Happy Anniversary

Well, my year in Haiti is near completion. I've been here over a year and the end is in site. 

It's a bittersweet end. 

I have learned so many things about myself this past year. 

I've learned many things about my life and my path. 

About my strengths and my weaknesses. 

But mostly I'm thankful for the growth. And boy has there been. 

I've learned that I am capable of a good many things, but that I am not a wonder woman. 

I've learned that I have limitations...boy, do I have limitations.

I've met many people. Some I will be glad to say good bye to, but many that I will grieve as if I've lost them for good. 

Hopefully my departure will be met with some grief from those I leave also. 

I'm vain, afterall, and I would be lying if I didn't say that I hope I've made an impact. 

I hope I will be returning sooner than later. I am leaving a good portion of my heart here, and I will feel incomplete without it. 

What a difficult thing to comprehend, the purposeful ending of what was to be my finest moments, yet were some of the hardest times in my life. 

Pray for me. I am trying to find my direction in all this change. 

Sweet Kisses in the Moonlight

So last night I sat in on devotions to give Samanza her birthday present. She was my first birthday girl when I got here over a year ago, and now she is my last birthday gift as I pass the torch to Anachemy and Patty and Jeff. 

So shortly after we finished up and gave the nightly dismissal, "Good night boys and girls, hugs and kisses" the city power went out. What happened next was sweet, surprising, and just what I needed. 

For months now the boys have been very reluctant to show me any signs of affection, especially in front of the older kids. I suspect they have been harasses about it. Unfair, I know, but I catch glimpses of their adoration now and then, so I don't take it personally. 

But the moment the lights went out, I was tackled by an onslaught of excited boys, all of whom covered me in hugs and kisses in the darkness. I laughed and laughed with delight and reveled in my sweet, secret love signs. 

And then the lights went on, and off they went! lol 

Sometimes He knows just what you need and sends it via the most unexpected messengers.

Thank you Lord for providing for all of my needs, even when I don't realize it at the time. 

Ishka Bishka Bibbity Bobbity Boo

Ishka falls asleep during devotions in the gazebo - photo by Dandy Romain

Ishka, or Nikenson, or Markenson, depending on who you ask, is our sweet little, almost 5 yo (this month) High functioning Autistic. We don't have a formal diagnosis, but ten again, that's a first world thing...here, we just make do with his quirks and attempt to help him pass his days in as gentle a way as possible. 

He's always smiling, until he's not! Usually the smile cessation involves either someone taking a favorite toy, or cutting in line, or getting too much of my attention. But he's usually pretty easy to console, provided you give him a good hugging and some individual attention. 

He's a pretty happy kid for the most part. He has an almost unwavering love for me. And on those occasions when he thinks I have perpetrated some offense, I can usually cajole him back into my arms with a little tickling and some farty kisses. 

Last week he finally couldn't get into his tennies another day. He is growing by leaps and bounds and has suddenly sprouted a few extra inches in height and possibly foot length! SO I got him a "new" pair of shoes from the depot (thank you again Rebecca Strobel and http://www.cityofnewbaltimore.org/recreation.asp ) and brought them out to him. I got him in the new shoes and tied up and off he headed for PE. 

As soon as they were done, he came back to the gazebo to change into his sandals and told me I was not nice and he didn't love me any more. I asked whatever did I do and he said his new shoes hurt his feet. Well, I walked right over and inserted my fingers every which way to see if there was something sticking in his foot, or some bump or knot in the material that was making him uncomfortable. I checked his little feet for marks of an impression and couldn't even see a red spot or anything. I asked him if he was sure they were hurting him and he insisted they were. 

I figured we'd let a week go by and see what happens. Maybe he would forget they hurt his feet. Stranger things have happened!

So, fast forward to yesterday, PE day, and sure enough, as I put his shoes on them he began to tell me that they hurt his feet. So I asked him a few preschool teacher questions designed to get to the bottom of this situation. What I surmise is that the soles of these shoes are very heavy to him. Much more so than say, his cheap dollar store sandals. So I explained to him that these were special super hero training shoes, meant to make him grow big muscles in his legs so that he can run faster than a speeding bullet. I asked him to show me how fast he can run in these super hero trainers. He ran to the outside wall and back and said, "wow, Miss Michele, they are good!"

