Journal Highlights: Roads I Have Traveled ... Excerpt #2 from March, 1995

Israel: March, 1995, (continued): After clearing customs at the Ben Gurion airport in Tel Aviv we were met by Shaul Amir. Shaul took us to the Grand Beach Hotel located on the MediterraneanSea. Shaul showed us some downtown streets that he said we would enjoy walking after dinner. He said tourist safety was definitely not a problem in Tel Aviv even after dark. So, following a lovely dinner Jay and I walked around Tel Aviv for about two hours.

Walking in a city at night seemed very strange to me. For the past 20 years of international travel I had learned to be extremely cautious in strange settings. It was impossible for me to imagine my walking along in Sao Paulo, Brazil after dark . . . or Nairobi, Kenya in broad daylight. We thoroughly enjoyed our walk and it set our minds and bodies for a good night's rest in Israel.

Saturday - 18th

Sabbath day in Tel Aviv . . . it was both a holy day and a holiday. The work week in Israel was six days rather than five so the one free day per week was fully utilized by everyone. As I opened our hotel window upon awakening, I looked out over the city. A lot of families and tourists were already in the streets. Many people were gathered on the roof tops of the surrounding buildings enjoying breakfast in the morning sunshine and soft sea breeze. As I stood and watched I remarked to Jay that it certainly was understandable why so many Jews returned to Israel to live. Tel Aviv was a wonderful city.

Shaul was not to pick us up until 12:00, so following breakfast Jay and I decided to walk along the beach front. Our stroll turned out to be far more delightful than we had expected. After passing a couple of public beach areas and several private beach clubs we happened on to what was called the promenade. It was a well-designed, well-maintained cobblestone walkway running for a couple of miles along the beach and adjacent to the major hotels of the city. By that time of the morning the promenade was already getting crowded. Balloon vendors and ice-cream peddlers dotted the walkway. On the beach a continuous string of beach volleyball games was underway. Sailboats out on the Mediterranean and colorful umbrellas of the many activities made an absolutely unforgettable picture.

But the part I enjoyed most about our two-hour Sabbath walk was our encounter with the musicians. Many Russian musicians had recently migrated from the old Soviet Union to Israel. Most of them could not find musical occupations since the Tel Aviv symphony and the other surrounding symphonies were already full. So, those newly arriving masters needed to find jobs somewhere in the common marketplace and on the Sabbath they would gather in groups or appear in solo in order to earn additional money from their performances.  

We came upon a chamber orchestra of six players. When I heard them I told Jay that we were going to sit a while and listen, "You are in the presence of masters." In truth, I had never heard better. We found a small gazebo where there was room to sit and I simply closed my eyes, breathed in the soft sea breeze and let the warm March morning sun saturate my soul as I listened to the strains that I declared came directly from heaven rather than from that beach walk.

At 12:00 Shaul came to the hotel to take us to have lunch at his home. On the way, he wound his way into the old, historic town of Jaffa or Joppa. There we stopped and he led us to the excavation site and museum of the old city. Joppa was where Jonah was thrown up on the shore by the whale. Joppa was where Dorcus lived and Peter raised the woman from the dead. Joppa was where Richard the Lionhearted defended the early Christians with his crusade and saved them from certain death. And Joppa was where Napoleon was thwarted with failure when he tried to conquer the townsfolk. The museum protected the archaeological diggings that took place from 1952 to 1986. Shaul was turning out to be a great local guide.

At his home Shaul and his wife Kika (kee kaw) had prepared a wonderful lunch and had invited another couple to join the four of us. The other guests were Dr. Yigul Halperin (yee gall) and his wife, Ruthie. Shaul and Kika had been friends with the Halperins nearly 20 years. Even though he was an OBGYN Dr. Yigal had served as the physician for Shaul's army command in the Israeli military. Now Yigal was the associate director of the hospital that we came to help. Both couples had spent considerable time in the US and we had some very stimulating conversation regarding US and Israeli current affairs and policies. Additionally, I had a great opportunity to once again tell about the beginnings and mission of Project C.U.R.E.

As Shaul drove us back to our hotel late that afternoon, I hit him with the concept of Project C.U.R.E. bringing state-of-the-art equipment to Israel and then having Isreal agree to give me all their replaced equipment in order that I could take it to some other area that was even more desperate. Their equipment would already be there which would cut down on large shipping costs if we donated it to some Arab or P.L.O. hospitals and, furthermore, knowing where the items from our warehouse were going should be an incentive for the Jewish related or Jewish directed hospitals, say in Denver, to give a little more freely to Project C.U.R.E. Shaul was definitely eager to pursue the idea both here in Israel and also to introduce me to potential contacts in major US cities.

Next Week: A new Idea of Collaboration

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

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Journal Highlights: Roads I Have Traveled ... Excerpt #1 from March, 1995

(Project C.U.R.E. never ships medical goods into any foreign country unless we have personally gone there and completed an intensive needs assessment study on that particular hospital or clinic. Additionally, we never go anyplace unless we are invited. This is a good example of how we determine where we will go and what we will provide. Shaul Amir has become a very dear friend over the past twenty years and we have shipped, and continue to ship, millions of dollars of donated medical goods into Israel.)

Israel: March, 1995: Why would Project C.U.R.E. go to Israel? It really isn’t a typical third-world country as you would think of third-world countries. It is very westernized, and the people enjoy a relatively high standard of living. Compared to many of the other countries Project C.U.R.E. helps, Israel didn’t need us at all. They should have been helping Project C.U.R.E. help other countries that really need our help.

Those thoughts, and many others similar in nature, had been running through my mind as I prepared for this trip. The background of this trip and my involvement had been rather unusual.

