Well, this is it. My summer in Haiti is coming to an end. I am sitting in the departure area of the Louverture airport in PAP, waiting for the flight that will take me back home.
I am both excited to go home and sad to leave Haiti behind. It has been quite a summer, full of ups and downs, incredibly frustrating days, but always rewarding ones. I feel like I have accomplished a lot of my personal goals, but more importantly, I know that I have made a difference in so many lives.
This summer, I had the opportunity to distribute food to families who were returning to their homes after living in tents for six months. I helped move 173 families out of one of the worst IDP camps into a planned camp that offered them security and space and dignity. I helped to establish a primary care clinic, giving medical access to a community for the first time.
But some of my biggest successes are because of so many of you from home. To everyone who so generously sent me money, the following was accomplished because of you:
We bought food and baby essentials for a baby girl born under the worst of circumstances: in an IDP camp, at night, under the rain, the mother alone except for a volunteer man whom she did not know (who cut her umbilical cord with a razor).
We started a malnourished girl of 3 years old, who was delayed developmentally, on a course of vitamins after getting her admitted to the hospital. I went to visit her as I went on my round of goodbyes, and like the previous time, she made my heart burst with happiness. When I arrived, she was lying on her tummy and she lifted up her head completely and held it up while she reached for me. The sisters at the orphanage all commented on how well she was progressing. I am sure she will be one her feet one day soon.
Somebody hit our car, knocking off our side-view mirror. With no insurance here, what would be an irritation for us, was a grave matter for my driver. It would have cost him the equivalent of 6 days work to get the mirror fixed, at no fault of his own. I knew he didn’t live with the easiest of circumstances, but this became painfully clear to me when I visited his home yesterday: little more than a two-room shack in little more than a slum. I was so happy to have spared him this difficulty and we purchased the new mirror for him.
We were able to send Charlotte, our fiery unofficial leader of Pinchinat, to PAP to get necessary tests run, as she has been sick since January. These tests are not available in Jacmel and cost a lot in PAP. She was told to go immediately to have these tests done, but she could not because of lack of money. Again, I was so happy to spare her added stress.
Our cook and our cleaner lost their niece in July, leaving behind a 4-month old baby. Milk is very expensive here and many babies are started on liquids other than milk at an early age, leading quickly to malnutrition. We were able to buy the baby a supply of milk. Unfortunately, the story of their family does not end there. Back in November, they lost another cousin. In December, our cook lost her sister and in the earthquake, she lost her daughter, leaving behind a motherless 2-year-old. In May, our cook lost her older sister and then the cousin in July. Two weeks later, her mother died, and two weeks after that, her niece, leaving behind another baby (4 years old) for the family to care for. By this last death, they had run out of money for the burial, an incredibly important part of their mourning. We were able to give them money for a large part of the funeral. More importantly, we were able to set aside enough money to buy provisions for all 3 babies for a year. Every two weeks for the next 12 months, baby provisions will be bought and delivered to the family. It means so much to me to know that we were able to ease some of the burden for these ladies who have taken such good care of me.
With the support from everyone back home, we were able to buy food for young woman of 25 years, who already has 3 children (the oldest with an incurable form of anemia), and is pregnant with her fourth. She has no husband and no means of making money. So, along with an initial supply of food, we were able to start her with her own little business, selling cold drinks at the camp (yes, on top of it all, she lives in an IDP camp), along with bread and homemade peanut butter. When I pulled up to her tent yesterday, even before I told her that her supplies were on their way, she hopped out with her big belly and a huge grin, and kissed me on the cheek. That meant the world to me.
And finally, with the money, we were able to take 12 motivated and keen youth from Pinchinat, and arrange training sessions for them on: water treatment, family planning, and gender-based violence (all key issues for better health). They will, in turn, visit 5 IDP sites 3 times a week and have awareness-building sessions with camp inhabitants. This is a community centre on the go! Not only are we able to pay a salary for each of these youth, but, more importantly, we have given them work to do and have started them on their way to finding full time jobs. And we should be able to educate 1000 inhabitants by the end of one month!!
I cannot thank you, my donors, friends and family, enough for all the help, support and encouragement you have given to me. You made my work in Haiti so much easier and so much more substantial. You have made a difference.
As before, as much as I may have done for Haiti, Haiti did more for me. I learned a lot about myself this summer, and it feels incredible. But it’s time to go home now. It’s time to rest up...because who knows? Another adventure may be around the corner...
Monday, August 30, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
My little brother
Some of you may remember that as I left Haiti back in March, I had pledged to help sponsor my friend Fredo for medical school. While I was back home, I emailed a group of people that had already expressed interest in helping him and everyone seemed to be on board. As I was researching his possible schools and trying to put a budget together, I got the best phone call from Haiti. It was Fredo, calling me at work to tell me he had won a scholarship for medical school in Taiwan!!! Apparently the Chinese embassy offers these 5-year scholarships, with everything paid for, including airfare, tuition, room and board. The only condition is that the students must return to Haiti to practice medicine.
Fredo had heard about the opportunity from a friend of his who had won the scholarship a year ago. About 200 students wrote the scholarship exam with Fredo this year and guess who the first one to win the scholarship was?? Yes, my kid brother!!!! I was floored when he told me. I was so proud of him for winning and it gave me goosebumps to know that his whole future had just burst open.
I spent quite a bit of time with Fredo this summer. He introduced me to his family and friends as his sister and I introduced him to all my friends as my little brother. Whenever I needed him, he was there to help me out, pick me up or drop me off wherever I needed to go (I stopped taking motos here [after working in neurocognitive research, I was way to aware of the possible consequences], but he was the only person I trusted enough to take me on moto). I helped him with some translations as he put his papers together. He would message me from PAP every time the next step in his preparations would be completed and he came to the guesthouse to show me his brand new passport so that we could cheer together. He still needed help to get things for his trip, like suitcases and proper clothing, so his friend, D. Pelletier, and I (along with a couple of my friends) were able to get him enough money to buy most things.
Fredo left for China this past Friday. He asked me to come with him and his family to the PAP airport to drop him off, and though I wasn’t able to go, I was incredibly honoured. He had a going away party and his mother insisted I come just so she could be with me for a few minutes – I felt like a part of the family. Then Fredo dropped me home and we hugged and we cried. Fredo won’t be able to come back until his studies are finished. Five years sure is a long time when you’re saying goodbye.
But what promise is held in this goodbye! Way to go, Fredo!!!!!
Fredo had heard about the opportunity from a friend of his who had won the scholarship a year ago. About 200 students wrote the scholarship exam with Fredo this year and guess who the first one to win the scholarship was?? Yes, my kid brother!!!! I was floored when he told me. I was so proud of him for winning and it gave me goosebumps to know that his whole future had just burst open.
I spent quite a bit of time with Fredo this summer. He introduced me to his family and friends as his sister and I introduced him to all my friends as my little brother. Whenever I needed him, he was there to help me out, pick me up or drop me off wherever I needed to go (I stopped taking motos here [after working in neurocognitive research, I was way to aware of the possible consequences], but he was the only person I trusted enough to take me on moto). I helped him with some translations as he put his papers together. He would message me from PAP every time the next step in his preparations would be completed and he came to the guesthouse to show me his brand new passport so that we could cheer together. He still needed help to get things for his trip, like suitcases and proper clothing, so his friend, D. Pelletier, and I (along with a couple of my friends) were able to get him enough money to buy most things.
Fredo left for China this past Friday. He asked me to come with him and his family to the PAP airport to drop him off, and though I wasn’t able to go, I was incredibly honoured. He had a going away party and his mother insisted I come just so she could be with me for a few minutes – I felt like a part of the family. Then Fredo dropped me home and we hugged and we cried. Fredo won’t be able to come back until his studies are finished. Five years sure is a long time when you’re saying goodbye.
But what promise is held in this goodbye! Way to go, Fredo!!!!!
Monday, August 16, 2010
Our new clinic!
One of the big project’s for Haiti Village Health this summer was to set up a clinic in the area of Chabin. Chabin is a small town just outside of Jacmel, in the mountains between Jacmel and Port-au-Prince. This clinic was to follow the model of the already-established clinic in the tiny village of Bod Me Limbe in the north. The idea is to hire Haitian staff (nurse, doctor and pharmacist) and then bring in rotating medical volunteers to assist in establishing the clinic. Once it’s running on its own two feet, the visiting teams would stop and the clinic would be entirely run by local staff – creating independence and sustainability. It worked in the north, so it was time to do it again here!
