Love

Today is my last official day in Haiti. Tomorrow I fly at 3 PM.
I'm finding it very difficult to express how I feel.
Haiti has been such a challenge for me. And for some reason Mizak falls hugely into that category. Not because of the lack of electricity or plumbing. It was the calm. It was like taking a deep breath.
For those of you who know me well, you will know that I am an incredibly high intensity person, so Mizak forced me to face myself.
In Port au Prince I could disappear into the chaos. The streets were full, the orphanage buzzing with children, the hostel swimming with volunteers and the noise from the streets. That's how I like it.
In Mizak I felt an overwhelming fear of my own mind that I have rarely felt before. And I believe that to be an incredibly wonderful thing. It reintroduced me to who I am.
I think of every period of my life almost like a dream. When one learning experience ends, another begins; this dream has been especially awakening.
Mizak brought me back to Haiti in the first place. Over my ten days there last spring I knew I'd be back. Why was that? Because somewhere in the crevices of my mind I knew that it was time to begin a new dream.
So I have to thank everyone there. I have to thank Lee and Gabrielle and Jersey. If I listed them all this post would never end. The red dirt, the corn, the quiet.
Dreaming, growing never ends. I am leaving Haiti behind me (for now), and though I feel grateful for everything it showed me, and excited to use these new tools in my life back in the states, my heart is breaking. And I mean that in it's absolute fullest definition. If there even is an adequate definition for such an emotion.
I am in love with Haiti. I am in love with the crazy of Port au Prince, and I am in love with the stillness of Mizak. The sight of raging traffic jams, and the smell of paint in Lee's house.
From red dirt and almond trees, to murals on chalkboards drawn by 23 laughing children.
What a beautiful dream to have lived.

What To Live For

I'm back in internet land again. Can't say I'm particularly happy, I miss Mizak more than ever and it's only been one day. I don't want to imagine what leaving Haiti will feel like.
This isn't going to be an uplifting blog I'm afraid, but this is something I need to wrote about.
In Cite Solei (the slum) several people were killed this week. Several of these murders were very brutal, and that's all of the detail I am willing to go into.
What I will say is that at least three were children.
I was sitting at my computer hanging out in Jason's (director) office when Samuel (ground manager) came by to tell us this. It was only about halfway through their conversation that I really began paying attention. I asked if it was due to elections and Jason said...well not really.
Jason phrased it in a way that I wish I could capture in better detail, but I'll try my best.
Sometimes when people live in such a brutal area, like a slum, it may feel as though there is nothing to be living for. Like actions don't have real consequences.
When you have nothing to live for, you lose your respect for human life. If you don't care about your own life, why would you value someone else's?
You kill because you can.
Maybe it makes you feel something, when everything else feels like nothing.
We, as a western society, do not understand, can not possibly understand this.
I am sitting here at my computer, listening to classical music on my phone, and three miles away people are in a slum being shot at random. And for what? For nothing.
I know where my next meal is coming from, I know that I have enough water to bathe myself, I know that there is a wall surrounding the premises of the hostel I am in, and I know that I am safe.
But everyday I take that for granted.
I don't have to use the street as my toilet, and I don't have to worry if my child is going to be killed by some stranger who needs an adrenaline rush.
I've been living in Haiti for ten weeks, and yet I still have not fully appreciated the life I was given.
Think about it: when was the last time you took your eyes away from your phone, or your textbook, or the clock ticking away the hours left at work? When was the last time you looked out at the world and thought about how amazing it is to be living the life you have, when billions of other people have it so much unfathomably worse?
I'm not trying to sound angry, I'm trying to make a point.
We read the news everyday. We know what goes on in the world (kind of), but does that change the perspective we have on our own lives? It should.
We are so lucky to have what we have. To have been dealt the hand that we were dealt.
We are blessed.
Your potential is endless, and you have everything to live for. So live for something amazing. Don't take anything for granted.

Brief

I am sick.
I don't mean heat stroke, dizzy sick. I mean sore throat, running nose, headache, haven't gotten out of bed for 3 days sick. Hence my absence of blogs. Which, unfortunately will continue because today I take the bus back to Mizak, the wonderful land of no electricity. Which I quite enjoy. I don't really have a lot to say seeing as I've been MIA from the world for awhile now. I emailed the director of the orphanage with all of the requests from the kids, and I look forward to helping her more once I am back in internet range.
I'll be in Mizak eight days and Lee and I hope to get quite a few interviews in with different orphanages and parents who gave their children up for adoption. So when I get back I will catch you up on that.
So I hope everyone is doing well, and I apologize that this is such a brief post.
--S

I Am Grateful

Yesterday some of my friends who are staying at the hostel this week went out and purchased four live turkeys: Marie Antoinette, Mary Queen of Scots, Louis XVI, and Ned Stark. We let them outside for the night and gave them a dinner of apples and corn mush.
This morning four brave men of our group volunteered to behead them. I was the only girl present. I felt that it was respectful to the turkeys. I thanked each one before it was killed, closed my eyes for the actual killing part, and told the guys how brave they were.
Now I'm going to write about what I am grateful for:
I am grateful for the privilege to have traveled to Haiti, and to have met such wonderful, kind, driven people. I am grateful for the sacrifice these turkeys made. This has been a journey out of a dream. It has brought up emotions I didn't know I could feel anymore, and has taught me not only lessons about the world, but lessons about myself. I fully embrace each day, the good and the bad. Each day is another step into the adventure of my life. I choose to find beauty in everything. Today I will appreciate eating turkey in a way that I never have before; I will understand and appreciate the animals. They are no longer and object you buy at your local store, already plucked with their insides pulled out. These are animals, and rather than letting it disgust me, I will embrace this experience. I am grateful for life, and I am grateful for the acceptance of death.
Today I will have Thanksgiving in Haiti.
I Have a challenge for you: sit down, make a list of what you are grateful for. Actually write it and see how much of the paper you fill. I guarantee it will be a lot. I have more that I will record later, but I don't think they all need to be on this blog. It would be a very long post.
Thank you all for being a part of my life. And as always, Happy Thanksgiving.
--Sadie

Nearing the end

At the moment I am sitting in the shade of a mango tree. It is warm in the sun, but in the shade cool enough to wear a cardigan. There are different colors of flowers blooming around me, and hummingbirds buzz their delicate wings as they attack the centers of hibiscus with spindly beaks. Innumerable butterflies swim through the air like it is liquid. I see the shadows of other birds soaring too high above for me to pick out beneath the leaves. A breeze is gently ruffling my dress and wafting floral scents my way. This is the base of HC (the hostel). How lucky am I?
It's not Mizak, but with my headphones in, playing classical, soft piano music I can find a similar tranquility as that tiny town up in the mountains of Haiti.  
Yesterday I visited CHOAIDS and asked every child what they wanted for Christmas. Each one gets one gift. With Johanne helping me to translate we made the list. I will now send it to the director (Marie) along with any donations I receive.
It was wonderful to see the kids, to see their faces light up as I walked in. Unfortunately I won't be going back to CHOAIDS. I'm doing the work that I can accomplish for them here. It is difficult to try to focus on wiring money and communicating with Marie when I don't have access to internet or my computer. I feel that I can do more good here than I can sitting with the kids some more. Not that I didn't love my time with them, but now I need to buckle down and work.  I need to use the rest of my time in Haiti to do as much as I can to make a lasting impact.
The first month of my trip, I focused on the kids. I focused on being with them, drawing with them, attempting to talk with them. And I do believe that was productive. But there are many aspects to cover, and hard as it may be for me to end my time with them, I see that there is more I can do, and I have to do it. I have to help them experience Christmas.
I'll do what I can, while I can.
On a different note, I am going back to Mizak on Monday for eight days. Lee and I are working on a book project focused on the orphanage system in Haiti. We are visiting orphanages in a neighboring town to Mizak called Jacmel. It is a larger city, don't get me wrong, it's tiny compared to Port au Prince, but their are many orphanages located there. We will do some interviews. Once I am home Lee will begin writing out segments on what we learned, and then email them to me so that I can add my point of view, and edit once I am back in the states. We already kind of started when I was in Mizak before, but we hope to get much more done this round. I know we will.
Then it's back to Port au Prince for 3 days, and then.....*drum role*...home. Oh my goodness. Home? What does that even mean anymore? Port au Prince is my home, Mizak is my home, Haiti. Haiti is my home.
I am so afraid of what it will feel like once I'm walking through that airport and back into Portland, Oregon. This has been such a journey for me, So life changing, as I knew it would. I'll end here because I am sure that before I leave Haiti I will revisit this subject.
Anyway, I'll write again. Tonight or Tomorrow.
Is it cold there???
Hah. Sorry.
--S

How to properly feed you children...in Haiti.

