Haiti- Summer 2013

Bridget Kelly in Haiti.Blogspot.com
Summer 2013

In the winter of 2010, after the devastating earthquake hit Haiti, Lynn and Nadiv Shipira went to Jacmel, Haiti to offer much needed medical care.  When Lynn returned home to Wilmington, DE, she continues to struggle with the devastation and despair of Haiti.  So, with friends, she started the Haiti Family Initiative. 

Since then, each summer a group of volunteers make their way to Jacmel to run a five week Wellness Camp.  This program offers free medical clinics, a women's  group and a children's camp.  About 2000+ people take advantage of this program each year.

The camp is aided by the help of the teachers at the Foreign Language Institute (FLI) in Jacmel.  These individuals serve as the translators for the English-speaking volunteers. In the near future, the translators will take over the responsibilities to run the women's group and the children's camp.  I went to Haiti in the  summer of 2013 for the entire five weeks with the task of mentoring the translators so that they can carry on without us.  The following stories are highlights from my blog: bridgetkellyinhaiti.blogspot.com.

July 3- it is midafternoon by the time we get off the plane, find our luggage and make our way through Immigration.   We hit the hot, hot outside world and are bombarded by men who want to grab our luggage in hopes of grabbing a tip.  Max and Jeams are waiting for us. They intervene and shove us in a waiting van.  It takes three hours to get to Jacmel.  The scenery does not change for the entire ride.  We see nothing but poverty, tents, litter, concrete, rumble, donkeys, bananas, water stations, barefoot children and beaten up buildings. We are staying at Cap Lamandu, one of the nicest hotels in Haiti.  By American standards, this hotel is substandard.  But it does have a pool and air conditioning.  For that I am grateful.

July 4- we spend the morning at the Salvation Army compound, home to our Wellness Program.  Word is out that the white people have returned.  So everyone in the neighborhood stops by to say hello to Lynn and to secure a handout.  They know we are going through five barrels of our supplies.  So if they are lucky, they might score a bar of soap, a toothbrush, flip flops, crayons or a tee shirt.  They will take anything.  If they get something they don’t want, they just take it anyway and sell it to someone else.

July 5- the minister of the Salvation Army stops in and greets Lynn.  He then gives her a laundry list of things he wants to address with her.  The women in the women’s group used words last year that are not fitting for children to hear.  “This is a house of God”, he sternly reminds us. He didn’t like the yardman we hired last year so he has taken it upon himself to hire his friend for us.  He needs bleach to clean the toilet and we can give him the money and he will buy a gallon of bleach.  He thinks it costs $8.  His wife has a skin rash and she needs some cream from the doctor.  And, finally, he tells me to be careful of the neighbors.  They will try to take things from me.

July 6- Team #1 arrived today: Nadiv (a doctor), Beth (a nurse from Australia), Brahm (a professional athlete from France), Nina who is also known as MS Earth (Delaware) and Ben and Coby, two teenage boys.  They will be with us for a week.

July 7- there is a UN presence in Haiti. Their big land rovers are everywhere.  They cruise the streets in packs. The Red Cross trucks follow behind them. I met two police officers at the hotel, one from Canada and the other from France.  I tell them I am surprised to see that they are still here.  After all, the earthquake was three years. They tell me the UN has been here over 20 years, ever since Baby Doc abruptly left town.  They work with the local police forces and train them on how to keep order and uphold the law without violating any human rights. The Canadian tells me, “I’ve learned early on that this country is too broken.  It can’t be fixed.  The best you can do is fix pockets of neighborhood but this country will never be fixed.  It’s too broken.”

July 8: We start our women’s group each day with prayers and hymns.

The women bow their heads and pray in earnest. They face so many challenges that I lose sight of their blessings. I wonder if they think their prayers are being answered as they put their children to bed, hungry, most nights.

July 9- Many of the women only one phrases in English. They tug on my arm and point to something of mine, "OK, WHEN YOU LEAVE." Then they shamelessly point to themselves.  They want my hat, my purse, my bloused, my eyeglasses, my water bottle, and my water sprayer.  Someone actually pulled on my bra strap.  My $8 Wal-Mart slips on sneakers are a very hot commodity. I have had several requests for them.  I wonder that the USA Custom’s Official would say if I did come back sans everything that has been coveted.

July 10- Haitian only eats one meal a day. When I asked Jeams what time of the day did his family eats their meal, he seemed puzzled. "When the food comes", he tells me. "When we find the food we eat. We don’t find the food, no."

July 11- We serve lunch everyday. Adeline is our cook.  Another woman helps her but no one knows her name.  We just refer to her as “the other woman”.  Last year, Adeline was living in a tent.  But over the course of the year, a one-room house was built on her tent site and she is thrilled with her new digs.  There is still another tent next door to her.  I think that is where the other woman lives.

July 12-Little, dirty fingers slide in to the palm of my hands. They grab on to my belt loops. They hang on my purse straps. They cling to my legs. They know I am the keeper of the rice.

