Return to Hades..I mean, Haiti

It's been a month and a half since my last post. I have much to catch you up on. To give you a brief summary of the past month and a half, here are some facebook status highlights:

I think I just had the most awkward situation I've ever had in my life... October 12

It's raining. Which means I must take advantage and shower in it. Here's hoping no lizards find themselves flying out the pipe on my head! October 17

visited another orphanage that houses around 200 sick/abandoned children, and I'm feeling a little wrecked....Our kids at the home here are fortunate.... October 18

Out of the house 4 times in one week! That's a record! October 23

It makes me so happy at night to hear the kids shouting out the English they had learned in class that morning :-) October 25

spent the day in heaven. Also known as the beach. Pleasantly pooped :-) October 27

Honeymoon is paid for...too bad you can't have a honeymoon without a wedding.... October 28

I blame going from 200% to -100% on visiting the voodoo house... October 28

Spent 20 minutes on my walk to the orphanage convincing a guy why he doesn't really love me and shouldn't marry me. Keep in mind, these are the only 20 minutes I've ever talked to this guy... He still insisted I meet his mother tomorrow... Nov. 2

The boys got into my makeup. They were too pretty to get mad. Pink goes well on them :-) November 7

And today's:

Today I had my bum bitten by a child, I was de-skirted, and had a couple huge hogs stampede towards me on the street. I'm not sure if that makes for a good day or a bad day...

It's been an interesting month and a half. I'll slowly try to catch you up.

Some things have changed. Some haven't. I now have the swamp thing living in my bathtub, which still leaves me praying for rain to shower in. I still haven't developed a love for beans, and this time spent in Haiti has pretty much cemented the fact that I never will.

I don't go stir-crazy as much any more. And I finally feel a little productive.

On my way back to Haiti from Michigan, I had a layover in Miami. I noticed a girl waiting for the flight to Port-au-Prince that had also been on my flight from Detroit. White people on their way to Haiti are almost never going on vacation. They have some sort of humanitarian purpose, and so you feel you have the okay to step out of your American bubble and pry into the lives of others and find out why they are going. Well, maybe that's just me. But I can see it in their eyes, "There's a white girl going to Haiti. By herself. I wonder what she's doing." I just open up the conversation. It turns out this other white girl, Keyti, would be doing something similar to what I'm doing. She was also going by herself and would be there alone part of the time, so we both decided that this was the perfect opportunity to have a friend in Haiti. We exchanged information, and soon after we got to Haiti, we met up at another orphanage that is close to where I live. I have a better understanding of what people probably think about when I tell them I'm working at an orphanage. The orphanage we met at is a Missionaries of Charity orphanage, a Mother Teresa orphanage.

Finding that orphanage has added infinitely to my experience here, and I have gone back at least a couple times a week since. Now when I leave, they don't say good-bye. They say "A Bientot," see you soon.

I used to wonder if we were taking good enough care of our kids here. I mean, they ate rice and beans EVERY SINGLE DAY for lunch. Surely they deserve more than that? Visiting the sisters has made me realize how fortunate our kids are, and grateful that they are here instead of another orphanage, or on the streets. The other orphanage has anywhere from 120-200 young children. Children come and go, and most of them come because they will die otherwise. The bottom floor is reserved for the sickest. I almost didn't want to go down there. I was told that the orphanage has a worker there whose sole job is to make coffins for those children that die. They need being held too. Even if it looks like they are going to fall apart when you pick them up. The upstairs is composed of three main rooms with about 20 cribs in each, each crib holding a child, and some of them two. These children may not be about to die, but some of them still have IVs, and they are skin and bones. Literally. Arms, thighs, and bums just folds of skin hanging off the bones. I really was afraid to pick them up, afraid I would break them. But as soon as you do, they cling to you: wrap their arms around you and lay their head on your chest. And cry and hold their arms out to you when you put them down. It's feeding time when I go visit, so I help to feed the children between 10-20 months old, though I'm surprised I haven't been banned from feeding them. I'm pretty sure I have the record for messiest feedings. The women who work there are very gracious with me :-)

