WELL, here I am, back at it. Back at the beloved blog. Its been a little over a month since I last updated...and quite a lot has happened!
I'm in a new homestay, still in the Dabon/Leogane area. The community is called Ti Basen. This experience is almost 100% the opposite of my first. I live in a giant, GIANT house filled with thousands of knick knacks and shiny things that have been sent over from the states. The "heads" of the household are Antoinette and Wilda--two sisters. There is Blan (Wilda's husband), Edwitch & Claudia who are sisters and nieces of Antoinette and Wilda. That is everyone who SLEEPS in the house I am in. Next to the house are about 3 temporary IRD post-earthquake shelters where Thelani (a wonderful, tiny old woman), Mirlande (Wilda & Antoinette's sister), Wilcov, Carterson, Darlson (Mirlande's sons), and Marc live. My house and the three smaller houses are surrounded by a big cement wall, which is common for Haitian's who have a bit of money to do. Wilda, Antoinette, and Mirlande's oldest sister lives in Florida and has for some time...she is the one who has sent over money and things for the house. This is incredibly common in Haiti, the Haitian diaspora contributes thousands (millions...I'm not sure?) of dollars to the country. Haitians who have gotten the chance to travel abroad send money, clothes, housing supplies, etc. back to their families as a way to show that they are cared for and thought of...which is then ever so proudly put on display by the families who are still here in Haiti. Most of the things in my house are not even used, they are there on display and to show that they have people in the states that have not forgotten or abandoned them.
Since I've been back in the Dabon area I've been spending a lot of time at the Rasin Lespwa (roots of hope) library/center. I've been participating in helping with English classes, children's clubs, or just hanging out with the people here. It's a really great place just to get away and hang out with wonderful people my age who are doing amazing things for the betterment of their people and country.
Its been about two weeks since Abbey and my Dad have left. The trip was really wonderful. Challenging, stressful, and intense, but I would not have changed a thing about it. We were able to spend a few days in Gwo Jan with Carla, all of the MJRAV guys, and Madame Antwan & crew (Might I add that I am feverishly jumping up and down and flailing my arms back and forth to try and combat the dozens of giant wasps that are in here as I write this...). After a few days in Gwo Jan we all headed to Dabon for a short stay with our host families. Our stay was cut short--Abbey unfortunately was hit by what we're pretty sure was heat exhaustion during an intense hike up the moutain. Long story short--with the help of some incredible people here, we were able to get Abbey to the hospital in the city of Leogane where she was put on an IV and eventually got better (more to come on that later). After that little stint--we headed to Jacmel, which is so far my favorite place in Haiti. We stayed at my favorite hotel--Lamitye Hotel (The Friendship Hotel) which is right on the beach and has great rum cocktails :). That was a great part of the trip to just relax and debrief about all that we had all gone through, everything our families had seen, experienced, etc. The last leg was spent back in Gwo Jan, where I feel most at home and where my true Haitian family is. It was such an honor to introduce everyone to my Dad and Abbey. I cannot wait until my Mom is able to meet them all. I can't imagine my family in the states not knowing or meeting my family here...its just something that must be done!
As I mentioned, Abbey was taken to the hospital (clinic) in Leogane. This was probably one of the most beautiful, stressful, and stretching experiences I have had (and also that my Dad and Abbey have had) since I've been here. As soon as we walked in we were escorted directly inside for Abbey to be seen. As we walked inside I saw almost a dozen people who looked like they had been sitting there for hours, waiting to be seen--people who were crying, moaning, and could not sit still because of some sort of pain...while we, three priveleged white people walked right in ahead of them. Abbey was put on a bed and taken care of right away. In the midst of talking to the doctors and then translating for Abbey and my Dad, walking back and forth from the waiting area to where Abbey was, I noticed a beautiful young woman about my age, holding what I assumed to be her infant son who did not look like he had much life left in him. After we were there for about an hour and a half I approached the woman and asked what was wrong with her son. She told me she had been seen earlier, and that the doctors thought her son had cholera. I looked at her son, who was throwing up, going to the bathroom on her, eyes rolling in the back of his head, crying...and felt completely helpless, helpess and angry. She had been sitting there since before we had even gotten there, and not ONCE did I hear her complain, or even ask to be seen. I walked into where the doctors were and, knowing I probably should not have done this--I said as politely as possible, "Excuse me, but do you realize that there is a young woman with her son outside who looks like he is dying who have been waiting for about three hours to be seen?" To which a nurse responded, "Well, its not me you need to talk with, its the doctor." I said, "Well, I'm pretty sure the doctor can hear me because he's sitting right next to you." Doctor responded, "I know they're there...we can't do everything at once." Well, I was at a loss. He was right. He was the only doctor there, and there were dozens of people in the proccess of being seen, or waiting to be seen.But I still was not okay with that! I was angry, upset, frustrated, stressed, felt like I was going to throw up, and cry, all at once. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake everyone I saw and say, "WHAT HAVE WE DONE TO THIS COUNTRY?! WHEN IS IT GOING TO CHANGE?!" It was then, perhaps truly for the first time, that the reality of Haiti hit me. It smacked me in the face, and there I was...standing there, without anything I could do. I then told him, "Listen, my sister's IV is almost fnished...I will have her sit outside and hold it up for her so it can finish if you give that woman this bed." The doctor said, "Don't worry about it, your sister is almost finished...she'll be seen soon." I knew that was the end of that and that there was nothing more that I could do. Eventually Abbey's IV finished and we were told we could leave. As we left, about an hour after all of this...the young woman was still sitting there, in silence, gently rocking her son in her lap. I went up to her, put my hand on her shoulder and told her that I tried, I asked her if anyone came out to talk to her, and she said No, and immediately started crying. I had no idea what to do. I kept my hand on her shoulder, asked her her name, her son's name, and told her that I would pray for them. That was all I had to offer. I looked down at her son and thought...this child does not have much time left, and who knows if he is even still alive as I write this. As grateful as I was, and am that my sister was seen and cared for, it breaks my heart and puts a deep anger in my heart to know that we were immediately seen because of the color of our skin, and all the history, wounds, and scars that have been inflicted on these people because of that. I think of this woman and her son everyday, and I will continue to do so, hoping that she was given the care she and her son needed. If not, I pray and hope that she was given the strength that I see in every person here to go on, despite these harsh conditions.
Haiti, I thank you. I thank you for your people, your land, your history. I thank you for what you are teaching me. I thank you that you force me to see the reality of this place. I hope that this gift you have will never end, and I hope that it touches in some way or another each person on this planet for it is truly a gift that is rich and unique to you. THANK YOU.
