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.