--Master Cheng Yen

On October 31, 2003, my cousin, Rolex, his good friend, Manuel, and I landed in Santo Domingo. The flight from Saint Martin took little less than an hour. As we walked across the tarmac and down the long corridors of the airport terminal, I felt mildly uneasy being a novice volunteer in such scope. Rolex, who had visited the Tzu Chi headquarters in Hualien as well as the branch offices in New York and New Jersey, easily identified our fellow visitors from abroad who were queuing to pass customs. Out of the group from New Jersey, most familiar to him was Dr. Lin Tzu Ri, of whom I had heard so much and seen in photographs back in Saint Martin. When Rolex introduced us to each other, I did not recognize her face, and I suddenly realized that I had mistaken another woman for Dr. Lin up until that moment! But as sure as we had never met before, I instantly felt a comforting karmic relationship with her. Before I had a chance to return Dr. Lin's greeting, tears were trickling uncontrollably from my eyes. My heart told me this trip was going to be very meaningful.

The first day of our Tzu Chi free clinic in the Dominican Republic began promptly before dawn on November 1. Travel to the region of Azua would take two and a half hours each way. As we traveled westward from Santo Domingo, the morning sun's gentle glow gradually brightened up our route, and the shadowy silhouettes of the countryside grew vivid with color. The landscape in the Dominican countryside was beautiful with its lushly forested mountains and rolling verdant hills, and shared an equal majesty with the open expanse of blue sky and crisp clouds above.

The particular village we visited was called Sajanoa, where medical and dental care were in exceedingly high demand. Statistics gleaned from previous Tzu Chi free clinic reports indicated that a large percentage of the rural inhabitants were suffering from malnutrition and early-onset glaucoma. Although the land was quite rich and fertile, the natives lacked the education and means to farm the land effectively. As we approached the outskirts of the tiny village, we drove through a shimmering stream in which a small group of children were playing gleefully. It was such a pleasant sight to see and it would only make me feel more deeply for what I would see later in the day.

At the school site where the free clinic would be conducted, hundreds of people gathered eagerly outside of the school's mesh fence and waited to be admitted onto the premises. The sound of Tzu Chi tunes could be heard over the loudspeaker, and the school sign over the main entrance which read "Escuela Inicial Y Basica Sajanoa" was complemented by the bold red and white of the Tzu Chi banner and the serene portrait of Master Cheng Yen. Inside the classrooms, all was abuzz as Tzu Chi volunteers--whether new or experienced, foreign or native, young or old--helped each other set up the necessary equipment and facilities, put antibiotics, vitamins, and dental hygiene products into packages, and reviewed the procedures to be followed in each area. When the time for the start of the clinic drew closer, the atmosphere of cooperation and collegiality was maintained also by Tzu Chi commissioners who encouraged a cheerful setting in the playground, where desks were placed for the first group of patients admitted. Each commissioner interacted with the patients by singing and clapping to Tzu Chi tunes. It was obvious that Mandarin Chinese sounded like a funny foreign tongue to many of the Spanish-speaking natives, but the children's smiles and giggles were very innocent and pure.

Sister Tzu Li (Santo Domingo) and Sister Ru Long (NJ) delivered opening speeches to address the Tzu Chi mission, the efforts of the local volunteers as well as those from abroad, and the expectations of the day. When Sister Tzu Li spoke in Spanish, I was touched to see many of the elderly patients express their gratitude by putting their palms together in a silent gesture of appreciation. As soon as the prayers were over, the crowd bubbled with excitement--patients went hither and thither looking for their designated rooms, volunteers directed people to the appropriate corridor or building, children and their mothers scurried to secure a seat. Besides being poor, many of the patients were members of single-parent families where the mother was the sole provider for three or four children (not necessarily born of the same father), single elderly folk, unemployed males, and teenaged girls experiencing their second or third pregnancy.

