Haitians Know Best

Phew! Almost 3 months without posting. I'm actually the worst at keeping up with this thing. I'm hoping to get back into a more regular posting schedule, so we'll see how that goes.

 I never posted graduation photos, so here are a few. I was so busy that day, I only ended up taking a few, so I stole these from other people (volunteers and the like) who attended. The ceremony went really well! We graduated 23 new midwives into the workforce -- seriously impressive.

The last few weeks before I left for the US for a month were packed full of great volunteers, getting to know Emily and Jenna, and paving the way for lots of great change to take place in 2014. MFH bought a beautiful new Land Cruiser, a white jeep-like vehicle seen literally all over the streets of Haiti. These Toyota vehicles are made for bad roads like the ones that surround Hinche, and the one we live on. With so much going on, and a bunch of unforeseen circumstances, we didn't pick up the LC until after I'd left for home, so it was greeting me at the airport when I came back in January. What a nice surprise!

 My month at home was exactly the refreshing four weeks I needed. I love Midwives for Haiti, I love my job, and I love Haiti, but no one can deny that this is an exhausting position! It's so easy to get burnt out, and I needed a few weeks away from the responsibility. I flew in and was surprised at the airport by my brother and boyfriend holding signs for me (one was a "welcome home, Brittany" poster, the other said "I LIKE TURTLES," but it's the thought that counts, right?). I got to see all of my very best friends from college at two a cappella concerts before going back to little, snowy Ebensburg. After just a few days at home, Bobby and I flew to Tucson, Arizona, to visit his parents for a week. What a beautiful, beautiful place! The mountains in the distance reminded me of the mountains of Haiti, and I had no complaints about the 70-degree weather all week. Just because I live in 90-degree heat does not mean I'm ever ready to go back to the cold :)

Christmas was lovely, and I spent New Years in Scarsdale, New York, with my best friend, Camille, and Bobby. I spent any free time eating -- literally meals upon meals upon meals. After losing about 10 lbs in the six months I'd already spent in Haiti, I knew I needed to fatten up a bit before coming back again. Bobby and I took advantage of this and ate out a ton!

But back to Haiti, because isn't that what this blog is about?

The title of this post is a lesson I've learned over and over again here, and I'm sure it holds true in any country. Of course the Haitians know best. But this is a lesson we, as foreigners in a low-resource area, often forget. It's difficult to remember that the Haitians have their own systems and that those processes work for them, even if they don't work for us. Further, if you're trying to get anything done, stop. Go get the advice of several natives, and then work from there. Chances are, there are cultural consequences or required formal routes you never even thought of to try. Things simply aren't as easy here.

This past week, we held the entry exam and registration for the "Promotion 2014," or our new class of midwifery students. We expected 80 applicants, but were swamped with 117! I had to go make more photocopies of the entry exam twice! As great as this is, it was super overwhelming for us. Nadene and Steve have put their trust in the In-Country staff, and so Jenna, Emily, and I -- along with our Haitian instructors and preceptors and a few recent grads -- planned and handled it ourselves. Emily and I handled background details, letting Jenna do the up-front speaking and explaining, and then we had the preceptors and graduates control the crowd outside and observe during the actual exam. With the limited of two 20-person spaces, we had to hold three separate exams throughout the morning, which involved making sure no one from earlier exams communicated and letting only 20 people in the door when it was time. Personal space isn't much of a concept here, which is often what gets to me in situations like this. It was so much more comforting to watch the students handle it than to get worked up over it. We got 117 people in and out before 1 pm, which is an incredible feat, especially since we figured we'd be there until 5pm!

Emily, Jenna and I have been purchasing tons of fresh goodies at the local market. We've all developed quite a taste for red beets (bet wouj), steamed cabbage, our own little stir fry recipe, and raw veggie salad. When we come home, Dieuny and Solimene always ask if we did well -- as in, did we overpay or did we pay the Haitian price? Sometimes we come out victorious and get beets cheaper than Solimene, but more often than not, we're paying at least 2-3 times the price. Sigh! At least I'm eating fresh veggies, right?

