OGATSU Town, Mayiga Prefecture, Japan–We felt the fringe effects of Typhoon Talis which crossed the island last night. It was windy all day, raining, and with my raincoat on…hot.

We drove along the coast and found that villagers in fishing communities were hunkered down, fearful of what the first typhoon since the earthquake might to do them. The historic quake in March caused a tectonic shift that lowered much of the coastal land mass as much as four feet. That may not sound like a big deal, but when you live close to sea level, it is—especially at high tide. Typhoons bring extraordinarily high tides, so ground that used to be considered safe is now “No Man’s land.” Villagers told me that since there is no history on what the new waterline means, it scares them.

Don Thomson, a tall Australian man born in Japan, lives here full-time and is OB’s Japan director of operations. A few months back, Don and his team were conducting an eye clinic in a coastal community called Ogatsu. During the clinic, Don met two men who had especially compelling stories.

Mr. Naganuma, a man in his 50s with salt and pepper hair, supports his family by tending a huge fish trap built off plans that have been handed down by generations of salmon fishermen. Tragically, Mr. Naganuma lost his elderly mother to the tsunami, and on top of that, also lost his fish trap. He told Don about how hard it was going to be for him and his community to get back to work. Almost all of the nets, floats and sea anchors had been washed away. Since we were fully committed at the time, Don asked Mr. Naganuma to choose one item that was the most critical to the fishing community. Mr. Naganuma said that the guild’s single greatest need was a forklift, and then explained how difficult it was going to be to move boats around the harbor and to handle hundreds of 1,500-pound concrete anchors required for holding the new village salmon traps in place.

Another man, Mr. Takahashi, who was at the clinic to replace glasses lost the day of the disaster, was an inkstone craftsman. He told Don about how his machinery and home were destroyed by the four-story high killer waves.

Mr. Takahashi ran up the steep slope behind his shop just in time to escape the waves. He said that 60 patients, doctors and nurses in the three-story hospital next to his shop were killed. Many of the hospital staff sought safety on the roof, but he watched as they were swept away.

Ogatsu Inkstone, is a rare, black, dense, slate-like rock that has been quarried in the village for over 600 years and sought after all over Japan. Mr. Takahashi’s father and grandfather preceded him in the ancient craft of cutting, carving and polishing the black rock into specially shaped inkwells with meticulously finished surfaces designed for grinding inksticks and mixing water to make the ink used in calligraphy.

Mr. Takahashi told Don that he and other members of the inkstone guild needed rock saws, special grinders and a myriad of hand tools, but he also said that a forklift was required in order to set up a new shop. Don then asked if it made sense for the fishing guild and inkstone guild to share one forklift. Mr. Takahashi said, “Yes, absolutely.”

Today was a very happy day for Mr. Takahashi and Mr. Naganuma as well as the fishing and inkstone guilds in Ogatsu. Don, David and I delivered a shiny reconditioned forklift this morning. The inkstone man was aware that we were coming, but had sworn to secrecy.

We visited Mr. Takahashi first. He was temporarily set up in what used to be the city hall. The tsunami gutted the building but left it standing—windows all blown out, ceiling tile three-stories high washed out, and all interior walls stripped of sheetrock. The mud had been shoveled and scraped out, and stacks of inkstone lined the walls.

A small team of guild members were scrubbing mud off inkstone salvaged from beneath the rubble. Mr. Takahashi, wearing his OB-issued (quite stylish) eyeglasses showed us around as we waited for the truck to deliver the forklift. When it arrived, Mr. Takahashi drove us in our van with the truck following, down the narrow windy road to the sea. We stopped to unload the forklift at a spot where tsunami debris was stored in three segregated piles: metals, wood and household rubble. It was sad seeing the contents of an entire village piled up that way, but our mood was joyous in anticipation of surprising the fishermen. The truck driver unloaded the forklift then followed us as we went to Mr. Naganuma’s home. He had no idea that we were coming, only that Mr. Takahashi wanted to “meet with him.” He came out in the yard to meet us as the forklift drove up in front. It’s hard to describe the joy that he demonstrated. He started laughing and babbling away, and kept pinching his own cheek saying, “This is a dream, this is a dream!”

