The House of Life: Chapter 6

The question, “What brings you to Haiti?” is often used as part of the team’s first day at the clinic. Many tell stories of being invited by a friend who served on a previous team. Some speak of always wanting to serve in a foreign country. Others tell of wanting to give back, as they reflect on all they have been given.

Those who are on a FOTCOH team for the first time are nervous but eager for the adventure, and ready to get to work, not knowing what to expect. Those returning for their second or third trip are more relaxed as they know what is ahead, anxious to renew friendships and greet the Haitian people. Those who have been here two dozen or more times speak of long-term outcomes, and how much more healthy the local population is than when they made their first trip to the clinic.

On the first day of clinic, the large crowd of Haitians waiting outside the enclosed compound are brought inside and given medical care. It is a long day. The team works hard. And after the day is over, the conversation turns to the content, appreciative attitude of the poor, of a case that sticks in their mind because they were able to help that one in a special, personal way, and of how much we take for granted our access to medical care.

It is then that we realized that we are all in Haiti for the same reason.

-Kathy, Non-Medical Volunteer
September 2013



In 1989, Dick decided it was time to scope out other locations for the clinic outside of the parish hall. The clinics had been going well, but Father LaBourne had been transferred to another parish in Cayes-Jacmel, not far from Marigot, and he was no longer the priest overseeing St. Dominic’s Church. Although Father LaBourne had not been around for the clinics very often, having a busy schedule of his own, he had been making some of the arrangements for the team, and without him, and Lorriane, it just wasn’t the same. On top of that, the priest who replaced Father LaBourne didn’t seem to like the way Dick handled things, and he absolutely didn’t want to listen to what Dick had to say. After only one clinic was held at St. Dominic’s without Father LaBourne, Dick left Haiti knowing he would bring a team back the following year, but without knowing where they would be working.

Moving out of St. Dominic’s would mean big changes to Dick’s role and responsibilities. In order to find a new location to host the clinic, Dick needed to arrive in Haiti before the medical team to make preparations. This meant he would no longer be traveling with the team, ensuring they made it safely into the country. It also meant that he couldn’t guarantee a comparable living space or accommodations for sleeping, eating, and working. Returning volunteers had grown used to working in the parish hall, and they were familiar with the rectory at St. Dominic’s, and Dick didn’t know what the next place would have to offer. He was unsure of how he was going to make the move work, but he was sure of one thing—he did not want the medical team to disappear completely from St. Dominic’s Parish. It was important to him that the team stay close so the same patients they had been treating for years could still expect to receive medical care. Dick figured since he wasn’t going to go too far, it couldn’t be too hard to find a new location. Or so he thought.




When Dick flew into Haiti the next year, he arrived one week ahead of the volunteers. He figured it would give him plenty of time to find a place to host the clinic, find housing, and get the word out to the community where the team would be working.

He checked into the Hotel Cyvadier, one of the few hotels near Jacmel at the time. Located between Jacmel and Marigot, the hotel was a perfect central location for Dick to stay while he made plans for the upcoming clinic. It had small bungalows for guests, as well as a restaurant and bar. He liked the hotel immediately—the staff was friendly and welcoming. He often saw the owner sitting and chatting with visitors, making sure they were comfortable. The hotel also had access to a small public beach. The grounds were well kept, and the hotel had a large terrace where Dick could sit looking out over the water. The view was stunning, and served as a reminder that Haiti could compete with any Caribbean nation as an exquisite tourist destination.

Since Dick had traveled to Seguin with Father LaBourne previously, he thought it would be a good location to host the clinic. Even though he knew how treacherous the road to Seguin was, and what a long journey it was to get there, he had strong feelings about hosting the clinic in the mountains. The people in Seguin were especially bad off, and it wasn’t likely that any doctors were traveling to their poor community.

Dick made the drive up the mountain in a rental car he had gotten at the Port-au-Prince airport. He had made plans to meet with a pastor at the church in Seguin, whom he knew from his work with Father LaBourne. After their meeting, the pastor gave Dick permission to use a small government building in town to host the clinic. He took Dick to see the structure. It was not large, but it did have a separate reception area and a room that could be used for exams, giving the patients some much needed privacy. The team would be able to sleep at the church, where they would also be able to use the kitchen to cook. It was adequate, and Dick was satisfied that he had secured a decent location for the team.

