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.