Throughout the summer, Mona and I were working piecemeal on this project. Every few days or weeks we would assemble some supplies, or hire local support staff, or arrange for the structure that would hold the clinic temporarily as we looked for more stable funding. A week before the clinic opened, 3 volunteer students arrived and with their help, we hunkered down and worked on getting the last details into place, while another local group, Calvary Chapel, was busy building our tables, beds and benches for the clinic. There were four types of patients we were preparing to see: Timoun (children), Grandmoun (elderly), Fanm ansent (pregnant women), which would all be seen for free, and the general public, which would pay 50 gourdes ($1.25 USD) for a full examination, a booklet to keep as medical history, and all the medication they would need for a month. Every night that week, I worked on preparing the booklets that would, for the first time, give them a record of their medical history and a place to record the medications they have been taken.
Though things were getting done bit by bit, I was a bit concerned about how it was going to come together the morning of opening day. There was still much to do and, of course, we were behind schedule. The first hour was spent arranging furniture and medication on shelves, while Calvary Chapel separated the giant surgical tent into consultation rooms. We had people ferrying supplies already stored in the school into the clinic, we installed a registration desk, we set our volunteers up S(all the while being watched by rows and rows of patients). It was a frenetic morning, with everything coming together at the last moment. But as we started registering our first patients and took them through triage, then consultation, then the pharmacy and lab for basic tests, my heart burst with happiness.
There are some days when it’s so hard to see that you are making a tangible difference. But here it was, evidence I had been looking for: people lined up by the rows, waiting to see a doctor that was finally in their neighbourhood; little babies howling with fear when they were told to stand on a scale because it was the first time they were getting weighed; teenagers getting medications to treat ailments they have had for so long.
Finally these residents were getting medical access. Finally we were accessing people who needed us.
Finally we created something new and needed.
Finally.
Throughout the summer, Mona and I were working piecemeal on this project. Every few days or weeks we would assemble some supplies, or hire local support staff, or arrange for the structure that would hold the clinic temporarily as we looked for more stable funding. A week before the clinic opened, 3 volunteer students arrived and with their help, we hunkered down and worked on getting the last details into place, while another local group, Calvary Chapel, was busy building our tables, beds and benches for the clinic. There were four types of patients we were preparing to see: Timoun (children), Grandmoun (elderly), Fanm ansent (pregnant women), which would all be seen for free, and the general public, which would pay 50 gourdes ($1.25 USD) for a full examination, a booklet to keep as medical history, and all the medication they would need for a month. Every night that week, I worked on preparing the booklets that would, for the first time, give them a record of their medical history and a place to record the medications they have been taken.
Though things were getting done bit by bit, I was a bit concerned about how it was going to come together the morning of opening day. There was still much to do and, of course, we were behind schedule. The first hour was spent arranging furniture and medication on shelves, while Calvary Chapel separated the giant surgical tent into consultation rooms. We had people ferrying supplies already stored in the school into the clinic, we installed a registration desk, we set our volunteers up S(all the while being watched by rows and rows of patients). It was a frenetic morning, with everything coming together at the last moment. But as we started registering our first patients and took them through triage, then consultation, then the pharmacy and lab for basic tests, my heart burst with happiness.
There are some days when it’s so hard to see that you are making a tangible difference. But here it was, evidence I had been looking for: people lined up by the rows, waiting to see a doctor that was finally in their neighbourhood; little babies howling with fear when they were told to stand on a scale because it was the first time they were getting weighed; teenagers getting medications to treat ailments they have had for so long.
Finally these residents were getting medical access. Finally we were accessing people who needed us.
Finally we created something new and needed.
Finally.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Moving day
Moving day is one of the most dreaded days. In theory it is exciting, but the day itself is always more complicated, takes longer and is more tiring than planned. The final result, however, is what gets most of us through - a new place, with a new slate for a new life. Not here though.
In the last couple of weeks, I spent two days helping with the relocalization of one of the IDP camps. Families in Camp Wolf 2 were being asked to move to nearby Camp Wolf 3. Wolf 2 was located on the grounds outside of a school that was ruined in the quake, but thanks to a large grant that the government of Jacmel received, a new school was going to be built on these grounds. Everyone living here needed to be moved out, and quickly, before the grant was lost. In fact, this was why we had done the night assessments a few weeks ago – to count the number of families in Wolf 2 that actually lived there and would thus need a new home, and to assess how much true space was available for these new families in Wolf 3. Relocalizing families is hard work. Over several days, you have to explain to them why they need to be shifted. You have to provide materials to help them pack up. You have to provide transportation and help and security.
On each day of the actual move, there was one team at Wolf 2, helping them prepare their stuff and taking down their tent as soon as they left (before other families could move in). At the same time, my team and I were preparing tents for them in Wolf 3 (they could only go up as the move began so that, yup, other families wouldn’t move in) and as each family arrived, I found a new home for them. From our perspective, it went fairly smoothly. But as I looked at these families move their meagre possessions from essentially one tent to another, I could only imagine what they must be going through. At the behest of the mayor, they were moving from where they spent the last 6 months building a community, only to have to start all over at this one. And they didn’t even get a choice in the matter.
For the teams and me, it was tough work. Marching around the camp all day in the baking hot sun, putting up tents, making sure families were housed next to people they knew, I could feel myself wilting as the day went on, but it happened to be my birthday that day. The messages and wishes I kept receiving throughout the day kept me going strong. Having my birthday in the middle of the summer has always given me the chance to celebrate in interesting places and interesting ways, but this year was one of the most special celebrations yet. It was a difficult day for the families, to be sure, but we spent the day creating space for a brand new school for kids who have been out of school for far too long. That night was pretty special too. I got to celebrate over dinner and a cake with my new friends from around the world (who each sang to be in their language…..I got sung to 6 times!). I loved my birthday – Haitian style!
But the best part about this day? It was also a practice run for the upcoming BIG relocalization....families from Pinchinat are starting to move out on Monday! Finally!!!!
In the last couple of weeks, I spent two days helping with the relocalization of one of the IDP camps. Families in Camp Wolf 2 were being asked to move to nearby Camp Wolf 3. Wolf 2 was located on the grounds outside of a school that was ruined in the quake, but thanks to a large grant that the government of Jacmel received, a new school was going to be built on these grounds. Everyone living here needed to be moved out, and quickly, before the grant was lost. In fact, this was why we had done the night assessments a few weeks ago – to count the number of families in Wolf 2 that actually lived there and would thus need a new home, and to assess how much true space was available for these new families in Wolf 3. Relocalizing families is hard work. Over several days, you have to explain to them why they need to be shifted. You have to provide materials to help them pack up. You have to provide transportation and help and security.
On each day of the actual move, there was one team at Wolf 2, helping them prepare their stuff and taking down their tent as soon as they left (before other families could move in). At the same time, my team and I were preparing tents for them in Wolf 3 (they could only go up as the move began so that, yup, other families wouldn’t move in) and as each family arrived, I found a new home for them. From our perspective, it went fairly smoothly. But as I looked at these families move their meagre possessions from essentially one tent to another, I could only imagine what they must be going through. At the behest of the mayor, they were moving from where they spent the last 6 months building a community, only to have to start all over at this one. And they didn’t even get a choice in the matter.
For the teams and me, it was tough work. Marching around the camp all day in the baking hot sun, putting up tents, making sure families were housed next to people they knew, I could feel myself wilting as the day went on, but it happened to be my birthday that day. The messages and wishes I kept receiving throughout the day kept me going strong. Having my birthday in the middle of the summer has always given me the chance to celebrate in interesting places and interesting ways, but this year was one of the most special celebrations yet. It was a difficult day for the families, to be sure, but we spent the day creating space for a brand new school for kids who have been out of school for far too long. That night was pretty special too. I got to celebrate over dinner and a cake with my new friends from around the world (who each sang to be in their language…..I got sung to 6 times!). I loved my birthday – Haitian style!