I'm also really beginning to see the worth in maintaining connections and friendships in Haiti. I feel like it's so much less awkward and forced in Haiti when you make an effort to sustain good relationships. It's quite sweet how Haitian friends will call or text you just to check in and see how you're doing because it's been several weeks or days since they've heard from you. They genuinely care, and it's kind of a reaffirmation of your friendship. It's also much more meaningful to invite good friends over or to go visit them at their homes. Now that I'm in the last six months of my stay in Haiti (well, 4-5 now...), I really want to make much more of an effort to visit my friends. I want to know where they live, I want to spend quality time with them instead of just a few jokes here and there in the kitchen, and I want them to know that even when I can't kiss them on the cheek every day, I'm still their "little sister" or "granddaughter."

I'm not sure if I've said this a billion times on here or not, but I certainly feel it: Hinche is my home, and the staff is my family. Recently, we've begun calling Eliette "Grandma." Although she's only a year older than my dad, she feels like a grandma to me. Every day she mops the floor, and I trudge through with my dusty flip flops, or she jokes with me about the knick knacks and clothing piled on my desk (yeah sorry mom). Solimene and Dieuny are my big sisters. Both in their 30s, they have young kids and are always joking with me about gender roles and boys. They want the best for me, and it's so important that I spend time with them. Ronel is my goofy uncle, the kind who will drink your first beer with you and not pick up on every social cue, but is faithful and supportive through and through.

Now that it's February, I'm thinking about who's going to take my place, what I'm going to do when I get home (pray for me that I get into grad school please!!), and what it'll be like to leave. Honestly, I'm really sad. I feel like I need to spend the next few months appreciating the people around me much more than I have. It's crazy how anything, any place, can become so comfortable, so normal. I don't think I'll ever be able to leave Haiti. It's too special to me.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to the next few months. I'm going to spend as much time as possible running and meditating on the hills behind the house as possible, knowing that I'll likely never have such a perfect scene so close to me again in my life. I plan to eat as many mangos and avocados as I can when they're back in season. I plan to snuggle Ina May every single day (let's be real, that's been happening since I got here anyway). And I plan to spend more quality time with the people I care so much about. Oh, and I'm going to dance my tail off.

"Kelby nan kay la" or "Kelby's in the house!"

Hot Showers and Cheese

So I went home for the first time last week! I flew out on Wednesday, October 30th and just got back Saturday, giving me a total of 11 days in the US if you count travel days. Here are the highlights:

Wednesday: My first purchase in the US was a container full of fruit and cheese, with an iced mocha to go with. It cost me $15, which could buy me 2 nice dinners in Haiti, but I didn't really have a choice. I then connected my phone to the wifi at JFK and hung out until my flight back to Baltimore. Bobby (you know him already) and Izzy (my best friend!) picked me up at BWI around 10 pm and we drove back to Baltimore to Izzy's apartment. She and Bobby had picked up some sweet wine, a box of raspberries, and some fresh mozzarella for me to enjoy. Since I'd had that mocha, I wasn't all that tired, and we showed up at Hopkins (where I graduated from) for a quick evening to catch up with good friends.

Thursday: I had a few appointments/meetings, but in between those, Bobby and I ate at Carma's, one of my favorite little cafés in Charles Village, the part of Baltimore where Hopkins is. I went back to my tourguide days and gave him a full tour of the campus, and we even went to the medical campus to catch up with my old lab manager, Michele. That night was Halloween, and we went as a mini mariachi band!

Friday: Mom's birthday! We drove home and I took my mom out for mani-pedis. We went to dinner at POUR that night, a new bar and restaurant in Ebensburg. My appetite wasn't all that impressive yet, and I couldn't finish the massive burger on my plate, but it was great nonetheless.

Saturday: Bobby and I got up early and drove to Pittsburgh, where we met up with a good friend of mine from high school, Erica. Then we prepared all day for the Marine Corps Ball, which was held on a boat in the city. It was beautiful and the food was amazing. No, I did not get to show off my salsa dancing skills ):

Sunday: We decided to spend some time in the city with a few other couples who went to the ball with us (including my brother, Adam, and his date). When the brunch place we wanted to go to had a 20-minute wait, Bobby and I split off from the group and got Chinese food. I don't regret that decision one bit. Then we went to the strip district and shopped around a bit, got some cappuccinos, and went to a candy shop! On our way home to Ebensburg, we stopped at The Cheese House, an awesome little country cheese store just off the highway. They helped us pick out some wines to go with our cheeses, too. That night, we had wine and cheese with my family.

