About 6 months ago, I started working at Whole Foods, and I have slowly been evolving in to a Foodie. I am questioning more and more about where my food comes from, and how it got there. This fall I decide to take a few classes at Cincinnati State, and learn a bit more about how to grow my own food, and more importantly how to grow it in an Urban environment. The more I learn about food, about what it takes to grow food, and the declining percentage of people who know how to grow food in the U.S., the more I worry about us as a culture. We have put some of our most important necessities in the hands of others, and have hardly stopped to question, how do they plan to feed us? And, what exactly will that food be?
Every week I spend my Friday's on a farm near downtown Cincinnati, called Bahr Farm, where Our Harvest Co-op trains young farmers how to plant, grow, and sell their crops. I have helped to plant rows upon rows of greens, and garlic, and i have harvested pounds upon pounds of peppers, and tomatoes, cabbage, and carrots. And now I know the secret that most Grocery stores don't want you to know... It is simply amazing how much food one can produce in such little space.
Today I read an article about how the amount of money families with Food Stamps will be declining, and I just wonder why we can't come up with simpler ways of creating food. Did you know that once upon a time, before food stamps, the government would assist those in need ONLY if they helped to grow food in a local garden, or in their own garden? What a radical, and yet so simple of an idea. Help those, who choose to help themselves. But wait... Somewhere along the way, we stopped teaching people how to grow their own food. School Gardens were ripped out and replaced with swing sets, Victory Gardens were no longer needed to help feed troops, and the microwave dinner was created, and devoured with such ferocity people suddenly wondered why they would even bother putting the time and effort in to a home grown, home cooked meal.
So now we are stuck with, I dare say generations of adults and children-alike who hardly stop to question what it is their eating, let alone how it got there, or who grew it. As long as it taste good, it passes the test. Why have we allowed ourselves to get this way? We complain about our hungry children, but at the end of the day, in any given metropolis, on any given day, restaurants throw out perfectly good food by the dumpster load. Our children go hungry while our obesity rates keep rising, they give out sugary breakfast pastries in schools, claiming children can't possibly concentrate on an empty stomach, but what about that kid who just downed that cup of coffee with cream and 6 sugars? How is his concentration doing?
We don't stop to think about how what we are eating will affect us, we only think about what we can get to eat, how much of it we can get, and how quickly and cheaply we can get it for. But all of this has me thinking. What did Andyson, David, and Gabyson have for breakfast today? Did Herwine or Ernst even eat yet? I have no idea, and that weighs heavily on me. Article, after article has come my way over the past year, claiming food crises in Haiti. Hurricane, and Earthquake, and mudslide destruction has created less food in an already unstable world, and caused food prices to go up. And so my question to myself is, what can I do about that? They know how to grow food, and they raise some of their own livestock at the orphanage, but is it enough to sustain 60 some children and adults? What about all of the kids at school? What is in their school lunches besides white rice? What do they eat besides candy the blancs bring? My hope is to one day be able to create sustainable rooftop gardens with food stuffs that everyone will be able to share, whether it be through community involvement or class room education. Haitians are very smart, and knowledgeable. They know about nutrition, and they know how to grow food. They have refused help from large corporations by protesting and burning Monsanto seeds, despite their need for help. They have not given up on their desires to thrive off locally grown food, and will keep fighting for their freedom to feed themselves.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Haiti Ranked # 2 on the World Slavery Index
http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Americas/Latin-America-Monitor/2013/1017/Haiti-s-child-slaves-land-country-high-on-new-global-slavery-index-video?cmpid=addthis_twitter#.UmCle_f5POg.twitter
Slavery is something we all learn about in school. To most of us, Slavery is something that happened a long time ago, something that helped to shape our country, and define our history. But most of us believe that slavery is not longer an issue, well, at least not without the word Sex in front of it. But this is simply not true. It is roughly estimated that there are somewhere between 200 and 300 thousand children currently enslaved in Haiti alone. They are called Restavek's, which means "to live with" and are often introduced to their awful situations through agreements made by their own parents. Unfortunately this is a long standing practice in Haiti, and parents who are no longer capable of providing their children with food, clothes and schooling often turn to Uncle's, Aunt's, and friends of the family, who promise to give their children these basic needs in turn for daily chores. When the child arrives in their new situations they quickly learn that there will be no schooling, and hardly any food or clothing, but an abundance of daily chores, such as hours of washing clothes by hand, hours of fetching water, and cooking meals for the family, with possibly not food in return. These children are often ignored, treated like animals, and forced to sleep under tables, and work from sun up to well past sun down. (This is near the equator, so the sun shines almost 12 hours a day.)