The first child I fed, Maniolita, is one of those skin-and-bones children. I fed her mashed potatoes that first day. After cleaning her up, I picked her up. Then, she vomited on me. A lot. And all over. She's had a place in my heart ever since. Every time I go back now, I always look for Maniolita. The sisters always point her out if I haven't found her, and let me feed her. She's 18-months old, and beautiful. She sucks on her two middle fingers non-stop. So much that they remain pink and wrinkly with skin coming off. If you're not fast enough with the spoon feeding her, she'll have her fingers in her mouth between spoonfuls. I've gotten smart and do the holding before she eats now :-)

After making rounds and make sure to spread out some Jamie lovin', I sit with my other favorite, Soinrilia. I noticed her the second time I went. When you walk in, you are bombarded by kids between the ages of about 3 and 9 who all want to be held, and all want attention. I noticed Soinrilia sitting on a bench against the wall, quietly. Just sitting, looking around, demanding nothing. I wanted this quiet, gentle-spirited girl to know that she's loved and that someone looks forward to seeing her. She doesn't say much, and I only get a little smile every now and then, but she smiles when she sees me.

It's not all lovey-dovey with the children. There are a few I fear. Those are the biters. A few little girls that I will literally move if they sit next to me because you never know when it's coming. Like today. I was feeding a child (which I was really excited about because it was my first really clean feeding!). Augustin came up behind me and was hugging my legs. All of a sudden, she's biting my butt cheek! I move, of course, and tell her no, and she sits down. I go back to feeding. Then I feel her pulling on my skirt. Kids do that. But then I feel the waist of my skirt under my butt. She de-skirted me! We gave the sisters a good laugh and Augustin was sent out of the room. You gotta watch out for those biters...

Visiting this orphanage has given fresh life to me being here. I'm positive that I benefit from it much more than the kids do. It's a 15-minute walk from my home, and it's the one place I can go by myself. It gets me out of the house when I need without having to rely on anyone else, so it gives me freedom. It's also been great for me because there are always other missionaries there from different organizations who are just visiting a week. While it's mostly the same conversation every time, it gives me an opportunity to speak with other Americans in my own language. It also gives me a sense of purpose that I'm able to be a constant visiting face for the kids. For Soinrilia. I'm not just here for a week on a mission trip. I keep going back, and I will for the remainder of my time here, because I genuinely look forward to seeing them.

I may be convinced to become Catholic just so I can adopt one of them one day...

A shower awaits me...

In 3 days, I will be able to take a shower. I have not showered in almost a month. Probably not even "almost." I haven't showered in a month. At the end of last week, I found out someone had donated money to get the water pump fixed. But until then, it only gets worse... Right after I found out that I would have running water once again soon, a horrible wretched smell was in my room. I knew I couldn't possibly smell *that* bad, so I followed it into the bathroom, where the tub drain had gotten plugged, or something went wrong, but the tub was full of nastiness and smelly water. Okay. So just plunge. As I was plunging, the light in the bathroom went out. We don't exactly have spare lightbulbs chilling around the house (and the ceiling is too high to change it anyway). So there I am standing over the tub in the dark, a headlamp on my head, plunging as nasty water splashes into my face and sweat pours into the tub. Not only can I not shower. Now I can't even bucket bathe in the tub. That was Friday. The water went down, only to come up again. I'll just tell you that baby wipes are my best friend right now, and that I feel really bad for the people on the plane when I come home, and that I'm so excited to take a shower that I can't even sleep.

When I'm not thinking about taking a shower, I'm thinking about how to smuggle a baby out of the country.

Youseline is back. After weeks in the hospital, and me having no idea what's going on, her mom (who had been staying with her at the hospital) showed up Saturday saying that Youseline was released from the hospital. She's home :-) She is still little bobble head girl, only now sporting a mohawk, which personally I adore. I stole her away for a few hours when she first got here...I was so happy to see her, and see that she was alive. She still doesn't have much control with her neck, and she is just skin and bones. Her thighs are literally bones with flappy skin around them. BUT, she's eating now! Sisi, one of the moms, has been making a drink for her made out of potatoes, carrots, milk, and vanilla (which is actually quite delicious), so hopefully she will be gaining some meat on her bones. It just doesn't seem fair that I have so much meat on my bones that isn't needed when she has none... I wish I could bring her back to Michigan with me, to keep my eye on her, to keep letting her know I love her. Hence me wanting to smuggle her out of Haiti.