Dick returned to the hotel. He was glad that plans for the clinic were falling so easily into place. He looked forward to the medical team’s arrival, satisfied that the first clinic outside St. Dominic’s Church was poised to be a successful one. Relaxing in his room in the Hotel Cyvadier that night, he couldn’t have dreamed the clinic in Seguin would turn out to be something he never, ever, wanted to repeat.

Right from the beginning, having the team in Seguin posed a whole new set of logistical problems. When the volunteers arrived in Haiti, Dick met them in Port-au-Prince. Instead of having a flight booked to Jacmel, Dick and the team would be driving to Seguin—it wasn’t possible to get everyone and the supplies up the mountain any other way. Because they had to go by car, it took them eight hours to get from the airport in Port-au-Prince to Seguin, which lost them a day of seeing patients just with travel.

The team had also arrived with more supplies than usual—not only did they bring medications, they were also transporting all their own food and cooking equipment up the mountain. Cooking—something that had never been much of a problem at the rectory in Marigot, largely because of Lorriane—was now a major task. When they started to prepare their first meal, they tried to use the gas stove and found that there was no gas. They hadn’t known they would have to supply their own. Dick had to hire someone to walk down to Jacmel and buy gas and bring it back. That alone was a whole day’s process. And nights were horrible. It was much colder in Seguin than in Marigot, and the team had not brought additional sleeping gear for harsh weather. Dick had never been cold in Haiti except for that trip to Seguin. It was so frigid and uncomfortable, it made it difficult to rest at night.

Dick also had to have an outhouse built on the side of the church to accommodate the team. Before the team arrived, he had hired a few local Haitians to do the job. The men made the outhouse walls by laying wooden slats horizontally, with about six inches between each board. When a volunteer would use the outhouse at night, a flashlight was necessary. With the flashlight turned on, light shined brightly between the spaces in the boards, exposing the use of the outhouse to anyone in sight. If the outhouse was being used during the day, it was likely that a Haitian child would walk by and notice someone using the facility. The children would grab onto a board an arm’s length above their head, and then hang down off the side, curiously peering in between the slats. From inside, only little sets of fingers and two eyes showed through to whomever was occupying the outhouse at the time. Needless to say, it was not very private.

Before the clinic had gotten underway, Dick had gone ahead and made arrangements for the volunteers to take turns getting a chance to relax. He made reservations at the Hotel Cyvadier for the middle of the workweek, to allow the volunteers to shower and regain their energy. So that they didn’t have to completely shut down the clinic, half the team would go down to the hotel one night and return the next day. Then, the other half of the team would go down the mountain and do the same.

Everybody seemed to enjoy the time off, but even the scheduled break managed to create an issue. The first group to head to the hotel included the two non-medical volunteers who were in charge of cooking—no one else had been in the kitchen. Since the remainder of the team was not used to portioning food for meals, when they made dinner for themselves that evening, they ended up using most of the food, leaving almost nothing for the entire rest of the week. And because Seguin was secluded and did not have markets to replenish food supplies, the team had to make do with few rations.

Back home, many years before, some friends had given Dick a T-shirt with the words “Dick’s Last Resort” written across the front. He had worn it to Haiti on this particular trip, and he thought it would be funny to turn the message into a welcome slogan for the volunteers. He had found a large white sheet and wrote the phrase across the fabric and hung it up on the wall inside the clinic at the beginning of the trip. At the time, Dick and the team hadn’t given the message much thought beyond a few laughs. But by the end of the week, they realized that the trip had, in fact, felt like a last resort.




Thinking back on the clinic in Seguin, the only really positive thing that stuck out in Dick’s mind was being able to help one particular young Haitian boy. The boy had tuberculosis. When he came to the clinic, the volunteers knew right away that they could not take care of him and that the best option would be to take the boy to Sister Patsy and the Missionaries of Charity. Knowing that part of the team was leaving that afternoon to go to the Hotel Cyvadier, Dick decided he and the boy would go with the group, stay at the hotel, and then he would take him to the Missionaries of Charity the following day. Unfortunately, the rental car they got for the trip was not in great shape, and as the vehicle slowly made its way down the mountain, the left rear wheel came completely off. Dick was sitting in the back seat when it happened, and he watched the wheel roll by and tumble off the mountainside. The car came to a stop just three feet from the edge of the cliff.