Crisis averted. Love restored. All in a days work for a preschool teacher! 

Ishka's 4th birthday, 30 August, 2011

Disapointment

I've never been one of those people that can hide my emotions. I wear my heart on my sleeve, I wear my disappointment on my face and in the slump of my shoulders, and if I'm angry, well, look out! I've got dagger eyes for sure!


I know this is not ideal. I know that this is something that by my age, you'd expect me to have learned a thing or two about at least disguising my feelings for the sake of argument, but I have not. 


And I don't think living in Haiti is going to benefit me any in developing that ability. 


I feel like I could live in Haiti for another 100 years and I won't get any better at it. 


And yes, I know that disappointments are all about perspective, and that I am in control of how I react to issues in my life. I've read all the books, taken all the workshops, I even do yoga and meditation/prayer every day to keep my balance. 


Yet, here I am, long in the face yet again. 


I keep setting myself up for failure because I keep counting on others. I should know better, right? 


The Psalmist reminds us not to put our faith in princes, or man, for there is no salvation there. 


But isn't part of growing in the community about putting some trust in your fellow man? 


Maybe I am reading things out of context because a. I am not so awesome that I can do everything and 2. occasionally I am not capable of doing everything for myself and I MUST ask others to help. 


So, God please grant me the patience to see the lessons these occasions offer, instead of the disappointments. And please help me to disguise my disappointment when I fail at seeing the lessons offered. Amen

How poor is poor?

Yesterday I had the privilege of visiting one of the settlements north of Port au Prince. Some friends of ours have a little chunk of property out there and they had 5 houses built for some of the earthquake survivors they knew. I really thought I'd seen the worst of it. Then I went there.


The drive out to the settlement takes us through several other small villages that I've seen on the 2 trips I've made up the coast. Then we take an abrupt right and head out to the plains, just before the mountains to the north. This is seriously land that good men have forsaken.


To begin with, Haiti has long been victim of massive deforestation and over farming, leaving the land blanched and dried, and desert-like. Next, there's really no moving water to help take away some of the waste, so the entire area is much like the back end of a flea bitten dog, and just about as loved.


There are tracts of houses built by odd NGOs here and there. Some structures are extremely temporary, not meant to be lived in for more than a few months. Yet here are families, 2 1/2 years after the earthquake, still living in these tents and stick and tarp homes. There are wooden structures, which are not very practical for Haiti's climate, meant to last about 3 years, so, let's say they are on their last 1/2 year of life expectancy. There are some tin shanties, and occasionally a brick and mortar structure, usually unfinished. 


Apparently, the government is intending to survey the land, and plan out the roads and turn this into a permanent community. They even have their own police station. But even if they put up street signs and create a mapped community, this will still be little more than a tent city, with a few schools and many churches and very little infrastructure.


There are wells with pumps spread sporadically throughout the area. The water must be riddled with parasites. Every so often we would pass a clean water vendor. I wonder if they really are selling clean water. The roads are nearly impassable, resembling more of a baja bmx bike course than a village or subdivision. I can only imagine how much more difficult it must be to go in and around there during the rainy season. 


Most people have no access to waste facilities, and simple do their business in a bucket, the contents of which is then strewn about their yard. 


We met one woman who has a 3 year old son, born by emergency c-section that took too long, who now suffers from severe CP. He just lies on a tarp on the floor of her one room house, naked from the waste down, covered about the head with flies. He cried nearly the whole time we were there. The woman's daughter had just passed away a few days before, they suspect either from AIDS or TB. Her brother lives with her, he's deaf. Also, she is taking care of her grandmother, who looked like a stick figure in a dress, sitting on the floor of their home, tracing circles in the dust around her feet. 


There were a lot of young ladies around, many had small children, some where pregnant with more souls to be sentenced to this hard life in Haiti. 