Although many of the young children were disheveled in their grooming and attire, they were clearly vivacious and beautiful. A 48-year-old grandmother came with two young grandchildren. The parents of these children had gone to live and work in the city, leaving the ailing grandmother to take care of the kids. After the Tzu Chi doctors diagnosed the grandmother with malnutrition, bronchitis, and rheumatic sores, she was provided with packages of antibiotics and multivitamins to aid in her recovery. She said she had heard about the free clinic a few months earlier and now that she had received the medical attention she needed, she was truly grateful to Tzu Chi and looked forward to another free clinic in the near future.

While the activity at the school continued, I had the opportunity to join the Tzu Chi commissioners and the local director of medicine in paying visits to twelve local residents who either had attended previous Tzu Chi free clinics or were too ill to travel to the school site that day. Along the way, toys and sweets were given to local children, who watched our every move. Each child had such a disarming disposition; the look of curiosity in the children's eyes gave way to one of delighted surprise when they saw the small gifts in the commissioners' extended hands. Every one of us smiled broadly at the seemingly small but sincerely kind exchange.



There are always people who suffer more than we do. It is much more fortunate to serve others than to be served by others.

--Master Cheng Yen


Not too far from the school sat the former local clinic building. The vacant center housed only a few chairs, a medical chair, and a couple of empty filing cabinets. There was neither running water nor electricity, and the director told us that the government had delayed providing funding for community medical care. The reason for the lack of funding was mainly political: with each re-election politicians would claim to improve the living conditions for the people; however, the legislation passed by one party was readily disposed of by the replacing party, and funds were often misappropriated, continuing a cycle of corruption. The director went on to say that the locals are reluctant to seek the help of medical professionals as frequently as they should--only an organized event such as a Tzu Chi free clinic would attract them to seek the care they need.

A mottled dirt road led us through the village to the patients registered on the visitation list. I remember most clearly a particular new patient whose name was not on the list. She was a single elderly woman now under the intermittent care of her neighbors. She was blind. Her makeshift house was a construction of rotting wooden planks, rusty metal scraps, and thatch. Upon visiting her in what she called her home, we caught her sitting idly in the midst of billowing smoke from an open fire pit. She seemed quite unbothered by the thick smoke, ashes, and fumes that clouded the small living space. It was obvious that she had not had either a decent change of clothing or a bath in a very long time--soot layered her clothes strewn over a stump outside, and we later discovered that there was no water from the well by her house. We invited her to sit in the open air outside and tell us something about herself. A friendly goat pranced into the house, but then shuffled jauntily to join the elderly lady when she summoned him with a sharp snap of her fingers. She told us that she had no family and was under the care of her neighbors who did what they could to help her. I felt very sorry for her, for the circumstances of her life. My feelings were shared by the others, and soon enough, notes were written down to ensure that in the future she would receive provisions of clothing, cooking utensils, blankets, and necessary household items from Tzu Chi.

When we returned to the free clinic site, the crowd was dissipating from the grounds and was beginning to gather in a courtyard across the road. Lively Latino music played loudly over the speakers while happy-go-lucky members of the community played cards and dominoes, danced, and socialized with each other. Inside the school, Tzu Chi volunteers began packing equipment and cleaning up--soon the school was back to its original state.

Before we left, I noticed the corporate vendors' tents that seemed to stand guard at the village entrance. The flashy awnings advertised names of certain multibillion-dollar companies and images that easily caught the eye. The world is filled with so many of these soft drink, liquor, and junk food companies, each ostensibly trying to appeal to the tastes of the masses while insidiously exploiting the most vulnerable of the consumer market--the underprivileged, the poor, the needy. It is unfortunate that people in general are willing to spend their money on "popular foods" but are not educated well enough to realize the lack of nutritional value of these products. On our way back to the city, I thought about the villagers and how the enticing image of a certain product can lure one to believe that he or she "belongs" if they buy or own something with a name brand. I thought of how we often look outwardly to some thing to give us that sense of security when really the essence of truth resides within.

