How I Keep Myself Happy
1. Social media. I thank Jesus and Nadene Brunk every day that we have internet -- and, even better, wifi -- at the house. I text, snapchat, facetime, skype, chat, etc., my friends every single day and that's really what gets me through. Coming to Haiti has made me talk to people I haven't spoken to in a really long time (shout out goes to Maddy, my best friend from the Honduras trip I took last summer, with whom I skyped for the first time ever recently!) and I am so thankful that I'm getting to keep in touch with everyone. It seems like the farther the distance, the better people are at staying in touch (except my family, cough cough). And it makes me really happy that I can share my experiences with everyone through this blog. I really can't explain how great it is to be able to communicate so freely with everyone back home.
2. Nailpolish, mascara, jewelry. I'm not a high maintenance girl in terms of personal appearance. I like to go with the natural look as much as possible, but I will say that painting my nails and putting on mascara make me feel significantly prettier here -- and that's really nice in a place where I'm wearing loose-fitting modest clothing and am sweating all the time. (I wore jeans and a little t-shirt to the disco a couple weeks ago and it was so weird to see myself dressed like that). I brought some of my nice, simple jewelry to wear while I'm here, too. I wear my watch 24/7 and then I wear earrings and rings on other days if I feel like it. Fun fact: I was told not to wear jewelry to the disco because when I'm dancing the Salsa/Cha cha cha/Bachata, a man could easily accidentally rip out an earring or get scratched by a ring. Anyway, it's just nice to feel pretty sometimes.
3. I can't lie or try to deny it, I eat way too much chocolate here. When I have a free hour or so, I'll go hide in my room and throw down like half a big bag of M&Ms (future volunteers, take note: I like M&Ms). My parents recently sent down a big bag of beef jerky (it came down in someone's suitcase -- thank you Monica!) and so I've been hoarding that, too. Ina May always smells it and whines for some, but it's way too precious to waste on my cat, as much as I love her.
4. My Kindle has sort of saved my life here, too. I don't really have a ton of time to read, but I put my Kindle by my bed so I frequently see it and think to read. Whenever I get 20 free minutes, I'll pick it up. Lately, however, I've been reading a hardcopy book called African Friends and Money Matters, highly recommended to me by Carrie, and it's helping me understand Haitian culture much better. My Kindle has made me pick up books and take time for myself, which is so necessary here. I usually grab it and lay in bed or walk up to the porch upstairs and read outside as I rock in a rocking chair. Sometimes I think about life here, and although I work really hard, it's a huge, wonderful, exhausting vacation. (If you're curious, my current book is A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini and yes, Mom, I know you're way ahead of me.)
5. The disco and dancing, of course! Tura comes every Friday to teach me dance, and I'm really loving it. Not only is it just cool to ballroom dance, but it's a form of exercise and language practice. Sometimes Tura speaks to me in Creole and sometimes he speaks French, but either way it's doing wonders for my language skills. I recently debuted my Cha Cha Cha skills, and soon enough I was feeling confident enough (thank you, Prestige) to dance Cha Cha Cha and Salsa and Bachata (which I had learned literally the day before). It was a blast! We intended to stay for an hour and leave at 10:30, but I got so many dance requests that we didn't get out until midnight! Guilet, the male midwife student, is my dance partner outside of class. He helps me practice, sometimes teaches me new moves, and is my usual dance partner at the disco. Gladias is my go-to disco buddy, and we always have a great time, whether we're with a huge group of American volunteers, I find a group of other foreigners, or we just sit there together and drink a couple Prestiges.
6. Watching movies. Sometimes I shut myself in my room and break out Pitch Perfect (no shame), sometimes the Haitian women and I bring in the porch furniture and project a movie on the wall, and sometimes my friend Emily (who works for PIH) will come over and we'll set up the projector in one of the volunteers' rooms, eat chocolate, drink beer, and watch a movie. I don't know if I can admit this on the internet, but whenever other Americans-living-in-Haiti come around, we always share movies we have on our computers. Just watched Life of Pi -- it's incredible. Sometimes it's great to get lost in a story and forget everything around me.
7. Mini vacations. I love Hinche and the house and everything, but because I live at my workplace, I really do need to leave sometimes. The past few weeks I've gotten a bunch of opportunities to do so! First, I went to Bassin Zim (actually I've been twice now), which is the local waterfall. It's huge and beautiful and you can swim and sunbathe and everything. It's a quick 40-minute drive from Hinche and it's only an afternoon trip, but you forget where you are for those few hours. I also went on a day trip to the beach with Gladias, visited Emmanuel in Lascahobas, and snuck away to the beaches of Port-Au-Prince for a few days, but more on that in my next post!