To learn more about Childhood Slavery in Haiti, you can visit RestavekFreedom.org, or if you live in the Cincinnati area you could even go visit them in person. They are very knowledgeable, and are doing great things to help children in dire situations in the Port au Prince area.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Making new Friends, and Asking for old Rope
Hello Friends!
Good news, bracelets are being bought steadily on my Etsy page
https://www.etsy.com/shop/SouriAvi?ref=si_shop
As well as at Roads Rivers and Trails, located in Milford, Ohio!
And don't forget about Inside Moves Climbing Gym, in Grand Rapids, Michigan, they are being sold there as well!
Because of all of these wonderful people helping me sell my bracelets it is time for me to ask for more donations. If I want to keep making bracelets, I need more rope, so if you work at a climbing gym, and or are a frequent climber looking for a good way to recycle your old rope, give it to me! If you are interested in being a part of my young Haitian friends lives, please feel free to contact me at my e-mail.
malint@comcast.net
I want to thank you for reading this, and I hope to hear from you all soon!
Climb on!
- Souri Avi
Good news, bracelets are being bought steadily on my Etsy page
https://www.etsy.com/shop/SouriAvi?ref=si_shop
As well as at Roads Rivers and Trails, located in Milford, Ohio!
And don't forget about Inside Moves Climbing Gym, in Grand Rapids, Michigan, they are being sold there as well!
Because of all of these wonderful people helping me sell my bracelets it is time for me to ask for more donations. If I want to keep making bracelets, I need more rope, so if you work at a climbing gym, and or are a frequent climber looking for a good way to recycle your old rope, give it to me! If you are interested in being a part of my young Haitian friends lives, please feel free to contact me at my e-mail.
malint@comcast.net
I want to thank you for reading this, and I hope to hear from you all soon!
Climb on!
- Souri Avi
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Our visit to the General Hospital
None of us were doctors. We all knew this. Maybe we have been so hardened by mainstream media, that what we saw did not move us. Maybe without words, we just knew that whatever we saw when we walked in to that hospital would be beyond our control, and there was nothing we could do to fix any of the children, but pray that they would be okay.
Thinking back about the children I did not photograph, the baby with the exposed brains, or the child who literally looked like a skeleton with skin- with flies swarming its tiny little body, I can only think about the Serenity Prayer.
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, The courage to change the things I can, And the wisdom to know the difference."
You know, the prayer that is always prayed at the end of any Alcoholic Anonymous meetings that may be portrayed on television, well I wholeheartedly believe that that prayer applies to our visit to the General Hospital in Port au Prince.
Our mission upon going to the hospital was to pass out diapers, formula, bottles, and clothing to mothers in the ICU, and the mothers waiting for their sick children to be seen. We visited three different buildings, beginning with the ICU and expectant mothers. There we saw some of the tiniest babies you could imagine, all with their families near by, and doctors keeping a close watch. Then we went to two wooden buildings across the street, where women would bring their sick children in hopes that they would get help. There were women sitting on the ground, and in chairs with their babies waiting to get a bed, and possibly an I.V. of fluid, and other women lined up in rows next to filled cribs with crying sickly children. Once these women had their children in cribs they would be seen by a doctor, and in turn given a prescription to be filled. Once the prescriptions had been handed out, most of the mothers would just stand there and wait, because barely any of them had the money to go get the prescriptions filled. So Mona went around collecting prescriptions from women at random to be filled, and took the prescriptions to the Pharmacy, and then we waited. And waited.
