Don't forget me, Sir Piter!

Today we visitted an industrial zone and screened all the workers who sew the jeans and shirts we wear for eye problems. Alright, maybe not ALL the workers in the world who sew our clothes, but it felt like at least half of them. I think we got thru 600 patients. It was cool to see them at work and appreciate what they do. They are very very talented young seamstresses. Our job today was to check them for colorblindness. If they couldn't distinguish well, they would get a different assignment in the factory.

Amit, my dear new friend from Georgia, went home, and a girl named Alomi from New Jersey and a medical student from California named Khoi arrived. We are becoming fast friends already, even though I leave tomorrow night.

Today as we ate our delicious indian food under a ceiling fan that didn't cool very well and a flourescent light that went out when the power surged every hour or so, we took some fun last pictures together. My optometrist friend and mentor, Dr. Sivakumar, who has taught me so much and who has worked tirelessly to serve us and others, turned to me and said, "Don't forget me, Sir Piter!" I don't know how I could. These people have been so good to me, and have captured a piece of my heart I didn't know existed. I thought there was only room for Italy and America in there. There is now a newly discovered country in the world of my heart.

Alomi is from Northern India by parentage, but she was born in the US. She was ordering dinner for us tonight and both she and the indian man on the phone were having a hard time understanding one another. There was a lot of "Hello? Yes, 23B. No, B as in Boy. 23b, 2-3-B. No I said twenty, Hello? Hello. Yes, the address? 23 B." Finally she handed me the phone in frustration. In my best Indian/Italian accent, I gave him the info. It worked! We magically understood each other! We all couldn't help but laugh. I geuss the America accent is just hard for them to understand.

I'll try and post some more pictures asap. My time is short, but I am excited to see you all soon and I am grateful to you for sharing this journey with me by following my posts from time to time. I found out that the inspirational graffiti I saw was just on the walls of a large Jesuit school in town, not a common Indian thing. But I will finish with two thoughts I read today on posters here, and they exemplify things I learned in India:
1. "Stay positive. Work hard to get the things you like, or you'll be forced to like the things you get."
2. "All power is in you. You can do anything and everything. Believe in this."

Actually...

Good news! The gastrointestinal rebels were overcome and peace is restored once more in the kingdom of P.Mo. "yet I trust there remaineth an effectual struggle to be made..." so I am being very careful in what I eat and drink.

Yesterday we drove 120 km out of town on very scary roads to a beautiful little village. We set up camp in a catholic church and loads of villagers came out to get their eyes checked. We brought almost 80 pairs of glasses and in the end had to turn a few people away because we ran out. We found a lot of cataracts as well. The indian optometrist we are working with, Dr. Siva, can recognize pretty quickly who will accept treatment and who wont. In a very sad moment, an old man was told he needed a cataract surgery. He shook his head and said he just wanted the glasses, because there was no one to take care of him and he lived alone. He walked away blind for another day, another year, another who knows how long. It reminded me of some sweet people I met in Italy who chose not to see spiritually, for fear of receiving love and support from anyone. I suppose we are all at times a little guilty of letting doubt and fear blind us in some respect.

There are some funny linguistic differences between indian english and american. One of our sharpest doctors in particular uses the word "actually" all the time in speech, in exactly the same way that Mary Hope and Faith use it. That is, to mean "really" or "very much so" instead of "more specifically."  Examples:

"You really have got to keep the apartment trashcan clean. It's actually not good."
"Only one in 400 Indian students who apply to medical school are accepted. It's very difficult actually."
"Don't try to catch the apartment lizard. It can be quite rude actually if you catch it. And it eats mosquitoes and crickets."

Other funny differences are that Sunglasses are Cooling Glasses, soda pop (soda? pop? Ok, carbonated drinks) are called "cool drinks." The flashlight is called a "torch" (pronounced "tarch" like a pirate, actually :) Restaurants are called Hotels, and cellphones are called mobiles. Grafitti is the best thing ever in India! The streets are lined with motivational and inspirational quotes spraypainted on the walls!! I have been tempted several times to ask the driver to slow down so I can read them better and take pictures. Hey, if you are going to deface public property, why not at least inspire people?

Indians also speak up, more loudly than I as an american tend to. So sometimes the young optometrist girls will bark out at me, "Piter!! Tarch!!" So loudly that I jump and look frantically for the flashlight, feeling as if I were a pirate slaveling who was just commanded "Shmee! Swab the poopdeck!" They don't mean anything by it, they probably feel they are speaking at a regular voice level.

