Kindness in Action Service Society of Alberta (KIA) was born in 1993 when Dr Amil Shapka 'wrote a cheque with his mouth' and agreed to travel to Honduras to provide relief from dental pain for the local people. Since then the KIA family has grown from the original 4 participants to over 250 volunteers from all over Canada and beyond, dental and non-dental, who travel in teams to Central and South America, Africa and Asia providing dental services to people who would otherwise not be able to access treatment.

Why do we do it? Because, it offers us a chance to work from the heart and use our talents and skills to give back. Because what we receive back far exceeds the costs, inconveniences and discomforts. We touch many lives, and in turn our lives are touched in ways that change us and make us better people. There are no words to describe the feeling when someone looks in the mirror and dissolves in tears of joy to see the black stumps of decayed enamel replaced with glistening white fillings or when someone comes back - on foot over many miles - to thank you again for relieving their pain. We often stand out in the locations we work in because of our fair complexions and definite lack of tan in the winter months. It is not unusual for people - even people we have not treated - to approach us on the streets and thank us for helping their people, inviting us to come and see their homes and always asking us to commit to coming back next year. Even more rewarding is to go back a year or two later and find that a difference has been made - the rate of decay has decreased!

In Honduras, we were joined by some local dentists. Often, the local professionals want to help but don't have the equipment, supplies or medications to provide appropriate care. By joining with the KIA team, they can provide the services needed by making use of the equipment and supplies that we carry with us. Julio is a pediatric dentist in Tegucigalpa, the capital city in Honduras. I was asked to assist him in our makeshift clinic in DanLi. I worked in pediatric practice at home so I was excited to see how his approach would be similar and what I could learn from him. We didn't have enough tables and benches for the patients to lie on, so Julio was doing extractions with his patients sitting in straight backed wooden chairs. Julio would talk to the kids and get them laughing. Not one child flinched when he gave the injection. He would wait a couple of minutes and then tell them to whistle. Why? Try to whistle when your lips are numb! While the kids were giggling over their thwarted attempts at making noise, he would slide the decayed teeth out - no tears.

I also learned about difficult choices from Julio. A young boy presented with a lower molar that was infected, so badly in fact that the infection had spread down into his neck, swelling it to almost twice its normal size. We couldn't extract the tooth without the boy having antibiotics for a couple of days first. As we started to dispense the antibiotic tablets from the supply we carried, Julio pulled me aside and said we were wasting our time. The boy's mother could sell those few pills on the black market for enough to feed her family for a year - and she would continue to treat the infection with aloe vera, the accepted folk remedy, though it obviously wasn't working. Julio arranged to have the boy attend the local medical clinic and receive IV antibiotics and we were able to extract the tooth a few days later.

Lima, Peru receives very little rainfall - about 2 inches per year. The Carabayllo area is the most barren area I have seen and yet the children map out a soccer pitch in the dirt and dust. The local people lay out rocks to mark the borders of their property - there is no grass or any other distinction to divide one lot from another. The buildings are shanties built out of cardboard and other refuse scavenged from garbage dumps. There was no power up on the hill, so we could only do extractions and the hygienist provided some hand scaling services. This area is a direct contrast to Urubamba in the Sacred Valley. Cooler temperatures and lush greenery do not guarantee affluence though. We worked in the municipal medical/dental clinic there. Directly outside the operatory window was the cock-fighting pit. People walked for miles to come and have their dental treatment completed. Many wore their traditional garb, colorful and quaint. As we provided restorative treatment, babies were being born in the next room.

In Cambodia, our team worked in a variety of settings, but a very interesting day was spent in Battambang Provincial Jail. 900 inmates are incarcerated there; about 40 of them are women. When a mother is sent to jail, any children under the age of 5 will probably go with her. We treated a little girl who had been born in the prison. She was 5 years old and knew no other life. The inmates were very interested in having dental treatment. Waiting in line for hours allowed them to be outside. Otherwise, they were not permitted outside except for one hour per week. Many offered to help so it was not unusual to have someone convicted of rape or murder holding the flashlight so we could see to work. One of the guards complained of a toothache. A quick exam showed an infected wisdom tooth. The guard refused treatment because he believed that extracting his wisdom tooth would cause him to go blind. We were finally able to convince him that many of us had previously had our wisdom teeth out and we could still see.

Also in Cambodia we had the privilege of providing dental care to the children who live in the Peaceful Children's Homes (PCH), one in Battambang and one near Phnom Penh. These homes are for children who have been orphaned or whose families cannot support them. Since 1994 when Dr. Son Soubert opened the first home, 32 of these young people have gone on to be university educated - remarkable in a country where less than 2% of the population receives post-secondary education. The young people return after their education is complete and give back to their country. Now, a dormitory/hotel/community centre with a library is being built with help from KIA and a graduate of hotel management (one of PCH's success stories) will be teaching the older children how to run a hotel. Groups like our KIA teams will be able to stay there setting up our clinics on the main floor and sleeping on the second floor. Our teams are making a difference too. The oral health of the children has improved dramatically since our first trip in 2007. The people in the surrounding villages come for treatment as well and have learned much to improve their oral health.