So before I begin I just want to fill you in on the Christmas things for the CHOAIDS kids situation.
It is way easier for me to just buy the gifts down here, rather than hauling them all back from the states with me. So I had an idea: There are 23 kids, each needs a gift. What is we did a sort of sponsor program? Anyone who is interested could donate however much they feel is best for one child. Then you don't feel like you have to empty your pockets, you know? I could write about the gifts I got and maybe make you feel more involved? I can't really get bios of all the kids, but if you're curious, check out our website: CHOAIDS Haiti. That's all you have to google. You could drop the money by my mom and she will deposit into my account dedicated to the volunteer work I am doing on this trip. I do that because I do not want anyone to feel that I am spending their money on things for myself. I assure you that I would never EVER spend any donations on anything except for the kids. I hope that goes without saying. Obviously you can donate to sponsor more than one child if you want, totally up to you. If we don't get them all of them covered I'll just cover it.
So anyway, I just wanted to put that out there. Any donations help, I've got 23 kids to shop for. I'll talk to them about their interests but obviously I'm not going to do anything extravagant, present wise.
Okay, I'll tell a story now.
In Haiti, for families with limited means, food is very expensive. No matter how frugal you are. So when you are presented with food you eat it all. If you don't eat it, someone else will. DO NOT WASTE FOOD.
This goes for kids more than anyone. Don't ever let a child go hungry if you can help it.
One day I walk out of the house to a very interesting sight. Gabrielle had Kerry laying across her lap on his back. The child is screaming as she is virtually waterboarding him with porridge. As she shoves another spoonful into his already full mouth she explains to me that she made the mush, and then he didn't want to eat. So she had no choice. "When your child don't want to eat, you do this." She gestured with the spoon at Kerry. Soon Filo and I were both watching, all of us laughing, them at how ridiculous they thought the child was being, and me in pure shock at the entire situation.
"Sadie, when you have baby you can bring him here and we will help teach you how to make him eat."
And I'm thinking "....Hmm....".
After a few days I became desensitized to this. After all, it is their child, their culture, and I came here to fully embrace Haiti, however different the culture may be.
One day we were readying Jersey for school. She still had to eat breakfast and be bathed (we use buckets with a cup to pour the water over our heads. That's a shower. Quite fun actually.) Anyway, I was given the job to feed her. Her breakfast that morning was boiled potatoes chopped into fairly large chunks. I'm spooning them into her mouth because if she's allowed to eat by herself she goes too slowly. Gabrielle walks by and says "Hurry! Hurry!" in creole. So I'm shoving the food into Jersey's mouth so quickly that she can barely chew. I'd pause and motion for her to chew faster. On the last spoonful I shoved it into her mouth and sent her off to bathe, still with her cheeks bursting with potato.
At home when I am nannying and it's dinner time I say things like "Okay, take one more bite of your PB&J, then you can be excused. Good job! I'm very proud of you."
Here it's "Eat your mush darn it!"
Because like I said, in Haiti, food is expensive, and you have to feed your kids.
Just something I found interesting. I will write again tonight with a story of my day.
Until then...Have a great day everyone. And keep CHOAIDS in your minds for Christmas.

Gabrielle.

Today's story will be based on my newest friend here in Haiti: Gabrielle.
Gabrielle is the daughter of the woman I was staying with, Filo. We were in a two bedroom house, one for me, one for Filo, Gabrielle, and Jersey, and Kerry (Gabrielle's children).
Her children and her sleep all in the same bed together, and yet she kept trying to get me to sleep there too.
Her nickname is Ti Madam, "Little Miss."
She's 25 and has a four year old daughter and a five month old son. Jersey's dad left when Jersey was born, but he brings over the occasional bag of food for her: cornflakes, condensed milk, crackers.
Ti Madam was with Kerry's father for a year before she got pregnant, then for three months this was all very exciting for both of them...until he decided he wanted someone different.
So she's back with her mom now. Kerry's father comes to see his son maybe once a week.
She was the only one in the house who spoke any English, so we tried our best at communication. Here is an example of a typical conversation between us:
At the market looking at some little donut cake things.
G: You want some?
S: Sure, which one is better?
G: They're both made of batter.
S: No I mean which one do you like more?
G: You want more?
S: No...
G:...
S: Do. You. Like. Both?
G: Yes we can get both if you want.
*Sigh
Ti Madam took it upon herself to find several suitable men for me to fall madly in love with. They were very persistent. One of them came to the house every evening, always complimenting me on my shirt. Which was usually something like a dirty tank top or sweatshirt. After awhile I would grow weary of the attempted hand holding, and feign a headache, explaining that I simply must  go to bed early.
On top of that, I had been telling Ti Madam that I didn't usually eat a big breakfast or lunch, so she shouldn't worry too much about my food. Her family does not have a lot of money.
She became very concerned, thinking that I was a frail, sickly person in desperate need of nourishment.
When I insisted that I wasn't hungry she settled for making me juice with lots of sugar added instead. When dinner rolled around I was served platter size amounts. Soon I was helping her cook breakfast and dinner everyday.
I was paying them 100 dollars a week for me to stay there (they refused to let me pay more) "You're my sister!" Gabrielle would exclaim. She spent the first 100 in the market with me (which is a story of it's own) stocking up on carb rich foods.
Staples in Haiti: Rice, beans, ground corn, spaghetti, potatoes, hotdogs.
So we got a lot of that.
Ti Madam is a very good cook. She went to a culinary school a few years back. She began teaching me a new recipe each day. Sometimes two. We would wait until filo was finished with the coffee making, and then take over the cookhouse. She would explain things to me like "And NOW we make the water!" Pouring water into the pan, or "Butter, but not so much." Scooping out a spoonful.
I went to bed each night feeling as though I had just experienced thanksgiving. Seriously, they fed me like they were preparing me for surviving the apocalypse.
After I finally explained to her that I didn't actually want a boyfriend, we fell into a different evening routine. We, Filo, the kids, Ti Madam, and I, would all pile into their one bedroom, lit with candles and flashlights propped on various objects. Jersey would sit on my lap while Ti Madam rubbed Vaseline into my hair and braided it into elaborate styles. Filo held the baby, or sat watching as Kerry dozed on the bed. Then Ti Madam and I would lay haphazardly across her bed and cuddle the kids. Me playing tickle games with Jersey, and her bouncing the baby in her arms, cooing at him.
One night we were talking. She was telling me about Kerry's father, how much she had loved him. And how after he left she had cried and cried everyday, for her and for her baby. I told her that when I was sad I sang myself a little song, and it went like this:
Don't worry,
about a thing,
Cause every little thing,
Is gonna be alright.
She loved this so much that she had me recite it with her until she sang it "perfectly". Then I wrote it down, just those four lines, on a piece of paper and tore it from my notebook. I gave it to her. After that she carried it in her pocket everywhere.
The soundtrack to my life in Mizak soon became the crying of a baby and Ti Madam singing "Don worry..bout a ting...cause every little ting...is gonna be au right."
Sometimes I had to take a break from this and go to Lee's.
Anyway, now you've met one of my best friends in Haiti. I'll post some pics soon.
P.S. I've chatted with her on the phone everyday since I've been back, starting the night after I left. She called me in a panic to make sure I was alright.