So I noticed that in my last post I said that we practiced surgery on a mounted goat. I left out an important word in that sentence: eye. A mounted goat EYE! Meaning there were eyes from a dead goat, fastened to a mounting tray and we cut them open and phacoemulsified them. The goat was not mounted, in case any of you imagined a taxidermied goat. Or a goat mounted like a horse (alright, now you sit on its back and make sure it doesn't move while he performs the surgery.) Just thought I'd clarify. This is why photos are good to share actually.

I will make the most of the last two days of this wonderful opportunity you have given me. Thank you!
Un'abbraccio,
Piter

A cricket batting cage. Cricket is a big deal here.

Pizza Hut, KFC, and McDonalds are really classy restaurants in India

I bought a cool pajama shirt. Then my roommate informed me that it is a party shirt and definitely not a pajama shirt. Oops.

Some patients a the clinic

This is our favorite rickshaw driver with his rickshaw. He gives really reasonable rates, and he doesn't have a  carhorn. He has a large green clown horn that he squeezes. It sounds like a duck voicing it's opinion in traffic and it always makes me happy.

Mathura's family at the birthday party.

The kid in the blue turned 4. These are his cousins.

The cake

The family all together.

This matriarch in the family was born just before India gained independence from britain.

A monument on the beach

A market. I accidentally smelled one of the flower offerings that you buy to give the gods. The lady called out, "no!" just as I smelled. I felt pretty bad; but I learnt that you never smell offerings before you offer them. They are beautiful at any rate. 

The goat eye experience

These are cool symbols everyone has at the gate of their home.

Stomach Wars Episode 6: The Naan Strikes Back

These past few days have been marvelous. I saw my first official Ballywood movie and cried lke a baby during it. I also got to see the fruits of the donations people made for my trip as we observed two cataract surgeries. About 36 sight-saving surgeries were provided by those who contributed. Thank you all!

The procedure was similar to the one performed in the US. Apparently about 15 years ago an opthalmologist had a dentist appointment, and while the dentist was buzzing away with an ultrasonic probe, the eye doctor thought, "shoot, why don't we use one of those?" This revolutionize the way cataracts are treated and made it one of the most common and successful surgeries in the world. The cataract just means that the proteins in the lens of your eye have gone bad and opaque, so they break it up gently, suck it up with a vaccuum, and replace it with a man-made lens. Boom; in 20 minutes you went from blind to seeing. Pretty amazing stuff.

We three volunteers got the chance to perform this surgery on a mounted goat, twice, with the Doctor telling us what to do. It was amazing!!! Truly a mind-blowing experience.

We visitted one of the local volunteers' family parties for a 4-year-oldbirthday  party. Every one was friendly and kind and it felt like a big Indian Cocoa Cafe. Most indian families these days have two kids from what i've seen. This family had like 10 kids a generation ago, and it was fun to see the result. It made me excited for future Mortenson family reunions when we have all grown up. These were faithful hindi people with a wonderful love for eachother and a great spirit in their home. Around this time I read in Jacob 2 and the words struck me.

We visited the busiest, most happening beach I have ever seen. This would be one of the beaches where the tsunami once hit, I believe. It was like the county fair, on a beach.

Last night we went out to eat at a Hotel (that's what they call a restaurant) and sampled all kinds of interesting delicious indian food that was amazingly cheap compared to the US. Then I spent a good part of the night moving back and forth between the bathroom and the bed. I am resting and recovering this morning. It wasnt too terrible, but times like these help you apprecciate being healthy.

Duty calls! I love you alls, and I'll see you soon.
P.Mo

Solo Adventures and Camp in a Temple

Yesterday was our day off, and Amit was sick, so I took some money and went for a "widdo twip" as Eliza used to say. I got one of the best hair cuts of my life, with no electricity involved, in a tiny shop for about 80 cents. I asked the man there, "how long have you been cutting hair?" He looked confused and said, "Iggum pumar du tenthil..." or something like that. So I stopped asking questions and let him work.


I hired a little yellow tricycle cab to take me to Pondi Bazaar, one of the great outdoor shopping strips in Chennai. While I was there, looking around, enjoying the amazing sights and sounds, a man convinced me he knew what I needed and he would take me to the tourist shops. He was a friendly and effective salesman so I got in his rickshaw cab. When I told him my name is Peter, he said, "Ah! You are a Christian man. I am too and my family. We were hindu, but we become Christian maybe 2 years ago. We are great peace, great joy. Jesus is coming soon! Did you know?" This is actually a pretty common response when I tell some people my name is Peter (Peetr!). I liked the guy, and though he talked me into buying a couple things I might not have otherwise, he was a good friend and a nice tour guide to have. Things are dirt cheap in India. I spent 20 cents on a pack of 30 or so breakfast cookies. I am surprised also by how many Christians there are in India. It is a religious meltingpot.