We spent about an hour having tea and discussing the missing pieces of the fish trap puzzle and suggested ways that we might help. Other fishermen came over and joined in the happy occasion.

Then, we went to the site where the inkstone factory used to be. Mr. Takahashi explained that the members of the inkstone guild had decided to pool resources and try to buy one set of major machinery which all would share. We offered to pay for several of the key machines (lathe, power grinders, drill press, diamond saws) and hand tools. We also told Mr. Takahashi that we would supply a laptop and wireless card so he could better communicate with suppliers and customers. We went back into the temporary workshop where he gave me an inkstone ink well that had been dug from the rubble and cleaned. He was worried, because it had a few minute scratches. I told him I liked seeing battle scars.

It was an incredible day, and even though I was somewhat jet-lagged, I felt full of energy all day from the contagious mood of the people we are helping.

KENYA – Today we visited a Masai village where Operation Blessing is building a new school. This building will prevent the need for children to walk over two miles through tall grasses where they have sometimes been trampled by elephants and attacked by lions.

For even more protection, large wooden posts will form a fence around the school.

Finally, we’re also drilling a deep well that will provide safe water and irrigate crops that we will teach the tribe to grow.

Juba, South Sudan — We are staying in a camp on the bank of the Nile River. The camp is run by a safari outfitting company that caters to relief organizations and nature enthusiasts. There is armed security and a series of tents and shipping containers set up like tiny apartments, with gravel walkways and banana trees providing shade. The camp serves two meals a day in a breezy, open dining area with a roof made of palm fronds, right on the mighty river’s edge. David and I are among the lucky ones who get to sleep in an air-conditioned 20′ container. It’s sweltering hot, and there are lots of mosquitoes at night, but we all have mosquito nets, safe water to drink and plenty to eat.

Like I said, we are the lucky ones. Outside the gate, folks are not quite so lucky, but they seem joyous and full of energy; as of July 9…for the first time ever, the people of South Sudan are free.

Sudan has been at war with itself for about 20 years; the North against the South. The war has not been a fair fight; the North has an overwhelming military advantage including an air force, while the people of the South fight with outdated small arms. The North has been pounding the South for many years using bombers, jet fighters and hired killers, while the South fights with small arms from behind rocks and trees. Early this month, South Sudan won official independence and hoisted their own flag.

There is, however, still bloody fighting in a contested area called the Nuba mountains. Most of the terrified Nuba women and children are hunkered down, hiding in caves, but many have made their way over a thousand miles to the safety of Juba. Yesterday we delivered truckloads of blankets, tents, mosquito nets, staple foods and vitamins to the refugee Nuba families. I expected to see a traditional refugee camp, but was pleasantly surprised to learn that each Nuba family had been taken in by locals.

I met young Nuba mothers with angelic children who told heart-wrenching stories of their homes being bombed, and their husbands killed in the fighting, but most told of husbands, brothers and sons still in the mountains fighting for their homeland. I also met a Nuba leader who told me about a huge camp they wish to construct as a safe haven for around 250,000 Nuba families; a place on South Sudan soil where the Nubians can live safely until the fighting ends and they can return home.

Operation Blessing is here, helping these refugee families in this—their time of greatest need. We will also do all we can to help jumpstart the new nation of South Sudan. For example, today I am meeting with the Minister of Health to discuss how OBI might assist his department in deworming all the children in South Sudan. This afternoon, using technology we learned while working in Haiti, we are setting up a chlorine generator in the Juba Teaching hospital that will produce enough food grade chlorine to disinfect 360,000 gallons of water a day. Tomorrow I am meeting with the Minister of Agriculture to discuss ways that OBI and our partners can bring resources and technology to assist them in growing more food for a hungry nation. It is such a privilege to be here, representing so many generous Americans in this fight for freedom.

URATO ISLANDS, Japan – Shiogama is known as the tuna capital of Japan and the center of a huge fishing industry. There are tuna statues and art work depicting tuna everywhere. The oceanfront was decimated by the tsunami, but much of the wave’s velocity struck four islands just off shore.

