"On A Mission" - Texas Veterinarian

By Jodi Sexton, DVM

This is the lead article from the August 2003 issue of the Texas Veterinarian. Editor's note: Each year a group of veterinarians from across the country travel to Honduras for a week of veterinary mission work. This year, four students from the Texas A&M University College of Veterinary Medicine - David Allman, Carrie Van De Wiele, Cecilia Guerrero and Rebecca Wind - participated in the trip. For more information, contact Dr. Bill Campaigne at lonstar@the-cia.net or (830) 379-3821.

IT WAS LATE IN THE AFTERNOON OF MY second day in Honduras when I saw the little girl approaching. She looked about 6 years old, standing there in her dusty, tattered green dress and clutching a blue, white and red rice sack in her arms, her face quiet and solemn.

"Hola," I said in my best Spanish as I stooped down, smiling, to see her. "What do you have in your bag?"

She didn't say a word to me, just held the bag out in silent request. I reached in and pulled out a small black and white cat. Scrawny, covered in fleas, with dirty ears and a big pot-belly that probably meant worms, he sat quietly in my hands as I examined him. The little girl watched as I quickly vaccinated him for rabies and three cat diseases, dewormed him, wiped out his ears and applied medicine to kill his fleas. "What is your cat's name?" I asked her as I gave him a kiss on the head and handed him back into the safekeeping of her sack. She adjusted his head so that he could see out of the bag and breathe comfortably, and as she looked up at me she suddenly smiled and her whole face glowed as she said, "Negrito." It seems that just like in my clinic in the United States, "Blackie" is a common name for a black cat. I smiled as I touched her lightly on the head and said a silent prayer that she and her kitten would be watched over and kept safe for another year. Then she turned, barefoot, to start her mile-long walk home. I looked over at the rest of my group to see if any of them had seen the angelic little girl.

There were five of us working in my group that day, all from different backgrounds, different geographical locations, and different reasons for being there. An industrial veterinarian and an 18-year-old rising sophomore from Appalachian State University were treating a pregnant mare and foal in the flimsy wooden chute while on the other side of the clearing a master scheduler from a large manufacturing company and a newly ordained Episcopal priest wrestled a 200-pound pig who did NOT want to be vaccinated. We were all tired and dirty and somewhat dehydrated, but we kept on treating animals until no more were brought to us that day. At the end of the day we piled in the back of an old pick-up and bounced and bumped over dirt roads for an hour on our way back to Siguatepeque, the town where we were staying.

The diversity of my group was reflected in the other two veterinary groups and in the public health group present on the St. Andrew's Honduras Mission Trip in May 2003. We had all come, together, as a group has for 16 of the past 17 years, to provide veterinary care in remote villages, teach children basic public hygiene, and spread a message of love and faith. Our supplies are funded by private donations, fundraisers and generous contributions from pharmaceutical companies. All people who travel with the group pay their own airfare, lodging, food and other expenses, and they often bring medicines and gifts from their own clinics and homes. This year approximately $4000 will be used to provide safe, clean water in the local women's birthing center in Siguatepeque. Tuition is also being paid for almost 400 Honduran children to attend the local school.

In our sunrise service each day, our priest offered words of motivation and inspiration, and I remember him saying one day that we should be open to what was in front of us at all times. "We come into these trips expecting to change people," he said, "while ultimately we are the ones changed." And so we were, and we are, each of us changed for the experience we shared.

Every year I go I learn much about the world and people around me. Children need love, and if they find some in the face of their cat, or dog, or horse, then it is our obligation to take care of that bond. A priest may not have all the answers simply because he is a priest, but his love shines through and fills in the gaps. Old friends are not lost simply because they are geographically removed from us, and sharing experiences with my best friend makes everything better.

There were seven veterinarians and 17 non-veterinarians on the three vet teams. There were four people in the public health group. In five days in Honduras we treated 884 horses, 884 cows, 1,041 dogs, 102 cats, 51 goats 352 pigs, 924 chickens, and 17 assorted birds and rabbits, for a total of 4,255 animals. The public health group taught 1,539 children about brushing their teeth. We traveled to 22 villages. Every year we measure our success by these numbers, as evidence of lives that we have touched.

But for me, one small girl and her small black kitten make everything worthwhile.

Donations to help send veterinary mission teams from the Diocese to:

Diocese of West Texas (marked for vet teams)

P.O. Box 6885

San Antonio, TX 78209

Attention:  Betty Chumney