Monday: My mom and I went shopping. MALLS <3

Tuesday: Studied for the GRE.. not a highlight, but pretty much all that happened.. This is about the time when my appetite really kicked in. From here on out, I ate 2-3 lunches each day and at least 2 dinners, not to mention all of the snacking I did. I had pie for breakfast every single day and I don't feel the least bit of shame for it.

Wednesday: I got up and took the GRE, which was not as terrible as it could've been, and then Bobby and I went shopping and out to dinner! The Olive Garden isn't really all that fancy, but it's all I wanted, and it was incredible.

Thursday: It was my last day, so I tried to make the most of it. Bobby and I went to a brunch place in Ebensburg, and then drove to Altoona to do a bit more shopping and mostly to get me Taco Bell. You can tell that food was a top priority on this trip, huh?

Friday: My dad drove me to Baltimore, where I got sushi for lunch and spent the afternoon in Starbucks just talking to whoever was able to come by. It was really nice to catch up with some good friends before I left. I spent the night at Izzy's again, and it was such a calm, pleasant last night in America.


The trip went really quickly, but by the end of it I also somehow felt like I'd been home for weeks. I really needed a bit of time to refresh and recharge before a crazy month and a half including our midwifery students' graduation, a film crew coming for 2 weeks, a new addition to the MFH in-country staff, and my first Thanksgiving away from home -- I swear I'm not homesick, I just want some stuffing okay?? All-in-all it was a really great trip home. It's nice to see old friends and to see what an effort those close ones will put forth to really spend some time with you (shout out to Jess who drove in from DC to spend the evening with me even though she couldn't go out for Halloween, and to Frankie and Nicole for spending 2+ hours each with me in Starbucks, Izzy for housing me and driving me around, and of course to Bobby who helped me indulge all of my food cravings).

To be honest, going home was not weird or shocking at all. Maybe it's the gorgeous guesthouse I live in in Hinche, maybe it was the fact that I've been culture shocked before, or maybe it was having the whole day traveling to mentally prepare, but coming home felt right. I jumped right back in where I was, and by the time I got to Hopkins, I felt like I'd never left. It's weird living two lives that are so incredibly different, but it's also so normal to me to go back and forth.

Coming back to Haiti was also pretty normal, but I felt like I'd been gone for months -- partially because of the difference in pace from the US to Haiti, but also because of the way the staff greeted me. When we got out of the Jeep, the whole staff came out to greet us -- "us" being a really significant group of people. Carrie, Emily, and I all met up in JFK and flew down to Port-Au-Prince together. If you remember from some of my past posts, Carrie was the In-Country Coordinator before me. She helped train me back in June when I first got here, and now she's working as the Administrative Coordinator back in the US, so we talk a ton. She knows MFH better than anybody I know (maybe even Nadene and Steve, haha!) and is so good about getting things done. Her commanding, but understanding and sweet, personality is ideal for keeping us on track and creating a meaningful agenda. When she's around I feel like I should just leave it up to her to plan things, because she's so much better at it!

Emily Davis is our new "Data Collection Coordinator." She started yesterday/today and will be helping to take over and improve our data collection processes. It's my job to help orient and train her in what I have been doing, and also help her come up with ways to make it a full-time job. She'll be volunteering for MFH for 2 full years so I'm excited to see what her position develops into. We're already finding out that we're quite similar in personality (I mean, she brought a mandolin to Haiti and she just pulled out a bag of Starbursts to share, so...). The house has welcomed her just as openly as they welcomed me and her Creole is really coming along well! It'll be an exciting but busy next few months until she's all settled in.

Emily - on a walk behind the compound

Carol is the only volunteer for this week. She's a CNM from Staten Island, and she's been so understanding and open to helping us! She'll be working with students who are trying to finish up their skills checklists before graduation on Sunday, so it could be pretty busy for her.

I'm really gearing up for the next few weeks, trying to answer as many emails as possible and get little things done so I can concentrate on the big things ahead -- graduation, film crew, grad school applications. Our students have been practicing daily for graduation, so I'm sure it'll be a great ceremony and I'm very excited! I'll post pictures ASAP. Then it's only a few weeks until I go home for Christmas. I can't believe my stay here is almost half over. I wonder what the next 7 months will bring!