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The islands, known as the Urato Islands, are famous for an incredibly delicious variety of oysters and two types of seaweed that have been revered by the Japanese for centuries. Around 600 fishing families live on the four islands, and all depend on the sea for their livelihood. The oyster cultivation beds and seaweed farms were all but wiped out, and the undersea cable supplying electricity to all four island was torn up by the tsunami. So far, all relief efforts for the islands are being been made by helicopter and small boats.

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Through our relationship with the mayor of Shiogama, we were able to arrange a meeting with the director of Shiogama’s Department of Fisheries to discuss how we might help the residents of the islands. We asked if he could arrange for a boat to take us there and he made it happen. Yesterday David, Don and I visited each island, inspected the damage, and met the leaders of the islands’ fishing cooperative.

The damage on the seaward side of the islands was catastrophic. Miraculously, all of the islands’ 600 families survived despite horrific damage to homes, boats and infrastructure. A well-rehearsed warning sounded on each island immediately following the quake, and all residents grabbed their children and pets and ran to higher ground. Now, almost all residents are hunkered in school shelters in the interior of each island. They are not comfortable, but they are safe. The men need to get back to work and we aim to help make that happen.

Besides harvesting oysters and farming seaweed in a network of bamboo structures located in the shallow waters around each island, the communities export tiny seed oysters to aquaculture farms all over Japan and as far as Seattle. The baby oysters are raised on strings of scallop shells threaded on cords that dangle in the sea from floats and bamboo scaffold-like structures.

Almost all of that was wiped out in the tsunami.

We met with the committee on Katsura Shima Island in a tiny office heated by a kerosene heater. I told the committee that I have the heart of a fisherman, am from a long line of fishermen, have a home on an island just like they do, and represent Operation Blessing, a charity funded by American Christians. I explained that OBI wants to help them get back to work.  

I asked my favorite question: “What do you need most?” I thought they would say boats or fishing gear, but that wasn’t their answer. They said that besides electricity, they needed three computers, a printer and Internet access. They explained that they cannot conduct co-op business and banking transactions or communicate with the mainland because the co-op headquarters had been inundated and all office equipment destroyed. They have a small gasoline generator to run their office but no office equipment! We asked them to make a list of what they needed most–which they did on the spot.

Last night after dark, Don drove me and David to a superstore in Sendai, and we bought three high-powered laptop computers, a printer, paper, spare ink cartridges, and a wireless air card. We called the fisheries director and told him we had the items ready. He was astounded that we had moved so quickly. We will meet him today at the waterfront to hand over for immediate delivery by helicopter to the co-op office on the island. 

Before our visit and meeting, we had anticipated the power problems for the islands and ordered (20) 6.6 kilowatt diesel generators. We looked all over Japan for diesel generators, but they were all sold out. The fastest way to get some would be to have them built in the U.S. One of the complications that comes with providing generators in foreign countries is voltage compatibility. In the U.S. we use 60 cycles, 110 volts. In Japan it’s 50 cycles, 100 volts. Mike, a member of OBI’s Board of Advisers, located a manufacturer in Florida willing to build industrial-grade generators quickly and to our specs at a good price.

Mike negotiated on our behalf and then convinced the manufacturer to work overtime and all weekend to expedite our order. The generators will be delivered to the Orlando airport on April 8 for DHL air shipment to Tokyo. DHL quoted an excellent rate at their actual cost. We will truck the generators north and deliver to the islands on April 12.

Besides the physical benefits, I think of all this as bringing light to the darkness. Donors all over America are bringing light to a dark place through Operation Blessing. We are living our faith in a most significant way.

While we were visiting the islands the rest of the OBI team was doing eye clinic #2 at a large shelter called the Gas Gymnasium Sports Center. They were busy all day and served 166 patients, 121 of which had full eye exams and prescriptions, while 45 only needed reading glasses. Our optometrist, Dr. Taketora, was ecstatic and said it was his all-time record number of patients seen in one day! 

Today we are doing eye clinic #3 at a different shelter, as well as a bike distribution for kids, paid for with funds raised at a bake sale organized by my daughter, Brooke, at her 5-year-old son, Zane’s school, high in the mountains of Utah. Zane’s classmates wrote touching, encouraging notes to the kids in Japan. We will place one of those love notes in the basket of each new bike.    

I don’t have time to monitor the nuclear plant situation, so I can only pray for quick resolution. So far my Geiger counter is quiet, so no radiation this far north (yet). 

