Bienvenidos, Mr. Ben y Mr. Yon!

We all, in our formative years, have that epiphanic experience that hurtles us on the trajectory to our field of study and eventual career.
My such experience took place when I accompanied my Dad, Dr. Bruce Gebhardt, on a Shoulder to Shoulder brigade to Santa Lucia in 2009. I was only fourteen at the time and my official position on the brigade roster was “Sherpa”— I really served only to help doctors set up shop and run errands. Nevertheless, it was simply the coolest thing I had ever done! The exposure to the sights and sounds of Intibucá, serving the various communities in the area, the choco-bananas and the riding around in the back of trucks left me with a love of travel and international development. Ever since my brigade experience in 2009, I have focused my studies towards international politics and foreign language, all the while thinking, “man, I hope one day I can go back to Honduras and offer a bit more to the organization and the community than my services as a Sherpa.”

Flash-forward to 2016, and I am spending my summer as a teaching assistant in the Good Shepherd Bilingual School in Camasca—and my long anticipated return to Honduras, in which I will hopefully be able to more substantially contribute to the community, has been wonderful so far.
Anecdotes aside, allow me to introduce myself and the other newly arrived English teaching assistant that will be working at the school this summer—My name is Ben Gebhardt, and I am a rising senior at John Carroll University. With me as an assistant teacher at the bilingual school is my friend John Stefanick, a rising senior at the University of Pittsburgh. The two of us are here to help out at Good Shepherd from May to August, and our first couple of weeks in Intibucá have been great to us.

Camasca is a beautiful little pueblo about three hours away from La Esperanza. Its inhabitants are welcoming, engaging and very proud of the strong reputation that their village has on the frontera. Their pride is well merited—Camasca’s cobble-stoned streets are immaculately clean, there is a restaurant with a killer menu and the village is home to the only gym/weight room in this part of Honduras. But most importantly, the village holds the unique distinction as host of the nation’s only government-sponsored bilingual school.
We have gotten a very warm bienvenidos from just about everybody in the town. In our first days in Camasca, Profe Iris brought us some banana chips as a welcoming present, Profe Edwin invited us to join a teachers-only soccer team and the whole staff at the bilingual school made sure that we felt very invited to their ranks.

And, of course, we have made fast friends with the bright young students of the Good Shepherd Bilingual School. John has thus far been helping out with the second graders (who, amidst their difficulty in pronouncing the “j” in English, have taken to calling him “Mr. Yon”). I have spent much of my time with the Kindergarteners, who, by virtue of their age, have been great fun to work with—very energetic and quick to learn.
Having spoken with the teachers, we have determined that our special contribution to the school this summer will be the implementation of a “Reading Corner.” Starting next week, we will be taking small groups of students aside throughout the course of the day in order to focus on reading books in English language, hoping to hone their skills in vocabulary and grammar as well as to cultivate in them a love of literature.

At any rate, this former Shoulder to Shoulder Sherpa is greatly anticipating the next couple of months’ work in the bilingual school. The eager children, the dedicated teachers and the welcoming village will surely make this summer rewarding on all fronts.

March 15, 2016June 16, 2023

Don't Mind Us, We're Fine

Did you ever feel like you were getting lost in the shuffle? Mountain Area Health Education Center (MAHEC) must have felt that way while they were visiting Camasca on their brigade a few weeks ago. They were here for two full weeks, doing amazing work, but we must apologize for not giving them a lot of attention. I feel like I need to put some effort in my excuse for being so inconsiderate. There were only five of them: three physicians, one pharmacist, and one exceptionally talented fifteen-year old named Henry (son of Amy, one of the physicians). Five people can easily get lost, right? Besides, the whole time they were here, we had all sorts of other, bigger brigades coming and going. Our first ever surgical brigade demanded a great deal of our attention. Not to mention Brown/Wingate in Guachipilincito, VCU/FFPCS in Pinares, and a dental brigade jumping back and forth between Concepcion and Santa Lucia. February was one tremendously busy month. So, if the five people who spent time in Camasca felt as if they were neglected, you are probably right, and we’re sorry. But no one ever complained.

Perhaps I’m being a bit hard on myself. Truly, these five individuals were not at all demanding. If the squeaky wheel gets the grease, the quiet wheel simply turns unnoticed. The MAHEC brigade members unpretentiously arrived in town and checked into the local hotel. They got all their meals at the restaurant. Every day, they simply walked over to the health clinic or they spent some time at our bilingual school doing health screenings and playing with the kids. Henry, the fifteen year old who has fallen in love with the little town of Camasca, spent his days at the bilingual school. Henry was doing so well at the bilingual school that we were trying to sign him up as a volunteer. There’s that crazy little catch about having to finish High School.

