Yesterday, I woke up late because I let myself wake up late, I opened my door and a cockroach ran in. I killed it, and the first thing someone said to me as I walked into the dining room is, "we're out of water." I called to Ronald (security) as I unlocked the doors and moved some suitcases out of the classroom. A giant tropical spider was hanging out on the wall, so I called Ronald again (he's literally my go-to guy for everything around here) and watched him remove it with all the finesse of a man who's seen much bigger spiders in his day. Mirline (instructor/preceptor) ran in and reminded me to print out copies of the August attendance sheet for each class of midwifery students, I poured my cereal, and Pleasure (translator) came in to tell me he's got a fever, was going to the hospital, and couldn't work. Instead, he brought his cousin, Jude, to take his place. I rounded up the troops, called some taxis, and immediately after I called an extra taxi for Sherly (translator), who likes her own, she called to let me know that she'll just meet everyone at the hospital. Gladias (translator/bff) showed me a wasp nest that's attached to my home, Ronel (jeep driver) showed me yet another way in which the Jeep is broken, and I went to print out the attendance sheets. A volunteers needed her own attendance sheet and my camera, Ronel asked for 2 color photocopies of someone's birth certificate for Philomène (mobile clinic midwife), we needed more baby bags for Mobile Clinic, I forgot to grade the students' exams, and Emmanuel never got my message about working that day. I finally sent the volunteers off, the midwifery students started class, and then I could breathe. I'd only been awake an hour, but it was time to do dishes, prepare the students' juice, and brush my teeth. Welcome to my job.
I guess I never explained my thoughts when I first got here. I felt like they were obvious, and I was so busy that it just didn't happen. Now that I reflect a bit more, I didn't feel anything really distinct or unexpected. I had expectations for some aspects of life here, but most of it was unexpected and I was ready for that. I think I'm just good at mentally preparing myself for things -- and by that, I mean big changes and long stays away from familiarity. I think that's just who I am, and coming to terms with this is what's helping me figure out what it is I want to do after Haiti. More on that later.
I guess when I first arrived, I was trying to take it all in -- remember, this isn't my first time here -- and to seem like a pro, but not to become jaded. I still can't decide if it's better to get used to the dire poverty around me so that I no longer am emotionally affected by it, or if it's better to never allow myself to get used to it so that it has a more profound impact on me. I'm trying to not get used to it. Is that why I'm here?
I'm still asking myself almost daily why I'm here. The easiest answer is that everything aligned, it was chance, and I was helped along the way by people and events that all conveniently coincided. The more difficult answer is what I'm trying to figure out. Friends and family back home tell me how great the work is that I'm doing, and all I can think is that I'm not doing anything incredible. I'm making photocopies, grading exams, calling taxis, and ordering meds. None of that is incredible. What's incredible is what our midwives and students, our house staff, our matrons do every single day. They're the ones making things happen for women in these communities. But a friend (hi Lucas) recently told me, "Facilitating is powerful." He's right, and I have to remember that although lots of aspects of Midwives for Haiti would exist and continue without me, the improvement wouldn't necessarily continue. And that's what we want -- constant augmentation of our program, of our capabilities and our expertise. To quote the matrons, "Nou travaye ansamn pou sove mamanm avek tibebe," or "We work together to save moms and babies."
Two months in, though, I'm settled, I'm calm most of the time, and although I still have tons of questions for Carrie every day, I'm doing well. This is life now, and it's something I've accepted. For the first few weeks, I was basically waiting to get homesick and realize this wasn't for me...but that never happened. And now that I think back on it, of course it didn't happen. I don't quit things, and I had mentally prepared myself for this. Now, I don't think about going home anymore (unless I'm hungry and someone mentions hamburgers/cheese). Instead, I've accepted this as my life and I'm so used to it that it's nothing too crazy now. That's not to say I'm not learning every single day, because each day I learn something new about midwifery or Haitian culture or myself. Who will I be in a year? Or what if I stay longer?
Truthfully, I intend to stay here for a year. I can stay longer or I can leave early, but it's up to me. I've convinced myself I'll spend a year here, but Haiti isn't the kind of place you visit once and leave forever. I'll be back, and I'm sure it won't be for a vacation at the beach. Midwives for Haiti, too. It's not the kind of organization you experience once and forget. Tons of our volunteers come back year after year, and some have projects of their own they've begun and follow up on each year. Though I likely won't begin any projects or come back to volunteer in the hospital, I'll come back to be with my friends -- the house staff, the midwives, the students, the people at the photocopy place... I'm becoming a regular and my Creole is good enough that I'm genuinely getting to know the people around me. I'm making lifelong friends and when I leave, I hope to make half as much of an impression as Carrie did during her time here.