Mizak

One of the most common thoughts I have while in Haiti: Well if I'd known we'd be gone this long I would have peed before we left.
Okay, so I came back to Port au Prince, but only for a little bit.
Part of it was I missed my city (smells, sounds, energy) all of the things I've mentioned before. But the main part was that I was feeling like I had left things unfinished at CHOAIDS. There were still things I needed to do that I hadn't had time for.
But let's first talk about Mizak.
Mizak is the town that made me want to come back to Haiti in the first place. It feels like walking into a book. My book. Brick red soil that stains your feet and makes the corn fields stand out that much more vividly. Bright crayon green. Animals dot the hillside, ground so rocky that I fall every few steps. I love walking down the paths surrounded by corn so tall that is forms a tunnel over my head and I feel like Alice in Wonderland. It's quiet there in a way that is more than sound. It's still. Much colder than PAP, cold enough to sleep under a blanket even.
I didn't stay with Lee (my cousin) because then I wouldn't always be around his "million roommates all the time." His words, not mine.
There is no electricity or plumbing there, so It was a culture shock for sure. That's what makes a great adventure though. Change, uncertainty.
On my first night we arrived after dark. Lee helped me drop my bags off and then went to settle into his own home. My new family was Filo (the grandmother), Gabrielle (The daughter), Jersey (the granddaughter), and Kerry (the grandson).
They took me to my room and lit a candle for me. I'm thinking "thanks but I have a headlamp" So sophisticated. Until I dropped it on the ground and it broke. Okay, they were right. Candles are great.
Then they gave me a bucket, explaining in broken English that I should not use the outdoor latrine at night. My mind: "It's okay, I'm not afraid of the dark." Until I went to the latrine with my spare flashlight and discovered it crawling with cockroaches and some very large, very spider looking crickets. They were right again, buckets are great too.
I felt excited for Mizak, and homesick for PAP at the same time.
I woke with the sun, watching my room slowly fill with light as it crept through the curtains. The animals were waking up too, I could hear them calling to one another across the hill. In the other room Kerry (the baby) was crying, and Filo was getting up to prepare coffee. She is famous for her coffee. Within thirty minutes we were all up and outside. In Haiti the kitchens are a separate building from the house. It's a cookhouse. They use charcoal for cooking, and I loved sitting there with Filo in the mornings, warming myself up again, wrapped tightly in a sweater. Other people from the village would begin collecting around the courtyard, sitting in homemade chairs of rope and uneven wood. Soon we would all be holding scalding cups of coffee, balancing them on delicate saucers. Mine without sugar, everyone else's thick with it. They add tons of sugar because since there is no refrigeration, and canned milk is so expensive, they have to drink it black.
After coffee, and I was finally warm, thanks to good coffee and good people (Gabrielle being the only one who could speak any English) I went for a walk. Jersey and her friends led the way, clinging to my arms and chattering away in creole. They pointed out things like cows, and trees, telling me the names in creole. Do you know how hard it is to walk up a hillside with three/four little kids yanking on your arms? It was wonderful. Children are one of the most refreshing things in the world.
I helped Lee named the new puppies his dog, Buttons, had just had. Sea, Smokey, Quin, and Sebastian. I am only now realizing that Quin was left out of the S names. Poor guy.
I have so many stories for you, so rather than making this post any longer, I am going to focus on one story each evening until I've told them all. Along with my posts about the ongoings here, but they may be less frequent now because I fear they were getting repetitive. I wouldn't want to bore my audience.
But for now, just picture the crystalline blue sky, the rusting earth, and the green, green trees and grasses. The corn, the cows, the people winding their way around the paths, baskets atop their heads, navigating the loose rocks so much better than me. Everyone greeting everyone, and me shrieking in terror because I thought a donkey was charging me. It wasn't.
I'm going to walk to the store now, and hope not to get lost again. Samuel isn't here to save me this time. He went to the beach, how dare he.
You'll hear from me again soon.
--S

The end and the beginning.

So without realizing it until about noon, today was my last day at CHOAIDS. I thought I had until Friday but I'm on lockdown again for elections. They are FINALLY going to announce who is the new president. Taken them long enough. Good grief.
I was sitting grinding garlic by hand for our lunch/dinner when it hit me. I told Johanne and we both teared up. Then I hugged Richardson forever and waited for the kids to get home.
When they got back from school I gave them the beautiful quilts that Wendy McQueen made. They were so excited about this! But then when we announced that I was not coming back for awhile it just got all quiet. The kids can be pretty shy, but after some coaxing they began giving me hugs.
That was hard. I had to keep telling myself this won't be the last time I see them. I'll come back.
It hasn't really hit me yet. I know I'll have a total melt down at some point.
Everything just happened so fast. One second I'm trying to memorize all of their names, the next I'm saying goodbye.
I feel as if I'm abandoning them. I know it's not true. I know they still have CHAOIDS as their loving family, but the fact that I'm not part of that family anymore is making me ache.
Before I came everyone said: "It will change your life." "You will fall in love with those kids." "It will make you stronger." Blah blah blah.
Well...congrats everyone. You were right.
I thought I was prepared for this, leaving I mean. But I now know that there is no way to prepare yourself for leaving your 29 person family behind.
They still have each other, but I'm on my own again.
Another thing is I'm leaving for Jacmel at the beginning of next week. So I'm leaving Port au Prince which is now officially my favorite big city. All of my friends here at HC, and all of my friends at CHOAIDS, they're going to be missing from my life for who knows how long. How am I going to do this? How can I leave? Leaving my old home in the states was easier than leaving my home in Port au Prince and everyone here.
I'm sorry I'm so negative.
I just have to keep telling myself, it's not the end, it's the beginning.
A new adventure is right in front of me, and I have no idea what it will hold. There is never any way to prepare, you just have to plunge in and see what happens. Remember the past, accept the future.
I'll write again soon.
--S

Family

Today was a good day.
The End.
No just kidding.
But it was a good day. I hung out with Johanne and Michele in the morning. Richardson was at the hospital. I nearly fainted when they told me that, but turns out he was just getting a routine checkup. I painted Michele's nails and folded her a crane out of some glittery paper we found. She really seemed to like that. I'm enjoying bonding with her. She's got a great smile.
She seems stronger everyday which is so incredible! She still doesn't really talk, or if she does it's a whisper. But she walks on her own now.
After Michele went to rest for awhile, Ketley (one of the women who works there all the time) allowed me to mash the beans for dinner. It was a giant pot. Like I could have easily sat in it. So I set to work, because, darn it I was going to succeed at a chore! I did too. Took forever and I felt like my arms were melting, but I did it.
I felt really included. I mean I always feel included, but when I am helping I just feel...like part of this crazy family that we are at CHOAIDS.
Kada, Nancy, and Ketley are all called "Mamma" followed by their name. And today someone called me Mommy Sadie! Yeah, it feels like we're a family. Kada told me she loved me (in creole) the other day, and Ketley does my hair a lot.
It's like a million kids and three moms. And everyone loves each other, even if it's tough love sometimes. But they're (we're) in it together. Just imagine this house full of children running and playing. And there's laughter everywhere, and everyone helps with chores, and they all eat dinner together. The older ones help the little ones with homework, the moms gossip in creole, and I laugh with them pretending I understand. We kiss each other on the cheek and tease each other. And we're all just happy to be together.
If that's not family, I don't know what is.
I'm going to miss their laughs.