But the best part about this day? It was also a practice run for the upcoming BIG relocalization....families from Pinchinat are starting to move out on Monday! Finally!!!!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Health assessments
I had promised myself to see more of Haiti this summer, since I was going to be here for three months this time. Jacmel is pretty small and after six weeks of driving along the same main road every day, back and forth, I was ready for a change. So when I heard of a couple of health assessments that needed to be down in nearby towns, I jumped at the chance.
We went to Bainet a couple of weeks ago. This is the next town west of Jacmel, right along the southern coast. It’s only about 40 kms away, but I was told to prepare for a long journey. They weren’t kidding. It took us three hours to get there, driving on the bumpiest road I have ever been on, up into the mountains. It would have been a beautiful drive had my head not been bouncing around crazily. But as we crested the mountain, we could see Bainet below us, bright and colourful, with the ocean just beyond. Gorgeous!
Bainet itself is an old town, like Jacmel, with interesting architecture and old narrow roads (so narrow, in fact, that we had to do practically an 8-point turn to get into the street housing the town clinic), with a population of 70, 000 people. I had already heard that there was a hospital here, but that it was not fully functioning due to staffing issues. We found a few more problems than we bargained for. The clinic is named The Bainet 10 Bed Clinic. It is, in fact, Bainet’s only medical facility, and it only has 10 beds. This place has one operating room that is currently being used as a storage space. There is a dentist’s office, but no one knows if the equipment still works, since they haven’t had a dentist in 4 years. There is one labour and delivery room, but as a woman, I would never have used that room – a small cramped space, with two half beds with stirrups (so women have to sit up, there is no other half of the bed to lie down on) and a non-functioning bathroom. In fact, none of the bathrooms at the clinic are functioning. The facility has a small generator for electricity, but they don’t always have money to keep it running on gas - they have been known to deliver or suture people up in the dark. Pregnant woman tend to stay at home for deliveries and children rarely come here to receive care. If there are any urgent cases, or complicated deliveries, patients are referred to Jacmel’s St. Michel hospital. Bainet does not have an ambulance.This means that patients requiring surgery, women in labour that need a c-section, or patients that cannot be covered in Bainet, have to travel that bumpy road for 3 hours by moto to get to Jacmel. 3 HOURS. On a motorcycle. Unbelievable.
A few days after, we went to do an assessment at Anse-a-Pitres, a town right at the Haiti-Dominican Republic border. It is a smaller town, only 27, 000 people, but, as a bordering town, there is quite a bit of human trafficking, mostly in the form of prostitution. There is quite a bit of gender-based violence here. While we were there, we were told of several cases of rape involving young girls, including one girl who who was pregnant at 14 years old with her second child. She had her first child when she was 11. Anse-a-Pitres is about 80 kms or so from Jacmel, but it takes anywhere from 7-9 hours to get there because of the roads. In fact, if one decided to do this journey by car, it is preferable to go up to PAP and back down east, rather than head directly east along the southern coast from Jacmel. This clinic does not have an operating room and again, most women deliver at their homes. They have one vehicle to offer their urgent cases – a moto, of course. And it takes so long to get to the nearest Haitian hospital, that urgent or complicated cases are always sent across the border to the DR. This is not good.
The worst thing about these two towns is that neither was really damaged by the earthquake. This is the standard of care that has always been offered here. No standard at all. Happily, however, we should be able to help with the staffing.
Oh, by the way, I did not drive the 7 hours to and from Anse-a-Pitres. This was my ride!
We went to Bainet a couple of weeks ago. This is the next town west of Jacmel, right along the southern coast. It’s only about 40 kms away, but I was told to prepare for a long journey. They weren’t kidding. It took us three hours to get there, driving on the bumpiest road I have ever been on, up into the mountains. It would have been a beautiful drive had my head not been bouncing around crazily. But as we crested the mountain, we could see Bainet below us, bright and colourful, with the ocean just beyond. Gorgeous!
Bainet itself is an old town, like Jacmel, with interesting architecture and old narrow roads (so narrow, in fact, that we had to do practically an 8-point turn to get into the street housing the town clinic), with a population of 70, 000 people. I had already heard that there was a hospital here, but that it was not fully functioning due to staffing issues. We found a few more problems than we bargained for. The clinic is named The Bainet 10 Bed Clinic. It is, in fact, Bainet’s only medical facility, and it only has 10 beds. This place has one operating room that is currently being used as a storage space. There is a dentist’s office, but no one knows if the equipment still works, since they haven’t had a dentist in 4 years. There is one labour and delivery room, but as a woman, I would never have used that room – a small cramped space, with two half beds with stirrups (so women have to sit up, there is no other half of the bed to lie down on) and a non-functioning bathroom. In fact, none of the bathrooms at the clinic are functioning. The facility has a small generator for electricity, but they don’t always have money to keep it running on gas - they have been known to deliver or suture people up in the dark. Pregnant woman tend to stay at home for deliveries and children rarely come here to receive care. If there are any urgent cases, or complicated deliveries, patients are referred to Jacmel’s St. Michel hospital. Bainet does not have an ambulance.This means that patients requiring surgery, women in labour that need a c-section, or patients that cannot be covered in Bainet, have to travel that bumpy road for 3 hours by moto to get to Jacmel. 3 HOURS. On a motorcycle. Unbelievable.
A few days after, we went to do an assessment at Anse-a-Pitres, a town right at the Haiti-Dominican Republic border. It is a smaller town, only 27, 000 people, but, as a bordering town, there is quite a bit of human trafficking, mostly in the form of prostitution. There is quite a bit of gender-based violence here. While we were there, we were told of several cases of rape involving young girls, including one girl who who was pregnant at 14 years old with her second child. She had her first child when she was 11. Anse-a-Pitres is about 80 kms or so from Jacmel, but it takes anywhere from 7-9 hours to get there because of the roads. In fact, if one decided to do this journey by car, it is preferable to go up to PAP and back down east, rather than head directly east along the southern coast from Jacmel. This clinic does not have an operating room and again, most women deliver at their homes. They have one vehicle to offer their urgent cases – a moto, of course. And it takes so long to get to the nearest Haitian hospital, that urgent or complicated cases are always sent across the border to the DR. This is not good.
The worst thing about these two towns is that neither was really damaged by the earthquake. This is the standard of care that has always been offered here. No standard at all. Happily, however, we should be able to help with the staffing.
Oh, by the way, I did not drive the 7 hours to and from Anse-a-Pitres. This was my ride!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
An emotional week
It has been a tough few days here. There is a tropical storm sitting over Haiti right now. For awhile, it looked like it was going to turn into a hurricane, but thankfully it stayed nice and calm. I say calm, but it has rained heavily here the last few days, flooding roads so badly. In fact, my trip to Port-au-Prince the other day was delayed for several hours due to road blockage from rains and landslides. Last night, the wind from tropical storm Bonnie kicked up several notches…..it was pretty fierce. I lay awake most of the night, thinking of the camps and praying everyone was ok. We spoke to Charlotte this morning, and she said several tents fell during the night, right on top of people. Sigh.
Weather aside, it’s been emotional here lately. I work closely with my Haitian colleague, Mona. She and I became very close during my last trip here, and have only gotten closer since my return. We spend all day, everyday together, going from meeting to meeting, planning the community centre (updates in a later entry) and medical clinic (also another update!), and giggling and talking. She is like a sister to me. She is amazing. She was born and brought up in PAP, the middle child in a family of 7 children. Her mother died when she was 15, and her father died when she was 17. With her siblings’ help, she got through medical school and after graduating, she starting working in the north of Haiti, raising her son at the same time while her husband completed medical school. To reach this clinic, she used to ride a moto for two hours each way. All her siblings have moved to north America, but, despite their insistence that she join them, she wants to stay in Haiti. When she came to Jacmel with Haiti Village Health after the earthquake, it represented a new phase of life for her – she and her husband are finally together (well, on weekends….he travels in the countryside during the week with a mobile clinic), her son is in school and she is sharing her house with her two best friends. Last Saturday, she called me in the morning asking for the day off to spend with one of her housemates (Daphnee) and this housemate’s husband, since he was visiting (he also works in another town). Apparently they all had an amazing day together. As Daphnee, Daphnee’s husband and sister were driving towards Leogane, they got in a car accident. Daphnee’s sister fractured her arm badly and after a day in the local hospital, she was flown back to her home in the States for surgery. Daphnee and her husband both died. They are survived their 6 month old baby girl.