8. Visitors. Only one person has visited me so far (be patient and wait for my next post!), but it was so refreshing. We had no volunteers, so I didn't have much work for the week besides a few emails and phone calls. My parents are visiting next month, too, so that'll be great, I'm sure. It's nice that people are interested in what I'm doing here and want to come experience it, too.
9. Talk. I meet new people every single week. In fact, I live with new people every single week. It's so important, not only as a representative of MFH, but also for my own personal growth, that I get to know the faces that come through here. Depending on the week, we may have 1 or 13 volunteers in this house, but I always make an effort to get to know people as best I can. The kind of people who drop everything in life for a week or two (honestly, some even quit their jobs) to come to Haiti and use their skills are the kinds of people who are crazy like me. Or they're just really interesting, intelligent, and generous. Either way, they're the people I like to meet in life. Everyone has an interesting story for how they ended up here, and I want to hear them all. Why wouldn't I?
10. I sing my lungs out in this house. I don't even care that I live with 3 other women and that the cooks/cleaning ladies are here most of the time, and that the class is going on downstairs.. nope. I sing anyway. And since they don't really know much American music or anything I'm saying, I feel no shame singing whatever song is stuck in my head -- be it BSB or Nicki Minaj. I am also now the proud owner of a ukulele, so I intend to play and sing much more frequently now!
I think that's pretty much it. Again, I'll add to this list if I think of anything.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Tet Chaje!
The title of this blog translates literally to "charged head." It's a phrase Haitians use when they're flustered or really busy and forgetting things. This happens to me a lot, so I couldn't think of anything better. But it does accurately reflect the melange of thoughts, reflections, and updates this post will bring. Now that I've been here for two months, I'm pretty well settled and can reflect a bit. I can't promise this will be cohesive, but here goes.
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.
The matron graduation was on Friday, July 26th. We had 33 matrons graduate, and the ceremony was a success. Honestly, if I hadn't had to plan Founders Day for Pi Phi a few years ago, I would've been even more lost than I was! I got there early, set up tables and chairs, arranged transportation for everyone, set up the tables, and made sure everyone was ready. We only had a few family members who had come, but after we started (20 minutes late), more trickled in until we had standing room outside only by the end. The food was an hour and a half late (so not my fault), but it was good and it all went -- classic Haiti. It was about 15 degrees hotter in the graduation room than it was outside, so we were all dripping in sweat by the end. All in all, it went well! The matrons danced and sang and did their little skits to show off everything they'd learned.
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.
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!
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!
Sunday, July 28, 2013
The Cultural Reality
Warning: no pictures. Just text. Maybe I'll add some later?
When Carrie was preparing to pass on this job to me, she created a job packet. The packet was 12 pages, and then she added some, and then I took notes, so it was really long in the end. She went through all of the major parts of the job, including her own helpful tips and details, including everything from how many copies of the Mobile Clinic monthly schedule I should print out to tips on how to make Nadene happy while she's here (let her to the laundry, buy flour so she can make bread, ask about her grandkids, in case you were curious). The last two pages included the two most important topics of all: "The Cultural Reality" and "Helpful Hints to Keep You Happy." Here, I present you with the cultural differences -- some are Carrie's original ones, and some are my own. My next post will include the ways I keep myself happy.
The Cultural Reality
1. Carrie's number 1 item on the list was time, and it's such an important cultural difference that it needs to be my first item, too. If Haitians have clocks (and most city people do because they all have cell phones), they don't use them or something. It's very normal for people to show up anywhere from 40 to 90 minutes late. Sometimes people don't show at all, or sometimes they come the next day. The upside: I'm always late as it is, and no one ever gets mad!! It's wonderful. I'm going to drive everyone nuts when I get back to the US.
Example: Fred is the man who makes ID badges, and Haitians who have certifications or diplomas like badges. Our matrons like badges so that they can be recognized as formally trained matrons and are welcomed and respected in the hospital. Their graduation was yesterday, and I'd finished all of the badges several weeks ago. There were a few that had to be fixed (because some matrons gave me their ID cards late -- many are illiterate so it was easier if I took their IDs for a week to make the badges, check the spelling of their names, etc.), so Fred came over earlier in the week (after he'd already missed 2 appointments with me) to fix them. We didn't have a locality for one matron, so I told Fred I would find out on Thursday at graduation practice and then let him know. He said he could print it out and bring it to me that night. He never did. I saw him Friday and he mentioned it, so I thought he'd left it at my house, but apparently not. Oh well, we didn't have it in time for graduation.
