Haiti stories

I'm thinking that this blog has been a bit of a Debbie-Downer and I would like to resuscitate it into a more cheery and enjoyable thing. I hope everyone (that is, my family and the three friends who read this) appreciates this new set-up.

It's now been just over a year since the earthquake and I was hearing a bit about the status of the country on the news and on the radio, friends are returning, friends I've made remain there, friends from Haiti want to come here...I'm finding it's more and more difficult to pull away from the country I spent a good chunk of my time helping. Reminiscing about all the things I experienced there makes me pensive and a little sad that I had to leave the island. Here's a few of my stories from the island (mostly Haiti):

1. Taking a tap-tap as a form of public transportation. If you really want to feel like an outsider and have some good conversations with puzzled locals, this is the way to go. All at the low price of 5 gourdes (=roughly 20 cents). It's a cheap thrill and I love it.

2. Motos. Another form of transportation, this is just a motorcycle that is driven by a chauffer (shofe in Creole), the passenger sits behind the driver and holds onto whatever is attached to the bike. Usually I put on my sunglasses, held onto the rack on the back, clenched my fists, and tried to keep my bottom on the seat. Knowing that I was weaving through traffic at high speeds will really scare my family. But I loved this also and would again recommend this to anyone who likes skydiving, bungee jumping, roller skating backwards, climbing trees, and generally being reckless. I like skydiving.

3. Meeting people from foreign countries. There is a market called Bom Bagay near BraBat (Brazil Battalion) in Port-au-Prince, open only on Saturdays until 2pm or so. I liked to go because I knew some of the women and kids who worked there and got to sit and chat with them or occasionally I would run into some acquaintances. The Haitians working at Bom Bagay (this means "good thing", and the vendors would constantly be repeating this as a selling tool) could speak French (the bast of Haitian Creole), Spanish, English, and occasionally other languages. I met people from Brazil, Nepal, Japan, China, France, Chile, Bolivia, Colombia, Canada, India, the United States, and I'm sure there were other countries that I have not named. It was a veritable mixing pot, the likes of which have probably not been seen since Ellis Island.

3.5. On the same thread of the Bom Bagay market, I knew a little boy who worked at this market, maybe 9 or 10 years old, who spoke Creole, French, Spanish, Portuguese, and Mandarin. If that doesn't blow your socks off and make you feel slightly inadequate and like an underachiever, I don't know what will. He worked at the Brazil hospital while it was functioning, as a translator and the main breadwinner of the family. Now he is looking for work as a

translator elsewhere. I'm telling you, if I had my dream (which at this moment is to either a) adopt all the Haitian children who have talents such as these, bring them here to the States to get further education in the area they're interested in, and make them into successful people; or b) get funding so I can move to Haiti, adopt all the Haitian children who have talents such as these, educate them in Haiti or send them to colleges who can educate them in the area they are interested in, and make them successful people. I know this is sort of a run-on sentence, but I don't care, I'm trying to get the point across. I want to help them out.

4. Guillot Fevil. Ah, Guillot. Our gardener. Smile and Heart personified. Every morning I was living at the clinic, I would wake up, leave my room, and Guillot would be outside, watering plants or pruning or laying out grass or hauling bags to and fro. He would always greet me with a "Ma-gooooo", not pronouncing the "r", as is typical with Haitians. It comes from the French way of pronouncing the "r" deep in the throat, sometimes making it unnoticeable. Anyway, this greeting always cheered me up and made me glad that Guillot was the gardener. I got to talking with him one day and, man-oh-man, is he smart. He was talking about American politics and education and foreign policies and religion, he just never stopped. I interviewed him in a futile attempt to write an article for my University newspaper (p.s.: Brian, if you're reading this, I still need to write it up and finish it and convince you to publish it. I've slacked on it, but I really really do want to finish it) and learned during the interview that he is the ONLY male in his family. Please understand this: the only man in his family, no father, no uncles, no grandfather, no male cousins, just a mother, multiple aunts and their female children, and a grandmother, if I remember correctly. And he lives in Cite Soleil, once voted the most dangerous city in the world. Worse than Compton (Crips and Bloods. I'm saying this like I know what they are or how awful Compton is). Worse than the projects in New York City (again, I don't know how awful it is, only what I have heard). You don't go into Cite Soleil without a bodyguard or the police or a nun. Not joking.