Working in and around Sipalay City in the Philippines this year, we had a young girl arrive for treatment. She was 13 years old and explained that her mother was employed in another city. Except for the occasional visit from her mother, this young lady lived alone and basically was raising herself. She heard about the Canadian dentists and decided that she should have her teeth checked and cleaned. She presented a mature and thoughtful attitude of one much older in years.

The work we do is hard. The conditions are difficult. The heat is oppressive. We may be sleeping on the floor. But these two weeks with KIA are without a doubt the best two weeks of my year - every year. The people we meet, the friends we make, the difference we make is hard to explain. And the difference this experience makes in me is beyond measure.

Shared Blessings

When you first go on a mission, may it be medical, religious or dental there is always one or two people that touch your heart and give you back way more than you ever expected. Talk to anyone who has done a KIA mission and they all have similar stories. I'd like to share the a few stories about the children who touched my heart.

On my second KIA mission I was on there was a little girl named Tilea who needed a few fillings but she made such a fuss that we couldn't do anything on her. Our interrupter took her out after we decided we couldn't do anything with her crying. An hour later we tried again, but didn't get anywhere that time either because we realized Tilea was scared by all the other children who were crying and screaming during extractions. Our interrupter told Tilea that all she needed was a filling and that it wouldn't be what the other children were crying over then she told Tilea to come back the next day. The next day the clinic was a lot quieter, no children and only adult patients. This time we had our interrupter stay with us and explain everything to Tilea. Why the other children had cried and screamed the day before and that we were only going to do fillings and not extractions. Tilea still didn't trust us so we resorted to bribery and that worked! First Tilea got some Crayola crayons for letting us look in her mouth, then she got some pencils for letting us numb and freeze her mouth. Next she got some hair-berets for letting us work on one tooth. Well after about 20 minutes she of course had calmed down enough for us to finish all the work we needed to do. Tilea walked out of the clinic with more toys and stuff than any other child who had seen us that week. After it was all done we asked her, "Was it as bad as you had thought?" Her response was, "No." Then I said to her through our interrupter that next time she should trust us. Two years later when KIA went back to the same village, who was the first to greet us at the Town's Municipal building? Tilea. She was one of the first patients to show up the next day when the clinic opened and she stuck around all that day calming her cousins and friends, telling them that it wouldn't be as bad as they thought and that they should trust the dentists. I made Tilea an honorary mission member by giving her one of our T-shirts.

On my third mission with KIA I had done a lot of Oral Hygiene Instruction over the week, showing children and adults how to brush and floss. It was fun using the disclosing tablets and letting them all see how much plaque was on their teeth. My hopes had been that if I/we could reach just one person to brush and floss it would all be worth it. Many of the children seemed very interested but I was unsure if I had truly reached them. On the very last day of the mission one of the interrupters, Linda Ochoa, was giving the Oral Hygiene Instruction, since I had indoctrinated her. There was a little girl sitting in the corner who was doing exactly what Linda had taught her to the dental tooth model. The little girl, Nilda, wasn't just doing it correctly, she was doing it perfectly! Linda said, "Lets see if she can teach the other little children to brush." Sure enough Nilda taught the other children how to brush their teeth. Then we asked Nilda to explain the picture booklet on the importance or brush and flossing to the children and adults that were all sitting around. Again, Nilda explained everything perfectly, she had soaked it all up when Linda had originally explained it. After Nilda was done she turned to me and asked me if she could borrow the book because she wanted to teach her grandmother how to brush her teeth. I was over come with emotion. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough books to accommodate her wish but we gave her a few extra toothbrushes to aid her in her wish. The next year I was ready with lots of booklets, just in case.

We always go on these missions thinking of what a blessing we will be to others that we are never really prepared when they bless us.

Pisac Team, Peru

Moments of emotion would catch me off guard. A clinical psychologist hears personal stories of hardship and courage every day, but I was unprepared for the impact of my interactions with the gracious people from a small mountain village in Peru. Did the dozens of gentle souls who, sunshine or rain, waited hours in a long line at the side of the road know how they impressed me with their patience? Who would have understood my secret joy as enthusiastic children embraced the teaching puppets, vying for turns to brush Dino the dinosaur's teeth in exactly the way my inadequate Spanish had tried to explain? Did anyone notice my voice cracking with emotion as I sat on the floor reading aloud "La Importancia de Leche" with a group of innocent grade school girls keen to learn about health? How could I be so moved by the polite eagerness of children to choose a gift as simple as a pretty pencil from the box help out to them? How could an old woman reaching her dark hand to touch by blonde hair express so clearly with a gesture what her Quechwa words would have failed to communicate? When was the last time a stranger's hug felt so genuine? And on our last night in Pisac, could a pretty mother and her young daughters who crouched outside our dining room window blowing kisses and waving goodbye know that I privately choked back tears of appreciation for them? How could I have anticipated that this experience of giving would be so richly repaid?