Soon a woman in a bright yellow top came out of the dark wooden building wailing, and crying. She had a piece of paper in her hand, and she said in creole that her baby was dead, and that she had to take the piece of paper to the morgue so they would know to come and pick the child up. This happened once more while we were sitting there waiting, and who knows, maybe we had taken their prescriptions to be filled, and it was just too late. I can not say.
We did what we could while we were there. And although our offerings were not permanent, and probably didn't save any lives, we accepted the little change we tried to make, and the serenity to know that bad things happen to everyone, and there was nothing more we could ourselves could do but pray.
Thinking back about the children I did not photograph, the baby with the exposed brains, or the child who literally looked like a skeleton with skin- with flies swarming its tiny little body, I can only think about the Serenity Prayer.
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, The courage to change the things I can, And the wisdom to know the difference."
You know, the prayer that is always prayed at the end of any Alcoholic Anonymous meetings that may be portrayed on television, well I wholeheartedly believe that that prayer applies to our visit to the General Hospital in Port au Prince.
Our mission upon going to the hospital was to pass out diapers, formula, bottles, and clothing to mothers in the ICU, and the mothers waiting for their sick children to be seen. We visited three different buildings, beginning with the ICU and expectant mothers. There we saw some of the tiniest babies you could imagine, all with their families near by, and doctors keeping a close watch. Then we went to two wooden buildings across the street, where women would bring their sick children in hopes that they would get help. There were women sitting on the ground, and in chairs with their babies waiting to get a bed, and possibly an I.V. of fluid, and other women lined up in rows next to filled cribs with crying sickly children. Once these women had their children in cribs they would be seen by a doctor, and in turn given a prescription to be filled. Once the prescriptions had been handed out, most of the mothers would just stand there and wait, because barely any of them had the money to go get the prescriptions filled. So Mona went around collecting prescriptions from women at random to be filled, and took the prescriptions to the Pharmacy, and then we waited. And waited.
Soon a woman in a bright yellow top came out of the dark wooden building wailing, and crying. She had a piece of paper in her hand, and she said in creole that her baby was dead, and that she had to take the piece of paper to the morgue so they would know to come and pick the child up. This happened once more while we were sitting there waiting, and who knows, maybe we had taken their prescriptions to be filled, and it was just too late. I can not say.
We did what we could while we were there. And although our offerings were not permanent, and probably didn't save any lives, we accepted the little change we tried to make, and the serenity to know that bad things happen to everyone, and there was nothing more we could ourselves could do but pray.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
The little things may not seem like much, but children don't see it that way
Childhood. A time that most adults look back on longingly remembering the things that helped shape them most. I had a dream last night that took place in my Grandparents old farm house. There was nothing special or significant about this dream, but I woke up thinking about how often I have dreams that take place in this house despite the fact that I have not been inside it for over 13 years. This place that I spent so much time in, a place where my father lived, and my grandparents lived, and my great grandparents lived. A place where I ate homemade blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup, where I lied on the grass watching the clouds above morph in to familiar shapes and figures as my grandma and I would shout them out by name, and the garage where my grandpa would take me so we could sit in a hideous caution cone colored orange chair reading children's books he once read to my father. The people who lived in this place along with many other adults in other places I went, molded me, and my mind, and the way I am today. For example, I love blueberries, and sometimes I can look at things and not see them for exactly what they are, but for what they could be, and I love to read, which in turn has expanded my abilities to write. My love of photography came from my mother, and my contemplative silence from my father, my tomboyish ways from my brother, and religion from my daycare providers.
No one could have predicted exactly what would have stuck with me, but whether these people knew it or not those are some of the things and some of the memories that have been ingrained in my mind, and my being.
