Among the immense indigence, one can only breath peace in the village of San Antonio. Under the hot sun, villagers place their chairs outside their small houses to watch the passersby. On the dusty roads, small kids play barefooted with marbles, as pigs and chickens run loose next to them. It was a Sunday early afternoon when our bus made its way through these narrow and unpaved roads of the village of San Antonio. At the sight of the bus men, women and children turned their heads towards it, their faces filled with smiles.Finally, the chance for getting the medical care that they desperately needed had arrived. As our bus reached the convent of Notre Dame, our home and the place of work for the next five days, a line of about fifty villagers had already formed outside.

Under the curious look of the villagers, the sisters of the convent, sister Linda and sister Rosa, warmly welcomed the 18 MEDICO team members and hurried to show us our new home. Our bedroom was a big room filled with stretcher beds. Outside by the yard were the two bathrooms and two showers, which villagers had built and installed specially for our use. A stone path linking the different areas of the convent had been built to prevent us from stepping on the mud for whenever it rained. For the construction of this path the villagers had contributed by bringing the biggest stones they could find.The path was symbolic, for it represented the union of two paths of life into one: that of the villagers and that of the team members.

In the kitchen, three ladies from the village were anxiously finishing up fixing up lunch for the team. Logs of wood were burning for what they use as a stove and tortillas were warming up. Sitting at a long wooden table the team had their first meal, while at the other side of the convent and under a bright sun, groups of families were eagerly awaiting their turn to get registered. Villagers would walk for three hours under the sun to reach the clinic, sometimes barefooted and holding children. Under the shadow of a tree, a table had been set up for registration and the sisters were taking down each villager's names, age, and symptoms.

After lunch, our mission to help was about to start. We all convened and discussed where in the convent to set up the nurse area, adult clinic, pediatrics, optometry, dental area, and the pharmacy. As the rain started to heavily come down and as the ground started to get muddy, providers and volunteers tirelessly worked until the last patient was seen. By the end of the day, all patients had left, taking home their medicines, as well as vitamins and medicines for the parasites they all acquired from drinking nonpotable water from the river.

The villagers grouped by the fence and stared curiously the camaraderie of the team, as they did every subsequent night of our stay. During the night, the team continued working, sorting out medicines for the different clinics and labeling medicines with dosage instructions in Spanish. When midnight was approaching, the team members headed to bed as the next day would start at eight in the morning.

The next morning began with the crowing of roosters and neighing of donkeys, and after our refreshing cold showers, which sometimes required the use of buckets of cold water and dainty breakfasts, we started seeing patients. Dressed in what one would consider the most modest clothes, patients were seated orderly on benches, waiting to be seen. While tightly holding their white registration papers, faces lighted up upon hearing that it was their turn to be seen.

The look of excitement and gratitude on their faces made the day of every team member. On the following day, various scenes repeated to become precious memories of our trip: a little boy getting new glasses and smiling at the fact that he was able to see properly, a lady eager to have her three infected teeth pulled and when the procedure was done feeling like the luckiest woman in San Antonio. She will certainly feel no pain at night anymore. With six teeth left, I asked her, "How will you eat?" and she answered smiling, "Smashed food."

In San Antonio, everywhere one turns to find a stare of gratitude from the villagers. Our eyes meet and as one smiles, his little eyes either shyly hide or smile back. What one takes from this rewarding experience is that life is a miracle to celebrate and to be thankful for. That is what San Antonio inhabitants do. Deprived of all commodities--the most basic food, clean water, shoes, or clothes to wear--San Antonio people live happily, celebrating the miracle of being alive.