Mona is devastated. She manages to keep distracted during the days while we work, and I am happy I can be there with her and for her, distracting her and making her laugh. But that first day back to work was hard. We were in the car, quiet as I held her hand, and then she started to talk. As we drove through the streets, she talked about her friend, who was like a sister to her. She talked about her parents, she talked about the tough times she had in her life. As she spoke, we both cried. We went to Pinchinat and I felt so discouraged and so so sad for everyone there. We kept crying and talking as we went to the orphanage to drop of our vitamins for our malnourished girl (see “Updates and more!” entry). As we neared the orphanage, I saw the lineup of people, waiting for food, as I had seen them in March. There were so many children, hands clasped with siblings that weren’t much older. I was feeling like everywhere I looked, there was suffering and my heart completely broke for everyone. For camp residents, for the kids waiting for a meal, for Mona who has lost so many important people. I went in search for our girl with a runny nose and puffy eyes.
I saw her sitting up, her tiny body being supported by the side of her crib. She looked the same and as I approached her, I was about to burst into loud sobs. But before I had the chance, the best thing happened…. She reached out her arm to me and she smiled! Oh, it was like the sun burst out and I started crying and laughing. I was so happy for my girl, who had strength enough to recognize me and lift her arm right out. I held her hand and tickled her and yes, she ended up flopping down, but that’s ok. Baby steps. She will be ok.
There are days here when it feels like for every two steps forward, you take four back. But that’s ok. There were still two steps forward.
Weather aside, it’s been emotional here lately. I work closely with my Haitian colleague, Mona. She and I became very close during my last trip here, and have only gotten closer since my return. We spend all day, everyday together, going from meeting to meeting, planning the community centre (updates in a later entry) and medical clinic (also another update!), and giggling and talking. She is like a sister to me. She is amazing. She was born and brought up in PAP, the middle child in a family of 7 children. Her mother died when she was 15, and her father died when she was 17. With her siblings’ help, she got through medical school and after graduating, she starting working in the north of Haiti, raising her son at the same time while her husband completed medical school. To reach this clinic, she used to ride a moto for two hours each way. All her siblings have moved to north America, but, despite their insistence that she join them, she wants to stay in Haiti. When she came to Jacmel with Haiti Village Health after the earthquake, it represented a new phase of life for her – she and her husband are finally together (well, on weekends….he travels in the countryside during the week with a mobile clinic), her son is in school and she is sharing her house with her two best friends. Last Saturday, she called me in the morning asking for the day off to spend with one of her housemates (Daphnee) and this housemate’s husband, since he was visiting (he also works in another town). Apparently they all had an amazing day together. As Daphnee, Daphnee’s husband and sister were driving towards Leogane, they got in a car accident. Daphnee’s sister fractured her arm badly and after a day in the local hospital, she was flown back to her home in the States for surgery. Daphnee and her husband both died. They are survived their 6 month old baby girl.
Mona is devastated. She manages to keep distracted during the days while we work, and I am happy I can be there with her and for her, distracting her and making her laugh. But that first day back to work was hard. We were in the car, quiet as I held her hand, and then she started to talk. As we drove through the streets, she talked about her friend, who was like a sister to her. She talked about her parents, she talked about the tough times she had in her life. As she spoke, we both cried. We went to Pinchinat and I felt so discouraged and so so sad for everyone there. We kept crying and talking as we went to the orphanage to drop of our vitamins for our malnourished girl (see “Updates and more!” entry). As we neared the orphanage, I saw the lineup of people, waiting for food, as I had seen them in March. There were so many children, hands clasped with siblings that weren’t much older. I was feeling like everywhere I looked, there was suffering and my heart completely broke for everyone. For camp residents, for the kids waiting for a meal, for Mona who has lost so many important people. I went in search for our girl with a runny nose and puffy eyes.
I saw her sitting up, her tiny body being supported by the side of her crib. She looked the same and as I approached her, I was about to burst into loud sobs. But before I had the chance, the best thing happened…. She reached out her arm to me and she smiled! Oh, it was like the sun burst out and I started crying and laughing. I was so happy for my girl, who had strength enough to recognize me and lift her arm right out. I held her hand and tickled her and yes, she ended up flopping down, but that’s ok. Baby steps. She will be ok.
There are days here when it feels like for every two steps forward, you take four back. But that’s ok. There were still two steps forward.
Monday, July 12, 2010
A little bit of Hollywood in Haiti.....kind of
In case it wasn’t obvious already, one of the things that brought me back to Haiti is the IDP camps. I have become really interested in everything to do with camps: site planning, camp management and camp coordination. While here in March, I read a lot about the work that the International Organization for Migration (IOM) does and really liked it. So while working for my NGO here, I am also trying to volunteer with the IOM as much as possible to learn how they function. I mentioned briefly in a previous entry that I did a food distribution with the IOM, which was interesting (especially as it was given to me to supervise!), but the most interesting thing I have done so far with them is camp assessments. These assessments are done to identify the true residents of the camp, as opposed to those people who don’t really live there, but come for the distributions/to take advantages of the services offered (I am of two minds about this – I certainly understand the need to identify the “truly vulnerable”, but if a person’s situation is so bad, or their access to resources so limited, that they voluntarily spend their days in these camps, then I say let them have the extra ration of food, or whatever. But anyways.). The only way to do an accurate assessment is to check the tents at night to see if anyone is sleeping there. We already know the names and number of people who are supposedly living in the tent – if they are not there at the dead of night, it means they are not true residents and down the tent goes.
We did two “night raids” on consecutive nights last week. I already knew the gist of what it was going to be like: At around 10pm, teams of 2-3 people would knock on each tent and confirm the information of the people inside. Any empty tents would be removed immediately. It sounds easy enough, except walking into these camps in the pitch black and waking unsuspecting, sleeping residents can be kind of dangerous. I knew we were going to have security agents. What I didn’t expect was how Hollywood movie-like it was going to be!
On the first night, we all met at the UN base for a final debriefing before heading out to the cars that were going to take us to the first camp. In the parking lot were 8 trucks waiting for us, with UN security guards, police officers and OCHA security all armed and ready to go. We pulled out of the base one truck at a time, in a long silent convoy. I have to say, it felt pretty cool! (I had called my sister just before leaving, to find out whether my parents had safely reached New Jersey. She very reasonably pointed out that my parents were driving on a smooth highway from Mtl to NJ in the daylight, while I was about to take off with a good percentage of the military personnel in Jacmel to do a night raid, and that maybe they had more reason to worry about me. I thought that was funny.)
We moved through the city, which was already mostly deserted, the trucks making sure to stick together, until we came up silently to the camp, where the trucks fanned out and quickly shut off their lights so that we wouldn’t alert residents that we were there (so that they wouldn’t call their friends to come sneak into the tents). I had 4 teams to supervise that night, so I was busy walking (and sometimes tripping) from section to section, making sure everything was going smoothly, with my little flashlight lighting my way. Generally teams had one member checking information while the other would be keeping guard. I was alone but had two very nice Sri Lankan UN officers staying near me and helping light my way. None of my teams found empty tents.
The second night was essentially the same except that everyone was exhausted...we had finished the night before around midnight...about three hours after everyone’s usual bedtime. But we met again at 9pm, headed out in that same cool Hollywood convoy and snuck up on the other camp. This time I had only two teams to supervise, so I stayed with them as they knocked on each tent. This is when I really realized what it must be like for the residents. Voices from inside the tents called out, sometimes sleepily, sometimes in fear, asking who had come to wake them in the middle of the night. They had to come to the door to show their ID cards, only to see their normally pitch-black and silent camp teeming with strangers walking around with flashlights everywhere and armed police surrounding the perimeter. One young man came to me and asked if he could just ask me one thing. “Why do you have to come like this to do this to us?”
We found and removed 10 tents that night. I know it was the right thing to do and could only be done this way. But I felt bad anyway.
Not much like Hollywood after all.
We did two “night raids” on consecutive nights last week. I already knew the gist of what it was going to be like: At around 10pm, teams of 2-3 people would knock on each tent and confirm the information of the people inside. Any empty tents would be removed immediately. It sounds easy enough, except walking into these camps in the pitch black and waking unsuspecting, sleeping residents can be kind of dangerous. I knew we were going to have security agents. What I didn’t expect was how Hollywood movie-like it was going to be!