I got to shadow the doctors in their clinic last night. I learned that the Cornea is the most sensitive spot on the human body; 200 times more sensitive than skin!!! So don't get things stuck in your cornea! A lady had a peice of metal on hers. Dr. Senthil numbed her with some eye drops and then removed it with a pin. It was fascinating, but her 20 year old or so son in the room couldn't handle it. He kept laughing nervously and turning his head away.

Our greatest contribution here is the eyeglasses we bring and the money we raise for surgeries. 50 bucks can fix a person's cataracts. It is pretty incredible.

We found a lot of people with cataracts in the clinic we went to today...INSIDE a hindu temple. It was quite remarkable. We had to make a makeshift Snellen's eyechart because some people can't read english and the number chart was left behind. I was actually quite impressed with it...pictures attached. Our diagnosis doesn't have to be superbly accurate because we are mostly screening for people with more serious problems to send them to the hospital and handing out reading glasses to those who are benefitted by them.

I am struck by how happy many people are here. I realize the happiness and wealth are entirely independent variables. The richest is not the happiest, nor the saddest. The poorest is not the saddest, nor the happiest. I think the humble, with true faith, hope, and love; are the happiest. And though hard circumstances may incline most towards humility, the choice to be humble and happy or selfish and shrivelled is ultimately a personal decision, constantly, for all walks of life. The wealthy are not doomed to misery any more than the poor are. The question is, what do you love, and how much of what you have are you willing to sacrifice for what you love?

I think we sometimes misanalyze adversity as well. For me, sleeping on a dirty floor with a dirty rag for a pillow would be terrible. For many people in the world, it doesn't feel like adversity at all. It is just what life is. They don't feel bad for themselves. Why should they? That's what life is. It makes me wonder if the Lord doesn't look down on our current, luxurious modern american lifestyles and feel pity for us (if only they knew what they are missing!) just as we look at the poor or at those who lived before the times of modern medicine, ipads and cellphones and internet and cars. Who knows what other wonders this universe holds and will hold?

What I'm getting at is that our adversity is not intrinsically quantifiable, but it is based on our reaction to situations instead of our situations themselves. That having been said, suffering is suffering, and hard things are hard for all of us. It is humbling to see the courage and hope in the eyes of these people who have so very little, and yet love life despite their hardships. I suppose that without wanting to sound naive (after all, I'm on the luxurious side of things and in no place to speak for the poor) I have seen more poverty but less suffering than I expected in India.

Haha, I have been thinking about these things since watching the movie "Lorax" in italian during the plane ride over here. The Lorax asks the wealthy young man, "Well, have you finally filled up the hole you have inside?" I think that is a good way of measuring wealth. And from what I have tasted during my short life, only the love of God can really fill that hole.

So there is my philosophical tidbit for the day. It is important not to think to hard about these things while I'm walking or riding because I have an uncanny tendency towards getting lost...

Love you all. I can't wait to see you soon!
-Peetr

A cool house near the market

In the clinic the secretary does a screening.

It rained last night and so we got a nice swimming pool outside our house. The neighborhood crocodile was happy. (JK mom)

Locals come to the camp to get screened. For many, this is the first time they have ever had their vision checked.

Mathura and Amit make a homemade Snellen eyechart for those who can't read english. They used the sizes from a real snellen's chart.

Cute kid. Nice foot. We all go barefoot indoors.

A man getting screened.

Part of the temple.

A hindu god--I believe the god of warfare.

Goats on the roof of the temple. 

If Shirley Temple were from India...

Pictures from the first few Days in Chennai

This lady needed a pair of glasses. That flashlight in the man's hand was in my stocking last Christmas. :) Who'd have thought?

This cute little girl walked up to me to shake my hand.

A few of the optometry students we work with. 

The girl who saved my Sunday when I was lost in Chennai. Notice the sign says "Later-day saints."

Driving

 

Amit, my roommate, with a local kid. They loved paper airplanes.

Can you find the cat in this picture?

Eating off a banana leaf with our hands in a restaurant. You try to avoid touching your hand to your mouth because your hand tastes like hand sanitizer.

Sort of blurry example of the colorful houses here. And goats in the street.