Lost

So today I decided to be very brave and walk all the way to the supermarket and back by myself. Samuel offered to drive me, but I insisted that I could do it. After all, I am a strong, independent young woman. I don't need help walking to the Stop and Go.
Turns out I do.
I was so focused on ignoring the cat calls and people trying to sell me things that I missed my turn. It's a 45 minute walk there. I told Samuel that if I wasn't back in 2 hours he should worry.
He was just checking his watch and realizing that I'd been gone for 2 hours when I called him to say I was hopelessly lost.
He had no Idea where I was because I'm terrible at giving directions so he said "Just put a Haitian on the phone!" I did.
"Okay I come get you." Samuel said, after they talked in rapid creole for several minutes. The guy waited with me until Samuel pulled up.
I remember thinking that if 6 months ago someone had told me I would be standing in the middle of Port au Prince with a total stranger, waiting for the manager of the hostel to come save me...well I'd think that sounded a bit like me. Honestly.
Now everyone is laughing at me.

Cite Soleil

Before I share the experience I had yesterday I first want to make something very clear. Port au Prince is a beautiful city. I love living here. One of my favorite parts of the day is simply riding through the city on the moto with Daniel. I take in the sounds, smells, and bustling people. I look at the mountains that surround us, and the amazing heat of the sun on my shoulders and neck.
I don't even like cities, but this one is different.
Not all of Port au Prince, and certainly not all of Haiti is like Cite Soleil. Got it? Good.
That being said, Cite Soleil is not a horrific place either. The conditions are shocking, but the people who live there are still people. They're not different just because they don't have the money to move.
Cite Soleil is the most impoverished slum in the western hemisphere.
It is not the most dangerous place in the western hemisphere.
In fact, if you have a proper guide, your safety is almost guaranteed.
I'm going to tell this story exactly how I saw it. I won't sugar coat anything, but I won't be a sensationalist either.
We began in the least poor neighborhood. The children run up to you and grab your hands. They yell "Hey you!" Because when the troops were in Cite Soleil they would hand out candy to the children. To get their attention they would yell "Hey you!" to the kids. So the children associate this phrase with blancs (Whit people).
They pet your skin and stare at you in awe. Soon you have five clinging to you as your try to walk along.
Our guide, Wollio lives in Cite Soleil. He speaks fluent English, and is a good friend of Michael's. Did I mention that I went with Michael?
Willio showed us his house, apologizing in advance that it was "modest".
It was once room with a sleeping pad. The walls were covered graffiti, and Michael promised that he would help him get some paint soon.
Willio told us that his wife and two daughters would come to live there as soon as he had beds for them. The room was similar to the size of and average garden shed. Maybe on the small side.
Some people have five children or more.
We started going deeper into the slum.
One of the things that stood out most to me was the smell. You see, there aren't any proper toilets so people are forced to use the ground, or the canal. They don't have a choice. Luckily pigs come and clean up the mess within minuets. I'm considering banning pork from my diet forever.
All of the garbage from the wealthier areas in the city is washed down the canal and into Cite Soleil. Awful isn't it? That the most impoverished area also receives all of the trash.
With this combo of waste the water is either vivid green or black. The pigs stand knee deep with their heads underwater eating everything they can.
The alleyways start becoming more and more narrow as you go deeper into the slum, until they were smaller than any hallway you would ever have in your house.
Women sat outside nursing their babies, smiling at you when you greeted them with "Bon soir." (Good afternoon). People are eager to shake your hand and attempt conversation. I wish my creole was better, because I would have loved to talk to them.
Children hanging off of me were replaced with more children until their parents called them back.
It was so hot. I was dripping with sweat in minutes. I felt so strongly for the way it must be for them to sleep. Houses built upon houses. Some cement, some tin. I even saw a few built of old outhouse doors. You know the blue plastic kind? And the heat from all those bodies, and never ending stagnant water.
The kids would run right through the water, not caring at all.
When we arrived at the beach it was nothing but garbage. This is a beach on the Caribbean ocean.
I stood, waiting as Michael and Willio talked about something in creole. Soon I was surrounded by Ti Mons (Kids aka little people.) They wanted so badly to have their picture taken, which is the one I posted on Facebook.
We were in Cite Soleil for about an hour and half.
I am amazed by the people I met, and by the way they have to live. They were so kind, and Michael, having been their several times, has many friends.
Willio invited us to a barbecue there next Saturday. I am so flattered that they would be willing to share their food with us. Michael feels very obligated to go, even though they are having seafood so it is almost guaranteed he will get food poisoning. I might go as well, and just say I'm allergic to shellfish. If they bring me anything else it will probably be quite safe. Haitians are even more afraid of getting cholera than we are, so they cook everything to death in oil.
Haiti is still in the grip of the worst cholera epidemic that the world has seen for a hundred years.
Anyway, there you go.
My exact view of Cite Soleil. The good parts, and the not so good.
I think the pictures I posted say a lot, but I couldn't capture the kindness of the people.
The only way you are really in danger is if you go wandering through without a guide. Just a random blanc coming to gawk at their lives.
And really, that would be the case anywhere.

Peace

Everyone said that coming to Haiti would change my life, and it has. But yesterday was definitely a tipping point for me. Until yesterday I have just seen the kids as kids. Children who are HIV positive, and yes they're orphans, But they seemed...Just kids to me. I loved them, but I don't think I was taking in the full extent of this virus.
Meeting my first AIDS patient hit me. It was all finally so real for me in a way that it hadn't been before. A fifteen year old girl suffering from a syndrome that no one should ever have to face. And how lucky am I? Healthy and privileged, and with the ability to make the choice to be here. I'm here, and I want to help, and I can. But first I need to understand.
I know that I will never understand what it like to grow up in an orphanage, to spend three months in a hospital being treated for AIDS when I am only fifteen.
I wonder if when she came home from the orphanage, did she feel like she was coming home? Or did she want to be somewhere else?
So many questions that she won't be able to answer because she's too tired to talk.
And yet she found the strength to share her beautiful smile with me.
And though I know she is hurting, and I know that I can' understand, and that we are so different, just sitting with her in the shade in the courtyard felt peaceful.

HIV vs AIDS. And Michele.

I met Michele today. I'll tell you about that later.
But first...
HIV vs AIDS. You should know the difference.
HIV is a virus, and AIDS is a condition. HIV stands for Human Immunodeficiency Virus. AIDS is Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome.
HIV compromises your immune system and makes it very difficult to fight off disease.
AIDS is the final stage of the HIV infection.
It is not guaranteed that is you have HIV you will contract AIDS. Once a person has AIDS, if they do not take their medication they will likely live only about three years. If they do take medication it is possible to have a nearly normal lifespan.
There you go, I hope that helps.
So this morning I was sitting in the courtyard at CHOAIDS when I saw someone walking out of the house. I'd never seen her before, and I knew this immediately because she is one of the thinnest people I have ever met. This is Michele. She has AIDS. She is fifteen.
Nancy, a woman who works at CHOIADS, was helping her walk down the steps into the courtyard. She was having a hard time balancing and kept bracing herself on the wall. Nancy sat her down in a chair near me (we have four chairs now) and I didn't know whether to stare, or avert my eyes. Both seemed equally conspicuous. So I smiled at her and said "Bon Jour." She murmured something in reply.
So we sat there, sneaking glances at each other for about ten minutes. Then she started to try to stand up. I paused, and then rushed over to her and asked if I could help. Of course she didn't know what I said, but she reached out and grasped my hand. I helped her to another chair that was more in the shade. Careful step after careful step, inching our way along. She sat down, and I pulled a chair over to her, and we just sat together.
I had all of these thoughts running through my mind. Like how she is at least six inches shorter than me, and how prominent her cheekbones are, and how incredibly vane it is that my society focuses so heavily on being thin.
We would smile at each other. I told her my name and she nodded.
I later found out that she had been at the orphanage for several years, but had spent the last three months in the hospital. I don't know why she has been released.
She was too tired to speak, but she would gesture at me if she needed something, like water.
At one point she needed to use the bathroom. It's a ways away from where we were sitting. I Wrapped my arm around her ribs, and wrapped my other hand around hers. We walked there together. It took a long time. She would stumble and looked panicked. And I just kept repeating "I won't let you fall." As if she could understand, but a part of me thinks she could.
This is how I spent my morning. After awhile Michele went to bed.
I bought the kids a soccer ball today. They were ecstatic.