2. Lack of urgency. When I am in the biggest rush, nobody around me is. When I was planning the graduation and trying to get out of the door by 8:30, and then 9:00 when the earlier time failed, everyone kept moving at the same pace. With a graduation ceremony set to begin at 10 am, and no chairs/tables/food/anything set up by 9:30, I was the only one worrying! Even in the hospital, when an eclamptic woman is seizing on a table, or a baby is caught in the middle of birth with the umbilical cord around its neck, Haitians take their good ole time. There really is no upside to this; it drives me nuts because I'm a wait-too-long-and-rush type of person.
Example: When Brother Bill got hit by a moto on his bike, we sped to the emergency room (or so I thought, until I found out that Ronel always drives the jeep like it's an ambulance), and Ronel had to scold the ER staff so they would stop chatting and pay attention to Brother Bill's gushing leg.
3. Bonjou/Bonswa. It is very important to greet people in Haiti -- friends, strangers, anyone. I greet the cooks, Diunny and Solimene, and our cleaning lady, Eliette, every single day with a kiss on the cheek and a "how are you?" Manno, the house manager, will not get to business without saying hello and making sure I'm doing well -- and this often happens multiple times each day. When you call someone on the phone, even if it's for one tiny thing or you're in a rush, you always ask how they are. When I walk into a place where I don't know anyone and can feel the eyes on my back, I always say hello and people instantly lighten up. I've talked to Mirline, the instructor who lives with us, about this so many times. It is absolutely necessary to tell someone hello (bonjou for good morning, bonswa for good afternoon), even if you're grumpy in the morning, exhausted at night, or anything in between. I frequently have Haitian friends call me or come over just to say hello and make sure I'm doing well. I think this is a great thing.
Example: There is no one good example, but you'll feel the tension when the only blan walks into a room full of Haitians and doesn't say hello. It helps so much, and shows that I understand that part of their culture and that I respect the Haitians I'm speaking to.
4. Loans/Money. This is something that is neither good nor bad, because I'm learning more about their system and why it works for them as I go. It's just so hard for me to get used to the differences, because the way of thinking is so opposite from what I'm used to. Here, people don't usually save money -- they spend it, because they need it now. If they have money saved up, they feel obligated to give it to someone less fortunate, like a family member who may need an expensive medication or a friend whose car broke down. Not only am I a sort of boss or leader for Midwives for Haiti, but I'm also friends with all of our staff and students. Therefore, they know they can come to me if they need help paying for repairs for their brother's flooded home, their moto, etc. But it can get exhausting! Sometimes I feel like a bank or I feel used, and it's hard, because Americans just don't do this sort of thing. Money is a very shared thing here -- people are so generous when they can be. It's just really hard to be the one with all the money, but when all my money is budgeted, it's so difficult to explain why I can't give out loans. I feel selfish saying, "Yes, I have $60, but I need it to make photocopies, to buy office supplies, and in case something comes up." It's something I'm working on -- both the issue of getting annoyed when people ask for loans and for feeling guilty having to say no.
5. Unreliability. To be fair, most Haitians are really reliable -- in some ways, more so than Americans. If I call Wilbens, our weekday Port-Au-Prince driver, the night before, he's always available. He always remembers what time, and how many people, and where they're getting picked up, etc. Ronel is the same way. If they say they'll bring something to you, they will bring it (I talked to a friend and translator, Mitial, about olive trees, and he told me he would bring me some seeds. When I got home a few hours later, they were awaiting me). At the same time, though, some people just won't show up to things. We had a staff party right before Carrie left, and the laundry lady, who lives just across the street from us, didn't show. None of the students came, and most people came an hour and a half late. When it rains the night before, everyone is late for class or work. Sometimes the photocopy place will close at 3 if it rains. And nobody holds anyone accountable!
Example: Fred (see example #1).
6. House calls. Carrie told me it's a good thing when people show up at your house to talk to you, ask you for things, etc. It can be frustrating, though. I'm often in the middle of something when someone comes upstairs to ask for something. Sometimes on Fridays, I don't get to eat lunch until 3 or 4 pm because everyone seems to come over on Fridays to talk. Sometimes I just feel used and inconvenienced, even if someone's needs are genuine.