July 13- Team #1 leaves me today.  So do Lynn and Maya.  There is no team coming to replace them today.  Team #2 canceled at the last minute.  So did team #3 for that matter.  That means I will be alone for the next two weeks.  I will still be with the translators but there will be no American volunteers.  I will leave the hotel this afternoon and take up residence for the next two weeks with a family that Max knows.  I look forward to this challenge.

July 14- three young girls stand outside my bedroom door, hoping to get a glimpse of me. When I call to them, they laugh ad run away. They want to speak to me, the new houseguest, the foreigner, the white woman.

July 15- Our camp is held within the compound of the Salvation Army in Jacmel, Haiti. Today, young children scaled the wall and snuck in to camp, hoping to get fed lunch. We had to physically kick them out, as we didn’t have enough food for everyone. That was really hard to do because everyone is hungry in Haiti, except me.

July 16- "God bless you Madame, god bless you." I hear this all day long.

July 17- I meet a man who spoke to me in plain English. He offered an apology for his poor English skills. I spoke no Creole and offered no apology.

July 18- I haven’t met anyone who wears a watch. Specific time is irrelevant.

July 19- "Madame, can I touch your hair?"  My 14-year-old friend wants to touch my hair.  I let her, what the hell.  So she rubs her fingers through my hair and laughs.  “So soft”, she tells me.  I had never really thought about the texture of my hair.

July 20- Weekends, what a luxury it is to long for the weekend where you can do whatever you want:  sit at a happy hour with friends, take a trip the beach, sleep in, kayak, and go to a museum, anything but work. Weekends are insignificant in Jacmel. The camp closes for the weekend.  So I get to have some time off.  But the translators don’t have any time off because they have to work so they can eat.  So they spend six hours on both days, teaching at the Foreign Language Institute (FLI). And everyone else in Jacmel is doing whatever is possible to hustle a few more pennies to keep food on the table.

July 21- “Lord be with us, not just for today but every day because we cannot learn English without you, dear Lord.”  And so English class begins for the adult students at the Foreign Language Institute (FLI).  There are 25 of them in this crowed, poorly lit, poor equipped classroom.  Run by young men and women who barely have a high school education, these dedicated teachers work for little to no pay. They rent four classrooms in a building that accommodates several other English language schools.  Consequently, FLI can only offer classes on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. 

July 22- we pay a man to pick kids up from a tent city and bring them to our camp. He has a beat up old van.  The front windshield is shattered in a few places.  There are no seats, just some benches that he has jerry-rigged to the floor of the vehicle.  I went with him one his first run to pick up the kids.  Sitting in the front seat, I had 5 kids on my lap; their boney rear ends pierced my thighs.  We transported 33 kids in that run.

July 23 - Our camp is held within the compound of the Salvation Army in Jacmel, Haiti. Today, young children scaled the wall and snuck in to camp, hoping to get fed lunch. We had to physically kick them out, as we didn’t have enough food for everyone. That was really hard to do because everyone is hungry in Haiti, except me.

July 24- I received my meal of the day at 3:25PM today: rice, beans and an unidentifiable meat (probably goat).  As I was about to take my first bite, an ant crawled out from under the pile of rice.  Bon Appetite!!!!

 July 25- cool drinking water is sold in plastic pooches, about six ounces, just enough to quench a thirst.  These pouches cost 5G (gourdes), about 8 cents.  The pooches produce so little litter compared to a plastic bottle.  Regardless, these empty pooches add up and are discarded everywhere.  Litter is a problem with no programs to get rid of all this trash.

July 26- the women sing a hymn that sounds a lot like “Amazing Grace”.  Some sing and others hum.  All of their songs are religious.  They thank god for everything.  They continue to be grateful in the midst of their poverty and hunger.

July 27- Team #4 arrives today:  three doctors, one nurse, two physical therapists, one social worker, two young girls and a pre-med student.  I have been without volunteers for two weeks and I am so damn happy to see each and every one of them.

July 28- for the first time ever, two physical therapists join our medical team. We have Mary Lou, a physical therapist and one of her graduate students. I took Mary Lou over to see my old lady friend. Mary Lou kneeled down next to her and ever so gently rubbed the woman’s back as the old lady purred "bon, bon".

July 29- I had no access to Internet this week. I feel vulnerable and isolated.

July 30- the women, in our women’s group, are not really interested in my interests in promoting women and making the world a better, safer world for all women.  They are just hungry to have a place to congregate, make knotted bracelets, sit, sing and talk, and maybe, for now, that is good enough.

July 31- the poverty is very tough on these people. But so is the boredom. They sit all day with very little to say to one another. During the day, they hide inside their houses to avoid the heat. But as the sun goes down, the streets come alive with lots of activity. People roam the neighborhood, looking for someone, something to break the monotony.