Everyone jumped out. They knew nothing could be done about the missing wheel, so they left the car on the side of the road—figuring out how to get the vehicle moved would have to wait until the team got the rest of the way down the mountain and the sick child was taken care of. The poor boy didn’t even have enough energy to walk. It took a few hours to make the trip, and the team took turns carrying him on their shoulders. Once they got to the hotel, Dick called the rental car agency in Port-au-Prince and requested that they send a replacement vehicle. They did so, and towed the three-wheeled vehicle from the side of the mountain. The next day, Dick took the boy to the Missionaries of Charity, and the team headed back to Seguin.

After they finished up the clinic for the week, and it was time to return to Port-au-Prince, Dick brought the second car back to the rental company. As he was settling up, he noticed on his bill that he was being charged for two missing side-view mirrors—mirrors that vandals had ripped off the abandoned car as it sat on the mountainside, waiting to be towed. Dick did not argue, and paid for the replacement mirrors. At least, he thought to himself, he hadn’t been charged for the missing wheel.

Dick later found out from Sister Patsy that the boy with tuberculosis had survived.




Seguin had been difficult, but Dick wasn’t going to give up, even though he had to change locations for the clinic—again. He knew he had to be more prepared next time. He had to get consistent help from someone in Haiti. He needed more than just a translator, like William Penn. He needed someone who could find a new building to host the clinic, make plans for housing the volunteers, purchase food and water, as well as hire translators and other Haitian staff. Dick needed someone he could rely on each time he came to Haiti, because there was too much for him to do by himself in the short amount of time before the teams arrived.


That person ending up being a man named Belony. Belony was from Jacmel and knew his way around town. He grew up as a street kid. Small and thin, he was known for being scrappy, a trait he most likely developed to make up for his size. He spoke English fluently, and he always spoke fast. He had a high-pitched voice, and the more excited he got, the higher his voice got. He could stir up excitement just with his presence.

Belony liked capitalizing on his English skills and knowledge of Jacmel to make whatever money he could. He would do anything to make a buck, often on his own terms, but he was also a hard worker. He was a regular at the Hotel Cyvadier, offering himself as a guide or an interpreter for tourists or businessmen who were visiting. Dick met Belony through two journalists who recommended him and vouched for the good work he did. He first worked with Dick as an interpreter for the medical volunteers in Seguin. Dick got to know him better and figured he would be a good resource, despite the fact that he wasn’t great at listening to Dick. After offering Belony the job, Dick asked him to find a decent place for the team to work, and Belony jumped right on the task. From then on out, Belony was a fixture at every clinic.

The first place Belony suggested to Dick was in Cap Rouge. Located in the steep sloping mountains directly above Cyvadier, Cap Rouge, like Seguin, was a farming community, where most of the residents grew vegetables and raised livestock. The residents of Cap Rouge were poor, and it was cold and rainy up in the mountains, making the living conditions difficult for the Haitians there. Hosting the clinic in Cap Rouge sounded like a good idea to Dick—he figured if doctors didn’t go to Seguin, they probably didn’t visit Cap Rouge either. He found out later that Belony hadn’t hesitated to forward his own agenda in recommending the location—his girlfriend lived in Cap Rouge. Regardless, they were both about to come across unexpected difficulties. When Dick arrived in Haiti that January, Belony had already secured a building for the team to use. He took Dick up to Cap Rouge to show him. Dick found the building to be adequate, but it was dirty, and in need of some fresh paint—he didn’t want patients to see a doctor in a dingy building. He wanted it to feel clean and look as new as possible.

Dick asked Belony to hire a few locals to paint inside the building. When Belony came back a few hours later with a small crew, Dick left careful instructions on how he wanted the building painted, as well as money for the paint to be purchased. He and Belony headed back to the Hotel Cyvadier.