We met some young men that had created a few "art" pieces by carving either stones or large chunks of ceramic. A few of them looked like birds and one of them I think we voted it was an addidas soccer shoe. Funny. They tried to hawk their wares, and one of the ladies visiting from Indiana decided she would make a mercy purchase. 


"Konbyen sa?" How much for this?


"Fifty dollars" 


Wow! The laughter that ensued. 


We finally settled on a price of 50 Gourdes (fifty goods) or about $1.25 USD. 


We had gone out to meet the biological mother of the daughters of the woman from Indiana. Unfortunately, because none of the ladies out in this desolate place have cell phones, she wasn't around while we were there. 


Back in the trucks we went. Humbled and perspectives sharpened. 


It's hard living in Haiti. Harder still to think of the millions of dollars that have flowed in since the earthquake and how little actually got spend on programs or processes to help the people of Haiti to create a more sustainable life. 


Such waste in teaching these people that God wants them to propagate at such alarming rates. 


Depoprovara, that's what Haiti needs, in copious amounts. And clean water. And public bathrooms. And better sources of fuel. And roads. And schools, real schools, schools that teach skills that can be used to obtain income, financial support. And prayers, lots of prayers. 

Felling Crazy, Lazy Saturday Afternoons

So, I decided to stay in my jammies today. It was going to be a day of leisure. My intern is back after a 2 week break so I threw on a sports bra under my jammie tank and headed out to open the school. I got the office open, handed out vitamins, opened up the school, passed out the arts and crafts, the balls, the jump ropes, basketball, and the giant parachute and was going to head back up to my room for some coffee and a good book. 


Of course the best laid plans.


So next thing you know, I'm visiting with our Poured-Out guests who are shortly going to be headed to the airport. We chat for a bit and I get a good laugh because Carlee, the beautiful, lithe, laid-back leader of the group, poured herself a coffee, embelished with a little cinnamon that turned out to be Cayenne pepper! 


By the time I get back to my room, I'm covered in skeeter bites (I didn't spray because I wasn't planning on staying out there) and I'm a little sunburned (again, I didn't spray because I wasn't planning...well, you know that line already) and sweaty as all get out. 


I sit down, crack open my hard boiled egg, and take a sip of my coffee. 


Karma is a bitch.


And she had my name on her list. 


This is why you never laugh at the misfortunes of others!


I apparently filled my cup with hot water, creamer, and sugar, and skipped the part where you stir in the spoonful of coffee crystals. 


It was like drinking hot melted ice cream! Blek!


So, then I had to go relieve a crisis in the gazebo as the children put on their socks and gym shoes. 6 1/2 days a week they wear flip flops, but on Saturday mornings, they were gym shoes with socks. (Thanks again going out to New Baltimore, Michigan Parks and Rec and Rebecca Strobel for getting us all those awesome sneakers!) But of our 20 little miscreants only about 2 can tie their own shoes, so down I go to cries of "Miss Michele!" "please help me!" "I can't tie this stupid thing".


First we do the over/under. Then we make a tree. Then the rabbit runs around the tree..."Like this?" Yes, yes, yes, just like that.


So, we got 20 little pairs of feet into 20 little pairs of socks and sneakers and off to class to do their arts and crafts. 


Then the rest of the teachers showed up for pay day. So then I have to go and make sure they all play nice while our director is out. 


Okay, I'm heading back up to read and relax. 


Wait, the power went out, I have to go start both generators. 


Well, I can see I'm not going to relax today. I might as well start the inventory. We need to get next year's supplies order before the crew comes down the end of July. 


So I plant myself in the third classroom and begin the arduous task of counting pencils, crayons, markers, construction paper, bottles of tacky glue, glue sticks, glitter, etc. 


Somehow, I let the entire morning slip away. And still I haven't eaten any more than my egg. And whatever happened to my coffee?


So I make my way back to my room and grab the cup of iced coffee chilling in the fridge. Hmmm, seems I made decaf. What was I thinking? 


Then a Skype with the boss. We have a situation to take care of. We have to make arrangements for one of our girls to go stay with family for a while. She has some behavioral issues and we aren't really equipped to deal with that. I mean, I'm pretty awesome and have a wealth of experiences, but there are just some things I am not trained to deal with. 