Please pray for us and the people of Japan.

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VILLAGE OF OHIRA-MURA, Japan – About an hour ago it got dark, and just as I settled in to write this, the house started to shake. The bed rocked sideways back and forth for about ten seconds as unseen forces deep in the earth shuddered. It was an unsettling experience, and even though my mind told me it was just another aftershock, there was a stab of fear suggesting that it might be another big quake, and that I should be running for the door. Such is life in Japan.

Last night we drove up from Tokyo. As we drove, David took readings with the new Geiger counter I brought from home. Inside the van it registered around 50; a reading David said was perfectly OK.

After driving for a couple hours we stopped at a rest stop northwest of Fukushima for fuel. We were at least 100 miles away from the defunct nuclear reactors, but when David got out of the van the machine started chattering like an electronic machine gun. The reading shot up to 300, and with a worried look David said, “This is not good.” The rest stop was normal in every way, with bright lights and people streaming in and out of the store with cold drinks and snacks in hand. The sky was clear, and the air ice-cold, but the radiation was there; odorless and invisible.

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As I write this I’m in bed, because it’s too cold to sit at the desk in my room. The only heat in the house is a wood stove in the other room. Lack of fuel takes on a whole new meaning when you are living it rather than reading about it. I hear the team talking in the next room about our incredible day at the eye clinic in Shiogama.

We served 100 patients today. 79 picked out new frames and were given a full eye exam and vision test. Next week they will receive their new glasses, complete with prescription lenses.

The other 21 patients only needed reading glasses, and went home with a new pair. Over and over we heard patients and local media marveling that American strangers were thoughtful enough to provide tsunami survivors with new glasses.

After we left the eye clinic, our box truck followed us to the country. There, we visited the rice farm where we have been buying rice 3,300 pounds at a time.

The rice farmer, with his son and daughter, helped load the 67-pound sacks into the truck, then insisted we stay for dinner. The farmer said his wife had planned on us joining them. We were cold and hungry, and thanked him for the invitation.

We took off our shoes and entered the 300-year-old farmhouse built by the farmer’s ancestors, and he told us how the house has stood through many earthquakes. We sat on the carpeted floor along a large wooden table that had a quilt that hung down to the floor on all sides. The farmer explained that there was a heater underneath, and that the quilt kept the warmth in so we had a cozy place to put our legs. It was very cozy, and I felt honored to be in such a place with such kind people. Dinner was rice, beef gravy and mushrooms with several veggie side dishes. It was scrumptious. The rice was shiny and bursting with flavor; the best I’ve ever had.

We had a great chat, and the farmer, like every farmer I have ever known, told us what he thought his government should be doing. His young daughter had a list of questions about OBI, which David and I answered. It was a wonderful experience.

Japan is a scary place to be at this troubled time, but the smoke will clear eventually, and we will have new friends who will never forget the ways that OBI helped them in their darkest hour.

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VIRGINIA BEACH, Va. – This morning at around 3 a.m. our time, I received David’s last email before he lost signal. He said that he and Don were speeding north on a deserted expressway headed to Sendai in a van packed full of high-protein food items and bottled water.

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He said that they had been able to secure an “All Areas Police Access” decal for the windshield, which enabled them to get through roadblocks. The only vehicles on the road were military and police.

David said that it would be dark by the time they reached Sendai, so they would hunker down in the van until daybreak and then do a distribution at one of the shelters.

Just now, at 11 a.m., I received a garbled message from David saying that he had arrived in Sendai in the dark (it’s midnight there) and that it is snowing hard.

It’s difficult to imagine the anguish and suffering the people of that region are going through. So many of them had family members torn away by the sea or crushed to death, as well as their homes and earthly possessions destroyed. On top of that, they are now jammed into smelly shelters with very little food or water, no place to take a shower, and now… it’s snowing hard outside.

Please join me in continuing to pray for the safety of our team members and for the countless families and victims struggling to recover.

Stay tuned,
Bill

VIRGINIA BEACH, VA – I just spoke with David Darg who arrived in Japan about 6 hours ago. There is 13-hour time difference in Japan, so it’s about 8 a.m. here in Virginia and 9 p.m. in Tokyo.