Okay, back to Guillot. I remember him pleading with me to look for schools for him to study at. French-speaking, since he never learned English. He loves agronomy (like agriculture, studying plants and soil and such) and he wants to study this, earn some money while in school that he can send back to his family in Haiti, then after he has his degree, return to Haiti and teach what he has learned. Reforest the country (a lofty goal, but I won't be one to say he can't do it). He is an amazing guy and I am fortunate enough to be his friend. I only hope that I can help him in his higher education, this is my goal for him.

5. How could I not have listed this first, I don't know. But it certainly is, far and above, my number one favorite thing about Haiti: my America Solidaria family. From the very first time I ever traveled to Haiti (March 8-13, 2009), I have worked with America Solidaria and their volunteers. All have been from Chile and I don't believe there are enough compliments in four languages to explain just how highly I value their friendships, their dispositions, their personalities, their ability to be a doctor in the clinic and a regular 20-something at home, to separate the despair at the clinic from the social life at home, that they can laugh with and cry with and love their patients as much as my family does when they get together on Thanksgiving (and that's a lot of laughing and crying and loving, let me tell you). They are the ones who kept me sane after I treated a boy at the clinic whose mother locked him in the house with her boyfriend, who beat him with with a extension cord...all because the boy wanted to wash his clothes every day for school. When we had to treat babies with abscesses, they stood with me and walked me through the whole thing, while still making the mothers or the patients laugh. When six of us traveled 5 hours by various forms of transportation and stumbled our way through the Haitian jungle, if you will, to sleep like sardines in a stuffy one-room house with three other people; and still smile about it in the morning! I just don't know if it's the latin culture, or maybe it's that they're volunteers, or maybe it's the Haitians that soften you up and make you realize you are truly helping them. Whatever it is, I want more of it and I want to feel that wonderful forever. If you can, volunteer in far-away lands and make friends with other volunteers. You will never regret it.

6. Haitian children. Curious. Mischievous. Genuine. Curious. Open. Playful. Adorable. Mischievous. Lovely. I know I listed a few twice, that's because thos are the characteristics that stood out the most for me. The children in Haiti just don't know how not to stare at a white person. To touch their skin or their hair. To gawk and point and, if they're babies, cry. Their parents probably have the same curiosity, "what happened to their skin? their eyes? their hair?" Televisions are not as prevalent there as they are in Westernized countries, so most Haitians in suburban settings or rural areas have not been close to a white person. There were a set of twins at the clinic who I would adopt, if they did not have a loving mother, though haggard at times. Twin boys who I treated once upon a time for skin lesions and since then, run up to me, each grab a leg, and wait for tickling and hugs and kisses and smiles. It's twice the fun and I wish I could bottle that feeling up and sell it. It would be bigger than Microsoft, by golly. And the boys, maybe 6 years old, are missing front teeth. I just don't believe they could be cuter.

There are other children in Haiti, I know that, and those boys are not the only ones who won over my heart in 0.27 seconds. There was a man who brought in his baby after the mother had left, due to health reasons, we believe. This is EXTREMELY rare for a man to stay with his kids after the mother has left. Men rarely stick around even if the mother stays with the kids. Lots of men have three and four lady friends and think nothing of it. It hurts my heart to think of it. So, back to this one out-of-this-world father, he brought in his baby girl who was underweight and sickly, and I helped sometimes in the consultations. He was so attentive and followed directions so well, each month when he came back for his appointment, his baby was getting fatter and healthier and progressing in her development just like she should be. The father was smiling more and proud of his progress as well as his daughter's development. I think she started walking a few months after she was started on the nutritional program.

