Sometime around our Guatemala trip - when and how exactly, I still don't know - the Hope Alliance agreed to return to the Navajo Nation with the Moran Eye Center to do another joint vision screening/glasses dispensing mission. Now, it's wonderful to work with Moran, and I always enjoy helping the Navajo people, but the situation comes with its own challenges. Well, one challenge really: they don't need us.
Sadly, poverty is a widespread problem on the Reservation, and the assistance provided by the government is woefully inadequate. However, a mix of Medicaid benefits and a cultural respect for basic vision care means that the majority of the people there who need glasses already have them. They may be old, but a pair custom made for them even ten years ago most likely still suits them better than anything we have in our 6,000 pair collection. The Moran provides a much more critical service with their screenings, and so after our initial attempt last year, they decided to continue, and we decided to focus internationally.
Saturday pretty much confirmed that we made a wise choice. Of the 198 people who came to the clinic, only 70 were deemed to be in need of glasses. And only about 55 of those 70 actually left with a pair from us. Now, don't get me wrong, having helped 55 people to see is a wonderful thing. But when you're used to dispensing glasses to more like 99% of the patients you see, this feels a little underwhelming.
But still, being with the Navajo is a cool thing. They generally remain pretty straight faced, and have what comes across as a "serious" demeanor at first. But when they smile, they have the widest, most genuine, most infective smiles. It's more beautiful than the landscape. And that's saying something because the landscape is truly breathtaking. Nothing man made ever compares to the wonder of nature. It was hard to keep my eyes on the road on my long, lonely drive down there.
I had hoped to reach Monument Valley by before dark, but my hopes of that happening faded as the sunlight did. It was already dark as I reached Bluff, on the edge of the Reservation. Between there and Mexican Hat, I was all alone in the dark on the road. No cities, no streetlights, not even moonlight, as the crescent hung very low in the sky over a distant electrical storm. Both the moon and the lightning shone through the desert dust and acquired a red tinge. Once, a lightning flash silhouetted a towering monolith not far from the road, that was otherwise shrouded in complete blackness. I don't believe in the paranormal, but it was fun to recall the tales of skinwalkers and try to scare myself a little. I did see a pair of glowing eyes off to the left of the highway. As I came closer, my lights finally illuminated the coyote to which they belonged. Besides him, a hare, and a desert kangaroo rat, there was no other sign of life.
I would love to return again to help, but I think I need to devise a better approach next time. I guess we'll see...