As we were bumping along in the back of the white pick up truck through the dirt and dust of Port au Prince, reluctantly headed toward the airport, I was thinking about Papa Cassey. About what his children gained from his presence, and how they so cherished the time they were able to spend with him. And although I know I will never be as significant in their lives as he was- not even close- I thought about what they will say about me when they remember their childhood. I have not given them much in the way of possessions, but if nothing else I hope they remember how I kept coming back. I also plan on knowing them as adults, but I just hope one day that they look back on the time they spent at the Good Shepherd Orphanage as children and remember me as the woman who was there from time to time for the little things, like a game of basketball, or cartwheels in the rain, or just a nice long hug. I hope they interpret my my persistence, my never ending supply of hugs, and my efforts to learn creole as my form of love for them. And that they will feel blessed, as I feel blessed to know them, and all the adults that helped me along the way.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Visiting the Handicap Orphanage
I have thought for a long time about what I should write about this last Orphanage that we went to visit. I am sure that if I sit and think too long about it, I will lose all hope in truly being able to help them. A year ago, when I was in Haiti, Francois Mezilien, the founder of the ASHCA or (Haitian Handicap Orphanage) approached Kristen and I and simply asked us for our help. He told us that when we went back to the United States we needed to tell everyone we knew about his orphanage, because they so very much need help.
I have to say I have seen a lot of progress in around Port au Prince since the Earthquake, and although this progress may seem small to those who have not been, things have gotten better. Tent cities have been taken down- which I can only hope are gone because those people have found a place to live, and not just the government forcing them out. Crooked or crumbling buildings have been demolished, and in some places new structures have gone up. Things are getting better. But when I walk in to Francois' orphanage I see little, if no change. Their buildings still stand- unlivable, and unused. The tents issued to them 2.5 years ago are still standing, and still in use. A very large tree with roots poking out of the ground runs along the main pathway between tents, making it difficult for wheelchairs to get in and out, and cots and steel frame beds lay exposed to any weather that may come. This year Francois was not in Haiti when I was, but was in the United States with his wife who had given birth. It is more difficult to communicate with Francois because he does not know English, and considering he was not there, there was not a whole lot that we could do while we were there. But I can at least tell you a little bit about what I have seen, and encourage you all to pray about Francois and his orphanage.
The first little boy I would like to tell you about is probably 5 or 6 by now. I met him in August of 2010, and at that time he was 4. There is not much known about him, at the time that I met him, they did not know what was wrong with him. He can not speak, he can not walk, or really do much of anything. He just sits in his wheelchair, cute as could be, looking at you. As soon as we got to the orphanage, Collyn immediately began looking for the little boy, and spent the entire time near him. This boy is special, he is beautiful, and his favorite thing to do is fist bump! He would go around and around putting out his little fist for everyone to bump. And then when he got through everyone he would rest his hand for a minute and start over again, going through the crowd, fist bumping, it was so funny!
The next story I want to write about involves Herwine. She is one of the girls at the GSO, and she came with us to see the children. I have watched Herwine grow over the past few years, she is one of my closest friends at the Orphanage. But she is young, and she acts young, she is probably 15 or 16, abandoned by her father when she was only 11. Dropped off at the GSO with no more than a 'See ya later!'
Earlier in the day, we were at the school waiting around for the bus, and Herwine was playing keep away with some of the younger girls book bags. That is when one of the boys from our group who was watching what was going on said "Herwine can be kind of mean", and I just kind of agreed and rolled my eyes, knowing how much she loves to tease people. But later that day when we were at the Handicap orphanage I saw a different side of Herwine, a loving, and tender side. I was sitting there, watching everyone interact with the kids, taking a few photographs, and Herwine knelt down next to a little girl in a wheel chair and began to sing songs with her. First a hand clapping song, then a wonderful little song that sang about her ears, nose, lips, and eyes. It was very touching to see Herwine treat this little girl with such love, and care, when I had seen her tease so many others. Later that night Juliet asked if we had seen God working through anyone that day, and I had to say Herwine, the way she treated the little girl was beautiful, and I know that Herwine will do great things with children one day.