August 1- Water, I think about it all the time. What are we going to do when there is no more clean water on this earth? The water situation seems a little better in Haiti than in other poverty countries I have visited. It seems as if people do not have to walk as far to get clean water.  I think a lot of effort went in to make water available to people after the earthquake.  Water stations can be found at random spots around the city.  Mostly women fetch the water, five gallons at a time.  They carry water buckets on their heads and make their way through these rough, hilly streets with an ease that amazes me.

August 2- it is the last day of camp for team #4. So the counselors are saying goodbye to team #4 and in the midst of our goodbyes, Jeams embraces me.  He stoops down as I rise on my tippy toes.  We meet halfway.  He holds on to me so tightly.  After several seconds, I begin to move away from him. He pulls me back now even tighter and whispers in my ear, “don’t let go of me yet.  Don’t ever let go of us.”  I think to myself, “How can I ever leave Jeams and Haiti”.

August 3- Team #4 left today, leaving behind two pairs of wet shoes, a grocery bag, a dirty bra, two tee shirts, three new toothbrushes, some tooth paste, two used bars of soap, several opened packages of trail mix, toilet paper and a few pens.  I gave all of these treasures to the chambermaid who accepted these gifts with gratitude and glee.

Later in the day, Team five arrives:  four doctors and a young girl who will be starting college in a few weeks.  Emily, the pre-med volunteer from last week is still with me.  I anticipate a busy final week.

August 4- I had no access to Internet this week. I feel vulnerable and isolated.

August 5- there is lots of UN personnel here roaming around the hotel today, maybe a dozen or more.  They met up with each other in the lobby.  Kisses and hugs are exchanged just like a family reunion.  I see Canadian flags and American flag patches.  I hear French, German and Italian accents.  They are all dressed in military fatigues, men and women.  They are here for some R & R before they return to their country.  A replacement team of new peacekeepers will arrive in Port au Prince tomorrow.

August 6- when a Haitian soccer game is on the television, those men who are lucky enough to own a television, bring their prized possession out to the street and clumps of men gather around this 12” screen.  Cheers and moans announce every goal and mistake.  Some men stay at the same television for the entire night.  Others hop from one cluster to another.  There are a few beer bottles but not many.  There is no money for that.  There is very little discussion.  Men sit on the edge of their seats, ready to explode.

August 7- after we closed the clinic today we are all went to the voodoo temple.  There are 12 of us, the 10 American volunteers, Alix and Jeams.  Alix is telling us that 80% of all Haitians are Christians.  But 100% are voodoo.  We ask him if he practices voodoo and he tells us with an adamant tone, “Of course not, I am Christian.  I don’t practice that stuff, of course not.”

“Then it isn’t 100% because you don’t practice voodoo”, Mary Lou points out to him.

“That’s right.  I don’t practice it but I still know its strong powers.”

August 8 -today is the grand opening of the first English language library in Jacmel.  The teachers at the Foreign Language institute have secured a new home for their school and this new library.  And tonight is the opening ceremony.  Max is too excited. We will all attend the ceremony that we are told is formal.  That is going to pose a problem for all of the volunteers as none of us have anything that is clean let alone formal.  So we will come with nothing but the best intentions

August 9- it's the last day of camp.  As we leave our hotel, I am filled with anxiety.  I expect a difficulty day. When we arrive at the compound, there are already way too, too many people waiting for us. They are everywhere. There is lots of tension at the camp.  People know we are leaving tomorrow. Today is the last day these people will receive free medical care for another year. So all of our 100 medical cards have been given out by 600AM.  People are begging me to let them see the doctors even though they don’t have a ticket.  They are desperate. They are pulling on my sleeves, pleading with me fro anything and everything I have..

August 10- It is 430 AM, departure day, the end of my time in Haiti.  I can’t really describe my feelings at the moment. I am neither happy nor sad.  I check to make sure everyone is up and ready to go.  Everyone is up, sleepy but up.  We all gather in silence. Our van is waiting to take us to the airport for a 930 flight to Miami.  It is dark and the streets are deserted.  It’s hard to see where we are going because there are no streetlights and it appears as if our van only has one working headlight. 

To add to this mess, I worry about our driver.  He was out until 130 AM this morning, dancing in a local club with our young doctors.  He must be exhausted and I am not confident in his ability to get us to the airport safely.  I try to talk to him to keep him company.  But he does not understand English and there is no Creole coming out of me.  I am hoping my mere noise will help to keep him awake.

As the sun begins to peak up over the dusty horizon, the streets take on life.  It is Saturday, Market Day.  People display their meager wares all alone the streets.  Goats, carts and people dodge one another as they scurry to get out of our way as we come barreling through the narrow, rough streets.

We get to the airport, open the doors and are bombarded by men who want to grab our luggage for us.  We fight them off and say our goodbyes to Max.  He hurries back in to the van, anxious to get this last airport run, of the summer, over.  The van quickly becomes a pinpoint in the distant landscape and all my thoughts are now focused on returning home to my family.

For more information about HFI, go to the website: Haiti Family Initiative.org