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.