How to negotiate traffic in Port au Prince

I'm sorry I didn't blog the last few days. Internet connection has been really spotty. Actually that's a poor excuse. I was preoccupied walking to the store for cookies, and then eating them all.
There, I said it.
So yeah, Michael and I went to the store yesterday. It's about a 45 minute walk. There was a lot of traffic, and I'm getting very used to just wondering through the middle of the traffic jams. Lightly placing my hand on the hoods of the cars that try to run me over. Like I could actually somehow fend them off.
I had spaghetti for breakfast the other morning. One of my favs. You have the choice of mayo or ketchup as your sauce. I go for ketchup.
I challenge everyone to try eating one of the foods I've listed for breakfast. Spaghetti or breakfast soup (which I think is just lumpy cream of wheat). Your choice.
Things have been really calm. They don't announce the new president until the third I think. So riots shouldn't start unless people get so frustrated that it's taking way longer than it's supposed to.
On Saturday I'm going to Cite Soleil, the biggest slum in Port au Prince. It means "City of the Sun" which is kind of weird. We're going with a guide, which makes it relatively safe. If you don't go with someone who knows the layout...well then you're just a complete moron. I'll try to get pictures.
I'm going to the orphanage soon. I haven't been in several days because we were worried about the elections---I've got to move, the mosquitos are eating me alive.
That's better. I swear, after this lemon/eucalyptus oil concoction runs out, I'm buying Deet.
I find joy in spraying the mosquitos with my bug spray and watching them die. I know, I'm a terrible person.
I had to lie down again yesterday. The weird heat fatigue thing comes and goes in waves. I'm really grateful to be feeling better now.
Anyway, I think I'll prepare to leave for CHOAIDS. I'll try to write again when I'm home with stories about the kids.

Mosquitos

I hate mosquitos
I hate mosquitos
I hate mosquitos
I hate mosquitos
It's my new meditation mantra.
I washed clothes today. I actually don't mind it. The trick is to wait until you literally have nothing left to wear and then spend two hours sloshing your clothing around in a bucket of water that gets progressively more dirty. And then you get new water and start over. Yeeeeeeee what fun!!!
Michael and I went to the store and to lunch yesterday.  The streets were surprisingly calm, but the election is today so let's see how that goes.
Last night I needed some duct tape to fix my fan so I asked Michael. He came back with a thin piece of sheet metal that was incredibly sticky on one side. I asked what on earth it was and he said "It's industrial grade airline tape." Or something like that. Of course he would have that.
I sliced my finger open at the orphanage the other day. I ran into the office and bandaged it up, but the thing was I had sliced it open on my hair clip. I have no idea how. I was trying to readjust the clip and then my finger was bleeding. So Katly (one of the women who works there) sat me down in the chair, took away my clip, and cornrowed my hair. It was quite beautiful. Felt great not having all that hair. The result of injuring yourself.
Anyway, I'll go check my laundry, see if it's drying.
Glad to be alive.
--S

Wake up call

At the moment I am eating this thing that I don't know what it is. It's the breakfast that the hostel is providing me with. The only way I can explain it is sweet breakfast soup. It's not that bad.
So yesterday I had a pretty scary experience. I went out with some friends to hang out with them where they live. Their house is about 30 minutes from mine, and in a much nicer part of town, so I was excited. We had a great time. They have a beautiful view and we were caught in an amazing lightning storm. Gorgeous.
I just found a chunk in my breakfast soup.
At midnight they decided to go to another party. I didn't really feel like it, so I decided to go home. They said the roads were surely dry enough to put me on a moto.
I've now just been bit my a mosquito on the bottom of my foot. How?
And there is a hair in my soup.
I guess I'll wait till lunch to eat. Gracious.
Sorry, I'm not meaning to complain, just tired.
So my friend Patrick interrogates several moto drivers to make sure we get a trustworthy one. Eric gives me his jacket, they pay the moto ahead of time, and I'm on my way. We're driving along when I realize that we haven't taken the usual turn to my hostel. It's a thirty minute ride, and I wondered if he had some sort of shortcut. Then we headed out of town. Like lights were disappearing and all I could see was the beginning of the countryside. This is when I realized that I was surely being abducted.
I had a small keychain knife in my pocket, and some money, but no phone. I had expected to be with Pat until I went home.
The moto driver only spoke creole.
I began yelling "Jedco! Jedoc!" Which is a place everyone knows that is right across the street from my hostel. We kept on, getting farther and farther away. I yelled again and he yelled in creole.
I was surely going to die.
Just them he pulled over and found a man standing on the road with another moto.
This was it, I was being sold for ransom.
They blabbered away. The man had a women with him too. I wondered if we could escape together using my knife and amazing self defense skills.
Then they got on a separate moto and we began following them. 
Yep, I'm a goner.
Then we turned around. "Jedco? Okay?"
"Okay. Jedco."
Turns out he had gotten lost. We followed the other couple all the way back into town, all the way past everything that had been our wrong turn, and then I was walking through the gates of the hostel. I could barely breathe. Just so happens that I was supposed to be the only person in the compound tonight besides the guard. There were no guests and everyone else had gone out for the weekend to avoid the chaos of the city.
Did I mention that on the way to our friend's house Pat and I got caught in such horrible traffic that we had to get off the moto and actually run through the traffic jam trying not to be hit.
So I headed for my room to the hostel, and there in the hall was Michael. He had been gone on a trip for a few days and had just returned that night. We were relieved to see each other, thinking that we had each been the only ones at the hostel.
It was such a comfort.
Let me tell you about him: He is somewhere between being a father figure and a fantastic friend. He has a wonderful British accent and great taste in food. I'd really been missing him.
We stayed up, standing in the hall, past midnight talking about our experiences that day. He had lost most of his important possessions and his vehicle was stopped in traffic where he was threatened to have his head smashed in with a rock.
The rioting has begun.
We decided to stay here for the next week.
I am still on a rush of adrenaline.
I'm sure he is too.
We're going to lunch today at a rich hotel right around the corner. Safest place to venture. If the streets aren't flooded with thousands of people (literally). In which case we will be stuck there for awhile, but it's still one of the safest places in this area.
I'm excited about that. I'll feel safe.
Got a good night sleep, might take a calming nap in a bit.
Alright, enough of this.
Goodbye.