I have oh-so-many stories from my year in Haiti and I will work slowly and elaborate on the adventures I had. I sincerely hope they inspire you to do the same, go play with children, build houses, and ride motorcycles.

Thanksgiving

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Dia de Gracias as my Spanish-speaking friends call it. It's probably the holiday that I celebrate the most, more than Christmas, even. Every year, my family gets together a week or two before the real Thanksgiving and we celebrate it then, with all the aunts and uncles and grandparents and anybody else who wants to drop by, really. That way, when the real Thanksgiving arrives, we can all relax, eat whatever we want, go to another Thanksgiving in another location, and basically do whatever we want without the stress of Turkey Day and all the preparation and food and travel and closed shops and crazy last-second shoppers and such.

This year, for example, I am celebrating three Thanksgivings. One with my mother's family (we celebrated last Monday, I believe), one in Portland with friends (Veggie Thanksgiving, which doesn't necessarily mean Tofurkey...instead, squash lasagna, sweet potato mashed potatoes, saffron rice, homemade ice cream, pecan pies, etc.), and one on the traditional day with my father's family (the finale and one where I get to see all my relatives I have not seen for months). This is definitely my favorite holiday, even though I'm likely going to outgrow some of my clothes over the two-week-long eat-a-thon.

Hurricane Thomas

(written Friday, November 5th, 2010)

I'm writing this to make sure everyone who may read this knows that we are okay, the Mattenley's are okay, nobody was hurt and nothing was damaged, except the tent cities, who most likely were waterlogged to a certain extent.

Yesterday, Thursday, the hurricane was thought to hit the island and devastate an already tired country. Switching constantly from tropical storm to class-1 hurricane, this post-season storm was acting strangely, and everyone was hunkering down, expecting the worst. I had gone to Delmas, higher up in the hills of Port-au-Prince, to visit a group from Springfield who had arrived earlier that day to see the progress from various Mercy League projects. I knew Lonnie, Emily, Lloyd, Tyler, and the family staying in Haiti, the Mattenley's, so I stayed at the house and relaxed for a few days, also waiting out the storm.

Thomas didn't hit the island yesterday, but this morning at 8am was the projection. Most of us woke up at 7, expecting to batten down the hatches for the hurricane-force winds and heavy downpour that usually comes with a hurricane. 8am came with clouds and a drizzle and as the hour wore on, the winds and rains got heavier, but nothing close to what everyone was expecting.

I decided to chance it and call a motorcycle to take me back home, since the storm seemed to have passed and without signs of it getting worse. A trip that usually takes at least 1 and possibly two hours to make (from Delmas 75 to Santo 19) only took 45 minutes. Nobody was in the road except a few wary tap-taps and some UN troops in their tanks and heavy-duty trucks. When crossing the bridge on the way to Santo 19, we saw the river. I have lived here for nearly a year, and in both rainy and dry seasons, and I have never seen this river so high. It looked to me like it was directly out of a movie, raging water carrying more of Haiti's topsoil down to the ocean.

The driver stopped so I could take some photos, and we joined the throng of bystanders in their ponchos and plastic bags covering their hair. Down on a bit of flat ground near the rough waters was a white journalist with a video camera (this being much more exciting to the Haitians than the high waters). We all agreed that he was fou, creole for “crazy” or “stupid”, and I got back on the motorcycle with the driver and we returned back to the house. Nothing else exciting happened on the trip, and I am glad to be back in the house, although it's bittersweet, as I am packing up my things to leave on Tuesday morning.