The parent/child dynamic is one I just don't understand here. Not all of the children here are complete orphans. Some have parents or family that are alive, but just unable to care for them. After the earthquake, it was hard to sort through which children had living parents and which didn't. Four of the kids that I've talked about in the past are brothers and sister, and have living parents. On Sunday, their father was visiting. After the visit, they were all crying. When I asked why, they told me their father was going to be taking them. It won't be happening; they've been signed over to us. They are our children. But what is happening most likely is that the father is threatening to take them away in order to get money. I am all about keeping the family together, but it seems that often, that is not the best option at all here. It is such a conflicting feeling, and I don't at all understand what the father is thinking. There are other elements to the story that make it more complex. I am impressed that these kids are as well functioning as they are...all of them.

I'm not going to lie. A part of me is looking forward to going back for a week because life is easy there. I will be wondering a bit while in Michigan...about what is going on with Youseline, with the four siblings, and everything else. But this home has been running for over a year without me, so I know things will be fine. But it will be easier to not have to feel like I have to check in on Youseline to make sure she's breathing. It will be easier to answer a door and not being worried that it's a parent come to take kids away. It will be easier to be able to take a walk without having to look over my shoulder, making sure I won't be kidnapped. It will be easier to see everyone around me lack nothing, to be safe, clean, clothed and healthy.

But I'm also looking forward to coming back to Haiti and being mauled by 15 beautiful children.

For those of you not on facebook to view my photos, here are links to my albums:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100316853759538.2597008.21711110&l=527f7bd79e&type=1

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100318475100358.2597584.21711110&l=dc640d583e&type=1

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100333258858588.2601415.21711110&l=a5ee25d615&type=1

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100345067209558.2603416.21711110&l=04285d7eb7&type=1

Jet valves, Airborne, and Dora! (oh my....)

[Pictured top to bottom: Kenlie, Ballo, Sarah]
These kids don't need fancy swing sets, a pool, toy kitchen sets, barbies galore, or power wheels to have fun. All it takes is a water bottle with a jet valve. It started out because, well, as much as I love kids, I really didn't want their snotty slobbery mouths sucking on my water bottle. I've accidentally kissed their snotty noses enough to know that. It's asking for trouble. And I've only got so much Airborne with me. So, I turned it upside down over their mouths and give a little squeeze, propelling a short burst of water. I loved little Kenlie's wide eyes waiting for the water. I applauded their courage, not knowing when the powerful squirt
was going to come. Or where it was going to go (in trying to get a photo, I would lose attention to my aim and get their faces...). But that was all part of the fun too. Even little Sarah, the photo at the bottom, wanted to participate. Slowly, she's warming to me. Usually, she sticks close to Mama Sisi, but once in a while, she will come over to me, wanting me to pick her up. I think she must be sick on those days. She's a very particular little girl. She likes things a certain way. For example, Edy's feet. She likes them covered up. If she sees Edy take his shoe and sock off, she will start screaming her head off. Very particular little girl :-)

Another thing that the kids absolutely love is skyping. They've been spoiled with random skype visits. It doesn't matter whether they know you or not, and it doesn't matter that they can't understand what you are saying, or that you can't understand them. It's hugely entertaining, for them and for you. I feel like it's my contribution to culturing them, in connecting them with the outside world. Any part that you would like to take in culturing them as well, I would be happy to facilitate. Not to mention, I'm all in for an adult conversation in English every now and then :-)

A few times in the last few weeks, boy Kenly would start doing this dance and song, and others would soon follow him. Listening carefully, it sounded like he was singing, "Sexy body, sexy body, sexy body." The other day, we were all in the tv room, and he started doing it again. I had Yolette next to me, who is extremely patient and good at figuring out what I am trying to ask her. I was about to ask her where they learned this from, and to explain to her that she probably shouldn't be singing that, when suddenly, Dora came on the tv and started doing the same dance! 'Now this can't be right?! Dora wouldn't sing about a sexy body!?' Then she started singing, "Shake your body! SHAKE your body!" I immediately laughed, and they laughed with me, understanding that I finally understood why they did that song and dance. I also felt stupid, and glad I didn't tell them that they were saying some inappropriate things. They would never trust Dora again.