So life after Haiti. Everyone keeps asking what it'll consist of, even though its ages away. I was a pre-med, so med school has always been on the horizon, but it feels no closer now than it did when I was a sophomore in college. I don't feel my same passion for Biology research, even though I'm sure I'll always love it. Now I can't stop thinking about how I can use this Creole and French experience with other non-profits. I want to travel in my job, I've always known this, and non-profit work seems like a good way to ensure that. Maybe I should do public health; global health just interests me so much right now. But med school is still an idea. It's just hard to distinguish between true passion for a particular field and heightened interest because of my surroundings. Either way, a master's degree is next. I guess I should start looking into that, eh? It just feels so far, life in the US in general feels so distant, like I don't know how to live that life anymore or something. And I'm sure that when I go back, the initial culture shock will settle down and life will be normal again, but I just don't understand how everyone there lives their lives so differently than everyone here. You can't understand a place like this until you've lived here and known the people and experienced whatever it is that makes Haiti Haiti. I wish Haiti weren't so defined by poverty and hurt, because although those things are more than prevalent here, this is a place that is so rich in love, culture, and life. Because when history and life experience have developed a people whose tomorrow is never guaranteed, it creates a people who take life as it comes and live every day as fully as possible.
Okay, I'm done being deep. Here goes a quick update:
Yesterday afternoon, as I was walking outside after lunch, Sherly said non-chalantly, "Brittany, I forgot to tell you, I found a baby in the trash with the umbilical cord and everything, so now I've got a baby." I thought she might've been referring to a Neonatalie doll, a dummy used to teach neonatal resuscitation. But when she clarified, the story was that she'd been taking out her trash on Friday night (Sherly lives in Port-Au-Prince) when she heard a baby crying. She used the light from her cell phone to find the child, who had clearly been born that day, laying in a small tub with its placenta, the umbilical cord still attached. Sherly took the baby in and is planning to raise it as her own. Sherly's baby girl doesn't have a name yet, and I'll post a picture as soon as I get one!
Apparently this is common in Port-Au-Prince, when teenagers, for example, become pregnant and they don't want their parents to find out or aren't able to take care of the child. This kid sure got lucky. Sherly said she'll bring her to Hinche sometime so I can take care of her while Sherly is working. Though Sherly lives in Port-Au-Prince with her two (now three) babies, she hires a babysitter during the week and drives to Hinche to work. She stays with a friend all week. Many Haitians have to do this to find work, and it's great that Sherly is so committed to MFH.
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| After the graduation, this matron wanted a photo with me... and then he did this...? |
The matrons chose Maria Iorillo, one of our regular volunteers, as their Marinn. Marinns and Parinns, our equivalents of godparents, are very important in Haitian culture. They are the ones who you can turn to in any situation, whether you need housing, money, or a confidant. Maria is a midwife from San Francisco comes to Hinche every year to volunteer. She goes above and beyond the average volunteer, bringing friends and family who make videos (watch one here), take pictures, make a yearbook, put on a summer camp for the girls at the orphanage, etc. She recently got married and instead of wedding gifts, she asked for donations to MFH. Incredible.
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| One of our matrons played the tambou for every song. |
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| Guillet, the male midwifery student, was the emcee for the event. |
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| On our way to Bassin Zim, a waterfall! |
On Sunday, we decided to go Bassin Zim. It's a popular tourist area for the blans in the area, as well as some Haitians, even. I hadn't been yet, so I decided to take the afternoon off and to go with the volunteers. It's about a 40-minute drive so we took the pink jeep and I'm really glad we weren't on motos! When you pull in to the small parking area at the waterfall, tons of kids come up to you and try to hold your hand to walk you up to the top of the fall. All I wanted was to swim! I jumped right in and Maggie, a non-medical volunteer who's here with her midwife mother, came in with me. Gladias showed up with his friend Roderick a bit later, so once they got there, Jonal jumped in, too. People sell beer and rum out of coolers. I can't wait to go back!