Tonight will be my going-away party, and I'm already tearing up. I don't know if or when I will return and I have many friends I will leave here, Haitians and Chileans and Colombians and Americans. I will return to my home to see my friends and family and apply for jobs in Oregon, and keep searching for international nursing jobs, as this has become my passion, my exciting life. I hope to return to Haiti someday, and soon, and hopefully not during hurricane season.

another country (or two)

In six days, I will return to my home in Oregon, along with the cold, the rain, the trees, the familiarity of my home. I will take a moment to reflect on the last year plus a little and say that it has been completely splendid. I came to Haiti to work in the clinic in Santo 19 on September 11th, stayed until December 7th, then returned to my Oregon. I returned to Haiti on February 12th, a month after the January 12th earthquake and I stayed until June 23rd. During this time, I was working at the clinic again, but as the director of the physical rehabilitation center for people injured in the earthquake (I am also happy to report that it is still up and running and functioning MUCH better than I had hoped for, thanks to incredible nurses and therapists like Suzanne and Erica). June 23rd until July 27th, I was at home, trying to find work in Haiti again so I could return to the country I had grown so comfortable in. Without any luck, but with many very good friends at the clinic, I returned. August 10th, my friends left for Chile, leaving me at the house and feeling very sad and unsure about what to do next. I stayed for a few weeks after they left, until August 25th. After my month in Haiti, continuing the job search, I bought a flight to Chile to visit my friends.

This is where my next trek begins. While I was in Chile, I saw almost all of the country, from Puerto Montt in the furthest South to Tacna, in Peru, and many cities in between. I ate seafood in Puerto Montt, bought yarn to make a hat in Angelmo, watched a pig be slaughtered in La Union (something I think I was always remember with sorrow...not something a city girl is used to seeing, nor completely appreciates), saw the Tatio geysers, Moon Valley, and lagoons in the middle of the driest desert on earth in San Pedro de Atacama, visited the oldest church in Chile in Chiu Chiu, saw the Morro of Arica where the Pacific war was fought and Chile gained land from Bolivia and Peru, and in the meantime, saw all my friends and got to meet truly fascinating people. Not to mention really practicing my Spanish.

My time in Chile came to an end October 24th, when I returned to Haiti. I had left most of my things there, so as not to lug them all up and down Chile. This is where I am in my travels so far, at the house in Haiti, with new doctors and new stories. Trying to make contact with all my friends before I leave next Tuesday to return back home to Oregon for the holidays and to find a job.

I'm sure there were some wondering just how I supported myself in all these travels and what I am planning to do next. The next direction in my life has many paths to choose from and I am currently deciding between: finding a job in Oregon, validating my nursing license to work in Chile, returning to Haiti with a non-governmental organization (NGO), or working in a new country. I have sent out myriad applications and am just waiting for one to say "we want you to work in such-and-such country, what do you say?" My preference would be to do international nursing with NGOs, but the problem is that almost all positions require masters degrees and years of experience, neither of which I have. I have experience in other, less quantitative skills, but that are not as appreciated by employers, I think. Thus, my current choice to find a job in Oregon. However, just as a bit of a head's-up, if I get a job in another country, I will beheading out. This seems to be my passion and what I'm good at, and I love the idea to travel, work, enjoy other cultures, other countries, other climates, but to always return to Oregon as my home base.

This is as far as I am in my life right now. 23 years old, looking for international work, practicing my languages, learning new things all the time.

I'm baaaaaaaaaaack!

I wrote this in the airport on the way back to Haiti:

Current status: in Houston airport, trying to pass the time as I wait for my delayed flight. I'm anticipating my arrival into Miami at 12:30am, and I'll try to figure out a productive way to spend my time while waiting in Miami. Sleeping sounds like a splendid idea.

I believe that in every post, I apologize for not writing more frequently, and I think I will stop the apologies and the feeling guilty. For the past five weeks, I have been visiting people in Oregon. At this moment, I am traveling back to Haiti, to work in another clinic.

Being in the airport or any vehicle associated with the airport, it's difficult not to keep a stone-faced, angry-looking expression on your face, when in fact you're simply trying to take in all there is to see and experience. Being overwhelmed with the movement of people is one thing. Then there are the languages. Then there's the anxiety of getting to your assigned gate that seems always to be assigned to the other end of the airport, as a twisted sort of test, with 20 minutes alotted for running time.