On the first night, we all met at the UN base for a final debriefing before heading out to the cars that were going to take us to the first camp. In the parking lot were 8 trucks waiting for us, with UN security guards, police officers and OCHA security all armed and ready to go. We pulled out of the base one truck at a time, in a long silent convoy. I have to say, it felt pretty cool! (I had called my sister just before leaving, to find out whether my parents had safely reached New Jersey. She very reasonably pointed out that my parents were driving on a smooth highway from Mtl to NJ in the daylight, while I was about to take off with a good percentage of the military personnel in Jacmel to do a night raid, and that maybe they had more reason to worry about me. I thought that was funny.)
We moved through the city, which was already mostly deserted, the trucks making sure to stick together, until we came up silently to the camp, where the trucks fanned out and quickly shut off their lights so that we wouldn’t alert residents that we were there (so that they wouldn’t call their friends to come sneak into the tents). I had 4 teams to supervise that night, so I was busy walking (and sometimes tripping) from section to section, making sure everything was going smoothly, with my little flashlight lighting my way. Generally teams had one member checking information while the other would be keeping guard. I was alone but had two very nice Sri Lankan UN officers staying near me and helping light my way. None of my teams found empty tents.
The second night was essentially the same except that everyone was exhausted...we had finished the night before around midnight...about three hours after everyone’s usual bedtime. But we met again at 9pm, headed out in that same cool Hollywood convoy and snuck up on the other camp. This time I had only two teams to supervise, so I stayed with them as they knocked on each tent. This is when I really realized what it must be like for the residents. Voices from inside the tents called out, sometimes sleepily, sometimes in fear, asking who had come to wake them in the middle of the night. They had to come to the door to show their ID cards, only to see their normally pitch-black and silent camp teeming with strangers walking around with flashlights everywhere and armed police surrounding the perimeter. One young man came to me and asked if he could just ask me one thing. “Why do you have to come like this to do this to us?”
We found and removed 10 tents that night. I know it was the right thing to do and could only be done this way. But I felt bad anyway.
Not much like Hollywood after all.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Updates and more!
I have to start by saying a big thank you to so many of my friends who have responded so generously to my last post. Each pledge has touched me and if I didn't know it before, I certainly know now how generous my friends are. I have to say a special thank you to my parents for going the extra mile - carrying printed copies of my blog with them and telling everyone they meet about my experiences here. Mom and Dad, you're the best!
The baby I wrote about in the last entry is doing great! We were able to buy them several days worth of food, as well as baby clothes and bathing stuff that she will need. We also dropped off a giant gallon of water to keep Mama hydrated and thus Baby breastfed. Right now, there are two ladies ready to give birth at any moment. We advised them to get to the hospital now, but they don't have money for a taxi. Thanks again to the money everyone raised on my behalf, we were able to assure them that we can help them. It's a good feeling!
I had a friend here who was working as an occupational therapist at the big hospital in Jacmel. For some reason, a little girl was referred to her for therapy. This was a little girl of 3, who looked like she was 1. She was unable to walk or talk, looked malnourished and was extremely fatigued. This baby didn't need therapy (and psychology - the other part of the referral), she needed to be hospitalized. The mother of this child lives far away in the mountains and felt like she could no longer care for her properly, so she left her baby girl in an orphanage. When we found out about the baby, we were able to override the referrals, and get her immediately hospitalized. Phew!
The doctor that made those ridiculous referrals comes from one of the NGOs here. We know of another case where he put a cast on a 10-year-old girl's arm that was so tight, within two weeks, she lost complete sensation in her hand. She will likely have to get this hand amputated, for no reason whatsoever. This is a big problem at the moment - there is no standard of care here. The worst part is that you can't do anything about it. You can talk to the WHO, who will in turn make recommendations that certain people or groups be stopped from working here, but that is the extent of it. It is up to the Haitian government to take the actual step of removing them, which then becomes a political problem.
As ever, take the dire example of Pinchinat. There is a military group from one country that is installed as official leader of the camp. But they are failing to provide adequate care and it is largely because of them that Pinchinat is in the state it is in. The WHO has recommended their removal, but the Haitian government won't remove them because they have an understanding at the federal level with the government of that country. But who suffers for that political understanding? It's the 8-year-old girl who was raped and her friend who was blinded in one eye when she tried to stop the rape, because there isn't adequate security here. It is the 11-year-old girl who was raped and is now 3 months pregnant, because there is a massive gap in the medical care here. It is the woman who gave birth on a mud floor in the rain with a male volunteer by her side and a razor as a surgical tool. It is the 16-year-old girl who is now a prostitute so that she can get (the free) food for her family, because there is an underground trade system in place here.
Of course, Pinchinat is not the only camp that is suffering. There is another camp in Jacmel located at the edge of a river. They only need one hurricane to hit for this entire camp to be wiped out. This camp is lacking proper latrines, so residents have been defecating into the river - the same river they wash themselves and their clothes in. They are also lacking drinking water and drink from the same river. Of course, conditions don't need to be so bad to make camp living intolerable. 6 months of hot days, hot tents, boredom, and lack of any change for 1.3 million people is more than enough to make life unbearable.
The current strategy is to encourage people to get out of camps and return home. Many camp residents are landowners and don’t need to be living in camps, but they do it to capitalize on the free services. In order to encourage them to leave, there are incentive programs in place, including several weeks worth of free food, hygiene kits and NGOs funding and building new homes for them. In fact, last week, I helped with a food distribution that the IOM organized, giving 3 months worth of food to 65 families who have already moved home. It was an interesting experience, at once satisfying, serving people who are returning to what will surely be a better situation for them, but at the same time, it was hard knowing that so few families are this lucky.
For Pinchinat, 203 families are without such luck. They are not landowners, and have nowhere else to go, but because their current situation is so desperate, they are being moved to a new camp. This new camp has been under construction for the last several months. Because there are site planners and engineers and experienced NGOs involved, this new camp will certainly address some of Pinchinat's problems - the latrines are in the middle of the camp, so there is less of a security issue for women and children. There are roads running through the camps, with proper ditches for drainage. There are already more security guards at this new camp though no one has moved there yet. A new hospital is being built on the camp grounds. But, as with many other relocations taking place around the country, these residents will leave the tents of Pinchinat only to move into tents at Mayard. While this is certainly not ideal, at least each family will have their own tent (instead of several families squished together at Pinchinat), and these tents will eventually be replaced by transitional shelters and then, hopefully, real homes. Construction for a child-friendly space has already begun and there is a big space allotted for the community. It is this space which especially interests me.
Since it looks like residents will be here for the next three years, we are proposing that an actual community centre be built here. We recognize that though the current philosophy is to get people out of camps (and the strategy to accomplish this is to make camp life unappealing....as if it wasn’t already), we are also looking at how to make life better for 203 families that have no other choice. We want to use this centre to run community-based programs and thus help to combat the lack of education here. Along with many partnering NGOs, we would like to start courses on health (for example, nutrition, STDs, reproductive health), gender-based violence (teaching people what it is and what resources are available), education (literacy classes, vocational classes, language classes), and cultural programs (showing documentaries, etc). We want to give residents something to do, while giving them a way to better there lives. This won’t be easy to do and, of course, we are waiting for the go-ahead so that we can start building.
This is a project near and dear to me. I so badly want to make life better for people who have had suffering heaped upon suffering. If my donors are in agreement, I would like to use part of the funds raised towards getting this centre built and getting the classes started. Hopefully the next time I write, it will be with an update that we got the go-ahead. Fingers crossed!
The baby I wrote about in the last entry is doing great! We were able to buy them several days worth of food, as well as baby clothes and bathing stuff that she will need. We also dropped off a giant gallon of water to keep Mama hydrated and thus Baby breastfed. Right now, there are two ladies ready to give birth at any moment. We advised them to get to the hospital now, but they don't have money for a taxi. Thanks again to the money everyone raised on my behalf, we were able to assure them that we can help them. It's a good feeling!
I had a friend here who was working as an occupational therapist at the big hospital in Jacmel. For some reason, a little girl was referred to her for therapy. This was a little girl of 3, who looked like she was 1. She was unable to walk or talk, looked malnourished and was extremely fatigued. This baby didn't need therapy (and psychology - the other part of the referral), she needed to be hospitalized. The mother of this child lives far away in the mountains and felt like she could no longer care for her properly, so she left her baby girl in an orphanage. When we found out about the baby, we were able to override the referrals, and get her immediately hospitalized. Phew!
