I have written a lot about my thoughts and feelings towards Haiti in general but I haven't really told you much about what we did on our last trip down. My goal this trip was to spend money. I have been saving for a year the donations I have made from selling bracelets and it was time I put some of that money to good use! And until about a week before we were scheduled to leave we had no idea what we were going to do. The call came from Mona, and we packed our bags, ready to paint!
Since the earthquake, over two years ago, Papa Ernst Casseys School had been undergoing subtle changes. Some areas of the school are over 3 stories tall, and miraculously none of the structures on school grounds were damaged beyond repair. They have gone from having school and church services beneath tarps they had hung from one building to the next, to services being held in a large warehouse type building, to finally being able to go back to classrooms. However there is still a large part of the school's buildings that are not being used, and that includes their Cafeteria and Library. Since the earthquake school days have been shortened due to the lack of these facilities. If they can't feed the kids, they can't ask them to stay late in to the afternoon.
We were asked to paint the Cafeteria, and I happily gave what I could to buy gallons upon gallons of yellow and turquoise paint. The first day we sanded the concrete walls, and thankfully we brought enough sunglasses and rags to cover our nose and mouths and eyes because the dust was awful! We sanded everything from the ceiling to the floors, we sanded until our sand paper had no sand left on it, and by noon we all looked like the kid in The Sandlot who came stumbling out of the tree house after his attempt to retrieve the baseball resulted in vacuums shorting, and dust exploding everywhere!
On the second and third day way primed. We painted everything over and over again in white. In Haiti things are usually run a little different, and the delineation between being male and female, and what males and females can and can not do are still alive and well! Apparently Females can paint with small brushes, but when it comes to painting with rollers, or painting the ceilings, that was left to the men, so the guys usually left covered in little white specks, while the girls left with minor splotches and drips.
On the fourth day, Mona took use to a beach just outside of the city. The water was beautiful, and refreshing, and we had the opportunity to see a lot of sea creatures. Especially jellyfish, and starfish! Fortunately there was a fearless man who came to swim that day, and no qualms with picking jellyfish up by their tops and throwing them over the concrete walls! I think we all missed working that day, knowing that more could have gotten done, but at the same time I think it is important to see all sides of Haiti. It can be very difficult to go to a place where everything seems to be so rough, you can some times lose sight of what kind of beauty can still exist for the people who have to live there every day. Haiti is a beautiful country, and no Haitian I have met is ashamed. Happiness can be found sans extravagance, and I would say our beach trip was just that. I am sure that we all still wished the kids could have been there with us, but school is always important. And with us not being at the school, they probably actually learned something that day, ha ha!
On Friday we went back to finish painting at the school, and to our surprise almost everything was already done. The yellow parts were yellow, the white parts we touched up, and Erik I think reluctantly let Chloe, Juliet and I help finish the turquoise.
As for the afternoons we tried to do a Vacation Bible School for the neighborhood kids, but it usually just ended up being a bible story followed by crafts, followed by chaos.
Although I wish that we had had more time to do more in the quick and short week we were there, I believe by just being there for the kids, and repeatedly coming back I, and the others, show a deeper kind of love and caring, regardless of whether or not we have anything to give them, like candy, or toys, the fact that we keep showing up tells them that they are important and not to be forgotten, in our eyes or the Lords.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
You make beautiful things out of the dust
August 2009
I have just spent three weeks backpacking around Europe. I have seen so many beautiful things; from the pristine lakes and Alps of Switzerland, to the overwhelming halls of the Louvre in Paris stuffed with art. Italy, visited as a child and now revisited as an adult; I saw my favorites in museums and the Colosseum. To Barcelona where one dip in the ocean and you are covered in mysterious gold flecks.
Switzerland pampered, Italy with its graffiti and smelly trains disappointed, Spain was wonderful with its tapas, and Gaudi buildings everywhere, and France was unwillingly left behind having spent too little time. The taste of warm croissants, and flavorful gelato still linger on my tongue.
I am tired. So tired. Why did I agree to go to Haiti? I have been back home for less than a week. I miss Ryan, my cat, and my bed! There have been so many times in the past few days where i have almost called Juliet to tell her I don't want to go. I don't care, I just want to sleep.