About three years earlier, a woman by the name of Judi Fenner had come to me, along with her attorney and one of her organization’s board members, seeking some advice on taking her ministry international. Aside from her proposed ministry, she teaches private tennis lessons to earn a living. Apparently she is very successful at her tennis coaching and has in her stable of competitive young stars quite a number of kids from Denver’s Jewish community. The Jewish community loves her. She is developing their kids, mostly in their late teens and early twenties, into champions.

Following a very successful tournament, one of the Jewish families threw a victory party. For some reason Judi Fenner and another woman named Beverly Ratalia invited, no, insisted that Anna Marie and I come join them.

As a result of that party, I met Shaul Amir, who was visiting the US from Israel. Shaul is the resource development director for the Assaf Harofeh Medical Center in Tel Aviv and is responsible for funding and developing the institution. Beverly and Judi had told Shaul all about Project C.U.R.E. and about our mission to collect and distribute medical supplies and equipment throughout the world.

My first official meeting with Shaul was filled with enough craziness as to be unforgettable. The woman who was managing his itinerary during his Denver stay arranged with Shaul for a meeting with me at the Friends of Israel office in Denver for Wednesday at 2:30 p.m. However, she informed me that the meeting would take place on Thursday at 2:30 p.m. So my son Jay and I showed up for the meeting … and stood around, stood around, and stood around waiting for someone to show up at the reception area of the office. No one showed.

I was just wandering down the hallway, trying to find someone to whom we could convey our growing impatience, when I heard someone down the hallway. Jay and I looked at each other and headed into a small back office. The man in the office was so startled by our appearance that he jumped up from the table where he was working and headed toward us. He was working at a word-processing machine, which was sitting on a makeshift desk, with the electric cord stretched across from the table to a wall outlet across the room. The cord was short, so when it was plugged into the socket, there was not enough cord to lay on the floor. It made a perfect booby-trap trip wire.

As the man was extending his hand and opening his mouth, saying that his name was Shaul, his foot got all caught up in the electric cord. Before the entire word Shaul got out of his mouth, keyboard and monitor, papers and books went flying everywhere. A less agile fellow would have sprawled out on the floor in the midst of all the mess. That certainly took the starch out of the introduction. I told Shaul who Jay and I were while we helped him pick up the broken pieces of the processor. “But … but … you were supposed to be here yesterday at 2:30 for our meeting. We were all here waiting for you.”

I pulled out my note from the woman and showed him the scheduled meeting in my appointment book. As far as I knew the meeting was on Thursday.

We quickly brushed past that foible and moved on to a very productive meeting—probably, because of the crazy circumstances, it was a better meeting than we would have had the day before in a more sane setting.

Shaul explained that his hospital was in a very desperate situation. They were treating a lot of refugees on a gratis basis. Supplies were short, and equipment was either lacking or terribly outdated. Would Project C.U.R.E. help? He also told of the phenomenon of Israelis and PLO personnel working side by side at his hospital.

I explained the requirement that I personally visit an institution to do a thorough Needs Assessment Study before Project C.U.R.E would ship any goods. And I asked him if he had any friends in the Denver Jewish community who would be able to underwrite the expenses of such a study trip. He said he was quite sure he did not but wanted to visit Project C.U.R.E.’s facilities while he was still in town.

At the warehouse Shaul began smacking his lips at the sight of our available inventory. He quickly spotted enough pieces of equipment and disposable supplies to easily fill a twenty-foot cargo container. Now he really wanted Project C.U.R.E. to help.

Before Shaul returned to Israel, Beverly Ratalia had him scheduled on a Christian radio talk show. The talk-show host had a history of trying to help develop aid to hurting areas of Israel. In the course of the show, the subject of Project C.U.R.E. and the possibility of their helping Shaul’s hospital came up. The show host pledged the first two hundred dollars toward raising the needed money for the needs assessment trip.

I had told Shaul that both Jay and I would come to Israel, and if he could raise the needed money for one of the airfares, I would match the donation from somewhere and cover the cost of the other airfare. So Shaul needed to raise $1,400. Before the talk show went off the air, listeners had agreed to underwrite exactly $1,400 for the airfare. I thought to myself, That didn’t even come from the Jewish community. This whole effort was an endeavor of love from the Christian community to the people living in Israel.

Even while I was traveling in Russia the week prior to this trip, I found myself looking forward to the Israel trip. It was going to be delightful having Jay, my son and father of my two fabulous grandkids, traveling with me. A little over a year before, Jay traveled with me to Brazil. That trip became a turning point in his life in many ways. Perhaps this trip, in different ways, would be equally significant. 

© Dr. James W. Jackson  

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Journal Highlights: Roads I Have Traveled ... Excerpt #2 from Nepal 2002

NEPAL: (cont.) More violence and killing by the Maoists in Nepal. We were also following the newspaper reports from India regarding the increased murders and torchings right where we had been just hours before. 

Sunday morning Anna Marie and I spent some quiet time together in devotions at the Summit Hotel. Our verandah looked north toward the majestic Himalayan mountain range. I tried to point out to her where I had been at the village camps near the foot of the great Mt. Everest and also on a map where I had crossed over the scary summits of the Himalayas when I traveled from India’s Kulu Valley over into Tibet. 

At 10 a.m. Anna Marie and I arrived at the Patan Hospital to perform Project C.U.R.E.’s needs assessment study. Their little “palace hospital” had grown up to be a full-fledged 300 bed facility with eight specialty teams in surgery, pediatrics, medicine, OB-GYN, ICU-anesthesia, outpatient/trauma, orthopedics, dentistry, radiology, and pathology. 