I'm not gonna lie. I'm excited for a visit to the States. I haven't showered in nearly two weeks, and my toothbrush hasn't had a proper rinsing in a month. Today the mamas asked me if a mosquito had bitten me on the forehead. I felt like a kid (yet again) when I had to explain that no, they are zits. Because I had to leave my facewash in the States. I have to be understanding though. They do look like mosquito bites, and white skin is very revealing of things we wish it wouldn't reveal. And, I'll admit it, I'm excited to wear a sweater. Jeans and a sweatshirt. I have this friend that hails from an extremely warm climate, but now lives in Michigan. She takes every opportunity to criticize the cold weather and tease when she's visiting her warm mother state. I was hoping to be cool like her, and be able to post teasing comments about how it's sooooo warm while it's crazy cold in Michigan. Which, I could do. But as I discovered while living in New York and wanting fiercely to remain a citizen of Michigan, I am a Michiganian through and through, cold weather and all. I miss sweaters. And fall. This is not to say that I don't want to be here. I do. I'm just looking forward to a short jaunt back to Michigan and returning to warm Haiti, where I'm catching up on all the sunshine I didn't get in Buffalo.

Yes, Haiti, there's a new white girl in town!

That's what I felt like shouting out today, anyway.

After finally getting the okay, I ventured out for a walk, on my own. I let Sisi, one of the house moms, know so she didn't have a minor panic attack thinking I went missing. She gave me a look and I had to assure her I had gotten the okay. Her words: be smart. Very reassuring.

I'm not gonna lie. I was kind of scared. And I only use the words "kind of" to try to mellow down the fact that I actually WAS really nervous. I was nervous for several reasons. It wouldn't be hard to get lost here. There are few street signs (my street doesn't have one), the roads go whichever direction they want, and everything looks the same. Two: I get *really* irritated when people catcall at me. Three: they are *crazy* drivers and I will be surprised if I leave Haiti with no accidents under my belt. And it didn't help my nerves that just a few weeks ago, a gun was pulled on an American for her camera. In Haiti, white skin means money. Lesson learned: take nothing with me when I'm out by myself.

As I stepped out on my street and shut the gate behind me, I was smiling. I felt a little free! That smile quickly changed as I turned off my street. Over the past few years, I've worked hard to get rid of my intimidating facial expressions that say, "back off." At first I struggled. Do I be smiley American? Or Jamie with an unwelcoming face. It became quickly clear that the wise decision would be a hard face. So having no idea where I was going, I made a sure stride, staring forward, trying to come off as if this were normal for me. Three kids approached me. The first thing they said was, "money?" I had to laugh. I almost felt bad for them, wasting their time, trying to get this American girl's money. For one, I had no money on me. Two, I have no money. It's been quite the joke, the men who flirt to see if I give money when I probably have less money to my name than they do. This American girl is not worth anything monetarily.

I chatted with the boys for a little ways, and honestly, I wish they would have stayed with me the whole way. Then came all the comments. I realized that I'm probably going to develop a thick skin here. I kind of want to puke every time someone makes kissy noises at me. Bleh. No thank you. I think it's funny when they call out "blanc," "white" at me. All in all, after half an hour, I made my way back to my street. This house is home to me. As I was approaching the home, I heard the familiar shouts and laughs of our kids. I could identify Yolette by her laugh and Robert by his crazy voices. I definitely felt like I was coming home. When they unlocked the gate for me, they made jokes (or maybe they weren't joking) about being glad I was back. Four or five of the children asked me, "is okay? is okay?" Maybe they were worried that the bottoms of my legs were actually green.