But here I am climbing off a plane in the Caribbean. In to a stuffy yellow hallway I shuffle, and somewhere below me a band is playing. Julie claps and sways to the music and talks to anyone who will understand her "bonswa's" in Creole. I am tired. Now I am hot. As soon as we are through customs and baggage claim we are pushed out the door in to the blinding sunshine and as Juliet has warned- bombarded by French-ish speaking men in red and green plaid shirts, and khaki shorts trying to help me with my bags. I tell them no as nice as possible and push my way towards the gates where tons of brown faces are staring back at me waiting for a familiar face to pop up out of the sea of bodies coming towards them.
The next thing I know i am being herded on to a bus and there are ten Haitians who all are very happy to see me. They hug me, and laugh, and ask me in their best English what my name is, and how old I am. A twenty-something boy sits next to me, his name is Williams and once again as Juliet predicted, he starts to lay on the Haitian charm.
I am tired. I don't understand what any of them are saying- in English, French, or Creole!
Instead of being friendly I sit back, relax, and stare out the window.
It's dirty. Filthy. I mean I get mad when someone doesn't bother to throw away their pop bottle in the States! Why can't you just put your trash in the trash can? But this... this is beyond trash can fixable. Piles of used plastic bottles line the streets. Water ways are filled with all sorts of styrofoam and plastic products, clogged by waste. Skinny pigs stand on top of mounds of filth. King of the Castle, as they sift through trash, eating anything they think they can digest. Meat vendors, fruit sellers, make-shift clothing stores all line the streets in any crevice not previously occupied. Women carry heavy loads atop their heads, and men their backs turned to the streets, urinate on sides of buildings. Motorcycles weave in and out of traffic, and men walk along side our bus pushing plastic bags full of water in the windows yelling "Dlo!" Car horns honk, and music bumps along to the rhythm of the city.
I look on, unresponsive, barely registering all that is going on around me. I am partially spacing out because of exhaustion, but I am also just not prepared for what I am seeing. I think nothing. I just look at it all, as if it is on a television screen, and not my reality. Williams must have noticed my intense stare because he soon begins to ask me if I don't like his country. I immediately say that no, I of coarse like his country, but he persists, and continues to ask me what is wrong.
After what seemed like hours on the bus we arrive at the Orphanage, and are immediately greeted by tiny little faces with big white smiles, and fragile little hands that grab at mine, desperately groping my midsection just trying to find a hug. The sun is going down and Mona ushers us back to the round houses, where we will be staying for the week so we can unpack. After claiming a bed, Juliet, and the others who have been before climb the three floors to the roof so we can watch the sun go down. From the top of that roof is where I really began to fall in love. If I looked north I could see the beautiful blue green water floating a mere 50 feet from where I stood with mountains stretching out across the bay. If I stood and looked East I could see Port Au prince, building after building packed close together stretching for miles. If I stood facing the South I could see more buildings spotted across the hills and mountains that rose in front of me. Everywhere I looked amidst the filth and dust, I saw beauty sprawling out before me.
A few weeks ago, I was laying in bed at the O.M.S. and a song that I had heard on the radio before I left popped in to my head. The lyrics bounced back and forth around my brain
"You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the Dust. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us."
And I could not sleep!! I just kept singing it over, and over! And it became my own personal theme for the week. But the best part was I heard someone else singing it the next day!
Amidst all of the pain, and suffering, and death, and dirt, and dust in Haiti, all who go there see beauty. God saw beauty the day he saved all of my friends from the Earthquake that killed hundreds of thousands. Every haitian I have ever met sees beauty, and perseveres despite their pain, and grief, and despair. They smile, and laugh, and move forward because that is the only way to survive. They celebrate their lives, and thank the Lord for all the good things he has given them, and all of the beauty that surrounds them.
I have just spent three weeks backpacking around Europe. I have seen so many beautiful things; from the pristine lakes and Alps of Switzerland, to the overwhelming halls of the Louvre in Paris stuffed with art. Italy, visited as a child and now revisited as an adult; I saw my favorites in museums and the Colosseum. To Barcelona where one dip in the ocean and you are covered in mysterious gold flecks.