We have a team pow-wow. The family exchange is going down around 4 pm. 


Well, I'm surely not going to get any kind of down-time before then.


Back to the classroom. Back to the inventory. 


By now some of the "red shirts", my 1st graders, are board. The movie has ended, (Beethoven) and the babies laid down for their naps, and they want to know if I will do yoga class with them. So I find a stopping point, we all grab mats, and off to the preschool classroom we go. 


If you ever want to find out what you are made of, try teaching a yoga class to 10 6, 7, and 8 year olds, with 1 or 2 9 and 10 year olds in the mix. They fight over mats, they fight over mat space, they fight over who gets to put their mat by mine. Then they start stealing my mat, they climb on me, they climb under me. They think it's really funny to poke my "booty" when we do downward facing dog. 


You want to find your zen? Try doing fish pose with a six year old sliding in under you, or hanging from your neck as you do Lord of the Dance!


I truly have transcended. I never lost my cool. I never fell over. I never gave up. I just kept reminding them that people who do yoga don't fight over mats, we share our space. We love one another. We encourage one another. And, le sigh, I applaud myself for how strong I am for being able to do awkward airplane with one child on my back, one on my leg, and one straddling my neck while one crawl under me to pepper my face with kisses. 


So, after all that, we had to deal with our separating child. She handled the transition with more dignity and grace than I could have hoped for. After a year of her anti-social behaviors and aggressiveness and abhorrence of PDAs, she gave me a long hug, and a big kiss and told me she loved me. I will grieve over her absence, but some children just aren't cut out for this kind of situation. 


After that I needed to let a little lose. The van is running and I have no intention of staying in if I don't have to. I invited the interns to head out for dinner and the pool at the good ole Visa Lodge (I'd prefer the hotel Montana, but there is no way in Haiti I'm trying to drive that van up the mountain ever again!). I invited one of our young men, Emmanuel Gedeon. He is one of our best students, and he earned all high marks on his exams. 


It was a good evening. I ate waaaayyyy too much. Drank too little. And then we swam! 


Manno was lucky enough to have met a woman in the pool that had just spent the day teaching her two Haitian escorts how to swim, and offered a few lessons to him. After about an hour in the pool, he was executing a novice breast stroke that was really impressive. Of course, he lost his rhythm and inhaled a bit of water, which scared him a bit. So then he sat guard on the stairs. The fun part about the Visa Lodge pool is that the stairs are evenly spaced at about 5 inches in rise, till the last step, which drops about 2 feet, leaving you in water about 5 1/2 feet deep, and that's the shallow end! 


We swam for a while, til we were pretty knocked out, and headed home for showers. 


That's about it for me. Church tomorrow and then we are thinking we might sneak back over to the pool. 


Our Jacmel trip got sidelined. But we're headed to Calico Beach up the coast. I'm so excited! I can't wait to swim in the ocean. Been living on an island for an entire year and have only swam in the ocean 2 times so far! 


TTFN!

How much is Too Much?

One of the hardest parts of this job is knowing how much to give, and when to pull back. One could make themselves crazy down here trying to do what is best in every situation. It's like living in a moth bitten tent in the rainy season. You have to decide which holes to patch and which holes to leave. And you have to rearrange the furniture so the rain doesn't come in on the really important stuff. 


There are so many places that our tent needs to be patched up. You can't possibly fix all the holes. So, let's say we leave one, and tuck a bucket under it to collect rain water. That's well and fine, but if you don't watch out, that bucket overflows and now you've ruined the rugs! So you have to keep shuffling buckets and moving the furniture around. But nobody else is helping. So as fast as you can move buckets around, patches bust and more holes are letting in water. 


So now you are simultaneously, and independently, attempting to sew up holes, move buckets, rearrange furniture, and trying to keep the most precious of your possessions from getting destroyed by the ever onslaught of the masses of rain that just keeps pouring, and pouring and pouring in. Eventually you just want to go lay down on the bed and wait for the mudslide to carry you down hill. 


Surrender is inevitable. 


Yeah, it's that kind of Monday.