As I walked some of the streets of Haiti, images I had initially seen, I continue to see. I think one of the hardest things that is all too common is the small child wandering the street with merely a shirt that is too small for him. A mere t-shirt. No pants or underwear even. It makes me want to take shorts with me on my walks to hand out when I see the need.... I do look forward to seeing familiar faces as I get out more and making acquaintances, and even friends.

I'm getting tired (at 9pm!). Thanks for sharing with me in my triumphant success at my first venture out alone. :-)

We deserve it all?

I got on facebook today and this was on my newsfeed, posted by an acquaintance:

IN AMERICA- WE HAVE TO PRESS "1" TO SPEAK ENGLISH
IN AMERICA- THE HOMELESS GO WITHOUT EATING
IN AMERICA- THE ELDERLY GO WITHOUT NEEDED MEDICINES
IN AMERICA- THE MENTALLY ILL GO WITHOUT TREATMENT
IN AMERICA- OUR TROOPS GO WITHOUT PROPER EQUIPMENT
IN AMERICA- OUR VETS GO WITHOUT PROMISED BENEFITS
YET, WE DONATE BILLIONS TO OTHER COUNTRIES BEFORE HELPING OUR OWN! HAVE THE GUTS TO RE-POST THIS? 1% WILL, 99% WON'T HAVE THE NERVE.

Apparently I get really fired up quite easily when I see things like this. I suppose, as an American, I should get fed up that I have to press 1 for English with English is the US's primary language, darn it! I suppose I should get fed up that we give, GIVE, billions of dollars to other countries who really need it instead of making our own lives darn near perfect, damn it!

No. No. Not at all. It took everything within me not to write a nasty comment, so all I wrote is that we can't have it all and we still have so much more than other countries. Thankfully, I have a blog where I can write all the nasty comments I want :-)

I think one of the things I need to work on most is to not be critical or judgmental of people who are stuck in the American mindset. If American life is all you know, well then, I shouldn't criticize. But I can try to expand your worldview.

A couple months ago I was having a conversation with someone who was telling me that with all the aid we give other countries, they should do their part to help us. Our gas prices are horrible, and our economy is down; we need help. This is one of the times where I tried to understand where she was coming from. The singular American mindset. So I asked why. "Why? Other countries should help us so that our gas prices are lower so you can take your bigger camper instead of little one on vacation? So that you can GO on vacation?"

Now, I realize that things aren't perfect, and why shouldn't be try to better ourselves if we have the means? But what I don't think is that we deserve and are entitled to everything. I don't think that we should remain in a bubble that allows us to think that, thus allowing us to resort to complaining when we think we don't have enough.

"We have to press 1 to speak English." That anyone would complain about this is just absurd to me. If that's on your top 10 complaints about your living situation, I think you're doing alright. I wonder how many people's grandparents or great-grandparents are giving the evil eye from their grave for hearing this. For most of us, our ancestors didn't come here speaking English. Have a little heart and respect for what this country stands for, and get over yourself.

The homeless go without eating. One of the most eye-opening books I've read, _Under the Overpass_, is about two middle class young guys who give up everything and choose to live homeless across America for 3 months. I think it says a lot if you live in a country where you can *choose* to be homeless and know you'll be fine. Not ideal, of course not. But in the US, there's always a dollar someone can find. There are shelters. There are soup kitchens. They are still able to get the basic essential needs (of course, for Americans, "need" is a highly messed-up concept). If I had to be homeless anywhere, well frankly, I would choose France, but I know I would get by in the US. This doesn't happen everywhere.

The elderly go without needed medicines. Ohhhh believe me. I have my qualms about the US healthcare system. Yet another area that really pisses me off. In fact, one of the girls here at the orphanage, Elizabeth, has a bad heart. She's in desperate need of several major surgeries that just aren't available in Haiti. We tried to get her a medical visa to have the operations done in the US. It was approved by Haiti, but not by the US. They said they were tired of Haitians coming in for medical care and either not going back to Haiti or going right back to Haiti. The American woman who was trying to take care of the process bluntly asked them, "Are you telling me that you would rather let her die than get a visa just for medical purposes?" He replied frankly, "yes." That's all I will say about that.

