The school is a beautiful place to share, to welcome visitors to Haiti. The voices of children, the collective energy vibrating in the air, the laughter and smiles all counterbalance the harsh world outside the school's walls. Today the group from Massachusetts spent the day among the children, in classes buzzing with curiosity. They hauled in suitcases full of school supplies, clinic tools and graduation gifts they had brought from their respective churches. Christmas came early this year.
Two of the women from North Hamden spent time with a primary school class. They worked on an art exchange, sharing pictures and drawings from a class in the States. They brought markers and paper and encouraged the children to create their own masterpiece to share with their new far-away friends. Children share a unique vision of their world that comes alive with a plank page and a box of crayons. A child psychologist spent time with a class in the secondary school discussing depression and PTSD--a pertinent subject given Haiti's string of tragedies this fall. A team of health professionals lectured to nursing school classes about dehydration, first aid and dislocations bringing in props and pictures that illuminated their lesson. A woman specializing in work with the disabled spoke to another nursing class about the care of a disabled patient, and the challenges one with a disability faces when navigating this world. In Haiti, the disabled are hidden, are ignored. They are not embraced readily into the community. Many false myths set up misconceptions; this was made evident by the repeated questions to the teacher of whether disability was infectious, could be caught like a cold. A lawyer gave a lecture to the seminarians about conflict resolution. She encouraged group involvement and discussion, and was interested to hear that the types of conflict most readily cited were marital difficulties. Each member of the group offered their skills, their knowledge, their energy to the students, and I was happy by the unique opportunity the children in the CONASPEH school had that day.
The school clinic was up and running early in the morning. Today the secondary school students were invited in for consultation. My bench was quickly filled with teen-aged girls sans parents who waited patiently for their evaluation. The clinic ran smoothly; Madam Fano and I operating in our usual rhythm. Maybe it was the weekend's rest, the older, less fragile age of the students or the healing influence of our guests who had brought support and understanding, but I worked today with a renewed perspective. I was not so quickly overwhelmed, not so easily defeated. The teens brought in teenage problems. The differentials weren't as foreign. I counseled the best I could about sex and protection, about normal female body changes and the importance on nutrition. Not yet set up to do any labs or female exams, I referred many to a women's clinic for sensitive exams. I quickly learned how to distinguish a girl who had experimented with sex, their voices barely audible while reporting their concerns. I wondered how much they new, how much they were afraid of, or if their incredible shyness was fear of judgement. But universally the young girls who'd had adult experiences talked in whispers.
One lone boy showed up who bravely discussed a hernia he had had for 4 years. He had never seen a doctor. His swollen privates would have caused an immediate trip to the ER by any American family; but he had struggled for years without consultation. I wonder if he'll ever get the help he needs.
Daniel worked hard during the day as translator. I was able to utilize his presence to have a much needed conversation with Francois, discussing my concerns about the children, my ideas for the clinic, and my hopes for development. The conversation was freeing. I knew the language barrier was frustrating, but the relief that came after clarifying my thoughts and ideas, after getting feedback in return, with true communication was liberating.
After the last clinic patient had been seen, I wandered around the school feeling deeply content. My American friends were tirelessly teaching and hands were being raised, children engaging. I wandered into the tiny cement-lined playground in back of the school. Children swung wildly on the swings, laughing, delighting in their pictures being taken, shouting out "bonjour" with breathless giggles. Patrick had started up a pick-up backetball game in front of the school with a few students just finished with classes and some neighborhood kids. The big, lanky neighborhood kids divided up teams, and Patrick suddenly was on a team with tiny 1 and tinnier 2. But don't judge a kid by his size. His teammates turned out to be killer on the basketball court.
I loved watching Patrick--his face a glow with sweat and smiles. He felt good--finally. He was ministering to the community in the way he most loves. He was engaging kids in a healthy activity that encouraged teamwork and offered a sweaty release of the tensions of the day. Patrick passed the ball often to his little teammates, and cheered when they made a shot from the outside. Soon a crowd was forming around the rag-tag game, and cheers went up with every blocked shot, every steel, every defensive maneuver and every hoop scored. It was impossible to pick favorites. Universal cheers for all.
Tonight we've given in to relaxation after a hot day of good work. We all cooled off in the pool, shared reflections in observations made, thoughts inspired by the day's activities. I reveled in the therapeutic presence of the Americans who see the world the same way I do, who are perplexed by parts of the culture and delighted in others. Patrick and I are inspired by this amazing group of people who give without hesitancy, and love without reservation. They are doing the best that they can to share their relative wealth, their talents, and to open their hearts to new and life-changing experiences. Their long-time dedication to CONASPEH, their unique insight gained over years of an evolving friendship was both helpful and soothing to Patrick and I. Their mission to Haiti not only brought an atmosphere of love and solidarity to the people of CONASPEH, but it also brought a healing atmosphere of friendship to us.
Patrick and I are reminded of the power of community, of fellowship. The brave group who visits us now inspires such reminding as they leave their families and jobs and life to listen and to see the lives in a country that has had little voice.
Community does not have to be defined by the houses on our blocks, the faces in our churches, or the allegiance to a flag. True community has no prerequisites or code to follow. Community is an ever-evolving entity that can grow depending on the expansiveness of its members. We grow when we dare to open ourselves to each other, no matter background or creed, no matter theology or patriotism. Community dares to stand in a scary place and say "we see you, we hear you, we walk with you, we empower you and you empower us." Community shares, it holds hands, it listens. With true community, change can happen. Peace can settle. Understanding can be achieved. I thank all of you who dare to be apart of the community of Haiti, by your interest, by your prayers, by your visits, by your advocacy. I thank you all for bringing us into your own supportive, loving communities and lifting us up. We lift you up in your own struggles, in your own work, wherever it takes you. We pledge our friendship and listening ear if you feel a desire to send a note. Thank you for your presence in our lives.
Good Night.
So glad Patrick is feeling better!!
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