Switzerland pampered, Italy with its graffiti and smelly trains disappointed, Spain was wonderful with its tapas, and Gaudi buildings everywhere, and France was unwillingly left behind having spent too little time. The taste of warm croissants, and flavorful gelato still linger on my tongue.
I am tired. So tired. Why did I agree to go to Haiti? I have been back home for less than a week. I miss Ryan, my cat, and my bed! There have been so many times in the past few days where i have almost called Juliet to tell her I don't want to go. I don't care, I just want to sleep.
But here I am climbing off a plane in the Caribbean. In to a stuffy yellow hallway I shuffle, and somewhere below me a band is playing. Julie claps and sways to the music and talks to anyone who will understand her "bonswa's" in Creole. I am tired. Now I am hot. As soon as we are through customs and baggage claim we are pushed out the door in to the blinding sunshine and as Juliet has warned- bombarded by French-ish speaking men in red and green plaid shirts, and khaki shorts trying to help me with my bags. I tell them no as nice as possible and push my way towards the gates where tons of brown faces are staring back at me waiting for a familiar face to pop up out of the sea of bodies coming towards them.
The next thing I know i am being herded on to a bus and there are ten Haitians who all are very happy to see me. They hug me, and laugh, and ask me in their best English what my name is, and how old I am. A twenty-something boy sits next to me, his name is Williams and once again as Juliet predicted, he starts to lay on the Haitian charm.
I am tired. I don't understand what any of them are saying- in English, French, or Creole!
Instead of being friendly I sit back, relax, and stare out the window.
It's dirty. Filthy. I mean I get mad when someone doesn't bother to throw away their pop bottle in the States! Why can't you just put your trash in the trash can? But this... this is beyond trash can fixable. Piles of used plastic bottles line the streets. Water ways are filled with all sorts of styrofoam and plastic products, clogged by waste. Skinny pigs stand on top of mounds of filth. King of the Castle, as they sift through trash, eating anything they think they can digest. Meat vendors, fruit sellers, make-shift clothing stores all line the streets in any crevice not previously occupied. Women carry heavy loads atop their heads, and men their backs turned to the streets, urinate on sides of buildings. Motorcycles weave in and out of traffic, and men walk along side our bus pushing plastic bags full of water in the windows yelling "Dlo!" Car horns honk, and music bumps along to the rhythm of the city.
I look on, unresponsive, barely registering all that is going on around me. I am partially spacing out because of exhaustion, but I am also just not prepared for what I am seeing. I think nothing. I just look at it all, as if it is on a television screen, and not my reality. Williams must have noticed my intense stare because he soon begins to ask me if I don't like his country. I immediately say that no, I of coarse like his country, but he persists, and continues to ask me what is wrong.
After what seemed like hours on the bus we arrive at the Orphanage, and are immediately greeted by tiny little faces with big white smiles, and fragile little hands that grab at mine, desperately groping my midsection just trying to find a hug. The sun is going down and Mona ushers us back to the round houses, where we will be staying for the week so we can unpack. After claiming a bed, Juliet, and the others who have been before climb the three floors to the roof so we can watch the sun go down. From the top of that roof is where I really began to fall in love. If I looked north I could see the beautiful blue green water floating a mere 50 feet from where I stood with mountains stretching out across the bay. If I stood and looked East I could see Port Au prince, building after building packed close together stretching for miles. If I stood facing the South I could see more buildings spotted across the hills and mountains that rose in front of me. Everywhere I looked amidst the filth and dust, I saw beauty sprawling out before me.
A few weeks ago, I was laying in bed at the O.M.S. and a song that I had heard on the radio before I left popped in to my head. The lyrics bounced back and forth around my brain
"You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the Dust. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us."
And I could not sleep!! I just kept singing it over, and over! And it became my own personal theme for the week. But the best part was I heard someone else singing it the next day!