Becoming Haitian

This post is going to be about my race. I'm going to be frank: I'm the only white girl who lives in Hinche these days. There are other people who come through, and I've met and known some other etranje (foreigners) who have come through and lived here, but I'm pretty sure everyone's gone now. There are some men (like Brothers Bill and Harry, who live at the boys' orphanage), but I'm pretty much the only girl.

I'm writing about this topic because it's been confusing me lately. I'm not trying to talk about race in any offensive way -- I don't just mean skin color, financial status, citizenship. I just mean Haitian or American in whatever way the Haitians distinguish it. I've done enough overseas living and traveling, as well as enough small-town living, to have a really confused idea of what race means and is. But I don't want to get into that. This is a new kind of confusion. Here are a few stories. Take from them what you may.

1. Elizabeth. A mother came to the hospital a few weeks ago and gave birth to a gorgeous, healthy, full-term baby girl. What had happened was that her husband had moved to the US and she'd gotten pregnant by another man. This was scandalous enough that she didn't want her husband to know (I can't believe she kept it a secret for that long!), so she signed the papers to leave her baby up for adoption. Some nurses found a large tupperware contained and stuffed it full of blue hospital towels. They put her in a disposable diaper and set her in the box in the the storage room on a dirty mattress on the floor.

The next morning, Sherly, who is always way too casual about things that are not casual, called me to tell me about the baby in the storage room. I brought her some homemade cloth diapers (that a volunteer made out of donated tshirts!), a hat, some hand-crocheted socks, a blanket, and two bottles. We were fresh out of tirad from making baby bags that we handed out at Mobile Clinic that day, so she'd have to go clothes-less. When I got there, her diaper was dirty and she was slightly dehydrated. No one seemed to know what to do with her -- or maybe they just didn't have time. I gave Guerlie 500 HTG to go grab some formula and a bottle of clean water. Sherly and I gave her her first bath. We put her in a bright pink cloth diaper and someone found a pink outfit for her, which ironically said "Daddy's Girl." I shirked my other responsibilities for a few hours and just held her in the storage room. She didn't cry once.

Miss Anise, the head nurse, told me there was a woman who wanted to adopt her already -- a woman who'd had fertility problems. However, lots of people wanted to just take her. For the next few nights, a nurse took her to her room in the house behind the hospital designated for staff who don't live in the area. I visited her in the Pediatric ward each day. Hers was the only crib with a mosquito net. As soon as I came back the next day she was much better hydrated and her skin was beginning to darken. Her eyes were dark blue.

I quickly discovered that I couldn't hold her out in the hallway or I'd attract a very impressive crowd. I thought the baby looked entirely Haitian, but the Haitians all thought she was white, or "li menm jan avek w." The direct translation is "she is like you." I guess everyone thought she was mine, which made me uncomfortable when I thought about my job with MFH. The Peds nurses were great, though, and found me a seat and snapped at anybody who stared at me too much. Normally, when someone stares for too long, I just offer a casual "bonswa" and they're satisfied. One time, though, they didn't stop watching, so I asked them what they were looking at. "W menm avek tibebe a" or "You with the baby" was their response. Obviously.

On Friday, I went in to the hospital to run some errands. As I walked in to the hospital, the nurses were bringing her over from the house. She was immediately placed in my arms and I assumed the woman waiting outside was there for some other reason. Turns out, her adoptive mother had come to pick her up. Upon realizing this, I instantly handed her over and admired her, telling the mother how kontann I was for her and her family. I told her, "li bel, wi" ("she's beautiful, isn't she?") in the Haitians' usual way of answering their own questions. She responded with "menm jan avek w."

A few days into it, I unintentionally named her Elizabeth. It's weird to spend so much time with a baby who a) isn't yours and b) doesn't have a name. So I gave her one. Elizabeth's my middle name, so it may have been the slightly narcissistic side of me that did it, but it needed to be done. I wonder what she'll be called now.