There were other hospitals in Kathmandu, but Patan Hospital had earned a splendid reputation and was doing some great medical work. Last year they had treated 266,000 outpatients, 33,000 emergency cases, 20,000 dental patients, and cared for 17,000 inpatients. I told the CEO, B.B. Khawas, and other staff members just how very proud Project C.U.R.E. was to be considering working alongside the Patan Hospital.

The way Project C.U.R.E. had become involved with the Kathmandu project was so very typical of how we became involved in projects all over the world. We never advertised and we never went where we had not been invited. Now, that still meant that the word had to get out some way. 

In the Nepal case, a wonderful couple, Mr. and Mrs. Jim Hecht who lived in Denver, had been introduced to the Patan Hospital and traveled to Kathmandu to visit. Montview Presbyterian Church in Denver, Colorado, had gotten excited about the work of the hospital and raised $160,000, which they sent to Nepal for Patan Hospital to build a pediatric department. Even the women of the church got busy and quilted blankets to be sent. 

It just so happens … Jim Hecht was a good friend of my good friend, Jim Peters, with whom I traveled to Belgrade, Yugoslavia. Project C.U.R.E. pumped about $500,000 in medical goods into Yugoslavia and Serbia. You are smart enough to figure out “the rest of the story.” 

The Patan Hospital was a natural for Project C.U.R.E.’s involvement. I went away from the needs assessment really excited about what could be done in the future to help 22 million Nepalese in the only country in the world that considered itself an official Hindu state. We pledged together that we would start immediately to work on the possibilities of getting Project C.U.R.E. involved with the Patan Hospital on a long-term basis. Anything that Project C.U.R.E. would put into the Patan project would pay great dividends both now and forever more. 

Monday, March 25

Anna Marie and I were both exhausted. I needed some time to complete all the paperwork that had resulted from the days in India and Nepal. Monday morning was spent trying to catch up. 

That evening we took Dr. Zimmerman and Deirdre out to dinner in Kathmandu. There we heard the story of how she was born and raised in Ireland and eventually had decided to go to Africa on a mission. But providence dictated otherwise and she ended up going to the Patan Hospital as their dietitian. Of course, she met this handsome young doctor from the US who was the medical director at the Patan Hospital. He got a taste for the dietitian, and she figured the union would make for a well-balanced program, so they got hitched. It was a beautiful love story. 

Tuesday/Wednesday, March 26, 27

Tuesday and Wednesday were spent traveling back home. Our trip had taken us completely around the world from Denver to Frankfurt to India to Nepal, to Bangkok, to Tokyo, to Seattle, and finally to Denver and Evergreen. As you know, we had the privilege of living March 27 twice on our way home. But sometimes you need that when you are slow learners and need another day to play catch-up! 

Having Anna Marie on the trip had been as wonderful as I had imagined it would be. She was such a trooper and every day God had allowed me to be with her made me appreciate all the more every single day of the past 42 years that we had been married. Faithfully following God was paying great dividends and as everyone in the world with half a brain and one eye would know, we certainly did live a privileged life.

Next Week: Project C.U.R.E. never goes anywhere unless invited. 

 © Dr. James W. Jackson   

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Journal Highlights: Roads I Have Traveled ... Excerpt #1 from Nepal March 2002

Royal Nepal Airlines flight #202 departed Bombay at 5:20 p.m. destined for Nepal. 

Stepping off the airplane in Katmandu was like a breath of fresh air after being in India for nearly ten days. No longer were the temperatures 104 degrees Fahrenheit. There was actually a cool evening breeze wafting through the valley nestled at the foot of the Himalayan range and the great Mt. Everest. 

Equally refreshing was the quickly consummated friendship with Dr. Mark Zimmerman and his Irish born wife Deirdre. They were at the terminal holding up a sign for us as we walked out of security after having cleared Customs. Once in the auto it didn’t take us long to realize that by traveling into Katmandu we had jumped right into another of the world’s political “hot spots.” Fourteen “Maoist rebels” had been shot to death by Nepalese soldiers the day before. 

In 1996 the radical leftist party in Nepal, called the Nepal Communist Party (Maoist) or NCP-M had became frustrated with not being able to seize more power within the structure of the government of Nepal. They had decided to launch a guerrilla terrorist movement against the people and the government, styled after the model of China’s revolutionary leader Mao Tse-tung. Their goal was to topple the constitutional monarchy by hiding out in Nepal’s mountainous locations and performing deadly attacks of terror on government leaders, civil facilities, military outposts and other high profile targets. 

As was always the case, militant groups would feed on their own terrorist activities and the violence would always escalate into more frequent and more severe atrocities. The militant’s army of terrorists had grown to over 4,000 strong and they had equipped themselves with sophisticated weapons by raiding small and poorly protected military outposts and arsenals. 

In November, the Nepalese government had declared a state of emergency. The rebels stepped up their violence and instead of staying mostly in western sections, planned attacks were aimed at Katmandu, other major cities and tourist areas and base camps near Mt. Everest. By the beginning of the year hundreds of people were being killed in surprise attacks by the Maoists. The guerrillas would declare a “strike” in Katmandu or other cities and completely shut down commerce, transportation, government services and people movement in the city for a day at a time. If shopkeepers left their doors unlocked and continued business, those establishments would be stoned, shot up or burned. If taxis or buses tried to drive the streets the drivers would be beaten and the vehicles burned. 

Just a week before we arrived the violence was ratcheted up another notch. The Maoists attacked and took over a city airport. They almost simultaneously then set fire to buildings and fired at police in the town of Mangalsen. Forty-nine police were killed. Twenty-seven more were killed in another airport takeover. Shortly afterward another 48 Royal Nepalese Army officers were killed. 

The night we arrived in Katmandu the Maoist rebels burned a large number of government vehicles and some buildings and killed another 12 people in the city. 