Not clubbing

Today the kids and I had another drawing session, only this time I brought crayons. Samuel gave me an entire bag of them and the kids were so excited. I was excited too. I spilled them all over the floor. We drew for at least an hour. Then we took some videos which I will FaceBook for you.
I wore a dress on a motorcycle today. Yes I know, I'm very skilled/hardcore.
Today is Samuel's birthday so we might go clubbing. And when I say clubbing I don't mean getting half naked and wasted. I mean having a beer and listening to live music with your friends.
Speaking of clubbing, Jason and I went to a club last night. We could only find one moto driver, so we both hopped on. Jason is very tall and we didn't really fit. Of course I was smooshed in the middle thinking about how if we fell off would I be able to protect my head. Brains are the consistency of butter you know.
I have a lot of pictures, but not a lot to say. It was a rather mundane day.
Also, the peanut butter here isn't sweet like in the states. It has cayenne mixed in. Yum. For real.

Bedtime stories. For me.

Before I go to bed I tell myself a story. Helps me fall asleep. While in Haiti my stories have been two. My room here is small, its walls are cracked and the door does not close properly.
So the first story is that I am a prisoner of war. But they know that I would hold up under torture so well that they can't risk it. My information is too valuable, and if I should die they would surely lose their advantage over the other side. I am dearly wanted back by my comrades, so I am being kept for ransom, living off of nothing but rats I catch through a hole I dug with my own hairpin. I eventually die of rabies. Both fighting sides are beside themselves with grief.
(Okay just so you know, there are absolutely no rats in my room here. Let's get that straight.)
My room here is also complete with a very nice mosquito net, and a fantastic fan. Not to mention a beautiful, decorative rug. So my other story is that I am a princess. The fan is my servant boy waving a palm leaf. And upon waking I am fed chilled orange slices. I marry a rich sultan and live a long, beautiful life. Even after I die, they say that I am the most beautiful queen our kingdom ever had.
I'm now considering melding the two stories together.
A princess, captured by her father's enemy, but far too beautiful to kill. So I am kept in a perfect room at the top of a tower, with a view of the entire city. My father's enemy, a great king, has fallen madly in love with me and has asked for my hand in marriage. I refuse, and spend the rest of eternity gazing over the city that could have been mine.
Something to that effect.
I'll head over to CHOAIDS in about an hour and visit with the kidlets.
It's been slightly cooler at nights lately. Last night the power went out and my fan stopped. I didn't even notice.
I've been feeling much better. The cool(ish) air is doing me good.
We've all been keeping track of the on goings in the slum. Trying to assess when it will be unsafe to leave the compound aka hostel. We're guarded here 24/7 and have a seven foot wall topped with razor wire. The gate is a giant metal thing with a tiny peep hole so you can spy on people outside before you left them in.
Okay I just itched a bug bite until my skin was raw. That was really dumb. Better put on some long pants.
I'll write again this afternoon.
--S

I fell out of a chair.

I fell out of the chair in the courtyard today. I was talking to the baby and had sort of turned sideways when suddenly I just went over backwards. I tried to stop it, flailing about and all, but there was nothing to be done. Luckily a cinderblock caught my fall. And also luckily no one but Richardson saw it.
Richardson was coughing all day which worries me. If you didn't already know, HIV really compromises your immune system. I will wait and see if I should take him for a check up at the doctor.
The kids were happy to see me, and I was happy to see them as usual.
I had something stolen out of my room here at the hostel on Sunday. It really bothers me because it means that someone was actually in my room. So now I lock it even if I am simply walking around the corner.
Michael and I went to the hotel for the better wifi yesterday and on the way back, upon entering the hostel a HUGE spider came out of nowhere. It was about the size of my hand. I leapt into the air with a shriek of surprise and then quickly told Michael not to hurt it, but to no avail. The next ten seconds were interesting. The spider running in circles around the room, me running in circles around the room screaming hysterically with my hands waving above my head, and Michael attempting to stomp it. He did stomp it, and I yelled at him. He then explained to me that spiders were not allowed in the hostel because if a guest is bit we don't have a good way of getting them to the hospital. I decided not to point out that tarantula venom has never killed anyone, ever. It's true. I own four tarantulas, I'd know.
That's about all I've got. We're expecting  some chaos to start soon, but thus far have seen no burning tires in the roads, which is a sure sign that it's starting.
Got a flat on the moto today and I thought we were going down for sure, but Daniel saved it. We had to walk the rest of the way to the hostel.
I'll write tomorrow with hopefully more interesting things to say.
Bye!

Thunder storms and elections

So it is almost guaranteed that if I stay in a tropical climate for more than a week I will get some sort of heat exhaustion. Oh lucky me.
Well, I am sorry to say that it has found me. I had to call FanFan and tell him that I needed to lay down today, and not go to the orphanage. This was after Samuel told me to go back to bed, and Jason gave me this green powder that is some sort of nutrient rich leaf (?) to add to my water. I slept from 11 to 2:30 and am actually feeling a lot better, which is amazing. I think part of it is me just deciding that I refuse to be sick.
It's sort of like just being really fatigued and dizzy for a day or two.
Side note: while I was napping I had a dream that I was yelling at my mom because she wouldn't let me eat my saltine crackers. I don't even like saltine crackers that much.
We've been experiencing thunder storms here. In fact, one is happening right now.
I accidently showered in one last week because I asked Samuel if he thought it would rain while I was showering. He replied "Nahhhh". Hah.
Currently I am the only guest at the hostel. Also, the only girl (aside from the director who is not here very often.) It's quite fine though because I get along well with everyone. We go to lunch, or watch youtube in our free time. They're good guys.
The other night Michael, Samuel, and I went up on the roof and lit off leftover fireworks from the party.
(I just had to run outside and get my clothes off the line. I spent way too long hand washing them to have them get blown to the ground in this storm.)
The presidential elections are next week and there are over 60 people running. It gets very violent during that time, and is often unsafe to leave your home, so I may be stuck here for a few days next week. There is already violence in the slum, I heard several people have died. The thing is the politicians pay people to cause chaos. I don't really understand why. There are guns being distributed in the slum even now.
I decided to not post on the weekends because there is not a lot going on, and if anything notable happens I will mention it in Monday's blog.
Anyway, I hope everyone is having a good October, and that it is beautiful there.
--S

I wore a helmet. Be proud.

Picture this: You're on the back of a motorcycle at night, arms wrapped tightly around the person in front of you. There is some dirt in your face, and your helmet is slipping onto the back of your head. But you feel okay because at least your wearing a helmet this time. Then you remember that you're in sandals, leggings, and a tank top. You yell "My hair is blowing in the wind!!" Because that's something you've always wanted to yell while on the back of a motorcycle. You tilt around turns, and wedge between cars. You're in the middle of the road, a semi on your right, a TapTap on your left. You mentally say goodbye to our elbows.
That was my ride to the club last night.
I'm blogging now, in the morning, because I am not sure I will have time tonight after the orphanage. We are having a fundraising party. I'll try to squeeze in a quick post though. At least some pictures.
We went to a really popular club with some live music. I made sure to go with someone who wasn't staying out until four, and who wasn't going to get drunk. See? I'm responsible. And really, I'm 21 (almost) and I'm in Haiti. What do you expect? I need to live a little.
When else will I have this opportunity?
I miss the kids while I'm gone. People ask me what I'm doing in Haiti, and as I tell them I often tear up thinking about the circumstances the kids are in, and how lucky they are compared to many HIV orphans who don't have CHOAIDS to live in. It is heartbreaking.
I just give them as much love as I can, while I can.
If the only thing I end up doing in Haiti is hugging kids, and being their friend, well then that's enough.
Alright, I'm off. I don't wear a helmet on my daily moto commute, but it's much less on the open roads. We don't go nearly as far, or as fast.
My burn is looking...not good...but not bad either. Healing.
xxoo

Doctors are good drivers. I swear.