The doctor that made those ridiculous referrals comes from one of the NGOs here. We know of another case where he put a cast on a 10-year-old girl's arm that was so tight, within two weeks, she lost complete sensation in her hand. She will likely have to get this hand amputated, for no reason whatsoever. This is a big problem at the moment - there is no standard of care here. The worst part is that you can't do anything about it. You can talk to the WHO, who will in turn make recommendations that certain people or groups be stopped from working here, but that is the extent of it. It is up to the Haitian government to take the actual step of removing them, which then becomes a political problem.
As ever, take the dire example of Pinchinat. There is a military group from one country that is installed as official leader of the camp. But they are failing to provide adequate care and it is largely because of them that Pinchinat is in the state it is in. The WHO has recommended their removal, but the Haitian government won't remove them because they have an understanding at the federal level with the government of that country. But who suffers for that political understanding? It's the 8-year-old girl who was raped and her friend who was blinded in one eye when she tried to stop the rape, because there isn't adequate security here. It is the 11-year-old girl who was raped and is now 3 months pregnant, because there is a massive gap in the medical care here. It is the woman who gave birth on a mud floor in the rain with a male volunteer by her side and a razor as a surgical tool. It is the 16-year-old girl who is now a prostitute so that she can get (the free) food for her family, because there is an underground trade system in place here.
Of course, Pinchinat is not the only camp that is suffering. There is another camp in Jacmel located at the edge of a river. They only need one hurricane to hit for this entire camp to be wiped out. This camp is lacking proper latrines, so residents have been defecating into the river - the same river they wash themselves and their clothes in. They are also lacking drinking water and drink from the same river. Of course, conditions don't need to be so bad to make camp living intolerable. 6 months of hot days, hot tents, boredom, and lack of any change for 1.3 million people is more than enough to make life unbearable.
The current strategy is to encourage people to get out of camps and return home. Many camp residents are landowners and don’t need to be living in camps, but they do it to capitalize on the free services. In order to encourage them to leave, there are incentive programs in place, including several weeks worth of free food, hygiene kits and NGOs funding and building new homes for them. In fact, last week, I helped with a food distribution that the IOM organized, giving 3 months worth of food to 65 families who have already moved home. It was an interesting experience, at once satisfying, serving people who are returning to what will surely be a better situation for them, but at the same time, it was hard knowing that so few families are this lucky.
For Pinchinat, 203 families are without such luck. They are not landowners, and have nowhere else to go, but because their current situation is so desperate, they are being moved to a new camp. This new camp has been under construction for the last several months. Because there are site planners and engineers and experienced NGOs involved, this new camp will certainly address some of Pinchinat's problems - the latrines are in the middle of the camp, so there is less of a security issue for women and children. There are roads running through the camps, with proper ditches for drainage. There are already more security guards at this new camp though no one has moved there yet. A new hospital is being built on the camp grounds. But, as with many other relocations taking place around the country, these residents will leave the tents of Pinchinat only to move into tents at Mayard. While this is certainly not ideal, at least each family will have their own tent (instead of several families squished together at Pinchinat), and these tents will eventually be replaced by transitional shelters and then, hopefully, real homes. Construction for a child-friendly space has already begun and there is a big space allotted for the community. It is this space which especially interests me.
Since it looks like residents will be here for the next three years, we are proposing that an actual community centre be built here. We recognize that though the current philosophy is to get people out of camps (and the strategy to accomplish this is to make camp life unappealing....as if it wasn’t already), we are also looking at how to make life better for 203 families that have no other choice. We want to use this centre to run community-based programs and thus help to combat the lack of education here. Along with many partnering NGOs, we would like to start courses on health (for example, nutrition, STDs, reproductive health), gender-based violence (teaching people what it is and what resources are available), education (literacy classes, vocational classes, language classes), and cultural programs (showing documentaries, etc). We want to give residents something to do, while giving them a way to better there lives. This won’t be easy to do and, of course, we are waiting for the go-ahead so that we can start building.
This is a project near and dear to me. I so badly want to make life better for people who have had suffering heaped upon suffering. If my donors are in agreement, I would like to use part of the funds raised towards getting this centre built and getting the classes started. Hopefully the next time I write, it will be with an update that we got the go-ahead. Fingers crossed!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Camp Pinchinat
When I was here in March, I found the tent cities one of the saddest things. At the time, I didn't understand why people were still living in those conditions two months after the quake. At that time, the tents were already ripping apart and with the light, infrequent rains, the situation was already becoming unlivable. It has now been 6 months since the earthquake. Things have only gotten worse.
As I write this, rain is pouring down, flooding paved walkways and roads. I can only think of people in the camps, where there is no paved anything. I think more particularly of Pinchinat.
In Pinchinat, people are stacked practically one on top of the other, many families sharing one hot tent, with nothing inside except a sheet or cot, if lucky. In March, there were about 5000 people in the camp. There are now upwards of 7000 people. There are gaping holes in some tents and others are falling apart because the wet ground can no longer hold the stakes. Children are still running around barefoot, but this time, dodging giant puddles of rain.
The air reeks and garbage is flowing everywhere. The water there is not fit for drinking, but it's the only option they have. Educational programs are spotty. Women and children have to cross the camp in order to get to the washrooms, and at night, this becomes treacherous. Prostitution is rampant, and saddest of all, there is an active trade of humanitarian aid in return for sex - both among the people and among "humanitarian" groups and their beneficiaries. (I was in a training session the other day for combating gender-based violence, and it turns out that one of the biggest contributing factors to the increase in rapes and sexual exploitation is the presence of NGOs here....seems the internationals are to blame for a high proportion of this. INFURIATING AND DISGUSTING.) According to the International Organization for Migration, camp Pinchinat "fails to meet any and all standards".
While waiting for the internet to reestablish after the rains so that I could post this, I got a call from Charlotte, one of the leaders in Pinchinat. A woman had just given birth during the storm, in a tent that was flooding with rain, without even a mattress to lie on. No one could get to them on time because the rain has flooded the roads. A member of the volunteer security team cut the umbilical cord with a razor. We can only hope it was an unused one.
We got the call because they know that we can run in and do what needs to be done without getting bogged down in procedure and red tape. We went to see the baby today and she is a tiny beautiful miracle. We visited her in the tent she was born in and it is swelteringly hot in there. The new mother has a borrowed cot so that the baby could lie comfortably. The mother does not have enough food or water to continue producing milk for the baby. While we tried to figure out where we could move the mother and daughter, we went to the UN Human Rights office to notify them of the situation. They are trying to arrange for the mother and daughter to stay somewhere safer. But, if nothing is done soon, this baby will not make it.
Friends, the conditions here are atrocious and I need your help. My NGO is a small one, and we don't yet have the funds to always help out in these special cases when we are asked. Mona and I keep paying from our pockets when we see families that are in need but we are starting to need help too.
I am making an appeal to each of you for help. If you feel like contributing (no amount is too small), it would mean the world to me. Please help me help my dear friends at Pinchinat. Please help me save this little baby's life.
As I write this, rain is pouring down, flooding paved walkways and roads. I can only think of people in the camps, where there is no paved anything. I think more particularly of Pinchinat.
In Pinchinat, people are stacked practically one on top of the other, many families sharing one hot tent, with nothing inside except a sheet or cot, if lucky. In March, there were about 5000 people in the camp. There are now upwards of 7000 people. There are gaping holes in some tents and others are falling apart because the wet ground can no longer hold the stakes. Children are still running around barefoot, but this time, dodging giant puddles of rain.
The air reeks and garbage is flowing everywhere. The water there is not fit for drinking, but it's the only option they have. Educational programs are spotty. Women and children have to cross the camp in order to get to the washrooms, and at night, this becomes treacherous. Prostitution is rampant, and saddest of all, there is an active trade of humanitarian aid in return for sex - both among the people and among "humanitarian" groups and their beneficiaries. (I was in a training session the other day for combating gender-based violence, and it turns out that one of the biggest contributing factors to the increase in rapes and sexual exploitation is the presence of NGOs here....seems the internationals are to blame for a high proportion of this. INFURIATING AND DISGUSTING.) According to the International Organization for Migration, camp Pinchinat "fails to meet any and all standards".