On November 1, we drove for two and a half hours through a thick downpour to Tzu Chi School in La Romana. Being a teacher myself, I was eager to see what the Tzu Chi School community was like, for I had seen clips of the before-and-after stages of the town--once the site of a garbage dump, the town was now fit for human habitation. When we arrived, the rain seemed to shower down even more heavily; but although many of us were still a little drowsy from rising so early, our spirits were far from being dampened. Preparation work began as soon as we got out of the van. As I roamed around the school grounds, I noticed that the surrounding village was a group of colorful houses and huts much like those in Sajanoa. It was hard to believe that Tzu Chi had helped transform this place almost single-handedly.

The opening ceremony began on time and I was impressed to see the large number of children clad in Tzu Chi school uniforms, responding so well to their teachers' instructions and behaving so courteously to each other. I could see that the students took much pride in being a part of the Tzu Chi school community. Honorable mentions were made to acknowledge outstanding students; each also received a mountain bike in recognition of his or her academic achievements. While they were being photographed, the students seemed to contain their excitement, but the sparkle in their eyes bespoke their happiness.

The free clinic was conducted expeditiously because a large number of the patients who were expected to arrive did not appear. However, the crowd that gathered outside of the school gates was still quite large. A couple of hours after the rain had subsided, the midday heat was oppressive. Suddenly, a stressed mother waiting in the line cried out as her seven-year-old daughter had fainted in her arms. Brother Chang scooped the frail girl into his arms, rushed her into the schoolyard, and placed her on a medical table. I was impressed at how calmly Brother Chang, Peter, Sister Tina, and Michelle controlled the growing crowd of curious onlookers. The young girl was soon revived with water and biscuits. Needless to say, her mother expressed her deep gratitude for helping her and her child.

Manuel, who is originally from La Romana, was impressed with the great amount of work Tzu Chi had been doing in the underprivileged parts of the world, especially in his native land. He expressed his thoughts and feelings about his willingness to help the needy in Saint Martin and how he would begin to use his new insights when he returned to the island to improve his own life through community service. He was sure his parents in Saint Martin would be proud of him.

Our last day together as a Tzu Chi group in Santo Domingo was Monday, November 3, 2003. The last place we visited was Hogar Luby, the city's center for the mentally and physically challenged. Of all the places we had been to in those few days, I still feel the most pity for the people in this place. Although I had done volunteer work with handicapped children in Saint Martin, I was not prepared to see this.

As we entered the building, a nurse welcomed us and Commissioner Tzu Li handed her a provision of diapers for the center's young residents. The nurse guided us up the stairs to where the seniors lived. I could hear excited voices greet us from down the hall. The welcomes had come from a dim room in the back where a small group of elderly women were eating their lunch. The happy ladies smiled and expressed their relief to see us, for they rarely received visitors.

We proceeded into the connecting room where bedridden residents lay motionless. We asked them how they were feeling and what ills had befallen them. A particular resident of Chinese origin caught our attention. The nurses said that she had been left at the center by her father who never came back to see her. Apparently, she had no family of her own and contact with next of kin was hopeless. She spoke Cantonese and since I, too, spoke the same dialect, I was urged to say a few words to her; but I found myself speechless, transfixed. I was not accustomed to seeing someone in such a disabled state, much less being in such close contact with her. I was afraid--afraid for this neglected human being who needed my compassion, afraid for myself who could not readily lift her spirits. Moments passed until Dr. Lin encouraged me to ask the lady how she felt, where she was born, and how long she had been a resident at the center. Dr. Lin also guided me to tell her that she should make an effort to get out of bed and to walk around whenever she could in order to improve her blood circulation, for her thick fingernails had grown upturned and black. I grasped the lady's hand. As I stroked the back of her delicate hand, I felt my fear slowly recede with each brush.

