Life continues to evolve and teach. Today I felt like I had a breakthrough, and yet at the end of the day was reminded of all the suffering that happens while we work on projects, sweat over details, hold meetings and carry on about our day terribly bothered by all the things we need to do.
Today, work was refreshing. After clinic started with a patient who reported that she can’t stop eating charcoal, the day gradually got better. We closed clinic early for a meeting with Patrick Villier and the CONASPEH board. I was given the opportunity to discuss feedback from the last 3 weeks of clinic including my concerns, the possibilities of future services, a proposal for public health teaching in a variety of settings and my need for orientation to the various health care providers and community health programs available in the country and in the community. Although my list of things to talk about was long, the board listened patiently. Not only did all seem responsive to my concerns, but excited about my proposals. I was elated. Suddenly I felt like I had a plan, an outline, a systematic approach to addressing the health care needs of our little community. Sharing my hopes and concerns felt wonderful as they were received with understanding. I left work today on a cloud, feeling like after a month of getting thrown in, I was getting a chance to get back on my feet. Happiness.
I also had a lovely meeting with the director of the nursing school who seems like she’ll be wonderful to work with. We came up with a plan to review the curriculum, work learning labs into the schedule, plan clinical site evaluations, and offer teacher in-services utilizing visiting groups.
In short, I plan to take the next month or so visiting local clinics, hospitals, laboratories and pharmacies to do research on services provided, cost of care, and potential for networking and referral. We’ll limit the clinic to urgent cases only while I focus on my language and tropical medicine studies, and prepare lecture topics for the radio show and for a health-education class. I have projects I’m excited to get underway with the school, nursing school and with public health teaching. There is so much to do, but it feels great to have a plan!
Patrick continued his English classes today, and is noticing subtle progress. The board also approved him to have a school basketball team. Not only that, but they want him to organize basketball games amongst the churches. Wow. Big project proposed. Now Patrick has to figure out what to do with the 80 kids who signed up to play B-ball and the ½ court basketball court they have to play on. Hmmm. A coach’s nightmare. ☺
Driving home tonight, we were met by familiar faces on our turn to the guesthouse.
The street children are a part of Haiti that will sneak up on you and make you uncomfortable. At any major street or intersection, children swarm our car, sometimes running along side, polishing it with a rag, pointing to their stomach and then to their mouth saying, “Mwen grangou” (I’m hungry). They are hot and sweaty, dirty, and persistent in their begging; I do not doubt they are hungry. Told early on not to give money, Patrick and I constantly struggle with how to provide a loving presence in our daily interactions with these kids struggling for survival on the streets of Port-au-Prince. The children on our turn homeward have long become accustomed to our car. These days they smile and wave, hollering our names with mischievous grins. The only thing we’ve given them is a smile and occasionally a bit of conversation at an extra long light, asking their names and how they are today: mere blinks of interaction. But they seem amused.
The homeless kids run in groups, supporting each other by pooling their resources. Tonight we met a volunteer who works at an orphanage for street children; he spoke of some of the lives of the children he’s met and the horrible situations they have to endure. Often leaders of his relief organization go to cemeteries in the evening, looking for children hiding there. Cemeteries are one of the places where the kids of the street camp at night, away from the public and the street. They sleep on the gravesites, and hide amongst the stone crosses. Other children are rescued from brothels, from abusive homes, from abandonment due to disease. The orphanage serves both as emergency relief, home of nurturing, and avenue for placement. Some of the kids they take in are in their last days of life, their environment robbing them of the rest of their lives. I was struck how close these kids dance with death; sleeping in cemeteries, running from abusers, struggling with starvation and disease. Makes you want to celebrate the ones who find ways to survive despite the mountainous odds.
Listening to the stories the volunteer told, the abuses suffered, the survival tactics of these tuff children, I couldn’t help but think of our acquaintances on the corner. They smile so easily, humoring us even though we do little for them. Their smiles always cheer me up, make me feel happy for the little familiars that are emerging in the community we are becoming accustomed to. But a lot is hidden behind those smiles, more suffering than hunger and homelessness. Even when we are looking them straight in the face, its amazing how quickly we forget what their lives must be like, fail to consider. Tonight I heard, I considered. I allowed the shock of the stories to sink in, but can’t help honoring the fact that the children still smile at us despite it all.