To add to the civil unrest and instability, Nepal had gone through another shocker in June, 2001. King Binendra, Nepal’s Monarch and 8 other members of the Royal family, including Queen Aiswarya were fatally shot in the Royal Palace in Katmandu. All evidence pointed to Crown Prince Dipendra as the mass killer. He then almost botched his own suicide attempt but died a short time later at the hospital. An official investigation was conducted later which confirmed that the Crown Prince did perform the massacre in a drunken rage of anger. His uncle, Gyanendra Bir Bikram, was the one left upon whom the title of Regent of Nepal was bestowed. 

With that opening of confusion and insecurity, the Maoists intensified their onslaughts of violence to try to topple Nepal’s government. 

The Zimmermans had chosen a quaint Nepalese Hotel in the Patan area of Katmandu for us to stay. We were perfectly safe there and the cool night and our tired bodies successfully promoted the thought we skip dinner and go straight to bed.

Saturday, March 23

The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming and the leaves were beginning to bud out on the trees. We awoke to springtime in Nepal! Even by then the negative aspects of our India experience were beginning to fade into historical perspective. We had been at the right place at the right time speaking to the right people. God had blessed us and protected us. 

We took a little local taxi from our Summit Hotel and met Dr. Mark Zimmerman and Deirdre at the front gates of the Patan Hospital to go for lunch. They took us to the ancient Hindu Temple of Patan which was the center of one of Four Kingdom state cities which sat on the present site of Katmandu. Much of the sprawling temple had been turned into a Hindu museum with a quaint little restaurant attached. 

After lunch Anna Marie and I walked the narrow streets of Katmandu absorbing all the sights, sounds and smells of the city that some claimed to be 10,000 years old.

Dr. Mark Zimmerman had finished his medical education at some prestigious schools in Eastern USA. He had traveled to Africa during his medical school days to do a short stint there. He agreed to go to Nepal for 3-6 months to help out before he started his practice in America. He went to Nepal and stuck. He had been there for 15 years and had become the Medical Director of the Patan Hospital. 

When Nepal opened up to the world in the l950’s it was decided that there would not be just an influx of humanitarian and religious groups allowed in the Hindu Kingdom. Instead, it was agreed that the Methodists, Presbyterian, etc. groups would be allowed to jointly open one medical venture in Katmandu. Eventually, that effort became known as the United Mission of Nepal and they were allowed to open a hospital in an old palace where even the patient wards boasted of crystal chandeliers. 

The medical work built a strong reputation throughout Nepal and soon outgrew the old royal facilities. What amazed me about Patan Hospital right away was the fact that such an ecumenical diversity could get organized and work together on any project for that long and be of such a success. My attention was captured. I was eager to learn more about the hospital and its mission.

Next Week: Patan Hospital a Good Place to Start

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

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Journal Highlights: Roads I Have Traveled ... Excerpt #3 October, 1997

Mostly, if you want to go someplace in Nepal, you walk. If we had walked to Tumlingtar village from Kathmandu, it would have taken us four days of trekking and three nights of tenting. 

Once we landed, we walked from the grass runway to the village restaurant and bar. As we drank Cokes, the village people unloaded our luggage and the medical supplies to be used in the clinic for the next two weeks. They had hired Sherpas, who are seasoned pack men, to carry the luggage and medical goods up the long trail to Khandibari village. The Sherpas had baskets they had woven out of young bamboo shoots. They were oblong at the top opening, measuring about two feet by one foot. They tapered down in a wedge fashion so they rested right below the tailbone of a Sherpa. Two homemade straps went over a Sherpa’s shoulders, and one strap went around his forehead for balance. It is my understanding that the loads they can carry are legendary. That is all they do their entire lifetime—carry heavy loads up and down the terribly steep mountain trails. 

I winced as I saw them take my soft-side luggage and jam it down into one of their baskets. In that suitcase is my best black-striped wool suit; my white-and-blue, starched dress shirts; my expensive blue wool blazer with brass buttons; my dress slacks; and everything else I am going to need to meet the heads of state once I arrive in Bucharest, Romania. I winced again as I saw them jam additional items into the Sherpa’s toting basket. Oh well, I thought, we play this game one move at a time. Maybe I’ll start a new Project C.U.R.E. trend and go naked in Romania.

We left the village and made our way to the mountain. The trail led us through the villagers’ fields of maize and millet. It led us within a few feet of the farmhouses and barns. Outside the village we began to gain altitude. Then the rocky road went almost vertical. Steps had been cut into the rocky mountain over the years to aid in the climb. 

About one hour into the trek, the wind began to blow. The sky had turned increasingly dark. I was walking just behind Narayan. He pointed to a high mountain ridge in the far distance. “When it gets dark on that point, we are guaranteed to get rain here. It’s just a matter of a little time.” 

The wind was now kicking up dust from the trail and bending the bamboo and maize stalks. As we rounded a bend in the trail, we came upon a rural farmhouse. It was two stories in height with a thatched roof and wooden shutters and doors. On the front porch area, a crowd of people had gathered. By now the wind was howling, and pieces of thatch from the barn and a neighbor’s house flew like kites. We hurried onto the porch, and at the center of the crowd a man was lying on a canvas stretcher, covered by a handwoven blanket. He was moaning with pain. His friends were on their way to try to take him to the hospital in Kathmandu—four days away. 

Three of the registered nurses were walking close behind us. They moved in and began surveying the situation. At first they were afraid it might be an appendicitis attack. Then the nurses got the moaning man to turn over on his back and point to the area of most pain. The man’s friends told the nurses that the fellow had just vomited several times. Quite quickly the nurses ruled out the appendix theory and eventually settled on an acute urinary tract infection that had moved into his bladder and kidneys. Lucky for the man the nurses just happened to be able to stop the Sherpa who had some pain medicine and some real stout antibiotic pills in his basket. 