I'll skip ahead to the qualm about donating to other countries... Really? I guess I'm just not of the opinion that we should make sure our own system is perfect before helping others. I know this isn't an intelligently written, well thought out response. It's a response because it just pisses me off. It's hard to live in a country, knowing that thousands are living without electricity for many many days in hot weather, in tents with rainy weather, and hear people complain that they were without power for 2 or 3 days. It's a simple inconvenience, that's all. I have become so grateful for power. I guess that happens when you live in a house where you never know if you'll have power or not, and one option is not more likely than the other. Hearing about America's "need" (which again, I know is real) is hard to listen to because it just doesn't compare to the need I see here. The children at the orphanage eat the exact same thing every day for their lunch, and never complain. They are happy to have food. One of our kids, Robert, came from the streets, where they have to find a place to sleep every night and beg to eat. Most streets and roads have horrendous potholes and crevices, piles of trash line the streets, children in tent cities go without clothes, my neighbors are living in a house that is a mere construction of cement walls and part roof, crumbled from the quake, with no electricity whatsoever. The hospital is filled with malnourished children (more on that later...). Children *must* pay to go to school, and when they can't, it's generation after generation growing up with little and on the streets. The animals are skin and bones. I want to feed them my leftovers, but feel bad because I know there's a hungry child down the street who needs it just as much...

I feel much better now. Less pissed off and more just sad that we aren't a very grateful nation. Although, the more I dive into helping others, the more I meet others who DO help and are grateful. They give me hope :-)

Introducing....

Since I'll be here for a year, writing about my life, it's only fitting you get to know the main people of my life right now. So meet Kimberly. On September 24th, she'll be 6. She has three brothers who also live at My Heart's Home: Junior, Kenly, and Elwood. When you ask these children when their birthday is, they can't answer you. They don't know it. So one of the things I get to change is to start celebrating birthdays! As I was looking at their birth certificates for their birthdays, I noticed that Kimberly and Kenly have the same birthday...they are twins. I had no idea. I couldn't even remember which three were her brothers until I looked at the birth certificates. One would think that coming into this home about a year ago, as four siblings, they would stick to each other, but there is no clear separation between these siblings and the rest of the children. The same goes for another brother/sister pair. I think it speaks volumes for how happy and comfortable the children are here at the home, that they are just as much family with the sibling who is not blood-related as with the one who is.

Kimberly is a sassypants, which is probably why I love her so much. But as much as she is, just like most of the other children, she's always willing to step in and help when needed. She also makes an excellent jope rumping partner. (I realize that I totally just messed up those words but I think it's funny so I'm going to leave it. Jump roping. Jump roping partner) I also just realized that at this point, I don't have too much to say. I know they aren't total orphans. They have living family, but who couldn't take care of them. I don't know many of their stories. But I know Kimberly has a world of promise within her, and she would probably either be living in a tent or fending for herself on the streets if she hadn't come here.

Stir Crazy in Haiti

This is where I live. There are walkways on each side of the house that go to a similar area in the back where the clothes are hung to dry. A high cement wall encloses the area.

In case you don't know me, I'm an extremely independent person. I've done a lot of things, and I've done a lot of things alone, and I've done a lot of things alone in a foreign country. No big deal. So honestly, I think the hardest thing about being in Haiti right now is that I can't do anything by myself. I've already discussed that. But it makes you a little stir crazy when you can't leave your front "yard." I can't explain how bizarre it feels to not be able to leave your home because it's not safe. To have barbed wire surrounding your house for security reasons. Did I mention that we have a security guard every night?

As I was taking these photos tonight, I heard people outside of our gate. And then I saw someone standing out there in the slit between the gate and the wall. They just stood there, staring at me. So I said Bonswa, and they said bonswa, and that was it. I'm dying to get out and get to know the neighbors. I feel kind of useless right now when I can't get out to meet people and do what I can to help. Although, that's not completely true. I'm not completely useless. The kids now ask for water instead of demanding it. At least I taught them that :-)