I thought of the kids of CONASPEH, certainly in need of a lot of things, but lucky to have a school to come to, friends to laugh with, at least one meal a day, and from what I can tell, families who love them. Even though food is scarce and their homes barely sufficient, they have a network, hope for the future. And that’s a blessing.
So a mixed-emotion day—typical for Haiti. Little victories in the face of enormous need. I’m thankful for all the different ways people everywhere are working to meet various needs in different pockets of this country. We learn from each other in sharing. We all do the best we can in whatever place we find ourselves. We work with the need of the moment, hoping to find a way to bring hope, change, progress and peace using the skills we have, the opportunities we are blessed with, and faith that somewhere along the journey our presence will make a difference.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Rain slaps the pavement outside our window; leaves rustle while being washed in the evening storm. Patrick sits beside me reading. A fan circulates the humid air around the room allowing the smell of rain to wash over us.
Today we had another meeting with the CONASPEH board to discuss the upcoming National Congress in February, the march for equality planned, and the continued Emergency Relief efforts following the devastation of the hurricanes. CONASPEH has been reaching out to communities and member congregations in Gonieve and Jakmel, two areas hard hit and suffering from lack of food and clean water. A pastor from the southern coast of the country reported that in his community, 30 children have died of starvation since the storms. He personalized this statistic with a story. He spoke of a member of his church, a mother of 6 children with no resources, no education, and no family support. Two of her children have died since the storms. She recently sold two others for 8 Haitian dollars each ($1 U.S.). Unable to feed her four remaining children, she had to take the only hope she had that maybe someone else could.
There is a name for a type of crime that happens in Haiti: Restavec. Some people, usually with more means than their neighbors, buy children under the false promise of taking them to a better place, feeding them, educating them, offering them opportunities that the impoverished families can’t afford. Families, desperate for any thread of hope for their children, are forced to take a chance. Often, however, the best intention of the child is not the true motivation of the “buyer.” Children are often made into domestic workers, thrown out on the street to fend for themselves, or worse, sold into the sex-trade industry. I don’t know what the motivations were behind the buyer of that woman’s children, but I am sickened by the possibilities. I think of her, what state she must be in, what madness must be taking over as she stands in the wake of such incredible loss, such desperate decisions, and such utter hopelessness.
CONASPEH has been sending money and food to the areas struggling to recover from the storms, the areas trying to get through the days as they pick up the pieces of their lives. Their interventions attempt to cushion the ache of desperate hunger after the storms washed away the food supply. Today we discussed a plan to buy and ship not only food for relief, but seeds for planting: rice, beans, and corn. The short-term food relief hopes to buy people a few more weeks, the seeds offer a chance for sustainable nutrition, hope for the future.
Today Patrick had his first theological class in the seminary: old testament. Nervous about how he’d be received, how his relatively liberal biblical training would translate to students used to conservative theology. He had a translator who seemed to enjoy the class as much as he did helping Patrick out. Patrick urged the students to engage, to discuss, to share their thoughts and ideas on some of the teaching points he brought up. As most class structure has the teacher lecturing while writing on the board, and the students taking notes and echoing when prompted, Patrick’s approach shook things up a bit. And the students responded with enthusiasm. Questions were posed, and discussion took off. Patrick came home this evening bursting with relief and pleasure in the interaction. The students liked him so much that they asked him to be their new testament teacher as well.
It is hard to gauge how you’ll be perceived in a new society, a new culture. The Haitian culture is one we find particularly hard to read. And we are biased by our training, our own culture, our experiences. We are humbled to be in a place as teachers, still wondering how qualified we are to lead people we are just barely getting to know. But tonight Patrick was validated, and he enjoyed his first of many theological discussions and lectures to come. We tread gently in foreign territory, desiring to meld our own ideas with ones well rooted in the community. We hope in the mix, something beautiful will happen. Tonight Patrick had a class, a group of colleagues and students excited about discussing theology and the history of one of the world’s great religions. A good day for Patrick.
So tonight as the rain drowns out the sounds of the city, singing its rhythmic songs lulling us to sleep, we think of not only the life but also the death that such waters have brought this country. We pray for the people who are putting their lives back together, pray for those facing absurd decisions and endless grief. We pray that these waters heal where they have hurt, bring life back to the dead land, wash away the dirt and the dust and the trash and allow life to bloom once again. We pray that we all can be fertilizer for the soil of renewal, reaching out our hands and encouraging the struggle towards the sun, so that one day we all may celebrate in a new harvest together.
No comments:
Post a Comment