Nowhere else can boast the international diversity of an airport, except maybe the vicinity of Port-au-Prince. This is mainly due to the response after the earthquake, with the UN troops and charity organizations infesting the area surrounding Port-au-Prince (smartly, they are not inhabiting Port-au-Prince proper...it is not yet safe enough to be home to strangers who don't know the country very well). I personally know a handful of UN troops, from Brazil, Chile, Colombia, and Nepal, but there are also troops from Canada, France, Bolivia, Honduras, Hong Kong, Japan, India, the United States, and more whom I have forgotten but am not any less grateful for.

Continental just called for Miami passengers to prepare for boarding, and this makes only an hour delay! I am only 13 hours from arriving in Haiti! It's so close, I can practically taste it. Feeling the blazing sun (that always seems to be closer and hotter and crueler than the hottest summer days in Oregon) as soon as I step off the plane. The insatiable desire to find a pool or any for of cooling off. Becoming reaccustomed to the stares and strange but distinguishable language. I am looking forward to it.

Addendum, 29 July: I am at this moment in Haiti, at the house of the America Solidaria volunteers, getting ready to make pancakes for dinner. Breakfast for dinner is my favorite, and we also have some homemade strawberry jam that I made and some manjar (like caramel or dulce de leche) from Chile that we will use in place of syrup. I have been in search of other NGOs, applying for positions with hospitals in the area, and asking anyone I can think of in order to secure a long-term nursing position in Haiti. I spent all morning out riding around to give out resumes and talk with directors and such, and I have quite a sunburn to show for it.

When I do make a final and definite decision about what will happen in the upcoming few weeks, I will post another entry. For now, be sure that all is well, besides the heat, and it just started raining. Thank God for that.

Driving through the Dominican Republic














View from my room in Barcelo Puerto Plata













Sitting by the pool












On the beach in Puerto Plata

A delicate balance between my work and my personal life. Working with sisters, acting as administrator for a rehabilitation center, trying to keep up my nursing skills, and trying to see all my friends here...all this makes for an incredibly busy life here. Today is just about the only day I've had in the last month or so just to myself. It's glorious and it's been going very well so far.

There is a man working here who I have become friends with. I can't remember in previous posts if I have ever mentioned him, but he is an incredibly intelligent man and we talked for an hour and a half this morning, about his life, his hopes and dreams, and what I will be doing about it. Thanks to Brian Doyle for agreeing to help me in this aspect; I'll be writing an article about him for Mr. Doyle to distribute to whomever he sees fit. After hearing about his life, I am surprised to see him so positive, rational, and objective of his situation. When I finish the article, I will post it here.

The main objective of the article is to advertise, in a way, for his education. He received his baccalaureate last year (which is like the SATs, but covers much more and is infinitely more difficult, or so I hear), and he is looking to study agriculture. His views on Haiti, humanity, and the environment, among other topics, are enlightening and inspirational and I hope I can do him justice in my article. In a perfect world, a college professor or dean (fingers crossed) would see the article, become interested, delve further into the story, and accept him to a university. This man is impassioned and vibrant and would be a blessing to Haiti. But that's just my opinion.

In a less upbeat note, but nonetheless a cheery one, the rehabilitation center is continuing, slowly. Meetings yesterday clarified many things and we all feel we can continue with the project, as long as communication stays very open. Eventually, we plan to have 30-40 patients rotating pretty frequently, and probably stay open until October, longer if the need is there.

To continue decreasing in the happy factor, living with the sisters is getting more and more impossible. I am looking for other places to live, but still keep working with the clinic and the rehab center. I love this place and I would like to stay here for a year, or maybe two, but I cannot live with these suppressive sisters much longer, I need a social life, a place to relax, without feeling guilty about everything. And I'd like to live with some people who actually talked to me and appreciated me. Is that asking too much? I think not. Anyway, I'm working on that.

Things are looking up, I have had a few rough days the last week or two, but my few friends here have been looking out for me and keeping me encouraged, as well as my family and buddies in the states. I miss you all more than you could possibly know, and I hope things get organized around here well enough that you can all come and visit and see what it's really like here! I would love to share it with you.