Everyone was so concerned about the patient that the impending storm had been completely ignored. But the storm had not gone away just because we had ignored it. By that time it was thundering and the lightning was cracking and the wind was howling even louder. The rain clouds had begun to douse us with bucketfuls of water. The water didn’t really come down on us, but rather because of the unchecked wind, the torrents of rain came at us. In true Nepalese hospitality, the farm family on whose porch we had all suddenly congregated, opened the doors to their house and invited the whole mob to come in out of the storm. The rogue storm lasted for another thirty minutes. Then, in a fashion that reminded me of mountain storms in my valley of Colorado, everything stopped, a calm settled in, and the sun came out. 

As we opened the doors of the little farmhouse, we discovered that it had not just rained, but the ground in front of the farmhouse and as far up the mountain pass as you could see was covered with a blanket of hailstones. The thrill and excitement of the storm passed quickly when everyone realized that just across the mountain trail, the fields of millet, maize, and rice lay in ruins. Trees in the yard had been blown over, and stands of bamboo were now flat. We extended our sympathy to the farmers, bade farewell to the moaning urinary patient, and headed back up the mountain range toward Narayan’s ancestral village. 

Water was by that time coming down the trail as if it were a riverbed. The red dirt of the mountain had turned into a gooey-slimy-slick mess. The trail was slippery and treacherous, but darkness was coming soon, and we had to make it to Khandibari village. I glanced down at Bob Jackson’s walking boots. They were covered with the red mud, and I had red mud nearly up to the knees of my pants. I was happy that I was not wearing my “city shoes” as Bob had called them, but I felt guilty that his boots were taking such a beating. Then the thought hit me, The Sherpas carrying the luggage didn’t make it to the farmhouse by the time the fury of the storm landed. They were caught out in the mountain downpour. My poor canvas soft-side luggage is by now soaked with rain and hail. Oh! My wool suit and blazer! 

Some hours later we made it to the outskirts of Khandibari village. On several occasions the residents of the houses came out to the road and insisted we stop and receive the seasonal blessing. They were all part of Narayan’s family. So we would stand in line as they draped us with mala necklaces of flowers and placed red dried rice on our foreheads. Eventually we made it though the village and up on top of a mountain where it was relatively flat. As we came over the top of the mountain, the arrangement of two rows of green canvas tents burst into sight. There were about twelve tents in all, and at the end of the tent line was a round eating area constructed with a metal roof. 

It was almost completely dark, and as the Sherpas began to unload their baskets, we were dished up a hot meal of goat meat, rice, potatoes, and mountain vegetables. The dinner was topped off with good hot tea with milk—I presume goat milk. 

It was not a figment of my imagination … I am going to be sleeping on the ground under a green canvas tent. Somehow they had managed to throw a sleeping bag for me into one of the Sherpa’s baskets, but—you guessed it—it was wet. I found my luggage, opened it, and took out my sweater and leather jacket, which had been folded into the inside layer of the packed things. The night was very chilly, and the sweater and leather jacket felt very good. I pulled my belongings into my assigned tent and unrolled my sleeping bag. 

What in the wide world am I doing here? I wondered. 
I’m not a fan of camping out, and I really do have a nice, comfortable king-size bed back home in Evergreen. If I were there, I would have someone to snuggle to boot! But right now, in the heart of the Himalayan Mountains in Nepal, there is no one to complain to, and survival is the name of the game. 

I took Bob’s boots off outside the tent and climbed into the wet sleeping bag with all the rest of my clothes on, including my sweater and my leather jacket. I was exhausted from the four-hour trek, and my stomach was full of hot meal and tea. I created a warm spot and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Next Week: Nepal five years later 

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

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Journal Highlights: Roads I Have Traveled ... Excerpt #2 October 1997

I am delighted to be sharing with you the origins of our friendship with the people of Nepal in these Travel Journal excerpts. Since these 1997 and 2002 excerpts Project C.U.R.E. has delivered nearly $12 million dollars worth of donated medical goods to Nepal. Here is a wonderful miracle that took place regarding the recent devastating earthquake: Just the day before the quake hit Nepal Project C.U.R.E. had a 40' ocean going cargo container jam-packed full of desperately needed medical goods arrive in Kathmandu, Nepal and clear customs. One of the UNICEF disaster tents was dismantled at the epicenter of the quake so that Project C.U.R.E.'s container could be strategically placed and medical personnel started using the supplies and pieces of equipment from the container immediately saving many lives on the spot.
Additionally, hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of supplies were carried into the quake area in "Project C.U.R.E. Kits." Right now another 40' cargo container with nearly $400,000 worth of medical goods is on the water from our Tempe, Arizona facility and will be arriving soon. These early seeds planted nearly 20 years ago are now producing a wonderful and fruitful harvest in Nepal and the other 130 countries around the world.

NEPAL October 1997 (cont) Narayan arranged for me to meet at 7:00 a.m. with J. N. Khanal, the former prime minister of Nepal. His coalition government has just been restructured, which restructured him right out of his job as prime minister. However, Mr. Khanal is still perhaps the most influential politician in Kathmandu. Democracy and the parliamentary system of government are still very new in Nepal, and my guess is that Mr. Khanal will remain a vital part of Nepalese politics for a long time to come. 

As soon as Narayan introduced me to the prime minister, he was called out for some emergency situation, which left the prime minister and me alone to discuss many things. He was very intrigued with Project C.U.R.E. and asked if we would be willing to work with him in the future as well. I assured him we would. He asked if we only deal in medical equipment, or if we could partnership in other areas. He told me that the country is very desperate for additional hydroelectric facilities. “We have lots of water in the rivers, but not enough hydro plants to generate electricity for our people.”

