From a hospital theatre at the Seventh Day Adventist Community Hospital in Cocorite to disaster zones across the globe, Dr Reynold Agard speaks with the urgency of a man who has seen both crisis and recovery up close.
“My name is Dr Reynold Agard from Trinidad and Tobago,” he says simply, speaking in the middle of an active medical mission giving the gift of sight to thousands of Trinidad and Tobago citizens.
Born in Goodwood, Tobago, and raised in Trinidad, Agard describes himself as a “true Trinbagonian”, but his work has taken him far beyond the Caribbean. Today, he serves as president of HANDS International, a global humanitarian medical organisation based in Loma Linda, California.
“I joined the organisation six months after they started,” he recalls. “I became their medical director. And for the past 14 years, I’ve been the president of HANDS International.”
Over that period, HANDS has grown into a co-ordinated international medical outreach network, deploying volunteer specialists into disaster zones and underserved communities across the world.
“We do medical missions across the globe,” Agard explains.
“Whenever there is a disaster like Haiti, Nepal, hurricanes—we just finished Jamaica where we spent three months. When there’s a disaster, we go in with medical supplies, but also food, clothing, and humanitarian support.”
Teams include emergency physicians, surgeons, paediatricians, gynaecologists, ophthalmologists, and dentists.
“We take every spectrum so we can help countries get back on their feet,” he says.
It is in Trinidad and Tobago, however, where one of HANDS International’s most ambitious current interventions is unfolding: a high-volume cataract surgery programme designed to restore sight to thousands.
At the centre is a collaboration with internationally recognised surgeons and local health partners.
“One of the busiest cataract surgeons in the world is working with us,” Agard notes. “He runs a project in India called Eyes for India, and he works across Ghana, Sierra Leone, Ethiopia. He is in demand globally.”
The medical goal is clear and measurable.
“Our target is approximately 4,000 cataract surgeries if we can,” he says. “Because we know the need is here.”
Agard breaks down the procedure in simple terms.
“When cataracts develop, the lens becomes opaque, like looking through frosted glass,” he explains. “When we replace that lens, people see again. Colours become sharper. Night blindness improves. It changes quality of life.”
But the operation is only part of a larger system of care. Screening and pre-operative testing have proven to be one of the biggest logistical challenges.
“We were hoping people would already be screened before arriving,” he admits. “But many could not afford the cost of screening, so we had to adjust.”
That adjustment has slowed throughput but not commitment.
“Instead of going out in the evening, we are operating or scanning late into the night,” he says. “We are here to work our best.”
Teams from India and other partner countries have been working extended hours to meet demand.
“Our team is very dedicated,” Agard says.
“We come early, leave late, and try to see as many people as possible.”
The mission has also required coordination across multiple local institutions, including the Seventh-day Adventist Community Hospital, the Ministry of Health, and state agencies.
Support has also come from immigration, customs, national security, and health authorities to facilitate the visiting teams and equipment.
“We are delighted,” Agard says.
“This is our country, and we are here to serve the people.”
He also emphasises the importance of partnership between private, faith-based, and public health systems in enabling large-scale care delivery.
For Agard, the work carries personal meaning.
“Charity begins at home,” he says. “That is why I am passionate about bringing back help to Trinidad.”
What began as a global humanitarian calling has become, in this moment, a deeply local intervention—bringing together international expertise and national need.
“We are just happy to deliver,” he adds quietly. “When the bandages come off and people see colours again, that’s the moment it all makes sense.”