Amidst all of the pain, and suffering, and death, and dirt, and dust in Haiti, all who go there see beauty. God saw beauty the day he saved all of my friends from the Earthquake that killed hundreds of thousands. Every haitian I have ever met sees beauty, and perseveres despite their pain, and grief, and despair. They smile, and laugh, and move forward because that is the only way to survive. They celebrate their lives, and thank the Lord for all the good things he has given them, and all of the beauty that surrounds them.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
I found inspiration on Facebook- Really you should read this!
I have given a lot of thought to the subjects of my upcoming posts, and I want to tell you as much as possible about the trip I just took, but todays post is impromptu, and completely inspired by a quote my friend James just posted on Facebook.
"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." Neale Donald Walsch
I didn't even have to think about this one, I instantly agreed, and now I am just sitting here reading it over and over, and smiling because it is so true. And James and his family would be the perfect people to live by this quote. At this very minute I am sitting on their couch, in charge of taking care of their house, their dog, rabbit, and six chickens, because two months ago, as a family (him, his wife and two kids), decided to pack up all the stuff they would need in to an unpredictably semi-functional VW Bus, on a 'I literally don't even know how long we will be gone' journey around the country.
I don't know about you, but that is definitely out of most people's comfort zone, and although I barely talk to them, except to ask questions about property lines, and how to get the rabbit to stop biting me, I know they are having the biggest and best adventure of their lives.
But enough about James, and his awesome 'go with the flow' family. I am so glad that he posted this quote because i completely agree that once I stepped out of my comfort zone I truly began to live.
People ask me all the time "What is Haiti like? Is it hard going down there?" And my answer is probably so disconcerting that I have a hard time convincing my own family that this is where I want to be! It is hot. It is always hot. I am almost always sweating. The mosquitos, at least during the summer months, are terrible! The first time I went, I got 16 mosquito bites on just my forearm! You have to be careful about getting Malaria, Typhoid, And now unfortunately to no fault of the Haitian people themselves, Cholera. You can't drink the water. You must be with a Haitian at all times. When you drive through the streets you can not avoid the piles of trash. When you step off the plane you may see palm trees swaying in the breeze, but you will smell pollution. The smell of burning trash will fill your nostrils, and when you leave and come back to the states, you will open your suitcase, and everything you packed will smell like burning trash, bug spray, sun tan lotion, and your own sweat.
I know this sounds terrible! I wouldn't want to go there either, but the problem is, I have already been there. And now when I step off the plane, and I breath deep the smells of burning trash, and other pollution, I smile, and breath a sigh of relief, because my heart is happy, and I am where I know I should be. I do not worry about Malaria, Typhoid, or Cholera. I know these things are all treatable, and I will be cautious, but I will not let it consume me with worry. Sweating, mosquito bites, general discomfort in having to wear clothes at all in that kind of weather- pa gen pwoblem (no problem). I don't drink the water, that's simple and easy to follow, and I know there will be drinkable water available to me when I get where I am going. As far as my safety is concerned, I trust that my Haitian friends, and God, will keep me safe. I have nothing to fear, and frankly the same rules apply in Ohio, if it is dark out, I am not going places on my own.
Nothing about what I have described is comforting. I have stories of devastation, and hunger, and abandonment. And yes all of those things are very sad to me. But I also see smiles, and laughter, and I hear the most beautiful music come from the mouths of children. And I know that my mere discomforts are not discomforting to them at all, but simply a way of life. And out of my comfort zone, I have never felt more at ease, and stress free.
"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." Neale Donald Walsch
I didn't even have to think about this one, I instantly agreed, and now I am just sitting here reading it over and over, and smiling because it is so true. And James and his family would be the perfect people to live by this quote. At this very minute I am sitting on their couch, in charge of taking care of their house, their dog, rabbit, and six chickens, because two months ago, as a family (him, his wife and two kids), decided to pack up all the stuff they would need in to an unpredictably semi-functional VW Bus, on a 'I literally don't even know how long we will be gone' journey around the country.
I don't know about you, but that is definitely out of most people's comfort zone, and although I barely talk to them, except to ask questions about property lines, and how to get the rabbit to stop biting me, I know they are having the biggest and best adventure of their lives.
