I haven't had much to say in a long while. I have been busy working running,pushing, talking, planning,and plotting. The dust is beginning to settle and now I am asking myself. What exactly am I doing and why?
It is estimated that before the earthquake in Haiti there were apprximately 4,000 NGO's in the country. There are now a reported 10,000 NGO's in the country now. This is not counting the non-registered groups and individual volunteers. Many people are flocking to Haiti's boarders for their chance to see with their own eyes,experience with all five senses, and say they helped even one. We have never seen a catastrophe of this proportion before. It has a magnitizing quality to it. We couldnt take our eyes off of the early footage and some were so moved to arrive at its borders to help. Many arrived in the days after the earthquake with just the shirts on their backs eager to help. desperate to do SOMETHING. As the days and weeks continue to add up many are still hurrying to Haiti. Many will return with lofty goals and desires to help...like I did. The question for me now is HOW? I have sat through many a dizzying meeting about Haiti. At the UN, conference calls, presentations and now even a tentative job offer to work in Haiti. (Still pending details) and I walk away dismayed. I know all the sayings...eat a whale one bite at a time...but why would I want to do that!? Why in the world would I want to eat a whole whale by myself? The questions of how and how long become, is this truly what I want to devote my life to? I read the article of a young girl who had just visited Haiti and I could relate to her perspective. She said going to Haiti gave her "Freedom from the American dream. Wreckage of the disgusting idea I used to have of what success looks like. Abandonment of the desire for wealth and the idea that material things will fix us or fulfill us"
I battle this every day! The american dream. My two bedroom house is never good enough. Never large enough. Never nice enough. But, you know what? If I were to airlift this very house and set it into Haiti, It would be like the sight of a crusie ship in the distance. It would be sooooooo nice!
The american dream makes me feel foolish for wanting to go and help in haiti. Makes me feel crazy for wanted to take my children to Haiti and live amongst the Haitians and help them. It makes me want to jump back into the comfy band wagon and try and get an even bigger salary, a bigger house, a nicer car, better clothes. Isnt your favorite daydream the one about what you would do if you won the lottery. It is mine.
Haiti still calls me, she summons me. Sadly, I find that her voice is growing faint. My fears of the unknown are are crying louder than she is. What happened to the fearlessness I had before? Fools rush in. Perhaps just sprinkling a little american sunshine is all I can do? Hand out some food, some bandaids. Like the bible says...you tell your neighbor...Keep warm and well fed...knowing good and well they don't have food or blankets!
Its not our problem right? Their government should fix it,right? So what, a few more thousand people die as a result. What can I do? It's the circle of life right? Like the animal channels. You can never save that poor zebra. You can only sit in the comfort of your home and watch it die.
What is the proper response to this catastrophe? I keep silent because I am overwhelmed by the answer. I waste away inwardly and physically because there really is no right answer. It's really up to me. I find myself running out of steam. Running out of enthusiasm. Running out of ideas.It's much easier not to think. It's easier to to get consumed with facebook, survivor,gardening,food shopping, my husband,kids and travel plans. It's easier.
Can I turn on my heels and continue on with my American dream? A dream my family will never achieve to be quite honest. Unless we win that lottery. Its time for a change. Maybe for a year maybe for a lifetime,but it is time.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Learning and Growing
The more I learn about Haiti and after my first of hopefully many visits, my vision for the country is slowly taking shape, it's changing, is maturing. Going to the UN for my country was a moment I will never forget. Surrounding by many passionate Haitians and friends of Haitians. My focus now is bringing people together in my circles, to help them commit to helping Haiti not just with money but with their time. My husband and I are looking deep within. This may be our life’s work. A lot of "somebody's" have got to do it. Why not us? As far as my voice is concerned...I feel like a play "Oprah" in my little. When I share my ideas...for the silliest of things...people listen. I am humbled by that. I look up to the sky whenever I get a call and someone is looking for my input, my opinion. I look up to God and say to myself, what am I to do with this? Why am I in the middle of this? I am not so great. I know it’s not me but God and him carrying out his will. I am humbled that he would consider using me and so many others for his purpose.
I want to use my voice to make a real difference now. Life is truly short and not a minute is promised...I am a visionary now and all the more in light of the devastation of my mother and fathers country; the land of my ancestors.
I want to use my voice to make a real difference now. Life is truly short and not a minute is promised...I am a visionary now and all the more in light of the devastation of my mother and fathers country; the land of my ancestors.
Our Patients in Port-au-Prince
Francis - A little 9 year old with a stomach Ache, sad, yellow, jaundice eyes. He came to see the doctor unescorted by mother or father. He came alone. I asked him where his parents were and he just stared off and said his sister was over there. He didn't look like the typical child of the street. He was well groomed. Clean. Haitian parents are not usually far off from their children. Especially in these camp settings. He said his parents were fine but I suspected otherwise. The most beautiful smile emerged when we gave him a cup of cough syrup. Sweeeeeet!