Today was laundry day at the orphanage. I insisted on helping, so they showed me how to wash laundry by hand. Turns out I'm very bad at it. Ten minutes in and I had managed to scrub my knuckles raw. Like to the point of bleeding. So I was pulled off the laundry crew and made to sit on The Chair covered in Hello Kitty Band-Aids. So for two hours or so I was utterly useless. The baby was asleep and everyone else was either washing or cooking.
It was nice though. Such simplicity. I appreciated the breeze and watching the family of rats that lives at the back of the courtyard. I was also given bread and coffee.
They let me hang all of the laundry though. Then Richardson started crying and I zipped upstairs to get him. He was too hot so I blew on his face and rubbed his tummy until he calmed down. Then the kids got home and it was the usual frenzy of hello's and kisses.
Lots of the kids got in trouble today for not doing their chores. When they cry everyone else leaves them alone, and I sneak in hugs and sympathetic noises.
I got to teach a bit today, and we did a lot with essential oils to prevent infection.
I got a ride home from Johanne's friend Andrew, and he showed me around a bit. I trusted him to drive me because he's a doctor. So obviously that means he's a safe driver.
I've made a lot of friends in just four days.
I'm picking up some creole. Feeling a tiny bit confident.
On Friday we are having a burning man party at the hostel. A couple of my friends and I are going to stay up until as late as we can Saturday so that we can count the party as my birthday party. Because in case you didn't know, Saturday is my birthday.
Oh one more thought: I was having a beer last night with my friend Samuel. He's from Haiti and helps run HC (the hostel). He also has an orphanage and we were talking about how the kids at CHOIDS, and the kids at his orphanage have very limited toys. Like...none. I want to start a toy drive, and Samuel has a connection with several churches that come to Haiti on a regular basis. So if I could get toys, I could then get them to those churches, and the churches could bring them here. Unfortunately I'm in Haiti until December, so I can't start the drive until I get back. I was wondering, if anyone had some free time, would you want to help out with this? I thought of just doing some flyers and posting things on Facebook, or EOU, or whatever. If not, no worries. Just a thought.
Anyway, I'll post some pictures on FB. Bye! 

Be grateful for what you have. Please.

I wore mascara today in an attempt to look as beautiful as Johanne. I am sad to say that I have yet to succeed. I'll keep trying. Stay tuned in for the next episode of Sadie's fail at being presentable.
I showed Richardson (The little one) how to use my pen, so he did some lovely drawings all over my journal. Will post pictures. We played a lot today, just the two of us. Peek a boo was riveting and absolutely hilarious he would tell you. If he could talk.
Sometimes he wanders around saying "Mamma" and I wonder who he's asking for. He was abandoned in a hospital and we don't have any paperwork on him so his age is unknown. Did I say that already? I've taken to packing him around with me.
Johanne and I were eating ice cream (what a treat!) and I wanted to give him some, but she explained to me that we really can't share spoons with them (Johanne and I were eating it with a single fork because it was the only utensil we could find.) Even though you cannot contract HIV through saliva it's better to stay on the safe side.
We left Richardson unattended for a few moments and he came back covered in red glitter. Some how he had gotten into the office and found what limited art supplies are there. As a result, I am now covered in glitter as well. Joy.
They are so polite at CHOAIDS. It's become kind of a competition between us. Who can be the most courteous. There is only one chair in the courtyard and the other three of us sit on rocks or bricks. When I walk through the main gait everyone leaps up and ushers me into the chair. I try to do the same so sometimes the chair ends up empty with all of us on rocks.
We chatter away, me and the other three women who work there. Johanne is the only one who speaks creole and English, so the rest of us just talk to each other without really understanding anything. Richardson sits with us, just another one of the girls. Kind of. I've never seen a toddler so patient.
He must have gotten bored though because his head started to droop and I picked him up to take him to his crib. He was asleep before we got to the top of the stairs.
The kids get home and kiss me and say hello, and I spray them with orange oil (good for your immune system). They thank me, and often come back for more.
Peek a boo is a popular game with the rest of the children as well. I've become very popular.
I have tons of friends. Maybe it's because they don't know what I'm saying most of the time.
I'm happy, and content.
And I'm tired of the other people at the hostel complaining nonstop about everything they should be grateful for. I am grateful for food, and a bed, and a pillow, and a fan, and everything else that I am provided. So dear everyone else: please stop complaining. I'm a princess, and even I'M more appreciative than you.  

And to everyone reading this, please remember to be appreciative of everything in your life. You are so lucky, and I find that it is often easy to forgot just how lucky you are.
Bye bye now!

Such a princess

So today, Samuel, the manager here (who is from Haiti) decided to help me doctor my burn. He was very excited about this and kept calling himself a doctor, until he had to avert his eyes because the blister was so gross. Then he called himself a bad doctor. But it's looking better. I think.
At CHOAIDS Reshudsun ( the little one, and I will have to work on my spelling) got a bath, which is much different in Haiti than it is for kids in the states. He was placed in a bucket, had water poured over his head, and then was scrubbed all over with a bar of soap. Face an all. He just held his breath as they rinsed him off and took him upstairs for his nap. He woke up crying so I went upstairs and scooped him up. I think his tummy hurt because I started rubbing his tummy and he fell right back to sleep. Then we took a little nap together.
When the other kids got home I worked with Obenz (7 year old) with his reading again, and Valencina (10) with her writing and reading.
Everyone takes great pleasure in attempting to pronounce my name. "See-dee".
Today one of the little boys asked me if I was a princess. I kind of feel like one, the way everyone kisses my cheek, and brings me delicious food. I've had to start insisting that I do chores for them. So today I ground garlic with a mortar and pestle, and learned how to wash clothes by hand.
Johanne is teaching me creole, and I am teaching her English. Mainly we just laugh at each other for how bad we pronounce things.
When I left today we were in the midst of taking the kids' weight.
Some of the other people in the hostel are doing pretty interesting projects. One group is building a bridge to go over a garbage trench in the slum. Another is making a series of short films about Haiti.
I feel really happy despite the fact that I'm covered in bug bites, and constantly sweaty. I mean, what did I expect?
Still phoneless.
Ah well.
I'll think of about a million things I forgot to say once I save this.

Motos and Taptaps

Today I rode a motorcycle for the first time in my life. Johanne and Danielle, who will be the one to take me to and from CHOAIDS everyday, picked me up. They sandwiched me between them and off we went. We squeezed between cars so closely that I felt sure I would lose my kneecaps, but despite that it was incredibly fun. I think I'm a natural. I will soon be pursuing a newfound dream of being a biker chick.
I did however sustain a fairly disgusting burn from touching my calf to some hot part of the bike.
I tried to get a phone but there was some miscommunication and they attempted to charge me about ten dollars more than it was worth. Long story short: I am still phoneless.
We went to the orphanage then and after being there about an hour the kids showed up, having just gotten out of school. They all took turns kissing my cheek and telling me their names. None of which I can spell.
The littlest one we think is about three. He was abandoned in a hospital about a year ago and they don't have any of his records. He is a little shy, and enjoys waving at me while peaking around the corner of the house.
I helped another little boy, who was seven, with his homework. We read some simple words together (Papa, Lili, Popo etc. etc.) So I felt that I was learning something too. Every time he got something correct I cheered "bravo!"
Johanne and I worked on getting to know each other. She speaks pretty good English, but it still takes us a bit of navigation to communicate effectively. We had café au let (Coffee with milk) and bread, then some papaya juice, and some chicken. All of which was so delicious that by the time they were ready to eat their full meal (around 3:00) I was too full!
I said bye bye to the kids around 4:00 and came back to the hostel for a shower and some dinner. Over dinner I met a man from England named Michael, who has been staying in the hostel for nine months now. He was going to the supermarket and asked if I'd like to tag along to see where it was. It was about a forty minute walk but we took a TapTap one way. A TapTap is a brightly painted truck with a canopy over head, and benches lining the bed. You wave it down and climb aboard, then when you see where you want to get out you taptap on the window to the main cab, and they stop.
When you're walking down the street, children will call out "Blan, Blan!" which literally means "White, white!" as in look, a white person. It's not rude, it's just observant. It is however rude to ignore them. Which is exactly what I'd been doing. Michael explained this to me. So after that I started replying to them with "Good morning!" though it was 6 at night. Oops.
I've seen a lot of the city today and I can't wait to get some better pictures. I will try to upload them to my blog but thus far I've been unsuccessful.
Anyway, I hope all is well! Write again soon.