This orphanage is hard to go to, and even harder to leave. many children in Haiti have been abandoned for one reason or another, but for certain every child there has been abandoned because they were not perfect, or they were too difficult to care for. The only one who has not abandoned them, are those who care for them at the Orphanage, and to be honest things there are bleak. They are scraping by, and I guess they will continue to do so, but I struggle everyday wondering what more I could do for them. Perhaps someday I can do more, or perhaps one of you could so more now. I don't know. But Francois is a good man for what he has done, and he needs help, a lot of help!
Francois Mezelien
assoho8ca@yahoo.fr
I have to say I have seen a lot of progress in around Port au Prince since the Earthquake, and although this progress may seem small to those who have not been, things have gotten better. Tent cities have been taken down- which I can only hope are gone because those people have found a place to live, and not just the government forcing them out. Crooked or crumbling buildings have been demolished, and in some places new structures have gone up. Things are getting better. But when I walk in to Francois' orphanage I see little, if no change. Their buildings still stand- unlivable, and unused. The tents issued to them 2.5 years ago are still standing, and still in use. A very large tree with roots poking out of the ground runs along the main pathway between tents, making it difficult for wheelchairs to get in and out, and cots and steel frame beds lay exposed to any weather that may come. This year Francois was not in Haiti when I was, but was in the United States with his wife who had given birth. It is more difficult to communicate with Francois because he does not know English, and considering he was not there, there was not a whole lot that we could do while we were there. But I can at least tell you a little bit about what I have seen, and encourage you all to pray about Francois and his orphanage.
The first little boy I would like to tell you about is probably 5 or 6 by now. I met him in August of 2010, and at that time he was 4. There is not much known about him, at the time that I met him, they did not know what was wrong with him. He can not speak, he can not walk, or really do much of anything. He just sits in his wheelchair, cute as could be, looking at you. As soon as we got to the orphanage, Collyn immediately began looking for the little boy, and spent the entire time near him. This boy is special, he is beautiful, and his favorite thing to do is fist bump! He would go around and around putting out his little fist for everyone to bump. And then when he got through everyone he would rest his hand for a minute and start over again, going through the crowd, fist bumping, it was so funny!
The next story I want to write about involves Herwine. She is one of the girls at the GSO, and she came with us to see the children. I have watched Herwine grow over the past few years, she is one of my closest friends at the Orphanage. But she is young, and she acts young, she is probably 15 or 16, abandoned by her father when she was only 11. Dropped off at the GSO with no more than a 'See ya later!'
Earlier in the day, we were at the school waiting around for the bus, and Herwine was playing keep away with some of the younger girls book bags. That is when one of the boys from our group who was watching what was going on said "Herwine can be kind of mean", and I just kind of agreed and rolled my eyes, knowing how much she loves to tease people. But later that day when we were at the Handicap orphanage I saw a different side of Herwine, a loving, and tender side. I was sitting there, watching everyone interact with the kids, taking a few photographs, and Herwine knelt down next to a little girl in a wheel chair and began to sing songs with her. First a hand clapping song, then a wonderful little song that sang about her ears, nose, lips, and eyes. It was very touching to see Herwine treat this little girl with such love, and care, when I had seen her tease so many others. Later that night Juliet asked if we had seen God working through anyone that day, and I had to say Herwine, the way she treated the little girl was beautiful, and I know that Herwine will do great things with children one day.
This orphanage is hard to go to, and even harder to leave. many children in Haiti have been abandoned for one reason or another, but for certain every child there has been abandoned because they were not perfect, or they were too difficult to care for. The only one who has not abandoned them, are those who care for them at the Orphanage, and to be honest things there are bleak. They are scraping by, and I guess they will continue to do so, but I struggle everyday wondering what more I could do for them. Perhaps someday I can do more, or perhaps one of you could so more now. I don't know. But Francois is a good man for what he has done, and he needs help, a lot of help!
