In which Tim and Kim get engaged (to each other)...

It gives me great joy to announce my engagement to Kimberly Dykwell, my girlfriend of the past year. I proposed to her yesterday evening, at the restaurant in Santo Domingo where we had our first date, and I was very pleased that she said yes. I can't wait to begin our life together! Knowing and loving her has been the most exciting and wonderful experience of my life, and I am so thankful to God for all that He has done to bring us together. I am very blessed.

Kim, like me, is a Peace Corps volunteer here in the Dominican Republic. We met a few months after I arrived, and began our relationship in December 2008. She lived about seven hours away from me at the time, so we were only able to see each other a few times a month. She extended her service, though, and was able to move to a town about 30 minutes away from my community, where she has been living for the past four months. It has been so neat to share the Peace Corps experience with her. We have shared so many memorable experiences, like walks on gorgeous beaches, funny cross cultural experiences, killing tarantulas with machetes, and so much more.

I've known that I wanted to spend my life with her since pretty much the second date, but getting a proposal arranged was logistically complicated. I had to arrange for the purchase of a ring in America, get it safely shipped here, think of a creative way to propose, all while concealing it from the person who I spend a large amount of my time with. Not easy, but it all worked out. I prepared a photo album for Kim, which contained a poem about the story of our relationship and relevant photos. I carved a hole in the final page, where I stuck the ring. She read the book, turned the page, saw the ring, and exclaimed "WHAT??". I got down on one knee, told her how much I loved her, and asked if she would like to spend her life with me. She said yes!

We are so excited about this time in our lives. We finish our Peace Corps service in about two months, and will be returning to the US. We will announce an official date for the wedding as soon as we get home, if not earlier. We are so happy that during our trip in June Kim was able to meet so many of my friends and family, and that I was able to meet hers. We look forward to seeing many of you this summer, and sharing our joy with you! Thanks for the love and support.

Regarding relief...conclusions

I left the hospital this morning, and I am on my way home. The past week feels like it has lasted a year. I suppose it's the combination of long hours and high amounts of sensory and emotional in-put. I have learned a lot, and I doubt I will be able to unpack it all for a while.

I have a lot of seemingly contradictory emotions. I feel joy for things like Haitians escaping from rubble, American doctors giving up time and resources to help people they have never met, and people working together for a common goal despite linguistic and cultural differences. I also feel discouragement about the sheer size of the crisis, and the number of obstacles that are preventing real solutions from emerging. Selfishness, incompetence, corruption, despair, and racism remain strong.

It is saddening to hear the pain in one individual person's story, and then to multiply that pain by the number that have been killed or displaced. It is a little overwhelming.

But as my new friends like to sing: Haiti is Alive! I hope I get a chance to continue being connected with relief efforts. I definitely want to keep doing this stuff in my career.

Thanks for following my story. I am going to bed now.

Regarding relief...Day 6

It is my last night here at the hospital. My shift is over, and another volunteer has come to relieve me of my duty with the translators. It is hard to believe it's only been a week. I feel very close to the people I have spent time with, and it feels like a year.

Despite the sadness of the situation we are responding to, there are things happening that give me a continuing faith in the capability of people to cultivate good in the midst of evil. This evening I walked around the camp for my last night time round. I visited with some patients, and went to a neighborhood store with some American doctors, chatting about life and enjoying the cool evening breezes. Then I made my way to the front porch, where I spent some time joking around with some of the Haitian workers and learning new words in Kreyol. I went into the hospital and took a look at a baby who was born here in the hospital just a few days ago. Then I went upstairs where the Spanish team of medics insisted on hanging out with me on my last night, and we ended up staying awake until 1 AM, eating, drinking and laughing.

In a time of despair, people still laugh. In the midst of brokenness, people from different nations come together to find community. People may die, but new life is still beginning. Everywhere I look I see signs of hope. The Haitian people have dealt with so much difficulty for so long, and this earthquake was a real sucker punch. But the Haitian people are strong, and I believe that with a little support from the rest of the world they can rebuild their world out of the ashes.

It's been a good week.

Regarding relief...Day 5

Not all wounds are physical. This is another thing I have learned during my time here at the refugee hospital. The people with bandages are not the only ones who have been seriously hurt by the earthquake.