Example: One Friday night, at 9 pm, I was getting ready to watch a movie with my friend Emily and a volunteer, Shauna, already showered and in my PJs, when a woman showed up asking me to make photocopies for her, to give her money, and to see if she could stay the night. I was so offended, but it's really normal here.
7. No means no. Haitians accept "no" if you say it in a polite way. Although it's impolite to flat-out say "no," sometimes you have to, and sometimes you can indirectly give a flat-out no. If you just don't have the item to give them, or the money to give them, you can say no. They'll accept it with no complaint and they won't ask again. Haitians are used to limited resources, and they know that if I could give them what they need, I would.
Example: I met a few random Americans who are down here (all the blans have weird connections to each other and find each other somehow), so I was talking to one, Lucas, the other day. He said he watched a Haitian ask our other friend, Connor, for $1000 dollars. Connor said "no," the Haitian said, "okay," and moved on. We laughed about it, but it's so true!
8. Patience. I love how patient everyone is. When I'm late, when I forget things, when I don't understand someone's Creole, everyone is so patient. Babies sit in church for hours with no crying, people will wait for 30 minutes to talk to me if it's important, they'll wait patiently for days until I get a chance to talk to Carrie or Nadene. It's teaching me to be more patient and that can't be a bad thing.
Example: I completely forgot about my dance lesson on Friday. I went to the Azil feeding center with some volunteers and got home at about 5:30. My lesson was supposed to start at 4:30! Tura had waited patiently the entire time, knowing I'd be home soon. He didn't try to call or anything wondering where I was; he just waited.
9. Honesty. I can't explain how trusting I am of our staff and my friends here. I regularly leave money in my room and my pockets, and they always return it if the find it. In fact, if you can't find something, it's important to tell people in a very sensitive way, because if they think you're accusing them of taking it, they'll question your trust in them.
Example: a volunteer left her passport and cash in a pocket in her scrubs. Monique, the laundry lady, brought them to me the next day, really worried that the woman would not be able to find her money and passport.
10. Personal Appearance. Haitians always look good. Unless they absolutely don't have the means to buy new clothing, their clothing is clean and well-kept. Their shoes are clean, their pants are pressed, their socks are white. Men almost always wear belts, women almost always wear skirts. They dress nicely, not necessarily super modestly, but nicely. I don't go out in public in shorts unless I'm running (jokes, I don't run here) and I usually wear shorts under my skirts.
Example: Gladias literally comes here every day looking spotless and shines his shoes when he gets here to get the dust off. Mirline irons her scrubs every day before work. The students look pristine in their uniforms every day. It's unreal how much more put-together they all look than I do.
This is a pretty good list, but if more comes to me, I'll add it! Now for the most brief of updates:
My Creole is at like 75%, I understand 80-90% from anyone who doesn't mumble, and I'm really getting there. I only take a translator to important meetings at this point, where I'll speak French if I can. Translators are my moral support and my "in." I'm no longer afraid of answering calls in Creole. In the past two days, two different people referred to me as Haitian-American or just Haitian, which has made me really happy. I danced the Salsa, Cha Cha Cha, and Bachata Saturday night at the disco and killed it (-- or so I think...). I have a spider bite on my leg (pretty sure I killed the thing today with a flip flop, though, don't worry), and it's really red and swollen but I think it'll be okay. I'm ditching malaria medication because it's not healthy long-term, so if you're praying for me, please pray that I don't get malaria. I haven't filled the ice trays in like 3 weeks and am not sad about it. Ina May stole her babies back and is hiding them in the property next to us. I'm still happy, working hard, and learning a lot. And I still miss Tamber's more than anything </3.
When Carrie was preparing to pass on this job to me, she created a job packet. The packet was 12 pages, and then she added some, and then I took notes, so it was really long in the end. She went through all of the major parts of the job, including her own helpful tips and details, including everything from how many copies of the Mobile Clinic monthly schedule I should print out to tips on how to make Nadene happy while she's here (let her to the laundry, buy flour so she can make bread, ask about her grandkids, in case you were curious). The last two pages included the two most important topics of all: "The Cultural Reality" and "Helpful Hints to Keep You Happy." Here, I present you with the cultural differences -- some are Carrie's original ones, and some are my own. My next post will include the ways I keep myself happy.