Francois Mezelien
assoho8ca@yahoo.fr
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Many Father's and lots of Love
I am sure that when you think about orphanages you think about children who are parentless, or abandoned, left to fend for themselves. And then in turn children at orphanages are adopted to families around the globe. In Haiti that is not always the case. At Le Bon Berger (The Good Shepherd) orphanage, a lot of the kids still have parents, and are still in contact with them. Some families in Haiti are unable to provide for all of their children, and it is common practice to send your child to live with other families, or to live in Orphanages in the hopes that they will have a chance to go to school, and thus have a better future. This is one of the reasons why Papa Cassey decided his orphanage would not be an adoptable orphanage.
I am grateful for Papa Cassey’s decision because this means that every time I go to Le Bon Berger I will get to see the same awesome little boys, as I got to see on my previous visits. As it turns out, a chance meeting happened for one couple who came to serve at the Good Shepherd Orphanage, and they fell in love with a little girl named Georgina. Now Georgina was not a child at the orphanage, but a child of one of the older men that grew up at the orphanage. George, Georgina’s father expressed his concerns to the couple about not being able to provide for his little girl, and the couple decided they wanted to adopt.
Considering this was not an option at Le Bon Berger Georgina had to be placed in a different orphanage that would be able to start the adoption process. In December of 2010 I had the privilege to meet Nasson and tour his orphanage, The Way of Jesus and Green River Pentecostal World Outreach Orphanage. We decided to take Georgina early one morning before breakfast. George met us at the O.M.S. and from there it was only a short, rather arduous hike up the side of a steep mountainous hill. Being a climber I am more than used to sketchy hikes through rocky pathways, but this short climb felt as if it might take us to the top of the world! The increase in elevation from the Good Shepherd, which is seaside, to the perhaps 2 or 3 mile drive to the O.M.S. seemed slight, but in reality was incomprehensive. When we finally staggered to the gate of the orphanage, covered in sweat and dust, the building was still being built. But Nasson was more than happy to show us around, and take us to the second story where you could see all the way to the ocean, and even make out the general area that the Good Shepherd Orphanage was. He then told us stories of some of the small children he had taken in. Nasson said in 2007 his wife and him had been considering and praying over the idea of opening an orphanage, and the deciding factor came one day when he was in town running errands. He had heard through word of mouth that a little child had been literally thrown away in a dumpster, and no one would claim him. Nasson quickly sent someone to ask his wife if he could bring the child home. At the same time word had reached his wife, that there was a little boy in a garbage can and she immediately sent someone to retrieve the child. When he learned that his wife had already sent someone to get the child, he knew that starting the orphanage was the right thing to do, and they began to look for other children in need.
Every time I go to Haiti, I now have 3 orphanages to visit, and although I am sure that Georgina doesn’t remember me, and I will never be in integral part of her life, I will never forget her, and the day her father loved her so much, that he had to let her go.
On our week long stay, we had the chance to visit this Orphanage twice, and bring them supplies, like little girls underwear, thanks to several people, like Kathleen, Eric, Haslett Community Church, and other friends of the UK Students. The first time we went, we were able to bring personal goods for Georgina, and also just spend time with the little children. By the time we had reached the orphanage it was dusk, so we spent our visit sitting in the dark holding little kids that clung to us the minute we walked in the gate. This trip was especially poignant for me because I got to hold a little baby. I don't know if it was a boy or girl, the reason it was there, or it's name, but I did find out that it was 6 months old, and weighed approximately that of a new born. It was so small and quiet, I could not believe it to be 6 months old, but it was capable of holding it's head up, and grabbing me with it's tiny little fingers, and I just sat there in the dark holding this baby as the other little children sang 'Jesus Loves Me' and spun around in circles.
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