"Color Inside of the Lines"

I suppose I should explain the title of this blog of mine. During a particularly trying time on my mission, when I couldn't seem to figure out the proper balance between obedience to God's rules and unity with a companion, the following analogy came to me and became a precious symbol of how I want to view my life. I wrote this poem at the time:

The teacher was patiently pacing after passing out printed designs.
She said, "These images are for tracing, but you must color inside the lines."
The children chose each with excitement as they laid out their masterful plans.
How could they have known the incitement to be caused by their colorful crayons?
For at first they were careful and prudent to do just as their teacher had told,
Till a stubborn, rambunctious young student soon grew bored, then he grew bold.
In his chair he would wiggle and fidget, for he hated being told what to do
and with a pudgy and impudent digit, he colored his whole page bright blue.
A neighbor soon noted the error, and he gasped in a terrified dread,
and he hissed at the sinner with terror, "you're not doing what teacher said!"
The line-breaker scowled, indignant, and he grabbed a bright yellow as well.
And the neighbor who'd been so constringent sighed as if his friend would burn in hell.
He would never mistake like his brother. In fact, he was taken aback. 
So he drew from the crayonbox another utensil that was simply marked, "Black."
And then with a puritan fervor, staying inside the lines all the way,
in the view of the lawless observer, he covered his whole page dark grey.
Soon the two little boys started fighting, and falsetto insults filled the air
and the quarrel became an igniting as tiny fists pulled tiny hair.
The teacher then stopped both the brawlers, and she gently stroked each tiny head
and she quietly calmed both their hollers, then she asked, "Have you done what I said?"
To the first child she said, "What great color you have added to all your designs,
but your picture would be a lot fuller if you just stayed inside of the lines."
To the second she said, "Oh my child, I'm so glad you respect the confines. 
But there are hundreds of crayons, so go wild! You must COLOR inside of the lines.
And above all be kind to each other, so our class is united as one.
If you both were to love your own brother, then you both would be having more fun.
If you just learn this one simple lesson, you can paint masterpieces someday. 
When you live by the rules without stressin' you could be a Van Gogh or Monet."
The two boys then hugged one another, and with child-like forgiveness divine,
they grabbed a new paper together,
and they colored inside of the lines. 

New Colors, New Lines

India has an incredible amount of color. If I were autistic, and unable to filter out important from unimportant stimulus, this place would be a nightmare. Rich fuscia pink scarved with bright green flowers, Faded baby blue buildings next to blood red posters; everything is colorful.

Seeing the boundaries and joys of this culture helps me better appreciate and understand those that exist in america.

There are lines here that don't exist in America: bounds of modesty and decorum. There is a profound respect for oneself and one's chastity that seems absent in modern american media. Although there are obvious issues with the old indian system of arranged marriage (mutual tolerance is a poor replacement for true romance) I can see that a result of this old system was a sort of humility about such matters. Parents are trusted and expected enough to know what is best for their child. Of course they want the best for their offspring, so why should the child doubt their parents? Even know, when young people date, it is for the purpose of preparing for marriage and not for "fun" or for "getting to know you." This would make asking a girl out a lot scarier. :)

Other lines exist in America that don't in India. Street lines, for instance. Mamma mia! If you could see how people drive here! Honking can mean, "hey I'm coming around a corner" or "hey I see you" or "hey I have a horn on my car, do you?" There is just one constant barrage of traffic, people on motorcycles and trucks and  tiny yellow taxi tricycle things, all speeding within feet of eachother. There aren't really lanes, and a lot of people drive a lot like I do. :) But it scares me a bit when other people do it.

Here, you call everyone brother "anna" or sister "acka" and you bob your head back and forth like a bobble-head to say "ok" or "I am happy" or "my head wiggles, does yours too?" I really like it and have adopted it as a habit these past few days.

As I road on a motorcyle, taking pictures of incredible images as I passed, I couldn't help but smile. How blessed am I to live in this culture, with these people, even for just a few days? They are teaching me how to really love life. After a while I had to stop smiling because I realized I had dust sticking to my teeth. But I smiled on the inside anyways. The picture of life here is different, but it is still a beautiful balance of color inside of the lines.

Save He provide a Way

My first few days in Chennai, India have been incredible and miraculous. I arrived at 12 am, feeling like it was noon, and was picked up from the airport by a nice man named Mani (pronounced "Money") who drove me to the place we are staying. I asked him all kinds of questions as we drove, and understood about half the answers. Our gleaned from what I understood that in India, 60 percent of the marriages are arranged by the parents and 40 percent are "love marriages."
My roommate is a nice 21 year-old from Georgia (the state) with Indian parentage. His name is Amit. He is very chill and easy-going and we have had a lot of fun adventures together already.