Upstairs was the floor for the physically and mentally challenged children. Before we reached the landing, I could hear squeals and moans coming from the young residents. In the first room we entered, there were close to a dozen young children no more than five years old. Only one nurse was feeding the entire group until we lent her a helping hand. I noticed upon closer observation that the oatmeal porridge these children were being fed was cold and lumpy, and there was no water for the children to drink. I asked a nurse if I could have a bottle of water to give to the frail boy I was feeding. After he took a few sips, he ate each mouthful heartily. The only word I knew in Spanish (other than "agua") was "bueno," and I repeated it over and over while I fed him. His endearing smile was so poignant, for I knew that he understood he was the "good" boy I was praising.

While the Tzu Chi commissioners explored the rest of the floor, a boy around the age of six or seven grabbed hold of Brother Chang's hand. Apparently the young boy had just finished being bathed, for his hair was still dripping wet. But this did not deter him. He paced barefoot into the feeding room and immediately rushed to scoop handfuls of cold leftover porridge into his own mouth. How hungry this child must have been! He ate ravenously until there was nothing left in the bowl. All the while, he never loosened his grip on his newfound friend.

As I walked into the adjoining rooms, I was told that the female residents were housed separately from the males. However, each area had a caged-off section to protect immobile residents from active, uncontrollable ones. I was incredulous at the sordid and inhumane setting in which these children lived. From behind the bars a group of caged residents reached out to us, flailing their arms and legs with shrieks and whimpers that sounded like pleas to release them. I stood inert at the threshold, stunned by the chaotic atmosphere and the stifling odor in the air.

In the female section, blank-faced children were strapped into rickety cribs or ragged strollers. When the Tzu Chi commissioners bent down to embrace or play with a helpless resident, the blank expression on the child's face would slowly turn into a smile. A few of the little girls even chuckled. Tucked away in a gloomy corner of the room, a gaunt little girl lay silently in her crib, her eyes gazing fixedly at the ceiling. She was dressed in a frilly pink dress with matching pink barrettes in her braided hair. I noticed that she had lesions on her exposed arms and legs, and I wondered what had caused the wounds. For a moment I hesitated to touch her, but then I drew in a deep breath and bolstered my courage. After the first pat I gave her, the little girl began to weep. I started to praise her with "bueno," but her crying persisted, growing louder with every touch. I realized that she must have been longing for some one's gentle touch, for someone to let her know she was a "good" girl, a loved child. I was sad at the thought of having to leave her alone again.

The scene at the center was truly lamentable, but from the residents' reactions I knew that they were truly gladdened by the arrival of Tzu Chi faces. When we were leaving, some of the children continued to laugh, some cried, some smiled, some seemed unaware. When we got outside, the afternoon sun was bright and passing cars on the city street zoomed by--the outside world was going about its own business. I wondered how many people living in Santo Domingo were aware of what existed in the center, and who, if they ever did find out, would selflessly go there to offer a helping hand?



Education that can be taught is found in schools; education that must be learned is found in communities.

--Master Cheng Yen


Since my return to Saint Martin, I have often thought about my experience with Tzu Chi and what experiences are yet to occur. I wonder: How I can do my small part to help the needy who come into this world and leave without anyone to love them in spite of their differences or karma? I know that there is much more I must learn, see and do, much more personal growth, understanding and acceptance I must continue to develop in order to give selflessly and fearlessly. I am trying my best to be a good Tzu Chi volunteer in action here in Saint Martin not only by caring for elderly folk, disabled children, and orphans, but also by being kind, thoughtful and grateful to people I interact with, my family, my friends. Ultimately, I realize that people, whether they live in Santo Domingo or Sajanoa or La Romana or anywhere else in the world, whether they are able-bodied or disabled, young or old, whatever afflictions they may suffer, are human beings who need to receive the gift of unconditional love; and I realize how wonderfully special and meaningful it is to be able to offer the gift of pure Great Love.