Snapshots of Nicaragua

Sergio is 4 years old. He is small, very small for his age. It seems there isn't enough food in this family. His clothes are dirty. We find him a new T-shirt. He needs a filling, just a little one, but he is very afraid. We aren't sure we can work with a little boy this frightened, but his mother insists. She knows that this may be the only chance she has in a long while for Sergio to see a dentist. We spend a lot of time talking with Sergio, trying to settle him with toys and bubbles, holding his hands and stroking his face. Sergio has his tooth filled and falls asleep in his mother's arms.

We see Sergio the following night at a cultural presentation. His mother volunteers for the Non Governmental Organization (NGO) that has sponsored the Kindness in Action dental team. She has helped to prepare the typical Nicaraguan meal we are served. Sergio recognizes us and blows kisses. He sits with us and shares our dinner. His mother hugs us.

We set up the "Drill and Fill" stations for restorative dental work inside the community hall at the barrio Las Torres. We use the tables provided, building them up with cinder blocks to get the height we need to save our backs. The Central American dental assistant is short, she is standing on two cinderblocks.

A 14 year old girl named Lily is next. We laugh together as she climbs up onto the table. Lily has two white fillings on her front teeth. She looks in a mirror. Her smile is restored. She gathers up her hair clips and toothbrushes, hops down, shakes our hands and shyly says" Muchas Gracias".

Lily's mother is also at the clinic. She tells the interpreter that Lily is not a good girl, she doesn't listen, she doesn't help with the younger children. She doesn't know what to do with her. Today Lily is leaving her family. She is being sent to another village to be "married" to a 47 year old man.

We walk down a dusty street to the house where we will have lunch. Dirty water and probably sewage, runs in the middle of the street. Ahead, a large group of children are gathered in front of a brightly painted brick wall. This is the school operated by the NGO that is sponsoring our group. There are three shifts a day, morning, afternoon, and evening, accommodating 600 children. Anyone can attend. The requirement is regular attendance. There is no public schooling provided by the government so the people's future rests in these kinds of schools. I wonder how they can study if they are hungry .....

A family is contracted to give us lunch. It is a rice dish with chicken and some squash, quite bland but filling. One of our company is finished with his portion and tosses a small piece of chicken to a skinny cat that wanders in. I look up and a lady from the house looks on. I am sure that it is completely foreign to her to feed "people" food to animals in a country where people scavenge through garbage. Where no one seems to eat lunch except the Canadian dental team.

It is a special night. Street and market children are performing for us. There is magic, juggling, clowns, music and dancing. There are treasures from the market given as thanks to the dental team from Canada.

The Nicaraguan woman that works for INPRHU (Institute for Promotion of Humanity) wants to thank us. She does not have a prepared speech; her words are from her heart. " Canadians are special people. You leave your friends and families, the safety and comfort of your homes, you take time away from your jobs. You leave another life behind and you come to Nicaragua. You do more than work with us. You want to know us. You stand beside us. We are grateful for your solidarity. We are a people who need much help. Please come back next year. You have helped our children find their smiles."

Tucked safely away is the money raised at a church luncheon. When we left St.Albert, we asked that God would lead us to the place to give the money. We found it this night in a community centre for street and market children in Managua, Nicaragua. Thanks be to God.

They Still Bring Us Flowers

My first volunteer work experience in Honduras was less than a positive one. The novelty of sleeping outside on a church pew in a mosquito net, much to the amusement of the local wild turkeys, soon wore off. I swore (I did a lot of swearing that week) that I would not return. The week of unmerciful heat and insects, diarrhea and endless lines of people of all ages with problems beyond description, was too much. I would never again venture out of my cozy little cocoon.

Not soon enough, the day to return home came. As we waited in the falling apart bus (which was a lot like everything around us), my relief at leaving competed for expression with my increasing irritation to get going ...I need a shower...' Just when I thought I would scream, it happened. Unceremoniously, the entire village assembled to bid us farewell. As those beautiful wide eyed, bare footed children boarded the bus, preciously bearing flowers in cupped hands, the men began to sing songs played on worn homemade instruments, and the women wept. In an instant that was also an eternity, an explosion of sentiments went off inside my being; all things are connected ...there is a loving God ...giving is receiving ...we can make a difference... there is hope for a better world ...thank you for this day ...all washed away by a flood of tears that followed. I would never be the same. These people, these nameless campesinos whom I thought had nothing, freely offered the only thing of real value they had, their hearts.

It is ten years later and like a sacred ember, those memories glow softly inside, comforting, warming my soul and lighting the way for the work yet that remains to be done.

They still bring us flowers.