When Dick returned to Cap Rouge a few days later to inspect the building, it hadn’t been painted. He was confused. His instructions had been specific—yet nothing had been done, and Dick was not happy about it. He went to see the mayor of Cap Rouge to ask if he knew what was going on. But when Dick approached him, the mayor wanted to talk about something entirely different. He told Dick he wanted to live in the building during the clinic so he could make sure he knew what was going on at all times. The mayor wanted to know which Haitians were being treated, and he wanted to have a say in which patients got to see a doctor. Dick told him that was not an option. He would never allow someone else to decide which patients came into the clinic or let another person have control over the security for the building. And he definitely wasn’t going to let anyone tell him how to run things. The mayor did not like Dick’s answer, and he insisted again that he would be moving into the building for the week. Dick’s answer to that was leaving Cap Rouge altogether.
It had been hard for Dick to leave, because it meant the people in Cap Rouge were not going to receive medical care from the team after all, but he had to put his foot down. He had already dealt with a similar situation with Father LaBourne’s replacement at St. Dominic’s Church. The priest there wanted to interfere with the way the clinic was run, and that had not sat well with Dick, so this was not going to fly either. When he and Belony got back to the hotel, they worked on finding a new building. Within a few days, they were able to secure a house in Cyvadier to host the clinic, and it ended up working quite well for the team. The facility in Cap Rouge never did get painted.





Traveling to Haiti before the medical team every year was wearing on Dick. Not only was it more time away from home, and Barb and the kids, but it was also stressful knowing the volunteers and the Haitian patients were dependent on his success. If he wasn’t able to secure a place for the clinic, and do it quickly, the team would be out of luck, and so would their Haitian patients. And, it seemed, wherever Dick tried to move the clinic, a problem followed.

After the Cap Rouge incident, Dick and Belony looked for a location closer to Jacmel, deciding to stay out of the mountains. They found a government dispensary in Marigot that was available for rent, and Belony arranged for the team to stay at guesthouses at nearby Ti Moulliage Beach. Ti Moulliage is an alluring white sand beach on the Caribbean coast, with small, privately owned houses stretching the kilometer of the beachfront. The guesthouses are mainly owned by foreigners who have purchased the property and then built small Haitian-style shacks made of local materials, mostly wood and steel, right on the beach. The owners use the guesthouses when they visit Haiti, and the rest of the time they are rented out, with Haitian staff managing the properties.

Ti Millouge worked fine for housing the team, except for one thing—when they arrived to check in, Dick and the team found that the water was not turned on at the guesthouses. Dick asked one of the volunteers to speak with the property manager about the issue, which he did rather quickly. The water was turned on within a few hours. Even though the plumbing at the guesthouses was relatively primitive—the indoor toilets were actually just outhouses inside the buildings—the team was thankful to know they would be able to wash their hands or take a shower after a long day of working at the clinic.

The clinic went well at the dispensary, with the team making the several-mile trip to and from Ti Mioullage on a daily basis, and the week went on without any trouble. Dick was relieved that they had managed to make it through without any major upsets. However, he was in for a surprise. As the team was packing their belongings from the guesthouses, the property manager who turned on the water approached Dick and asked him to settle up with the water bill.

“Water bill? What water bill?” Dick asked, confused.

The Haitian man insisted on receiving his payment for turning the water on at the guesthouses. Dick was stunned. No one had told him that the rental fees didn’t include water and that he would have to pay for it later. He thought it was suspicious that the bill hadn’t been mentioned until now. Still, he didn’t want to argue and decided to just pay up. Dick asked how much the fee was, and when the property manager told him the amount, it became clear to Dick that he was being taken advantage of. The price the manager was quoting was enormous, and he knew the volunteers couldn’t have used that much water—especially without indoor plumbing for the toilets.

The clinic was already operating on a shoestring budget. Dick couldn’t afford to go along with the property manager’s scheme. Though he didn’t feel good about it, he set up a plan to sneak out without the property manager noticing. Dick directed the volunteers to leave in different directions from the guesthouses, so that he could duck out without raising suspicion. He wasn’t proud of himself, but he felt he had done the only thing he could at the time. Of course, the team never stayed at those guesthouses again.

The following year, Dick and the team took up residency at a private house near the Hotel Cyvadier. Fortunately, the house was large enough for the team to sleep in and see patients in the same place.




One year, and only one year, Dick tried hosting multiple clinics at the same time. The team had grown to around fifteen volunteers, but this particular year, Dick arranged to bring seventy people to Haiti. He planned to break the volunteers up into six groups, and work in six different locations for two weeks, instead of their usual one week. The volunteers were staying all over the place—some stayed in guesthouses in Jacmel, a few were at a house near the Hotel Cyvadier, while others where in guesthouses in Marigot.