Making it

Well I got onto the plane, which I had been telling myself was the first step. I met an entire group of people in Portland who were going to Haiti to work in an orphanage as well. Their's is in Jacmel however, which is where I will be during my second month of the journey.
The main question people ask me is "what group/church are you traveling with?"
And they always seem shocked when I reply "I'm not."
Sometimes this makes me feel brave and courageous, but mostly it makes me feel like I must have lost my mind.
I got on the plane in NY, destined for Port au Prince and quickly realized that I was the only person in my row. An entire row of seats all to myself. At first I felt very left out, but within ten minutes I had excepted that I was now blessed with two extra seats to call my own. The plane's doors were closed up, the flight attendants were going over safety rules, and then someone radioed in on the speakers saying "Flight attendants, disarm and open the doors." I thought, surely, that I was about to die.
Soon two young men had been let on the plane, having almost missed their flight. (That's what all the commotion was about?) They smelled heavily of cologne and had their pants sagging down around their knees. In my mind I was on the verge of making some judgy comment about street youths, and ruffians, when guess who's empty row of seats they were directed to?
That's right.
Mine.
My mind changed tactics as quickly as possible. Hello. So good to meet you. So glad you made it on board. I'm such a lovely, kind person who never judges people based on how much they sag their pants.
They were actually quite pleasant. Upon landing they promptly asked for my phone number, which I promptly told them I no longer had a working phone. So they promptly asked for my Facebook, which I not so promptly considered.
When I stepped off the plane there was a band playing music to greet us, and it was a balmy 90 degrees. Ahhhh how I love the sun. For those first few minutes, then I'm sweating profusely and pulling off as many layers as possible.
It took over and hour to get through immigration and customs.
But when I did I managed to find where my checked bags had been tossed into a corner, patiently waiting for me.
The director of CHOAIDS (Marie) had her brother FanFan and his wife Johanne pick me up. Johanne looking flawless in her tight floral skirt, and me stumbling out of the airport looking as though I had just climbed out of a particularly filthy pond. (My appearance does not hold up well while traveling. To say the least.)
They loaded me up in the car, and were as sweet as can be.
After they dropped me at the hostel I was given a tour and then shown to my very own straw bale house. Where I now sit reading and blogging. And waiting until I can help some of the other guests prepare dinner. I'll post some pictures soon.
xxoo

Well I'm packed. At long last. It's been quite the ordeal, only twice did I get so frustrated that I actually burst into angry tears. Okay maybe it was three times. Four? Anyway, it's all done. Now all I have to do is get on the airplane.
Some special things involving our community around this project:
I was interviewed for the news paper last week and an article came out on Monday. I had mentioned that the orphanage needed towels. Each child gets one towel a year, and there are 23 children. I had sort of been hoping for some donations, but was really just planning to use my GoFundMe money to buy the towels myself.

After the article came out however, random people began taking towels to the bakery where I work. Like brand new towels. The same thing happened at my going away party. Guests brought towels in excellent condition, and by Tuesday of this week I had all 23 towels that I needed! So if any of the people who donated towels anonymously are reading this, please know how grateful I am. And for the people I have already thanked, thank you again.
Let me tell you another amazing thing that happened. I have been a nanny for one family in particular for the last three and a half years. Wendy, the mother of the children I nanny is excellent at sewing. She even made me a dress one time. Well she took it upon herself to make a small quilt for each child at CHOAIDS (the orphanage). That's 23 quilts!!
 
I don't know how she did it, but needless to say, I was blown away.
These last two weeks have really shown me what a supportive community we have here in little La Grande, Oregon. From my surprise going away party (complete with a six layer cake from the bakery).

To towel donations, to quilts. I will never be able to thank you all enough.
So with this fantastic start to my journey I now venture off into the unknown! (Read dramatically for full effect.)
I'm not scared, just excited. I feel like I'm on the edge of a life changing experience. No matter what happens, it will be perfect in it's own way. I'll write again soon. But for now...
Bon vwayaj! (That's creole. Are you impressed?)

So the trip is coming up. In like three weeks. I'm beginning to feel that panic that you get right before an exam, except magnify it by 100. But in a good way. It's kind of like: "Oh my stars what did I get myself in to." And "This is the moment that my life will actually begin." I took my prep classes, I got my shots, and I'm making a list of what to pack.
Mostly though, I've been crying over the fact that I have to leave the kids that I nanny. "I wish I could be your nanny forever." And that scares me because I am going to work in an orphanage. Where I will be around children all day, and surely adore them just as I do the children here. And I'll have to leave them too.
That's mainly what this particular post is about: terrified excitement, and missing my kids that aren't actually mine.
It will be so different. I probably won't be running through the house holding a sword with a cape on my head, screaming as a child dressed as a Ninja Turtle tries to attack me.
And I probably won't be at home in my slippers drinking tea, and listening to Mozart. (Though I am loading music on to my phone.)
I feel kind of like that Calvin and Hobbes strip where they go careening down the mountainside on a sled. Except it's not a mountain, it's my life. And it's not a sled, it's my life. And Oh...my...stars.

At the end of winter term 2015, I was in the midst of preparing for finals. It was Dead Week and I was juggling Bio Psych, Human Evolution, Creative Writing, and Math. I’d taken on the challenge of a 19-credit term and was starting to feel the pressure.

Mom and Dad, being the generous parents that they are, had already bought me a plane ticket to Haiti for Spring Break. Our plan was to spend ten days with my cousin, Lee, who has been living in Mizak, Haiti for the past eight years.

I decided not to go. I was exhausted from hours of memorizing functions of the brain and formulas that seemed endless. No, I would stay home, pay my parents back for the ticket, and sleep for the entire duration of break.

Next thing I knew, I was rescheduling all of my finals to the same day (Monday), so that I could fly to Port au Prince, Haiti, the next day. And, yes, I WAS a bit irritable. There I was, stomping through the Seattle airport, trying to call Alex to say goodbye, (who also happened to be in a bad mood) and and feeling awfully sorry for myself that I had been given the opportunity to travel to another country and witness diverse cultures. Poor me.

The flights were boring, and the plane food was gross, and blah blah blah.

Then we landed. I stumbled through customs trying to recall any of my high school french, but all I came up with was “Oh non, je l'ai perdu mon sac.” And “Alouette jante alouette.” Not remotely helpful.

It was hot, and the city was crowded, and I was amazed--in a good way!

I could go on and on about our stay, the wonderful people we met, the kids that I absolutely loved, the dirt that stained your feet brick red. But that’s not really the point of this blog entry. A few days into the stay I started bugging Lee about returning to Haiti. “I love it here.” “I have to come back.” Etc. Etc.

Finally he asked me what my major was: Bio and Psych. My minor? Math and Creative Writing. That did it. Lee had plans to write a book about orphanages around Haiti, comparing conditions at each, telling stories from the children’s point of view, talking to adoptive parents--and he invited ME to help. Isn’t that amazing?

http:/www.gofundme.com/HaitiLight