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David is going to bed now, but will be up early to purchase lots of bottled water and drive to the area where thousands of thirsty people are hunkered down, having been evacuated from their homes because of the nuclear plant explosion.

David says Tokyo is surreally quiet. What is usually a packed city, buzzing with shoulder-to-shoulder activity, is almost deserted. Hardly any cars on the streets, the trains are shut down and the few people seen outside are wearing white masks, walking fast with their heads down. The threat of radioactivity, on top of the horrible images coming across the TV screens, makes Japan a very scary place to be. David says smell of fear hangs heavy in the air.

Please pray for David and for all the people of Japan,

Bill

11 a.m.; Sunday, March 13, 2011

VIRGINIA BEACH, VA – Responding to Japan’s earthquake and tsunami disaster is especially challenging because we do not have infrastructure in Japan and have only limited local connections there. Anyone who watches TV can see that help is needed, but we don’t yet know exactly what kind of help to offer. Experience has taught us that the best way to find out what is really going on, and to learn how to help disaster victims most effectively, is to put our staff on the ground.

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I just spoke with David, our director of International Disaster Relief. He is on a plane at JFK about to take off on the 17-hour flight to Narita, Japan. David will arrive there tomorrow afternoon. After clearing customs and a bullet train ride to Tokyo, David will confer with a Christian coalition of churches and NGOs; Japanese government officials and U.S. military leadership. Based on those discussions and David’s conclusions, we will immediately design and implement the first stage of our relief strategy.

We know that food, water, blankets and tarps are needed for the huge numbers of displaced victims, and so our early efforts will likely include relief distribution. In addition, we have extensive earthquake and tsunami experience to look back on. Following the 2004 tsunami, after the emergency food, water and medical efforts were no longer needed, we did long-term projects by building boats for fishing families; homes for displaced refugees; and new schools and clinics in tsunami-ravaged coastal communities.

Following almost every disaster there is a need for emergency medical assistance. Given the magnitude of this disaster, the number of injured may overwhelm even Japan’s streamlined local infrastructure. Dr Kim Pascual, who runs OB’s Philippines operations, is readying a medical team in Manila. Dr Kim is a seasoned disaster relief specialist. She and her team respond to over a dozen Philippines disasters a year, and she has also led OB medical teams in Iraq and in Ache, Indonesia, after the 2004 tsunami. A team of Jewish doctors and nurses in Israel is also ready to come to Japan and serve under Dr Kim’s leadership if the need for outside medical assistance is confirmed.

In addition, we are helping fund efforts by Humedica, a Christian NGO from Germany that specializes in disaster medicine. A team of Humedica doctors and nurses lands today and will make their way to the hardest hit area and will be feeding us real time intelligence soon. We have collaborated with Humedica in 13 countries over the past few years. They are battle-seasoned in the war against suffering and will bless all whom they come in contact with.

Even though we are not yet sure about the size and shape of OB’s disaster response in Japan, we are committed to helping in a big way. We know that the combination of our energy and experience, supercharged and multiplied by God’s grace, and funded by our faithful supporters, will provide significant help to the Japanese people.

Stay tuned…

GRANDE SALINE, Haiti – At around 7 a.m., we loaded the box truck with a boat, motor, fuel, and about 50 gallons of chlorine solution, picked up scientists Stacy and Gretchen, and headed up the road toward St. Marc.

Stacey is a chemist and Gretchen is a biologist doing her Ph.D. on cholera and copepods. Both are graduate research assistants at SUNY School of Public Health near Albany, NY.

The 2-hour drive along the coast was spectacular—crystalline waves lapped sandy beaches and coconut palms swayed in the breeze. What a startling difference in scenery between these coastal postcard vistas and the chaos of the city we left behind.

St. Marc is a medium-sized city where the first cholera victims showed up at the hospital. In the early days of the outbreak, doctors from Partner’s in Health told us they interviewed every patient to find out where they lived, and then drew lines on maps to track the source of the disease. All lines pointed to the Artibonite River and a canal that originates from the Artibonite and meanders through the lush patchwork of rice fields and small villages.