I have gotten to know my team of translators pretty well during the long hours we have spent together, helping patients, moving boxes, doing odd jobs, or just sitting in the shade. They represent many different parts of Haitian society. Some of them were college students before their university collapsed into rubble. One guy is a lawyer who travels all over the world. There are also some of them who were manual laborers or unemployed before all this happened. Some have come to the hospital because a family member is a patient. Others just showed up because they wanted to help. But some of them are here because they have nowhere left to go. One of my friends escaped unharmed from a collapsed house where ten people in his family were killed. Another guy lost his wife and daughter in the quake, but still carried his injured sister across Haiti to get her to our hospital. The doctors were unable to help her, and he lost her too.

Lots of the guys I've gotten to know have stories like this. I can't even begin to comprehend the depth of the sorrow they must feel. There are a few psychologists working here, and they have been seeing people day and night. I think that even when the cuts heal and the bones mend there will still be a lot of pain. How could there not be? Every family has been touched by death.

It is easy to get down, but I am so amazed by the resiliency of the Haitian people. Their sense of humor and optimism is irrepressible. Even in the sick wards there is the sound of laughter, and smiles everywhere. And every night there is singing.

I have watched a lot of disasters on CNN, including this one in the early stages. This is so different. Pain becomes much more real when you know the name and shake the hand of the person who is going through it. It makes complacency difficult.

Regarding relief...Day 4 (part 2)

One more funny note today...

The translators have started calling me "Barack Obama." It may have to do with the authoritative speaking voice I use while conducting meetings. When I remind them of my skin tone, they laugh and say that I am actually Bill Clinton.

It is important to smile.

Regarding relief...Day 4

The days are busy. Apart from managing the translators, I seem to have ended up with the semi-official job of "cultural liaison with the Dominicans." I suppose having a handle on how to speak hill billy Dominican Spanish makes me a good fit for this job. It basically means that I am the one to handle the relationships with many of the Dominicans whose cooperation we need to keep things running here. I talk with a lot of truck drivers, janitors, public health representatives, and people like that. In the last few days, though, I have started dealing with the military.

It all started when I greeted a group of officers who had a lot of medals on their chests. It turned out that they were a General and a Colonel who are responsible for the security of our neighborhood, and particularly our facility. Military presence is very concentrated here at the border. So I greeted these guys, and was giving the standard talk about how they can feel free to ask me any questions, share concerns, etc. Then the general took a look at my name tag, and noticed my last name. He slapped my back and told me that his last name was also "Brown" and he pulled out his name tag to prove it. Apparently he had a British grandfather. The officers roared with laughther. Now every time I see the guy he makes a joke about how we are long lost brothers. This morning he gave me a tshirt with the logo of his unit on the front. This afternoon he wanted his picture taken with me. I guess I have made an impression.

I am hoping that it is a relationship that works out to the advantage of the effort here. There is a lot of racial animosity between Dominicans and Haitians. I think the military is nervous about potential threats to our operation. I am thankful that they are being cooperative, and are very concerned about our security. It is easy to worry about all the things that go wrong every day, but it I've learned that is also important to appreciate the things that work out to the advantage of everyone. I think our security situation is very good. I will try to post my group picture with the General when I get a chance.

Regarding relief...Day 3.5

My recent entries may give the impression that all is gloom and depression here at the hospital on the border. While the greater situation is very sad, and challenging things happen every day, there is still a lot to laugh and smile about. How could things NOT be entertaining when you have groups of Haitians, Americans, Dominicans and Spaniards all operating on very little sleep?

Sleep has created an amusing set of circumstances for me. For some reason I do not rank high enough on the totem pole to have a bed reserved for me. I have to sleep where I find space. On the first night I found a bed, and appreciated it. On the second night I was on a very comfortable leather couch in the waiting area of the hospital. Last night a group of volunteers arrived very late, so the waiting area was far too loud to sleep in. I had to be creative. A nurse saw me roaming around like a zombie, exhausted after 18 hours on my feet, and advised that I take a look at the operating room. Sure enough, it was quiet, dark, air conditioned, and empty apart from all the surgical equipment. So I pulled in a cot and bedded down right next to the operating table. I slept very well. I wonder where I will be tonight...