While waiting for the internet to reestablish after the rains so that I could post this, I got a call from Charlotte, one of the leaders in Pinchinat. A woman had just given birth during the storm, in a tent that was flooding with rain, without even a mattress to lie on. No one could get to them on time because the rain has flooded the roads. A member of the volunteer security team cut the umbilical cord with a razor. We can only hope it was an unused one.
We got the call because they know that we can run in and do what needs to be done without getting bogged down in procedure and red tape. We went to see the baby today and she is a tiny beautiful miracle. We visited her in the tent she was born in and it is swelteringly hot in there. The new mother has a borrowed cot so that the baby could lie comfortably. The mother does not have enough food or water to continue producing milk for the baby. While we tried to figure out where we could move the mother and daughter, we went to the UN Human Rights office to notify them of the situation. They are trying to arrange for the mother and daughter to stay somewhere safer. But, if nothing is done soon, this baby will not make it.
Friends, the conditions here are atrocious and I need your help. My NGO is a small one, and we don't yet have the funds to always help out in these special cases when we are asked. Mona and I keep paying from our pockets when we see families that are in need but we are starting to need help too.
I am making an appeal to each of you for help. If you feel like contributing (no amount is too small), it would mean the world to me. Please help me help my dear friends at Pinchinat. Please help me save this little baby's life.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
World Cup - Haitian style!
Haiti's national sport is soccer. Haiti has a national soccer team (although about 50 people connected with the team, players, coaches, refs, etc, perished in the earthquake) and they were in the World Cup Finals in 1974. Often, as you speed down paved roads or bump your way into the city, you will see groups of kids playing soccer in makeshift fields, no matter how hot, smelly or dirty the conditions. So it is not surprising that World Cup fever has gripped Haiti.
FIFA calendars are floating around everywhere, and you can be sure everyone is up for those 6:30 am games. Brazil seems to be most people's favorite here, followed closely by Argentina. At the hotel where i am staying, they have set up a flat screen tv near the reception desk, the largest tv I have seen yet in Haiti. Guests, staff and the owners can be found there, lounging around as the commentary rings out in English. As I zipped my way on various errands earlier today, I could hear commentary in Creole blaring out from radios everywhere (obviously most do not have access to a tv here). Every few buildings, you could see masses of people huddled in darkened doorways, trying to hear what's happening.
I caught a glimpse of the game on the flat screen today before heading out to watch the game with my friend Fredo.He has been mentioning to me that he goes everyday to the radio station to talk about soccer (apparently he knows everything there is to know about the sport) and he invited me and my new Canadian friend, Marilyn, to watch a game at the radio station. This sounded like too much fun to pass up. I envisioned a group of people watching another flat screen while drinking beer and discussing all things soccer. But, like everything else here, the experience was nearly the opposite but probably twice as much fun.
It turns out that this radio station is one of 4 in the area commenting on the games, but is the most popular. We climbed steep stairs to find ourselves in a tiny little room with an old-school tv in the corner (the kind with a giant panel and rabbit ears sticking out)....this room was hot and crowded. The guys made room for us by insisting we sit down, forcing half of them to stand for the game. There was a tiny fan in the corner that didn't reach everyone and pretty soon you could smell the sweat and feel it dripping down. The England/US game started as we got there and the guys took microphones and started commenting. It suddenly dawned on me that one of the voices i heard blaring out of lotto stands and barber shops and banks all morning was none other than Fredo's. As we watched the sketchy reception on the crappy tv, with the image winking in and out, Fredo and a couple of his friends gave colourful commentary in Creole, one of them writing down on a paper the names and player numbers, trying to look up facts to add to the commentary, the other two passing the microphone back and forth as their voices tired out..... a far cry from fancy tv studios broadcasting the games around the world. Fredo made sure to keep mentioning his friends in the studio, most notably Marilyn and myself (and incidentally he announced to the city of Jacmel that he is my Creole teacher and that by the end of the World Cup,Ii would be in the studio giving commentary in Creole alongside him!). By halfway through the game, the beer and rum was flowing, and the rest of the guys had taken up chanting our names and making us promise to watch all the games with them.....In my wildest imagination, I couldn't have dreamt up a World Cup game like this. But I have to say, despite fuzzy reception and being hot, sweaty, and uncomfortable, I am a big fan of the World Cup - Haitian style!
FIFA calendars are floating around everywhere, and you can be sure everyone is up for those 6:30 am games. Brazil seems to be most people's favorite here, followed closely by Argentina. At the hotel where i am staying, they have set up a flat screen tv near the reception desk, the largest tv I have seen yet in Haiti. Guests, staff and the owners can be found there, lounging around as the commentary rings out in English. As I zipped my way on various errands earlier today, I could hear commentary in Creole blaring out from radios everywhere (obviously most do not have access to a tv here). Every few buildings, you could see masses of people huddled in darkened doorways, trying to hear what's happening.
I caught a glimpse of the game on the flat screen today before heading out to watch the game with my friend Fredo.He has been mentioning to me that he goes everyday to the radio station to talk about soccer (apparently he knows everything there is to know about the sport) and he invited me and my new Canadian friend, Marilyn, to watch a game at the radio station. This sounded like too much fun to pass up. I envisioned a group of people watching another flat screen while drinking beer and discussing all things soccer. But, like everything else here, the experience was nearly the opposite but probably twice as much fun.
It turns out that this radio station is one of 4 in the area commenting on the games, but is the most popular. We climbed steep stairs to find ourselves in a tiny little room with an old-school tv in the corner (the kind with a giant panel and rabbit ears sticking out)....this room was hot and crowded. The guys made room for us by insisting we sit down, forcing half of them to stand for the game. There was a tiny fan in the corner that didn't reach everyone and pretty soon you could smell the sweat and feel it dripping down. The England/US game started as we got there and the guys took microphones and started commenting. It suddenly dawned on me that one of the voices i heard blaring out of lotto stands and barber shops and banks all morning was none other than Fredo's. As we watched the sketchy reception on the crappy tv, with the image winking in and out, Fredo and a couple of his friends gave colourful commentary in Creole, one of them writing down on a paper the names and player numbers, trying to look up facts to add to the commentary, the other two passing the microphone back and forth as their voices tired out..... a far cry from fancy tv studios broadcasting the games around the world. Fredo made sure to keep mentioning his friends in the studio, most notably Marilyn and myself (and incidentally he announced to the city of Jacmel that he is my Creole teacher and that by the end of the World Cup,Ii would be in the studio giving commentary in Creole alongside him!). By halfway through the game, the beer and rum was flowing, and the rest of the guys had taken up chanting our names and making us promise to watch all the games with them.....In my wildest imagination, I couldn't have dreamt up a World Cup game like this. But I have to say, despite fuzzy reception and being hot, sweaty, and uncomfortable, I am a big fan of the World Cup - Haitian style!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The Real Haiti
Hello friends!
I know I promised to write about how things are here, but I must first write about some really nice things that have happened to me this past week.
As many of you know, I hate traveling alone because I get really homesick. I was a little worried about my three months here, since I knew things were going to be so different from last time....most notably, my best friend and constant companion, Jo, was not going to be here, leaving me with a lot of alone time. I knew I would be with my colleagues during the workday, but I wondered how I would fill the rest of the space. Happily, it turns out that I forgot how many friends I really did have here!
It's quite a feeling to run into people as if you have lived here forever. I was on the back of a moto today, coming home from work, when I heard my name being called across the street....a firefighter friend of mine was on his moto calling out to me. The other day I was walking in the hotel grounds and passed a man who stopped me....it was the big beefy Haitian policeman I used to attend logistics meetings with. I was in Pinchinat, the IDP camp, the other day and visited Charlotte's tent (she is the feisty leader of one half of the camp). I hadn't told her I was returning to Haiti (we had exchanged emails while I was in Canada) and when she saw me, she jumped up and ran to me and hugged me tightly for about 2 minutes. It's hard to feel lonely at times like this.