The Cultural Reality
1. Carrie's number 1 item on the list was time, and it's such an important cultural difference that it needs to be my first item, too. If Haitians have clocks (and most city people do because they all have cell phones), they don't use them or something. It's very normal for people to show up anywhere from 40 to 90 minutes late. Sometimes people don't show at all, or sometimes they come the next day. The upside: I'm always late as it is, and no one ever gets mad!! It's wonderful. I'm going to drive everyone nuts when I get back to the US.
Example: Fred is the man who makes ID badges, and Haitians who have certifications or diplomas like badges. Our matrons like badges so that they can be recognized as formally trained matrons and are welcomed and respected in the hospital. Their graduation was yesterday, and I'd finished all of the badges several weeks ago. There were a few that had to be fixed (because some matrons gave me their ID cards late -- many are illiterate so it was easier if I took their IDs for a week to make the badges, check the spelling of their names, etc.), so Fred came over earlier in the week (after he'd already missed 2 appointments with me) to fix them. We didn't have a locality for one matron, so I told Fred I would find out on Thursday at graduation practice and then let him know. He said he could print it out and bring it to me that night. He never did. I saw him Friday and he mentioned it, so I thought he'd left it at my house, but apparently not. Oh well, we didn't have it in time for graduation.
2. Lack of urgency. When I am in the biggest rush, nobody around me is. When I was planning the graduation and trying to get out of the door by 8:30, and then 9:00 when the earlier time failed, everyone kept moving at the same pace. With a graduation ceremony set to begin at 10 am, and no chairs/tables/food/anything set up by 9:30, I was the only one worrying! Even in the hospital, when an eclamptic woman is seizing on a table, or a baby is caught in the middle of birth with the umbilical cord around its neck, Haitians take their good ole time. There really is no upside to this; it drives me nuts because I'm a wait-too-long-and-rush type of person.
Example: When Brother Bill got hit by a moto on his bike, we sped to the emergency room (or so I thought, until I found out that Ronel always drives the jeep like it's an ambulance), and Ronel had to scold the ER staff so they would stop chatting and pay attention to Brother Bill's gushing leg.
3. Bonjou/Bonswa. It is very important to greet people in Haiti -- friends, strangers, anyone. I greet the cooks, Diunny and Solimene, and our cleaning lady, Eliette, every single day with a kiss on the cheek and a "how are you?" Manno, the house manager, will not get to business without saying hello and making sure I'm doing well -- and this often happens multiple times each day. When you call someone on the phone, even if it's for one tiny thing or you're in a rush, you always ask how they are. When I walk into a place where I don't know anyone and can feel the eyes on my back, I always say hello and people instantly lighten up. I've talked to Mirline, the instructor who lives with us, about this so many times. It is absolutely necessary to tell someone hello (bonjou for good morning, bonswa for good afternoon), even if you're grumpy in the morning, exhausted at night, or anything in between. I frequently have Haitian friends call me or come over just to say hello and make sure I'm doing well. I think this is a great thing.
Example: There is no one good example, but you'll feel the tension when the only blan walks into a room full of Haitians and doesn't say hello. It helps so much, and shows that I understand that part of their culture and that I respect the Haitians I'm speaking to.
4. Loans/Money. This is something that is neither good nor bad, because I'm learning more about their system and why it works for them as I go. It's just so hard for me to get used to the differences, because the way of thinking is so opposite from what I'm used to. Here, people don't usually save money -- they spend it, because they need it now. If they have money saved up, they feel obligated to give it to someone less fortunate, like a family member who may need an expensive medication or a friend whose car broke down. Not only am I a sort of boss or leader for Midwives for Haiti, but I'm also friends with all of our staff and students. Therefore, they know they can come to me if they need help paying for repairs for their brother's flooded home, their moto, etc. But it can get exhausting! Sometimes I feel like a bank or I feel used, and it's hard, because Americans just don't do this sort of thing. Money is a very shared thing here -- people are so generous when they can be. It's just really hard to be the one with all the money, but when all my money is budgeted, it's so difficult to explain why I can't give out loans. I feel selfish saying, "Yes, I have $60, but I need it to make photocopies, to buy office supplies, and in case something comes up." It's something I'm working on -- both the issue of getting annoyed when people ask for loans and for feeling guilty having to say no.