We went on to talk about the agricultural industry. He explained that there is a good opportunity for increasing the production of tea and improving on the packaging process and distribution. “We grow excellent tea here in Nepal, but no one can afford to plant the crop and wait for the first five years to harvest it.” 

I explained our intentions to come alongside Ethiopia and help them become a net exporter of foodstuffs in the next ten years. The prime minister went on to tell me they also grow good apples and other fruit, but as is the case with nearly all the crops, they have to use water buffalo and oxen to plow the fields. 

I asked him about the educational needs of Nepal, and he told me they really need everything. I shared with him how Project C.U.R.E. has been involved in Kenya, Russia, and the Ukraine sending reference books to the schools. I pledged that we will not try to export any of our culture by sending novels, US history books, or social materials, but rather if we send books, they will be limited to encyclopedias, dictionaries, medical books, science and math books, and other reference books. He really appreciated my sensitivity regarding the cultural issues. 

I guess I have tried quite hard to respect and value the dignity and background culture of the people I have met in the countries I visit. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I have found inside of me not just a fascination or curiosity with the people and their traditions but feelings of deep love and admiration for them as well. I am a little surprised at myself when I take inventory and find that some of the people I really care about and have considered some of my dearest friends are people I have met outside my traditional sphere of influence. I think of Vilmar Thrombeta and Drs. Paulo and Lorena Velho and their entire family in Brazil. I think of Ambassador Kim Jong Su and many others from North Korea. I think of Don Osman and his family in Nairobi, and many others, and I realize that somewhere along the line God did some radical changing of the motherboard of my computer—at the very citadel of my being. 

I am learning quickly about some of the customs of the Nepalese people. When they want to honor someone, they place a necklace of flowers over their heads called a mala. The most common greeting is “Namaste.” It is passed on as the Nepalese people place their palms together with their fingers up to their faces and dip their heads slightly with respect. Only westernized folks reach out to shake hands.

There are no locks on the doors of Nepalese homes outside the busy city, and I was invited to come in for tea continuously. Of course, as is the tradition throughout Asia, you always take off your shoes before entering a home. Chopsticks are not used in Nepal, but more like Mongolia, you lay your left hand beside your leg or on your lap and use your fingers on your right hand to mix and stir together everything on your plate and then serve it into your mouth. The left hand is never used even to present a business card to someone. That’s because the left hand is utilized in the excrement process and is therefore considered defiled. 

In Nepal it is rude to put your hand on someone’s head or shoulder, and as is the custom in Eastern Europe and all of Asia, men and women never touch or show affection to each other in public. However, those same cultures approve of members of the same sex walking down the street arm in arm or holding hands. It is strictly taboo to ever point the bottom of one’s foot toward another person. You shouldn’t touch another person or even a cow with your foot. If you want to motion for someone to come to you, you don’t curl your index finger at the person or motion with a circular movement of your hand pointing up. Rather, you motion to the person with your hand extended and your fingers pointing down. Well, so much for cultural hints when you travel to Kathmandu.

Next Week: Trekking in Nepal

© Dr. James W. Jackson

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Journal Highlights: Roads I Have Traveled ... Excerpt #1 from October 1997

NEPAL: Project C.U.R.E. received previous requests to become involved in Nepal, but the present circumstances and timing seem just right for this new venture. 

I have always been intrigued by the country of Nepal, hearing the reports of climbers who use the country as base camp for their climbing assault of Mount Everest. The whole country of Nepal is predominantly mountainous and is about the same size as the state of Wisconsin. The Himalayas, in the northern third of the oblong country, contain some of the world’s highest mountain peaks. Six of those peaks are higher than twenty-six thousand feet, including Mount Everest at nearly thirty thousand feet. 

I have been used to hearing the accolades and applause for the fourteen-thousand-foot peaks of the Colorado Rockies, so I am curious to view mountains nearly twice as high as those in my backyard in Evergreen. Kathmandu, the capital of Nepal, is located in the middle hills, which are more comparable to our Rockies and are historically known for the exploits of the famous Gurkha foot soldiers. To the south lies the Terai, where you can find everything from cultivated fields to the subtropical jungles at the northern rim of the Gangetic Plain. Obviously, with that much diversity in elevation, there are radical changes of weather within short distances of travel. The cool summers and frigid winters of the north become the subtropical climates of the southern regions. To add spice to the weather variations, the effects of monsoons on the middle and southern regions between June and September are thrown into the mix, compliments of the nearby Indian Ocean.

Nepal is situated on the border between China to the north and India to the south. Historically, it has always been an important buffer state and a negotiation referee between the two giant countries. In fact, the size of Nepal has varied greatly over the years due to border squabbles. In 1990, King Birendra canceled the ban on political parties, which led to an interesting experiment in Nepal’s endeavor to embrace democracy. The struggle has not been entirely successful. Today there are now three major parties, and no one party has been able to achieve a majority hold on the parliament, which consists of the upper chamber known as the National Council and the lower chamber called the House of Representatives. So far, each government election has necessitated a coalition government. The system lies somewhere on a governmental organizational chart between a multiparty democracy and a constitutional monarchy, because although the prime minister runs the governing chambers, the king is still chief of state.

In Nepal, agriculture still employs 93 percent of the labor force. Most of the country is, therefore, a no-cash-income economy. More than four million Nepalese work in India and send their pay home to their families in Nepal. So Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world, with an annual gross national product per capita of only US$165.