He and his mom had been here before. MAHEC is very familiar with and well known by the town of Camasca. It wasn’t any big deal for them. I guess they just kind of blended in. Their service was actually profound, but it was administered with such subtlety that it demanded no praise. I realize now why it was that the few times I had the fortune to visit with them I felt so relaxed. It was as if they were saying to me, “Look, just leave the special china in the cabinet. We’re good with the plastic ware.” There’s an integrity in such service that we would all do well to emulate.

They seemed to do it all on their own with very little help from us. But lest you all think that we didn’t notice the amazing work you did, the beauty of the just relationships you committed yourselves to, and the special place you hold in the hearts of the people of Camasca and particularly the students at our bilingual school, we just want to say THANK YOU. I’m sure you’ll be back. Don’t forget to tell us when you’re coming.

September 19, 2015June 16, 2023

Rock, Paper, Scissors

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Rock, Paper, Scissors

Rock, Paper, Scissors. You might remember this game, also called Roshambo, from your childhood, or perhaps you still play it to decide who gets to take out the garbage. Depending on the throw of your hand to symbolize one of the three elements, it clearly decides a victor and a loser. Rock crushes scissors. Scissors cut paper. Paper covers rock. Though the latter seems a bit dubious and forced. I would think that rock would always win, but then the game wouldn’t make much sense. In any case, the game supports the idea that life is about competition. There are always winners and losers. I guess it takes wisdom to realize that sometimes collaboration is the best game plan.

A few weeks back, some of the board members were here in Honduras holding intense and exhausting meetings and implementing big decisions. At the end of one of these long, somewhat stressful days, we sat around our house in Concepcion telling our war stories of our younger days. Remember that scene in Jaws when police chief Martin Brody, oceanographer Matt Hooper, and Captain Quint finally sit down in the boats cabin and begin to bond. They’re telling stories, each outdoing the other with how scarred they had become from life events. It’s a macho, competitive bonding, but a bonding none-the-less. Then the shark starts banging on the boat, first subtly then violently, and for the rest of the movie, the three have to put aside their macho attitudes and work together, even to the point of sacrifice.

That was how our stories were being told at our house in Concepcion. One particular story, and I will attempt to protect identities here by not saying who told it, was particularly pertinent. Apparently in the early days of Shoulder to Shoulder, this particular individual was trying to make himself useful. He had no particular medical skills, but there was a construction project at the time. He found himself breaking up rocks with a sledge hammer (a very common activity at construction sites in Honduras). Next to another volunteer also breaking up rocks, his male ego spirited him into competition, his pride insisting that he could break up more rocks than the other guy. His ego darn near killed him. Later in the day, the doctors at the site needed forms to record their medical encounters with patients. This was something he knew he could do, so he ran off and made the forms. When he came back with them, the same man with whom he had been breaking rocks, complained that the forms were too big. They wasted paper, a precious commodity in Honduras. He ran back, mumbling to himself, but desperately wanting to be of assistance. He remade the forms, found scissors and cut the paper into fourths, and came back with them proud and in need of someone’s gratitude. Of course, no one thanked him.

At this point, his rock, paper, scissors game had left him somewhat disheartened. He wanted to be the winner. He wanted to feel that he was needed and important. Maybe this mission work thing wasn’t for him after all. Let alone that he wasn’t the hero, he wasn’t even appreciated. But maybe it was then that the shark started banging up against the bottom of the boat. Someone carried a seriously injured man to the brigade team. Everyone needed to drop what they were doing to assist. Within moments, without consideration of any rocks, paper, or scissors, without a desire to win or a fear of losing, he desperately applied pressure against the man’s wounds. He was covered in blood. When it was all over, he sat alone to reflect. He only then understood the meaning and import of service. He realized it was not about his need to feel important or appreciated, there weren’t any winners or losers, but it was only about collaboration and the sincere response to need.
Shoulder to Shoulder has just implemented some major changes in its structure and its organization. We’ve done so, as I see it, because we are growing. Our organization has expanded the scope and size of its service and mission. There is simply a great deal more to accomplish and our administration is more demanding. There is also more pressure to increase our resources to meet the mission. It is a time of great opportunity, and also a time of great challenge. With so much change and growth, so much pressure, and great demand, there may be a tendency to become self-centered. It may cause us to think I can be the hero, I will be the one to lead and save us. This game of rock, paper, scissors would be a fool’s journey. Better that we recognize how we got here in the first place. It was a collaborative effort, a commitment in service and partnership, a working shoulder to shoulder to bring about substantive and sustainable change. This is an honorable mission that supports and sustains the dignity of all involved: those who serve and those served.

Laura and I are honored to be part of Shoulder to Shoulder. We ask for everyone’s shoulder of commitment as we continue and expand this mission of dignified service.