2. Dr. Alice Hirata is an Ob/Gyn from Virginia. She visited to volunteer for the umpteenth time a few weeks ago and got me back into running, which I'd given up on because of the heat. She and I went behind the house, where there are beautiful hills that overlook all of Hinche and even into the Dominican Republic. After she left, I've been keeping up with it fairly consistently. Most Haitians don't exercise -- for many reasons. Firstly, nutrition isn't great. Then, you have the heat. People are busy with kids and school and working. And then most of them do enough physical labor carrying water on their heads or pushing massive wheelbarrows of rocks. Exercising -- especially publicly -- is a sign of wealth. Needless to say, it attracts attention.

I've decided that exercising is important enough to me that I'll do it regardless of the reactions I get. But truthfully, most of them are good. Kids will run with you (except for the one kid who told me he'd break my head with a rock...) and there's a group of guys on motorcycles who are always in the same spot and enthusiastically test my knowledge of both French and Creole. Most people who seem to be getting a kick out of it just chuckle and say nap kouri? which basically means, "Running, eh?"

Anyway, the relevant part of the story comes from just my regular greeting of people. I try to greet everybody I pass -- and I try to remember their faces so I'm not the weirdo blan who says hi as I pass the same person for the sixth time. I came upon a woman who was standing overlooking a pretty view, but didn't look like she was praying, so I said, "bonswa madam," to which she replied, "bonswa fanmi" or "good afternoon, family." To be fair, she started to speak before she really turned around. Either my accent was good enough that she thought I was Haitian or she was really referring to me as "family."

3. When my parents were here a few weeks ago, Solimène, one of our amazing cooks, tried telling my mom (who was working on her Creole) that I am their sister ("them" being her, the other cook Dieuny, and Eliette, the cleaning lady). It just meant so much. They get quite a kick out of me, since I'm so different in some ways from Carrie. They miss her gato chokola (brownies) and Eliette always makes fun of me because I'm so messy.

4. At my weekly dance lesson, Tura brought another dance teacher, a "colleague" of his, to dance with. This guy (totally forget his name) has a really interesting way of dancing, where he stands in pretty much the same spot and just makes me spin around him. It's really cool! Anyway, his sense of humor is super sarcastic and he speaks really quickly so I only know what he's saying about 20% of the time. Regardless, when I started learning the jive and caught on really quickly, he told me it was just luck. I said, "well it's an American dance, isn't it? I should be good at it!" And he said he thought I was Haitian because I speak such good Creole. Whether that was sarcasm or not, he said it and I took it to heart!

Last story that is irrelevant, but really cool: A few weeks go, I had to run to the hospital to drop something off for a preceptor. When Alfred (taxi driver) and I pulled up to the hospital, all kinds of UN vehicles and police were outside. I asked what was going on and he explained that the premye dam was here -- Haiti's First Lady, Martelly's wife, was at our hospital! He dropped me off outside the gate and I walked in non-chalantly, entirely not expecting to see her. As I entered the maternity ward, I saw a handwritten sign welcoming her. Then all of a sudden, she was walking directly at me, a rouge or Haiti's version of a "ginger" -- someone who's light-skinned with reddish hair and freckles (only not from malnutrition; usually because they're biracial and therefore wealthier and considered more beautiful). She was leading a posse of about 10 people and everyone in the hospital lined the sides of the hallways so she could walk through no problem. A photographer who was clearly not from the area started speaking to me in English. Then, Mrs. Martelly looked me directly in the eye and said, "Bonswa" and smiled. COOL, RIGHT? I wouldn't have had any idea who she was if it weren't for all the fuss, but it's still really cool that she casually said hello to me. Okay, I'm done bragging now.


I guess, in summary, I'm constantly confused at what skin color means to the Haitian people, though it's becoming clearer. Being blan definitely means you're a rich, white, foreigner -- usually American. If you're a blan, expect to hear it called after you and expect to be asked for money or gifts. Being dark-skinned does not keep you from being a blan... but having white skin does not mean you're not Haitian. Haitians accept you as a Haitian when you speak their language and understand their culture. If I forget for even a second to greet someone, they will speak up. I'm constantly being tested -- if I do greet someone, I get a sa va? so they can see if I speak Creole. I'm not 100% Haitian yet, and I won't be until I forget about the wonders of string cheese, Gushers, and hot showers, but I'm definitely getting there!