I have also been overwhelmed by everyone's generosity towards me. Ephisien, a hospital administrator that I met only briefly last time, has offered to drive me anywhere when needed. He has a car and driver that he could be renting out for $60/day, but has made them or him and his moto, available to me whenever necessary. My young friend that I have promised to help sponsor for school (an update on this in a later blog) has also offered to drive me around anywhere. He has no job and no vehicle of his own, but always manages to borrow one if he needs to come get me (he is also giving me Creole lessons as we speed home). Both have refused my offers of paying them for gas. The other night, Ruth, my colleague and friend, spent two hours in the car with me as I tried to find a hotel room (every place in town was booked solid) even though it was really late at night and she was wanted at home. When she heard that lunch was not included in the rate, she popped by the hotel the next afternoon with a plate of food she made for me, just before I headed off to PAP for meetings. And of course, there was Mona, who cheerfully brought her houseful of guest to my rescue when I called her in the middle of her dinner party because I had no lights. What friends!
I have found it - the real Haiti...the Haiti that exists when disaster recedes...unwavering generosity from the people that can least afford it.
I know I promised to write about how things are here, but I must first write about some really nice things that have happened to me this past week.
As many of you know, I hate traveling alone because I get really homesick. I was a little worried about my three months here, since I knew things were going to be so different from last time....most notably, my best friend and constant companion, Jo, was not going to be here, leaving me with a lot of alone time. I knew I would be with my colleagues during the workday, but I wondered how I would fill the rest of the space. Happily, it turns out that I forgot how many friends I really did have here!
It's quite a feeling to run into people as if you have lived here forever. I was on the back of a moto today, coming home from work, when I heard my name being called across the street....a firefighter friend of mine was on his moto calling out to me. The other day I was walking in the hotel grounds and passed a man who stopped me....it was the big beefy Haitian policeman I used to attend logistics meetings with. I was in Pinchinat, the IDP camp, the other day and visited Charlotte's tent (she is the feisty leader of one half of the camp). I hadn't told her I was returning to Haiti (we had exchanged emails while I was in Canada) and when she saw me, she jumped up and ran to me and hugged me tightly for about 2 minutes. It's hard to feel lonely at times like this.
I have also been overwhelmed by everyone's generosity towards me. Ephisien, a hospital administrator that I met only briefly last time, has offered to drive me anywhere when needed. He has a car and driver that he could be renting out for $60/day, but has made them or him and his moto, available to me whenever necessary. My young friend that I have promised to help sponsor for school (an update on this in a later blog) has also offered to drive me around anywhere. He has no job and no vehicle of his own, but always manages to borrow one if he needs to come get me (he is also giving me Creole lessons as we speed home). Both have refused my offers of paying them for gas. The other night, Ruth, my colleague and friend, spent two hours in the car with me as I tried to find a hotel room (every place in town was booked solid) even though it was really late at night and she was wanted at home. When she heard that lunch was not included in the rate, she popped by the hotel the next afternoon with a plate of food she made for me, just before I headed off to PAP for meetings. And of course, there was Mona, who cheerfully brought her houseful of guest to my rescue when I called her in the middle of her dinner party because I had no lights. What friends!
I have found it - the real Haiti...the Haiti that exists when disaster recedes...unwavering generosity from the people that can least afford it.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
My first week back in Haiti
I am back! In Haiti! At last!
As many of you know, I quit my job back home to come back here to work for the summer. I am hoping to make a career shift into humanitarian work, and since I already know people here, I thought I would come back to solidify my contacts and try to get a job with one of the larger agencies. Fingers crossed!
I have come back as Haiti Village Health's in-country manager. I spent my first two days trying to download everything from my new boss's brain into my own, since she will stay in Bermuda and concentrate on fundraising while I manage everything from here. I was supposed to be based in Port-au-Prince this summer, but things seem to be a little chaotic and disorganized in this city and it's tough for a small organization like ours to break into things here, so we decided that I would go back to Jacmel. THANK GOD. Tiffany and I flew from PAP to Jacmel in those tiny 6-seater planes. It's a beautiful plane ride, as you cross over the mountains of Haiti....except for the IDP camps you see littered across the grounds. They are, as before, everywhere. (It is astounding that this is the case, especially with hurrican season around the corner. More on this in another post.)
As the plane approached Jacmel, I saw our tiny little airport where I spent so much time last trip and I broke out into a huge grin. It felt so good to be back in my city, seeing my friends, running into people I already know. Things have changed a bit, especially within HVH. Jo, my closest friend from last time is in Brazil with his family (but there is a chance he will come back in August..fingers crossed!), and Fredo and Gaby are no longer working for the organization. We have no truck (it's broken) and no driver (he is.....let's say MIA). The guesthouse currently has no electricity, internet or any other guests. I stayed there alone for the first few days, but considering the sun sets at 6:30pm, after which there is nothing to do (especially sans lights), and that I can't really go out alone because of security issues, I have decided to stay at a local hotel for the next month, until we start bringing teams in July.
The few nights that I did stay at the guesthouse were hideous. Without electricity, I didn't have any fans to keep me cool. I felt like I was melting into a puddle while invisible mosquitoes ate away at me. I slept maybe 2 hours a night. My friends tried to hook up a generator to the house to supply electricity, which worked for a bit. I was in bed, reading a book when all of a sudden, the whole system went down. I lit my way to my Haitian cell phone using the light of my Cdn cell phone to call my friend for help. She told me she would be right over. She showed up 20 minutes later, with 5 of her friends, all dressed to the nines, since they were in the middle of a dinner party. I was in my pyjamas. It was 8:30pm. It makes me giggle now but I was pretty miserable then, esp since they could only get the generator to work for 6 minutes at a time. The next day I checked into the hotel.
It's been an amusing first few days, but because we have been running around, trying to get things sorted out for the house, I haven't been able to do much work. Hopefully this will change soon.
I realize this post has been all about me, but I promise the next one will be all about Haiti!
As many of you know, I quit my job back home to come back here to work for the summer. I am hoping to make a career shift into humanitarian work, and since I already know people here, I thought I would come back to solidify my contacts and try to get a job with one of the larger agencies. Fingers crossed!
I have come back as Haiti Village Health's in-country manager. I spent my first two days trying to download everything from my new boss's brain into my own, since she will stay in Bermuda and concentrate on fundraising while I manage everything from here. I was supposed to be based in Port-au-Prince this summer, but things seem to be a little chaotic and disorganized in this city and it's tough for a small organization like ours to break into things here, so we decided that I would go back to Jacmel. THANK GOD. Tiffany and I flew from PAP to Jacmel in those tiny 6-seater planes. It's a beautiful plane ride, as you cross over the mountains of Haiti....except for the IDP camps you see littered across the grounds. They are, as before, everywhere. (It is astounding that this is the case, especially with hurrican season around the corner. More on this in another post.)
As the plane approached Jacmel, I saw our tiny little airport where I spent so much time last trip and I broke out into a huge grin. It felt so good to be back in my city, seeing my friends, running into people I already know. Things have changed a bit, especially within HVH. Jo, my closest friend from last time is in Brazil with his family (but there is a chance he will come back in August..fingers crossed!), and Fredo and Gaby are no longer working for the organization. We have no truck (it's broken) and no driver (he is.....let's say MIA). The guesthouse currently has no electricity, internet or any other guests. I stayed there alone for the first few days, but considering the sun sets at 6:30pm, after which there is nothing to do (especially sans lights), and that I can't really go out alone because of security issues, I have decided to stay at a local hotel for the next month, until we start bringing teams in July.
The few nights that I did stay at the guesthouse were hideous. Without electricity, I didn't have any fans to keep me cool. I felt like I was melting into a puddle while invisible mosquitoes ate away at me. I slept maybe 2 hours a night. My friends tried to hook up a generator to the house to supply electricity, which worked for a bit. I was in bed, reading a book when all of a sudden, the whole system went down. I lit my way to my Haitian cell phone using the light of my Cdn cell phone to call my friend for help. She told me she would be right over. She showed up 20 minutes later, with 5 of her friends, all dressed to the nines, since they were in the middle of a dinner party. I was in my pyjamas. It was 8:30pm. It makes me giggle now but I was pretty miserable then, esp since they could only get the generator to work for 6 minutes at a time. The next day I checked into the hotel.
It's been an amusing first few days, but because we have been running around, trying to get things sorted out for the house, I haven't been able to do much work. Hopefully this will change soon.
I realize this post has been all about me, but I promise the next one will be all about Haiti!
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