So what if they don't speak Spanish in South Africa?

In July I got an email from an optometrist friend: did I want to go to South Africa and work with orphans in a school there?

Ever since my first VOSH trip to Argentina in March 2007, I've been hooked on doing eye exams in foreign countries. Was it the fun of speaking Spanish under the gun? The amazing camaraderie of like-minded folks pulling together to help people see? Getting out of my dark, windowless office and switching to a warm, sunny clime for a week? (Yes, yes, and...yes!).

Now each winter I pack a small bag and jump on a plane headed for a developing country. I take my technical skills, malaria pills and my camera and try my best to contribute something to the larger world.

So after about thirty seconds of careful contemplation, and much arm-twisting....I agreed that South Africa was an excellent idea for a mission. I bought my plane tickets that day--I was in!

Our team numbered six--two optometrists (Greg and myself), a retired physician (Ollie), a retired Lutheran pastor (Karen), her teacher/insurance-broker husband (Mark), and our lawyer friend (Leslie)--who we somehow convinced last minute to escape her busy office for what promised to be the trip of a lifetime.

But even the best-laid plans can go awry when Mother Nature decides to put a hand in things.

In February, our sunny thoughts of South Africa were nearly thwarted when a massive Midwestern snowstorm arrived, just as we prepared to take off. It shut down airports from Colorado to Boston. Mark and Karen rerouted twice to make it out on time. Leslie, Ollie and Greg switched airports and left a half day early to avoid being stranded.

I was lucky: it was just the normal hour and a half to JFK airport in the rain.


Our team started coming together in London. With South African Rand in our wallets and Ambien in hand, Greg, Ollie, Leslie and I boarded our red-eye to Johannesburg. We met Mark and Karen the next morning, and our now full team jumped into a rental van and headed straight for Limpopo, the northernmost province in South Africa.


Our driver, Bernard, entertained us with a running commentary of all the planes flying in and out of O.R. Tambo International that day. He's into plane-spotting and really knew his stuff, right down to the last detail--including exactly how many seats there were on the plane we just flew in on. Wild.(In case you're at all curious about this unusual hobby, you can check out his website here).


By lunchtime we were standing at the gate to our guest ranch, just outside the small town of Mokopane, where we'd be staying for the week. It's home to Blessman Ministries, a missionary group out of Iowa and our local hosts in South Africa.


By now, jet-lag and the anxiety of traveling in foul winter weather finally caught up to me. And we had work to do on Monday. So after a warm welcome, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I went off to bed.