Health conditions have somewhat improved in the recent past. Even so, a very high infant-mortality rate of ninety deaths per one thousand babies born still exists, and the life expectancy is right at fifty years. There is no organized plan to purify the water supply, so diseases such as meningitis, typhoid, and hepatitis are widespread. I have been warned to never drink any water except bottled water and to be sure to keep my mouth and eyes shut whenever taking a shower. Nepal has needed Project C.U.R.E. for a long time.

Nepal also needs some help with their educational system. Only 13 percent of the females are literate due to farm work and prearranged marriages, and the total literacy rate throughout the country is between 25 and 26 percent. About 88 percent of the population adheres to the Hindu religion, and Nepal, I think, is the only nation in the world that has declared itself a Hindu state. There are very few Christians in Nepal, and proselytizing is officially and strictly forbidden.

Nepal’s population is somewhere around twenty-five million, about the same size as North Korea. It is growing at quite a rapid rate now, which has a lot of the world health groups flocking in to shame them into a position of imposing a lesser burden on dear Mother Earth.

Narayan Shrestha suggested I accompany one of his volunteer medical teams heading into Nepal. They are to leave Denver on October 8, and they are all staying for at least one month, with some volunteers staying as long as six months or more. I told him I have plans to be in Romania by October 16, but there is a possibility I could squeeze in the Nepal trip on the front end of the schedule and then go from Nepal directly to Bucharest, Romania. Agreements were made and plans confirmed.

Next Week: Nepalese Protocol and Customs 

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

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Journal Highlights: Roads I Have Traveled ... Excerpt #2 from November 1996

Some have said, “You will grow too fast, and you will never have enough money to keep Project C.U.R.E. afloat.” 

I’ve thought about that a lot … even on this trip while sitting in the hotel room cooling my jet engines.It appears that we will need money for phones, computers, insurance, trucks, fuel, repairs on donated equipment, travel, training, utilities, office supplies, printing, postage, forklifts, pallet jacks, program software, maintenance and upkeep, container shipments … for … for … for … And that’s for each satellite location as well as the home office in Denver. 

It would only take half a brain and one eye to conclude that this is an impossible thing to accomplish. I can’t do it; I know that. I don’t suffer under any false illusions … but I do have a very wealthy personal friend, and I have had the occasion to keep him fully apprised of the entire project. In fact, most of the successful ideas we are now implementing came at his suggestion. When I tell him what’s happening and the fact that we will have shipped, just this year alone, over fifty containers to forty different countries, and the worth of those loads over the past two years equals nearly $20,000,000 (that’s twenty million for those who keep track of zeros), and it was done with almost no money, I get this picture in my mind that I will see a twinkle in his eye and a slight grin at the left corner of his mouth.

And he will quietly whisper under his breath, “Oh yes, and don’t forget the healing that took place in the bodies of many of my children, and the hope that was ignited in the hearts of thousands of my hurting pilgrims who had just about stumbled over to the side of the road to sit down and quit the trek because it seemed there was just no use in going on to the next oasis.”

This wealthy friend of mine just may be showing me another lesson about money. I had to learn once before a very traumatic lesson in his school of eternal economics. He kindly tutored me in the fact that I was, indeed, addicted to the money. It was kind of painful, as I recall, going through the process of breaking that addiction. And, little by little, his curriculum has brought me to the conclusion that he owns and is presently actively involved in managing absolutely everything that exists in this present time-space continuum called life and earth and wealth and stuff.

So I guess I have come to the unorthodox conclusion that I am not going to harp on him about money to meet the needs of Project C.U.R.E. That would tarnish the picture of his true creativity and perhaps even insult him—and I have learned that proper conduct definitely does not include insulting the wealthy.

However, with great importunity, I have decided to bug the daylights out of him to appropriate adequate resources to carry out what he has already started in us as a good work. For that request I feel perfectly at ease bursting into his secret place and blurting out, “Abba, Daddy, please help me. We’re trying to be your feet and legs and hands and arms to take healing to those who need healing and hope to those who need hope. If I am not the one to be leading this charge, please get to the replacement plan as quickly as possible and get me out of the way so that another who is more perceptive in such things as obedience can carry on the work to completion.”

Wouldn’t it just be something if we finally broke past that barrier of thinking I can’t do it because I don’t have the money? He would absolutely surprise us all and get the job done without money—or an even greater surprise—once we let loose of our old patterns and expectations of how he “ought” to answer and become comfortable with the idea that he has the freedom of creativity of doing it just any jolly old way he wants to. And then he would come back around after our addiction is healed and really, really surprise us by doing it with money as his select resource.

At any rate, I am going to quit spending my energy trying to coach my wealthy friend. I just want to stay focused on getting and keeping in the game as a player, not a coach. And I believe that one day soon that twinkle in his eye and the grin at the left corner of his mouth will break into a full-fledged grin and maybe even into a robust laugh of exuberance as he says, “Well, you finally did it. Well done, well done, my friend.”

Next Week: Early days in Nepal

© Dr. James W. Jackson

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Journal Highlights: Roads I Have Traveled ... Excerpt #1 from November 1996

(In the early days of Project C.U.R.E. we had to develop our business strategy while we were in motion. We did not have someone else’s book to follow. Would we grow past Denver? Where would we get the supplies and pieces of medical equipment? What about warehouses, forklifts, volunteers? We had jumped off the top of the mountain and now we had to assemble the airplane in mid air before we hit the ground! Here is an example of one of those lonely thinking sessions.) 

ETHIOPIA, Nov.20, ’96: For most of the remaining time in London, I was able to catch up on my reading and some writing. I had time to think about just what Project C.U.R.E. might look like five years and ten years down the road. It is starting to take shape as an absolute twentieth-century miracle. 