Dick had intended for the trip to act as training for people who wanted to bring their own medical teams to Haiti. As the word about St. Anthony’s Medical Mission spread outside of Bartonville, and outside of Illinois, Dick had more and more people asking how he got started, wanting to do something similar. He was happy to teach others what he had learned. He figured if he could help get more medical teams to Haiti, then more Haitians would benefit.

When Dick made the plan for the multiple clinics, he set up St. Anthony’s team at a dispensary in Cyvadier. He spent more of his time there, since it was in the most centralized location. He communicated with the volunteers at the other clinics through radios. Every day, Dick would visit each clinic, making sure the medical teams had what they needed and things were running as intended. In the end, although no major catastrophes occurred, Dick felt that bringing so many people to Haiti had maybe been a foolish thing to do. The clinics had operated just fine, but it had been difficult to answer all the questions that arose as well as deal with individual issues at each site. Not being available to offer advice in person was frustrating for Dick, and it was too hard to manage so much all at once. It was not a job that one person should have been doing on their own. And although the teams had treated patients successfully in the two-week period, Dick himself was spread too thin to feel really useful.

But, despite Dick’s personal outlook, it had been a good learning experience for those who wanted to bring their own medical teams to Haiti. Some of the groups that went on the trip to learn from Dick did return later with their own teams—some still work in Haiti today. For Dick, the biggest benefit of the multiple clinics was seeing how much it expanded his volunteer group. Several of the volunteers returned with Dick in the following years, and brought more volunteers with them, which was not only helpful, but a lot of fun. Dick loved getting to know the volunteers. Many of them he would have never met in his life if it weren’t for the clinics, and he found them delightful to be around. And one of the best parts of having so many wonderful volunteers was the amusing situations they created.

One evening, as the St. Anthony’s team was wrapping up for the day, one of the nurses told Dick she had a problem. She had needed to use the bathroom and she didn’t have a flashlight, so she borrowed one from another team member. But, while using the outhouse, she dropped the flashlight down the hole. Dick listened to her patiently, trying not to laugh. He knew he needed to keep a straight face since she was so worried about what she was going to do.

Dick paused before making a few suggestions. He first told the nurse she could find a rope and tie it to something, and shimmy down the hole herself to fetch the flashlight. Or, she could hire a Haitian to do the same for her. Or, lastly, he suggested, she could forget about it. Dick pushed for her forgetting about the flashlight, and telling whomever it was she borrowed it from that it was gone forever. Defeated, she took Dick’s advice, and left the flashlight in the outhouse. As she walked away, completely frustrated, Dick could no longer hold back his laughter.

A few days later, one of the medical volunteers, another nurse, was flummoxed when a Haitian man brought a patient into the clinic in a wheelbarrow. The nurse checked the patient’s vitals as usual, and after the man was wheeled away to see a doctor, she went to consult Dick. She told him that the man’s vitals were fine. He didn’t seem sick at all. He had even told the nurse he felt good. She was confused. She couldn’t understand why the man was in a wheelbarrow. Dick asked her if she checked the man’s legs after she checked his vitals. She said no, and asked what was wrong with his legs. Dick, motioning with his hand towards the man, who was by then chatting happily with the doctor, casually pointed out that he was missing a leg. Dick then paused and looked down at the ground, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled. The nurse was speechless.

The next year, Dick went back to hosting only one clinic. Belony found a triplex in Cyvadier, a little closer to the center of Jacmel. The building was called the Sea of Love, and was owned by a man from China who rarely used the building. The Sea of Love had three stories—the top floor housed the men’s dorm, the middle floor was for the women’s dorm, and the bottom floor was used for the clinic. It had a kitchen, and living space for the volunteers to relax as well. It worked well as a centralized place for patients to visit the clinic, and it was always much easier to have the team living and working in the same building, instead of in different places all over town. It worked well enough that Dick didn’t feel he needed to move the team around anymore. The Sea of Love served the team’s mission well for many years after.




Even with all the issues that arose, Dick had no regrets about moving the clinic from Marigot. He knew that if he hadn’t moved, he would have been in constant disagreement with the new priest. Dick couldn’t have someone trying to run the clinic for him. He worried that if he didn’t maintain control, people in the community would be excluded from being seen by a doctor, and he wanted to make sure that all of the Haitians in need of care had an equal chance at being treated. An added positive aspect in moving the clinic was that the team built a stronger reputation with the Haitians they were treating. The team’s increased exposure from moving around had helped build trust in the American doctors. The Haitian people were happy with the medical teams and pleased with the medication they were receiving.

