical missionary and working on a medical relief team servicing the population of greater Port Au Prince as well as the other outlying rural areas. This special effort will be an integral part of Association of Baptists for World Evangelism's (ABWE) vision of evangelism that leads to church planting and church planting movements. As ABWE puts it, “A primary objective of this trip will be to share the love of Jesus Christ by providing primary healthcare for those in need. Caring for peoples' physical needs will often open the door to address their spiritual needs as well.”

Haiti recently received a lot of attention due to the 7.9 earthquake that struck just 10 miles outside of the densely populated city and capital of Haiti, Port Au Prince (population of 2 million). While over 40,000 bodies have been officially counted and buried in mass graves, the government estimates that the death toll may be as high as 270,000. That is 74 times the number that died in the WTC attacks just ten years ago.

As far as the conditions for the missionary staff, the team guide book states, “ABWE medical teams will be based at Baptist Haiti Mission (BHM). Transportation may be by truck or SUV to mobile medical clinics at urban or rural locations to be specified by BHM. The roads are extremely rough, so a one-hour ride may be required each direction. Participants will receive a prepared breakfast, take a sack lunch,and have a prepared dinner each night back at the base.” In other words, this is not a vacation.

Life expectancy in Haiti is 53 for males and 56 for females. Infant mortality is 76 of every 1,000 live births. 10% of all the children born are not expected to live to their 5^th birthday. Approx-imately half of the population have no access to potable water and 65% live below the poverty level – and these statistics are from before the earthquake. The BHM is a well-established organization and has been in Haiti for years and has made great strides in getting the gospel out to the people of Haiti, however, less than 20% claim to be protestants. Most of the country profess to be Catholic, some combination of Catholicism and Voodoo or some other native folk religion.

As you may have surmised, Haiti, the mission staff and our team really need your prayers.

You may have heard others soliciting on my behalf for donations for this mission, and I urge you to take this opportunity to make your money really count toward something that God will surely bless and multiply (John 6:9-14). According to ABWE, the project fees and donations will cover the cost of lodging, local transportation, medical supplies and other materials needed during the course of the mission.

All donations can be made directly to the church, remember to specify that the donation is for “Zach Greenlee - The Haiti Mission”. 

In case you'd like to familiarize yourself with the BHM, ABWE, and the International Healthcare Ministries (IHM), the following are their respective websites:

http://www.bhm.org

http://www.abwe.org

http://www.healthcareministries.abwe.org/

Most importantly, please remember the mission staff, the medical relief team and especially the people of Haiti in your prayers, and recruit your friends and family to do the same. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Zach Greenlee

Join The Movement - New IMB Video

Join the Movement from imb connecting on Vimeo.

Missions, Ministry and Instant Coffee

Let me just start off by saying that I am a coffee snob. That isn't to say that I wont drink what I can get. I am after all, like most Americans, severely dependent on coffee to maintain consciousness. However, instant coffee I normally turn my nose up at. In Haiti at night we could have this ultra strong earthy bitter Haitian brewed coffee that was, lets just say "to die for"! However, in the morning, when it mattered most, all I had was instant coffee.

One day I asked the mission staff at the Baptist Haiti Mission if I could buy some "real" coffee from them (the same that they had at night) and they informed me that it had just run out. So, I was stuck with name brand but no less terrible instant coffee which I had to drink twice as much of for the same effect that I would normally get from my favorite Starbuck's Morning Blend roast or my wife's favorite Dunkin' Donuts coffee.

However, this smell, the smell of instant coffee is one that I strangely enjoy, as I found out today.

I used to be involved in a homeless ministry at a park in Modesto. I would alternate weekends with the one who started this ministry, my pastor's son, Michael. At one point, because of a schedule change at work, I could no longer be there on Sunday mornings and would make only occasional substitute appearances. That was when the ministry was young, and I LOVED it. Since then, I've moved about 30 minutes away (which really is only about 15 minutes further away than before) and have found no reason to go back, until last Sunday.

Michael (aka Mick) was showing me some photos on his digital camera of the large group that were out at the park. There were at least 65 homeless men and women there for the warm breakfast, short sermon and fellowship with a few members from our church. I felt that tug in my gut all of the sudden. Now I'm not one of those guys who believes that every knee jerk, liver quiver and stray thought is a obligatory message from God, but before I could think about it I asked Mick, "you guys need any help down there?"

Like any good ministry leader he smiled, "We could use some help."

Just like that, I had committed to the ministry again. I absolutely love this ministry. It has been a fruitful one too, but I had considered for the last couple of years that the College Bible Study that I teach every Sunday and my new role as a deacon would be my ministries. I have had problems in the not-too-distant past with over-stretching and over-committing myself at church. As a matter of fact, I received a somewhat well-deserved critique from my pastor for this very reason recently.

I couldn't help it. This morning I got up early to do some extra Bible study since I neglected it on Saturday, but my kids, who are apparently preparing to someday become bakers, were already up playing with the Star Wars figurines. I made some breakfast and headed to the......... monthly men's breakfast. I know!

Within a few seconds of hopping in the car I prayed a short prayer, dedicating my day to Jesus and WHAM! I changed my destination. Sure men's breakfast is a great way to start your Sunday morning, but homeless ministry REALLY glorifies God, and that became clear as day.

I arrived at the park and presented Mick with a box of about 120 pocket sized Gideon New Testaments that I had been carrying around in my car for quite some time, seeing as how I've managed to hand out about 20 in the last 12 months, I figured that this ministry would probably have a bit more success than I've had in dispersing these. I walked up to our familiar little table with four of Orangeburg Baptist Church's committed urban missionaries standing around talking about Jesus and drinking coffee, then the smell hit me. Instant Coffee.

On one hand, I was glad that I had already had a few cups of my precious breakfast blend this morning, but on the other hand, I was, in an instant, transported back to Haiti. My heart raced, I felt lighter, my eyes met the eyes of the homeless men and women hungry, HUNGRY for the gospel. Some ask innocent, honest questions, some put on errs that they already know the Bible and others have dynamic and fruitful relationships with the Lord. One fellow, maybe a year or two younger than me (I'm 30 for those reades who don't know me) points to the little green New Testaments sitting on the table and asked, "Do those have the ten commandments and seven deadly sins in them?"

One of our energetic evangelists scoffed "the seven sins aren't Biblical". I smiled at my fellow evagelist, then the gentleman who obviously was raised Catholic.

"Yes they are!" I said shooting a sharp glance at the scoffer, "but not how you might have heard them before." Then I began to explain to him what Jesus taught about sin and forgiveness and the reason for the law and that the law is good, but that we have a reason to hope in Jesus Christ and about His teachings from the Sermon on the Mount. The inquisitor looked pensive, took the Bible from my hands and responded with genuine gratitude.

God filled me up. That joy I was missing, thinking that I could only get back in Haiti was suddenly there again. It isn't just a matter of evangelizing, I do that other places. It was the mission. It was doing what God ordained me to do today, being in His will. I sought God's glory, and God's glory was proclaimed. Pure, honest, beautiful ministry. Not romanticized, not easy, not without flaws, but sufficient for God to work with. The outflowing of God's glory through me is like no other sensation and it fills you up and energizes you better than Starbuck's Breakfast Blend.