Mami - 79 years old hypertensive, diabetic. Alive and spirited. There were many like her.
Pasionat - Our little helper who reminded me at the end of the day that I didn’t take her picture. My batteries had died by then.
Baby boy with the sun bleached blonde hair - waited till I picked him up to pee his pants but we got him some formula and diapers. He walked barefoot in the dirt and gravel. He was the same age as my youngest daughter, not yet 2years old. I tried to pick him up but he knew where his mother was and he wanted her back. I should have asked if it was okay to pick him up. I got lost in the moment and started to do what many mothers do when they meet a stranger with a child; I shared about my daughter with her. I quickly realized this was not a cute exchange between mothers. There was an imaginary wall that separated her life from mine. Yes we were standing on the same soil for the moment but we were worlds apart. She held her child protectively and didn't seem interested any story about my child. I don’t blame her.
Woman with the two sons. One who died in the earthquake and the other whose leg was crushed and split in 3 places. We sent the doctor and wound specialist to her tent since he couldn’t come to our location. It reminded me of the biblical story of the paralytic whose friends lowered him down from the roof to see the great healer, Jesus.
There were children nearby, under another tent our group set up. With one page from a coloring book and crayon they were able to forget about the hot sun and their worries. For a few minutes they were able to be kids again.
There was the old woman with the black prom dress; her head had a healed split in it. She said she was having trouble seeing, blurred vision, and headaches. She said she had been hit in the head with a brick. There was the man who suffering from similar symptoms. He also was hit in the head by the rubble. He kept explaining away the severity saying it wasn’t a big rock just a small one. That he just needed something for the pain. Just something to help him sleep at night. Both were describing symptoms of possible concussions. Nothing we could do to help them.
Others with ringing in their ears, lack of sleep, inability to eat, or pain in the stomach after they eat, many skin infections, fungus and yeast from the untreated water. Scalp infections.
One 15 year old girl was walking around with a broken collar bone that had never been tended to. You could see the derailed bone protruding underneath her skin. She was tall and slim with an orange dress on. Someone had braided her hair in large, neat, braids. She was escorted by an old man who did all the talking for her. She was dehydrated and could not eat. She looked severely traumatized. She had a blank stare in her eyes. Like she was still in the moment of the earthquake.
Mami - 79 years old hypertensive, diabetic. Alive and spirited. There were many like her.
Pasionat - Our little helper who reminded me at the end of the day that I didn’t take her picture. My batteries had died by then.
Baby boy with the sun bleached blonde hair - waited till I picked him up to pee his pants but we got him some formula and diapers. He walked barefoot in the dirt and gravel. He was the same age as my youngest daughter, not yet 2years old. I tried to pick him up but he knew where his mother was and he wanted her back. I should have asked if it was okay to pick him up. I got lost in the moment and started to do what many mothers do when they meet a stranger with a child; I shared about my daughter with her. I quickly realized this was not a cute exchange between mothers. There was an imaginary wall that separated her life from mine. Yes we were standing on the same soil for the moment but we were worlds apart. She held her child protectively and didn't seem interested any story about my child. I don’t blame her.
Woman with the two sons. One who died in the earthquake and the other whose leg was crushed and split in 3 places. We sent the doctor and wound specialist to her tent since he couldn’t come to our location. It reminded me of the biblical story of the paralytic whose friends lowered him down from the roof to see the great healer, Jesus.
There were children nearby, under another tent our group set up. With one page from a coloring book and crayon they were able to forget about the hot sun and their worries. For a few minutes they were able to be kids again.
There was the old woman with the black prom dress; her head had a healed split in it. She said she was having trouble seeing, blurred vision, and headaches. She said she had been hit in the head with a brick. There was the man who suffering from similar symptoms. He also was hit in the head by the rubble. He kept explaining away the severity saying it wasn’t a big rock just a small one. That he just needed something for the pain. Just something to help him sleep at night. Both were describing symptoms of possible concussions. Nothing we could do to help them.
Others with ringing in their ears, lack of sleep, inability to eat, or pain in the stomach after they eat, many skin infections, fungus and yeast from the untreated water. Scalp infections.
One 15 year old girl was walking around with a broken collar bone that had never been tended to. You could see the derailed bone protruding underneath her skin. She was tall and slim with an orange dress on. Someone had braided her hair in large, neat, braids. She was escorted by an old man who did all the talking for her. She was dehydrated and could not eat. She looked severely traumatized. She had a blank stare in her eyes. Like she was still in the moment of the earthquake.
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