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| Sign in Georgetown Hospital |
"to cure diseases"
Our landlord warned us that pink-eye was spreading like an epidemic. It wasn't but 2 days later Elder Wells called to find out what he could do to treat pink-eye. Since he lives a little distance from here we suggested he call a couple of sisters in the branch and see what they recommend. After consulting with them he calls me back and tells me that he wasn't really up for trying either remedy. "So what did they suggest?" I ask.
Elder Wells said, "Well, the first one suggested I get these certain leaves and boil them in water, then wash my eyes out with the water. I'm not sure about putting that in my eye."
"Okay," I say. "Understandable."
Pause
"The second one wasn't anything I wanted to try either," he says.
Longer pause
I ask, "What was that?"
Elder Wells, quietly says, "Rinse with breast milk."
(I am trying to process this and not laugh too much over the phone.)
"And she said I could come over and get some."
By this time I am nearly doubled over laughing, imagining what was going through an 18 year old missionary's mind. So I relent and assure him I'll help and go to the drug store and find something. So we drive over the Canje Bridge to New Amsterdam for the eye drops, then back over the bridge to another bridge, then over that bridge (Berbice Bridge) to Rosignol, to meet him to give him the medicine. He is standing in front of the church (a rented house) with his companion. He is wearing sunglasses. I ask to see his eye. Yep, conjunctivitis. I give him instructions. He thanks me, then proceeds to tell about a meeting they just had with a family. When the missionaries went into the house he thought it was strange that they were all wearing sunglasses. So his companion asks why they are all wearing sunglasses. One family member says, in all seriousness, "We don't want Elder Wells to look at our eyes, because we don't want to catch the "red eye."
It gets better. The next Sunday we go to a different area for church. One of the sisters (an outspoken and can-do kind of woman) walks in, wearing sunglasses, and loudly announces she's not shaking anyone's hands today because she has pink-eye. Okay, I'm more than happy to keep my distance. After Sacrament Meeting I go upstairs to observe the Primary.
The lesson is "I Am Thankful for my Ears." The teacher is leading an activity where a boy turns his back to the class and class members speak aloud one at a time and he is supposed to guess who it is by their voice. Just then Sister No-Hand-Shakey walks in and sees what's going on. She takes a washcloth (people carry wash cloths for wiping sweat away) from her purse. She folds it into a blindfold and covers the little boy's eyes with it. It is too small to tie in the back so she tells him to hold it in place with his hands......then the next child, etc. You get the picture. I admit I had conflicting feelings about this - whether I should speak up or pretend it was like trying to make my son with the chicken pox kiss his little sister on the lips.
I'm sure people from other cultures view a lot of things Americans do as inexplicable, too....