We turned off the paved highway and drove for about 30 minutes along a narrow, cratered dirt road that paralleled the canal. As we drove along, villagers with sunny smiles waved and shouted greetings in Creole. Eric said that they recognized our vehicles. OBI vehicles had been on that road during the first rain soaked days of the outbreak, using bumper-mounted winches to drag our SUVs through the deep mud in order to deliver life-saving water purification systems and jerrycans.

Finally we came to a spot on the main river where we could launch our boat. We backed up as far as possible through a wall of green thorn bushes, and then carried the boat, motor and supplies to the river’s edge. The water level had dropped about 5’ since Eric’s last visit, so we had to be careful not to slip down the steep, slick, muddy embankment. I was amazed at the power of the current as it swept and swirled, the water the exact color of chocolate milk.

We launched and headed downstream. It was a 45-minute ride to Grande Saline.  Between the current and our tiny 9.9 horsepower outboard, my GPS reported a speed of 8.3 mph. In spite of our slow speed, the bow of the boat was still throwing some spray because we were running so low in the water. The muddy water speckled my shirt and glasses.

Stacy and Gretchen warned us to keep our mouths closed when facing the bow, so that contaminated river spray couldn’t get into our mouths. They explained that cholera bacteria can only live when wet; once dried, it dies, but while waterborne… it is deadly. Hearing that, I turned around and faced the stern but kept sneaking glances over my shoulder because we had to watch for floating logs and debris. A bent prop or sheared pin would be a problem, since there was no coast guard or anyone to tow us in.

We arrived at Grande Saline and pulled up next to OBI’s water purification system. A group of smiling villagers ran to meet us. As soon as we verified that the system was functioning properly, we explained that we were there to do research and needed to get back in the boat to secure water samples. Gretchen wanted to pull water samples from multiple locations, starting at a point where saltwater was mixing with river water.

We motored to the river’s mouth and tested salinity with a device called a “refractometer,” but since there was an outgoing tide, the current of the Artibonite prevented any saltwater from flowing upstream. We were reluctant to go off shore because of the danger of being swept out to sea if the motor quit. Repeated refractometer tests showed no salt, so we eased offshore about a mile and found perfect conditions; about 10% saltwater mixed with 90% fresh. The scientists then dragged a tiny, funnel-shaped, fine mesh, seine net behind the boat with the hope of capturing some copepods.

Copepods are tiny shrimp-like crustaceans that generate minute quantities of sugar that cholera bacteria love to eat; so they hang around copepods. If someone drinks water that contains free-swimming cholera bacteria it’s very bad, but if the water contains any (almost invisible) bacteria-infested copepods, the unfortunate person gets a super dose of the disease-causing bacteria. Salt excites copepods as well as the bacteria, making for a powerful “witches brew” swirling in the mouth of the river. There is speculation in the scientific community that Grande Saline suffered an inordinate number of deaths because of this. 

We collected samples from different locations and the scientists were ecstatic. They said we had captured copepods and tried to show me. My aging eyes could only detect minute white specks flitting about the test tubes in erratic movement that reminded me of the flight of a bat.

The women explained that their research into how cholera bacteria relates to its environment could help open the door to better understanding of the origin of the disease. They told me that their research could result in a breakthrough in the fight against the disease, and thanked us, saying that OBI was now a part of their research effort.

After we finished gathering water samples, I met with village leaders to discuss how OBI can help the people of Grande Saline by providing ocean fishing gear. During my previous visit I had requested that the (41) fishing families elect two spokespersons, then make a prioritized list of items that would enable them to catch and sell more of the fish and shrimp that abound in the waters just off shore. I am confident that once the threat of cholera passes, that this village, situated on the edge of a sea teeming with fish, shrimp and lobster, can break the bonds of poverty and prosper. All they need is some gentle guidance and some gear.

The leadership committee presented me with a list written in Creole. Eric translated and helped me understand it. I asked some questions and promised to return to the U.S. and start gathering the items. The people are very excited about this development. Grande Saline will become the first saltwater model in OBI’s ever-expanding “Teach a Nation to Fish” program.