Sunday came quickly, and I asked the doctor overseeing us if I could go to church nearby. He agreed, and gave me the address of the inner-city camp I needed to catch up with the others at afterward. I am SO glad I mustered the courage to ask for this hour off to visit the Saints of Chennai and to renew my covenants; some sweet tender mercies came from it.

#1. Mathura (another indian girl from Montreal who is volunteering with us; it is just us three and I am the only white guy I have see really since I have been here, with the exception of one american missionary in the branch) talked in Tamil (aka gibberish) to the cab driver who was taking me to church and sent me on my way with a cell phone and a prayer in my heart. In the cab and on the back were about 6 other people, some holding bibles in their laps on top of their colorful scarves, all headed to church or work or elsewhere. As I sat there feeling excited and confident but realizing I could quickly get COMPLETELY lost, a girl who spoke good english sat down next to me. I couldn't pronounce or remember her name, but she was an angel set to guide me. She looked at the address I had written down and offered to take me there. We got off the cab at the right place, she paid for me (an unnecessary gesture) and we walked for a LONG time down endless backroads, passing exotic plants and lots people, trash, cows, and dogs. As we walked, I asked her about her life. She is 20 years old; her parents both died 2 years ago. She is working in a call center and looking for a good paying job so she can study hard and become an engineer. She asked several people for directions and we finally found the place. I NEVER would have found it alone. She started to walk away, without expecting anything in return. I gave her 40 rupees of gratitude, which she accepted very thankfully and surprisedly. I realized to my shame as I climbed the stairs that I had just given her 80 cents, which can go a pretty long way in India, but still was unworthy of my gratitude.

#2. Church was a wonderful experience. There were about 70 faithful indian saints all gathered together. They spoke english, and one of the speakers translated what he had just said into Tamil. They spoke on the importance and blessings of service, and choosing to be of good cheer in the midst of adversity. These same topics recur frequently in my home YSA ward, but somehow they took on a new meaning when they were spoken by these people. My adversities are "I am busy and I don't have a wife." Their adversities are "I am hungry and I don't have a job." But amazingly, Christ blesses and fills our inner needs in both circumstances and teaches us to be stronger than them. We sang "count your many blessings" as a closing hymn and I got ready to venture out into the world to find the eye camp my friends were at. But I was intercepted by 10 million members, some of the most friendly and kind people I have ever met. Everyone was instantly my friend. They found me a ride on the back of the district president's son's scooter. We navigated the CRAZY roads of Chennai with the one helmet he had. Mom, I won't tell you who wore it, just look up Shroedinger's cat theory and rest assured that we probably both wore it. :)
As we drove he told me how about 8 years ago, his mom was sick. His aunt said she would bring some brother from the church to give her a blessing. They didn't know what church it was. Two missionaries came and gave her a blessing. Afterwards, his older brother said, "How can I become like you men? I want to become exactly like you." The family was soon baptized, and the older son served a faithful mission. My scooter driver had finished his necessary schooling, was 22 years old, and was preparing to serve in the northern India mission this fall. He said it has been his desire ever since baptism. I asked him about arranged marriage in the church, and he said that in the church they have love marriages, and in India the culture is changing and tending toward this new love style.
After getting lost a few times, we arrived at the camp and I was happy and grateful the Lord kept track of a little american boy in a very big city.
A quote from church sums up my experience: "God does notice us, and he watches over us; but it is usually thru others that he answers our prayers. It is therefore imperative that we serve one another."

I apparently came just in time, because the man who owns the slum we set up camp in was a bit put out. He said that other groups brought better equipment and referred less people to the hospital then we do, and that we weren't giving out enough pairs of eyeglasses. (This is due strictly to the needs of the people; some need prescription instead of reading glasses. The fact that I was white was a saving grace for the camp. He happily had me sign his log book and took lots of pictures together. I said, "I'm not a doctor!" and he said, "Sign, "Peter, American Student" and your address in America." He was a sweet guy and bought us all a spicy meal eaten off of a giant banana leaf, with our fingers, after the camp was finished. We were able to see a lot of people and distribute a great deal of glasses. We also made some fun memories with the darling little kids. Because of the language barrier, I contribute little. Mostly I just point to letters on the eye chart, and play with the kids. Paper airplanes and origami boxes have been a big hit. They taught me to count to ten in Tamil.

I love India. I love Indian people. They are so good, so humble, and so easy to fall in love with.