Students studying physical therapy and health science are visiting the Dominican Republic this January, where they’re providing physical therapy services to patients in underserved areas of the Caribbean nation. Doctor of physical therapy student Amanda Wright ’13 and health science student Sadie Salsman ’13 will share their experiences and reflections here, through their Journals from the Road.
By Sadie Salsman ’13
When I first arrived in the Dominican, everything was so foreign. All of my senses were overwhelmed by my immersion into this new culture. Within a day, though, the shock wore off and by the end of the week, I felt comfortable and at home here.
This morning we left San Juan for a resort near Santo Domingo for time to relax and debrief. You would think that I would be happy to trade that poor little city for time to lie on the beach. But I am not. As enjoyable as relaxing at a mediocre resort is, I am missing the people and the place I have come to love.
See, I forget how quickly people can grow to know and love one another. In the past few days, I have been utterly privileged to experience these people and this culture. I have done nothing for these people besides love them, but they have helped transform the way I see all people.
One day in the clinic, I looked around and realized that I had stopped seeing in color, that I didn’t hear language anymore. I saw all of the therapists and patients working together. As much as I have always believed in my mind that all people are equal, my heart has finally taken the step beyond that and ceased to really even be aware of the categories we place people into. It is so easy to have an attitude of arrogance toward developing countries, as if we Americans are somehow better people because we have more “stuff.” Any distorted view of “betterness” I may have had has been shattered this week. It has been my privilege to be loved by these people and to develop friendships I will not forget.
The more time I spent around the Dominican people, the more I saw how insignificant the mental barriers we place between people really are. If I learned anything this week, it is that communication goes far beyond language. That language, though convenient, often isn’t even necessary. Love, laughter, friendship, pain, hope, fear, strength, courage: they are all the same between us. They don’t need words or explanations; they transcend culture and unify us.
I am going to miss San Juan so very much. The people here love more and worry less than any people I have ever seen before. Their lives are based on relationships rather than on things, and they are satisfied with the lives they lead. Although it will be nice to come home to hot water, no cockroaches, and toilet paper that I’m allowed to flush, I can confidently say that I would be perfectly happy to live here. I certainly hope to return in the near future.
By Amanda Wright ’13
You know when you think of tribal women carrying baskets of things on their head? Well, it actually happens. A patient we saw today came in with neck pain, caused by … you guessed it: carrying buckets of water on her head. Needless to say, she had the strongest neck muscles we’ve ever seen. You know those pictures of three, four, five people amazingly balanced on one tiny scooter? That actually happens, too, and here is the evidence to prove it.
As we have waded through diagnosis after diagnosis, several themes have emerged: chronic back pain is universal, you work with what you have, and a smile trumps everything. We have been beyond blessed during our time down here. To say we are on a mission trip feels guilty. We have been indulging ourselves in the traditional Dominican food, we played baseball with the locals and have been smothered in hugs by the beautiful children. Oh, and I forgot to mention the nice nap in the hammock.
When we first got here, being told to ride in the back of the truck was as foreign as the Spanish was to our ears, but now the reverse analogy prevails. Something about riding in the back of truck makes you feel like you are a kid again. So with cabs empty, our group piles into the back of the truck to go eat at local restaurants, attend church, or drive to our various work sites. We started today in a different location than the past two days, but we lost some patients when they found out we weren’t chiropractors. Excitedly, we went back to the hospital where we had been working the previous two days. The interesting cases keep coming, as our minds strain to remember the important details about various diagnoses. Being in the clinic, we cannot help but absorb the positive attitude that abounds there. The atmosphere is especially remarkable considering the amount of time the patients wait and the volume at which the local therapists are trying to work. Time works differently down here; we are operating on Dominican time. Hopefully my professors will understand when I return to my classes. I encourage all of you to get out of your comfort zone; it is the only way to grow.
By Sadie Salsman ’13
Although the thought of coming back to school and seeing all of my friends after a long break sounded wonderful, the thought of trudging through snow to start new classes was not entirely appealing. However, the knowledge of my upcoming tropical escape made it much more bearable.
Now, when I say tropical escape, don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t decide to book my winter vacation the second week back to school. That is just when the mission trip I wanted to take happened to occur. Less than a year ago, when I was talking with my advisor, I mentioned to her my interest in medical mission work. To my surprise, she informed me that some of the physical therapy professors and students went on a mission trip each year.
After more than half a year, jumping through a few hoops, and 22 hours of travel in the not-so-pleasant weather we have been having, I sit here in the Dominican Republic at the Clinica Cristiana in a t-shirt dress, kicking my feet up next to a flowering tree. A few members of our group are playing board games with a couple of the local people while others are helping cut up fresh fruit for dinner.
Getting off of the plane, I was instantly immersed into a culture so different than I had ever experienced before. Everyone was everywhere, yelling about everything. Dan, the missionary from the clinic, was waiting for us, and ushered us onto a bus for a three-hour ride. Dan reminded us of the importance of not drinking anything as we stopped to eat along the way. I had to go to the bathroom, but after Mandy, the DPT student, Melissa, the DPT professor, and I saw the massive overflow of horrible-smelling water flowing toward the bathroom door, we decided we really didn’t have to go that badly.
As we drove through the dark streets of both the town and countryside along the way, I faded in and out of consciousness. I’ll admit, I was intimidated by all of the unfamiliar sights and sounds, the crazy driving, the people staring, and, most of all, by the poverty that I had known existed, but couldn’t actually picture as reality.
Finally arriving at the clinic, our team all showered and went straight to bed. The shower was cool, but it felt refreshing after my long day. I put in a pair of earplugs to drown out the endless sound of people, music, traffic and roosters and was lost to the world for a few blissful hours.
This morning I woke up almost chilly from the cool morning air, quickly changed and brushed my teeth with water that was not from the faucet, and had a lovely breakfast of fresh fruit, muffins, eggs, ham, toast and homemade granola before heading to church. The church we attended is still being constructed, and our team will be putting in its windows and doors this week. The entire service was in Spanish, but I sat next to Dan’s wife Kari and she quietly translated for me. I was inspired by the beauty and simplicity of the service. A young guy with an awesome voice led all of the music a capella. Following that, an older woman got up and spoke over a passage of the bible, calling these people, who already had nothing in my mind, to give up everything they had for Jesus. The joy of the people was so evident. They accepted us so warmly. I was struck by the gratefulness of the people. In prayers in the United States, we spend most of our time asking God for things. Here, the people spend most of their prayers thanking God for all they have and all he has done. The sharp contrast was, not surprisingly, quite convicting.
This afternoon, we walked through the barrios, the poor neighborhoods near the mission, hoping to visit a few families that one of our team members knew from previous visits. As we walked the streets, we met and talked with countless children. All of the people were so friendly and warm. The more I am around the people, the more I see their joy and the less I see their poverty.
Honestly, although we are coming here to serve these people, I think we in America are so much worse off than they are. The happiness that flows out of them is not a reflection of what they have. It is not conditional; they don’t place their security in what they have, so they worry less than we, who have so much, tend to. There is a lot to be learned from these amazing people.
And I have been here less than 24 hours. I can’t wait to see what the rest of the week will bring us.