We had all grunted and groaned together to push the big rock up the hill. Now that we are picking up a little momentum, we need to be even more diligent and even more sensitive to God’s direction. It seems like it would be wise and prudent to start planning on perhaps twenty to twenty-five Project C.U.R.E. warehouses in cities around the US, and possibly Canada. It just seems to make logical sense not to try to ship everything to Denver to warehouse and containerize. To truck medical goods from hospitals in Houston, Texas, to Denver; put those goods into a container; and then ship the container all the way back to Houston to put on a boat just doesn’t add up. It seems wiser to collect and containerize the materials right at or as close to the point of donation as possible. That would do several things to expedite matters: 

1. Over time we would save millions of overland shipping miles. 
2. It would keep Denver’s facilities from having to become too big. 
3. By spreading out the operation, we could utilize smaller warehouse facilities and also tap into additional volunteer pools as the project spreads around the country. 
4. Local medical-supply donors would be able to link local faces with Project C.U.R.E., as they keep in touch with volunteers who come around to visit them, rather than just seeing some disinterested overland truck driver pull up and then drive away. 
5. It would give perhaps thousands more people the opportunity to get involved in a hands‑on missions mobilization project. 
6. Local people developing relationships with hundreds of doctors, hospitals, and clinics would be able to ferret out millions more dollars’ worth of medical supplies than would one Denver‑based operation.

Those are just some of the factors on the positive side of the ledger. Of course, on the negative side … 

1. We would create an absolute logistical and managerial nightmare. 
2. We would immediately have to have people from our office ready to go to the new locations and train the warehouse manager, those who pick up the donated materials, those who pack the container, and so on. We would have to send our people out to make the initial introductions to suppliers like Baxter International, Owens and Minor, McGaw, Bristol, Johnson and Johnson, General Electric, Picker, etc., at all those new locations. 
3. We would have to have available trucks with lift gates, at least one pallet jack per warehouse, perhaps one forklift per warehouse, wooden pallets, donated warehouse space with loading docks that would match the height of the cargo containers, etc.

I believe the scheduling of container shipping and the decision for the final destination of the loads will always be handled through the Denver office, as well as all the receipting of donations and the tracking of the materials. That will give the operation stability and continuity and will always allow us to maintain our integrity with our donors, our recipients, and the Internal Revenue Service. The on‑location warehouse managers could fax or e‑mail the inventory of items picked up on a given day and the donor’s name. Denver could put that information into the computer and issue written receipt letters the next day. That would let us know exactly what we have in inventory in each location at any given time. From that inventory we could determine what and when to ship to a recipient country.

 Next Week: Who will pay for all this?

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

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Journal Highlights: Roads I Have Traveled ... Excerpt #4 September 1998

DOMINICAN REPUBLIC (cont.): The clinics I visited this afternoon were embarrassingly short of any medications or supplies. When I inquired about the lack of pharmaceuticals and basic supplies, the attendant at the Barranca clinic wrinkled his forehead and sort of looked at me in a puzzled way.


“We are pleased we have these supplies. We just received them yesterday. Before these supplies, we had not received any others since last April” was his reply. He then proudly showed me a small wooden box with an ill-fitting wooden lid. Inside the box was inoculation medicine for children. The medicine, which must be refrigerated, was packed in ice cubes that were rapidly melting in the hot climate. None of the clinics I visited had any kind of refrigeration. 

This evening I was invited to join the executive committee of the Rotary Club for dinner. There I had the opportunity to tell them about the work of Project C.U.R.E. around the world. The genuine kindness of the people and the dedication to making their city of one hundred thousand people a better place to live really encouraged me. They were almost overwhelmed that Project C.U.R.E. would come to their city with the possibility of helping them. No other organization has ever come to help them. 

At dinner Dr. Miguel de Pena told me that their main hospital has been without an X-ray machine for months. Some people in Miami said they would try to help them get another X-ray machine, but Dr. Miguel never heard from them again. The committee told me that Project C.U.R.E. coming to La Vega is an answer to their prayers. We talked about the fact that I had not even counted on getting La Vega into my schedule until sometime in 1999. But rearranging the schedule for the Vietnam trip left just these few days available, and I felt strongly that I should contact Cesar Abreu regarding my trip to the Dominican Republic. It almost seemed, they said, like it was divine providence. 

They have been totally without access to even one X-ray unit for almost six months. The old, broken General Electric unit had been dismantled and was lying on a piece of concrete slab between two buildings. I asked what they do for X-rays for diagnosis. They simply replied, “We do without.”

I got into quite a discussion with all of the medical people in the room regarding the philosophy that the government could promise and deliver adequate health care to the total population without charging each patient some amount for the service. When I brought up the subject, I knew immediately that I had hit a raw nerve.

“Everywhere I go today around the world,” I observed, “those with health-care responsibilities for the general public are coming to the conclusion that their government cannot continue to expect to cover all costs of health care. What makes you think the Dominican Republic can cover everything for everybody? Obviously you are not doing it now, are you?”

Their answer to me was typical. “The politicians here depend on the vote of the people to gain office. Any candidate running for an elected office who would even mention the possibility of not giving free health care to the constituents would be a fool. He would never get elected.”

We had to move on with the assessment study, but my final thought on the subject was to challenge them that no one is receiving health care for free now in the Dominican Republic, and in my opinion, it will only get worse in quality, not better, until they figure out a way for the individual patients receiving the service to directly contribute something toward the services they receive.

The fact that the main hospital is trying to function without an X-ray machine, without monitors of any kind, with only one small autoclave, and with no lab analysis equipment certainly underscores the conclusion that the hospital simply needs everything.

Next Week: Designing a Plan

© Dr. James W. Jackson   

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