5. Unreliability. To be fair, most Haitians are really reliable -- in some ways, more so than Americans. If I call Wilbens, our weekday Port-Au-Prince driver, the night before, he's always available. He always remembers what time, and how many people, and where they're getting picked up, etc. Ronel is the same way. If they say they'll bring something to you, they will bring it (I talked to a friend and translator, Mitial, about olive trees, and he told me he would bring me some seeds. When I got home a few hours later, they were awaiting me). At the same time, though, some people just won't show up to things. We had a staff party right before Carrie left, and the laundry lady, who lives just across the street from us, didn't show. None of the students came, and most people came an hour and a half late. When it rains the night before, everyone is late for class or work. Sometimes the photocopy place will close at 3 if it rains. And nobody holds anyone accountable!
Example: Fred (see example #1).
6. House calls. Carrie told me it's a good thing when people show up at your house to talk to you, ask you for things, etc. It can be frustrating, though. I'm often in the middle of something when someone comes upstairs to ask for something. Sometimes on Fridays, I don't get to eat lunch until 3 or 4 pm because everyone seems to come over on Fridays to talk. Sometimes I just feel used and inconvenienced, even if someone's needs are genuine.
Example: One Friday night, at 9 pm, I was getting ready to watch a movie with my friend Emily and a volunteer, Shauna, already showered and in my PJs, when a woman showed up asking me to make photocopies for her, to give her money, and to see if she could stay the night. I was so offended, but it's really normal here.
7. No means no. Haitians accept "no" if you say it in a polite way. Although it's impolite to flat-out say "no," sometimes you have to, and sometimes you can indirectly give a flat-out no. If you just don't have the item to give them, or the money to give them, you can say no. They'll accept it with no complaint and they won't ask again. Haitians are used to limited resources, and they know that if I could give them what they need, I would.
Example: I met a few random Americans who are down here (all the blans have weird connections to each other and find each other somehow), so I was talking to one, Lucas, the other day. He said he watched a Haitian ask our other friend, Connor, for $1000 dollars. Connor said "no," the Haitian said, "okay," and moved on. We laughed about it, but it's so true!
8. Patience. I love how patient everyone is. When I'm late, when I forget things, when I don't understand someone's Creole, everyone is so patient. Babies sit in church for hours with no crying, people will wait for 30 minutes to talk to me if it's important, they'll wait patiently for days until I get a chance to talk to Carrie or Nadene. It's teaching me to be more patient and that can't be a bad thing.
Example: I completely forgot about my dance lesson on Friday. I went to the Azil feeding center with some volunteers and got home at about 5:30. My lesson was supposed to start at 4:30! Tura had waited patiently the entire time, knowing I'd be home soon. He didn't try to call or anything wondering where I was; he just waited.
9. Honesty. I can't explain how trusting I am of our staff and my friends here. I regularly leave money in my room and my pockets, and they always return it if the find it. In fact, if you can't find something, it's important to tell people in a very sensitive way, because if they think you're accusing them of taking it, they'll question your trust in them.
Example: a volunteer left her passport and cash in a pocket in her scrubs. Monique, the laundry lady, brought them to me the next day, really worried that the woman would not be able to find her money and passport.
10. Personal Appearance. Haitians always look good. Unless they absolutely don't have the means to buy new clothing, their clothing is clean and well-kept. Their shoes are clean, their pants are pressed, their socks are white. Men almost always wear belts, women almost always wear skirts. They dress nicely, not necessarily super modestly, but nicely. I don't go out in public in shorts unless I'm running (jokes, I don't run here) and I usually wear shorts under my skirts.
Example: Gladias literally comes here every day looking spotless and shines his shoes when he gets here to get the dust off. Mirline irons her scrubs every day before work. The students look pristine in their uniforms every day. It's unreal how much more put-together they all look than I do.
This is a pretty good list, but if more comes to me, I'll add it! Now for the most brief of updates:
My Creole is at like 75%, I understand 80-90% from anyone who doesn't mumble, and I'm really getting there. I only take a translator to important meetings at this point, where I'll speak French if I can. Translators are my moral support and my "in." I'm no longer afraid of answering calls in Creole. In the past two days, two different people referred to me as Haitian-American or just Haitian, which has made me really happy. I danced the Salsa, Cha Cha Cha, and Bachata Saturday night at the disco and killed it (-- or so I think...). I have a spider bite on my leg (pretty sure I killed the thing today with a flip flop, though, don't worry), and it's really red and swollen but I think it'll be okay. I'm ditching malaria medication because it's not healthy long-term, so if you're praying for me, please pray that I don't get malaria. I haven't filled the ice trays in like 3 weeks and am not sad about it. Ina May stole her babies back and is hiding them in the property next to us. I'm still happy, working hard, and learning a lot. And I still miss Tamber's more than anything </3.
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