The sun was getting low, so we headed back up the river to our launch site. With five of us in the boat, our tiny outboard struggled against the unrelenting current and the trip took almost twice as long as it had earlier in the day. The river looked so peaceful, the banks lined with enormous mango trees just starting to fruit and drooping coconut palms. White crane-like birds glided gracefully along looking for an evening meal. So much beauty amidst so much suffering. As we passed scattered villages, I was aghast to see hundreds of villagers crowding the rivers edge, dipping multi-colored pails into the muddy water.

The villagers had waited until the cool of evening to go down to the river’s edge to gather water for drinking and cooking. The shouts of children laughing and splashing carried across the water as we passed by.

My heart ached as I thought about the agony sure to come to some of the families as a result of drinking the poisoned water of the Artibonite. There I was, safe and sound, swigging bottled water, worried about a few drops of river spray landing in my mouth, while whole villages bathed and drank from the river that had already killed so many. As I watched the villagers and my eyes started to ache, I experienced a powerful epiphany:

The people of Haiti are dying from cholera, but it isn’t the river that’s killing them… its poverty. Underneath it all, Poverty is the silent killer.

We must do more.

HAITI – We are leaving at 7 a.m. for a three hour drive north to what I call “The Mesopotamia of Misery,” otherwise known as the Artibonite River. The Artibonite seems to be the main source of the cholera bacteria in Haiti.

We are taking two scientists from Albany, NY to the Artibonite. One is a biologist doing her PhD on cholera and copepods and the other is a chemist. They tell me that the tiny copepods (shrimp-like crustaceans) give off a type of sugar that the cholera bacteria love to eat, so the bacteria hang around them. The biologist explained that their study will shed light on the relationship of the bacteria to the environment, and in so doing, open the door to a greater understanding how to combat the disease.

The scientists have very fine mesh nets to capture the little critters. They want to get to the mouth of the river (where I was three weeks ago in the UN chopper) and drag the little nets behind the boat. There is something about the tidal area, where the salty sea mixes with the fresh water that sets the bacteria into a feeding frenzy.

One of the scientists is the niece of Father Rick (from St. Damien Hospital) and she told me her story in his office yesterday morning after services. When I heard about the net and catching stuff in the water that might hold a key to cholera research, I told them that if they changed their tickets to a day later that we would take them to the mouth of the Artibonite by boat.

Today’s trip will be a bit dicey. Our new inflatable boat with 30 horsepower Yamaha motor is stuck in customs where it has languished for almost a month. David borrowed a bass boat from Valentine Abe (founder of NGO Caribbean Harvest) with 9 horsepower motor a couple weeks ago so we could service our WMI water system in Grande Saline. It does fine going downstream, but struggles coming back against the current. Eric took the boat to Grande Saline last week with diesel fuel for the WMI system and chlorine solution for the villagers. He said it took about 20 minutes going there and two hours running back against the current.

We bought a new 30 horsepower outboard motor yesterday. It is the only kind available in Haiti. Eric was running it through the break-in regimen in a 55 gallon drum of water when it seized up. He rushed all the way back across Port-au-Prince to the dealer and arrived just before closing time. He exchanged the motor for new one. After returning, he started up the second one, which ran for about 30 minutes when it also seized up! Better there than in the river today where a dead motor could allow us to be swept into the open sea.

This is so typically “life in Haiti,” where even new products have problems, and the good materials are stuck in customs. It makes it hard to get work done here. It takes a special attitude to hang in there. You have to fill yourself with a fierce determination and an absolute refusal to give up.

Besides the science project, we will check on our WMI unit in Grande Saline and I will meet with the fishermen there. When I was there a few weeks ago I asked the fishermen to make a list of what they need to catch more fish. One exciting thing they told me is that there are beautiful shrimp in the sea, and “plenty of lobsters,” but of course no gear to catch them.

I know already that it takes more than nets and traps to be in the shrimp or lobster business. The community needs ice! It would be wonderful to revitalize Grande Saline by putting in a small ice-making plant and supplying some better fishing gear. When in Aceh, Indonesia, following the tsunami I learned that “whoever has the ice controls the fish market.” Right now the market in Haiti is wide open!

I have laid awake nights wondering why there isn’t a vibrant saltwater fishery in Haiti, a country surrounded on three sides by the bountiful Caribbean. It looks like Grand Saline might be OBI’s first saltwater “Teach a Nation to Fish” model.