Yet even though the clinics were running well, and the teams were seeing more and more patients every year, Dick felt in some ways the work was superficial. The volunteers were treating many returning patients who needed continuous care for conditions like diabetes or hypertension. They saw babies in need of more frequent checkups, and elderly patients living with chronic illnesses. But being in Haiti only once a year meant that the team was not able to provide regular care. They were not able to prescribe enough medication to last until the team returned, further disrupting the continuity of treatment. And it was becoming increasingly difficult for Dick to talk to the Haitian patients about why the team was in Haiti just once a year. Dick started to question it himself, and he began to wonder if he could do things differently so the team could be there more often and give patients the best care that they could provide.

Once again, Dick was reconsidering his efforts in Haiti. He wanted to do something bigger, something with a more lasting impact. He wanted to give the Haitian people something to rely on consistently. While at home, Dick and Barb discussed what they should do next. They were now both in their 50s, and it wasn’t too early to start thinking about what they wanted to do when they retired. They knew that, in some capacity, retirement would mean continuing to work with the Haitian people. Before beginning work in Haiti, Dick had always thought he would retire and get some woodworking equipment and start a few small projects, mostly just hobbies. He and Barb had talked about building another house in Peoria. But all that had changed in the last decade.

Neither Dick nor Barb wanted to spend their retirement being stagnant. Barb hadn’t even had a chance to get started working in Haiti. She had only ever had the opportunity to fundraise from home and talk about the medical missions. She had yet to be able to participate, and she was ready to do more just as soon as she was done teaching. Dick was worried that if he slowed down after retirement, it would shorten his life. But more than that, they both wanted to do something greater with the rest of their lives, and they knew they wanted to do it in Haiti.

Dick and Barb went back and forth for months, weighing their options. They wanted to continue with the medical missions, but only if the volunteers could see patients throughout the year. And they figured they could only do that if they could find a place the teams could call home—permanently. They wanted to find a building for the team that was for them only, where they could establish themselves formally and not have to pack up all their supplies each time they left Haiti. They wanted more teams to go to Haiti during the year so that patients could receive a regular supply of medication, and the team could track and record patients’ progress, and change their treatment plans as necessary.

Dick and Barb knew their idea would require much more of both of them. They would have to spend a lot more time in Haiti, as well as recruit more volunteers, hire additional Haitian staff, and find funding for a lot more medications for the added clinics. They would need money to purchase a building, buy medical equipment and beds and kitchen items, and they would need to buy a truck to get the team around.

Dick and Barb knew that if they dedicated themselves fully to their work in Haiti, they would be away from family—kids and grandkids. They would be away from their church and their friends. They would be away from their home and their community. They would miss birthday parties, graduations, weddings, and holiday celebrations. But what they missed at home would be replaced with friends in Haiti, as well as a new place to call home, a new church to attend, and new celebrations in life.

As they deliberated, they also prayed, asking for guidance. They promised God they would do whatever He wanted of them. If it was to dedicate themselves to working in Haiti, they hoped it meant they would be able to provide care on a continuous basis so they could truly help the Haitian people. And with that, they put their faith in devoting more time in Haiti, despite the inherent scarifies and unknown trials. They didn’t know where their plan or their prayers were going to lead them exactly, but they did feel strongly that it was time to become independent from St. Anthony’s. Dick and Barb wanted to create a separate organization so they could continue to make all their own decisions moving forward. And, more importantly, as they made plans to grow the teams, they wanted to make sure that it was understood that the medical missions were open to people of all religious backgrounds—any volunteer willing was welcome to work alongside them in Haiti.

At home, they got to work establishing a new organization. They hired a lawyer to file paperwork and talked to the church members and St. Anthony’s Medical Mission supporters about their plan to create a distinct entity. The next time Dick went to Haiti, he arrived a week before the team, but this time, the building he was looking for was one to purchase. It only took Dick a few days to realize that a building did not exist near Jacmel that offered everything that was needed to run an efficient clinic. Defeated, he returned home, and talked to Barb about other options. After plenty of discussion, they realized that there was only one way to permanently establish the medical missions they envisioned in Haiti—Dick and Barb were going to have to build a clinic.