But enough about James, and his awesome 'go with the flow' family. I am so glad that he posted this quote because i completely agree that once I stepped out of my comfort zone I truly began to live.
People ask me all the time "What is Haiti like? Is it hard going down there?" And my answer is probably so disconcerting that I have a hard time convincing my own family that this is where I want to be! It is hot. It is always hot. I am almost always sweating. The mosquitos, at least during the summer months, are terrible! The first time I went, I got 16 mosquito bites on just my forearm! You have to be careful about getting Malaria, Typhoid, And now unfortunately to no fault of the Haitian people themselves, Cholera. You can't drink the water. You must be with a Haitian at all times. When you drive through the streets you can not avoid the piles of trash. When you step off the plane you may see palm trees swaying in the breeze, but you will smell pollution. The smell of burning trash will fill your nostrils, and when you leave and come back to the states, you will open your suitcase, and everything you packed will smell like burning trash, bug spray, sun tan lotion, and your own sweat.
I know this sounds terrible! I wouldn't want to go there either, but the problem is, I have already been there. And now when I step off the plane, and I breath deep the smells of burning trash, and other pollution, I smile, and breath a sigh of relief, because my heart is happy, and I am where I know I should be. I do not worry about Malaria, Typhoid, or Cholera. I know these things are all treatable, and I will be cautious, but I will not let it consume me with worry. Sweating, mosquito bites, general discomfort in having to wear clothes at all in that kind of weather- pa gen pwoblem (no problem). I don't drink the water, that's simple and easy to follow, and I know there will be drinkable water available to me when I get where I am going. As far as my safety is concerned, I trust that my Haitian friends, and God, will keep me safe. I have nothing to fear, and frankly the same rules apply in Ohio, if it is dark out, I am not going places on my own.
Nothing about what I have described is comforting. I have stories of devastation, and hunger, and abandonment. And yes all of those things are very sad to me. But I also see smiles, and laughter, and I hear the most beautiful music come from the mouths of children. And I know that my mere discomforts are not discomforting to them at all, but simply a way of life. And out of my comfort zone, I have never felt more at ease, and stress free.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Uh-oh, am I finally growing up?!
I would like to think that I have a pretty good grasp on how others may perceive me, and I can think of a few things I have been described as lately. I have always been known as 'quiet' or 'shy' and throughout the years the number one thing people have told me about how I am on mission trips is 'calm'. I am not quick to anger, and when something goes wrong I do not over-react or panic. (Maybe I am just really good at masking my emotion :)). But regardless my skills as a leader have never really been that great, or recognized, and in particular no one would ever consider me to have great maternal instincts. Two years ago if you had asked me what I thought about humans under the age of 12 I would have told you infants and toddlers were terrifying, preschoolers and 5 and 6 year olds didn't like me, and 7 to 12 year olds were just plain annoying! But during the past year and a half I have spent a lot more time with children, and I am most certainly warming up to them.
On our last night in Haiti we were all having a discussion, and Juliet posed the question; "If you could sum up the week in only a few words, what would they be?" And without hesitation I instantly thought of the word 'motherly'.
This is my 5th trip to Haiti, and on all of my other trips, my focus has been around learning the language, and getting to know the older kids because a) we could communicate a little better, and b) I hadn't really found children to be extremely interesting or entertaining. But on my 5th trip I found my self capable of carrying on a conversation in Creole, and even being able to understand some of the church sermon, songs being sung, and casual conversations going on around me. I was called upon to interpret for those who could not communicate, and I was able to understand what a little child wanted when they came up to me, grabbed my hand, looked at me with their big brown eyes, and asked something of me.
All of the high school age and young adults that I have come to know as my friends were extremely busy while we were there preparing for exams, or simply just having a life that didn't leave much time for the Blan that wanted to sit down and chat. So I was (happily) forced to turn all of my love and attention on the younger children- mostly who were not orphans at all, but the neighborhood kids who came for their daily meal, and our not-so-put-together Vacation Bible School. There were a few children in particular that I got to spend a lot of time with.
I should first mention my favorite kid at the Bon Berger (Good Shepherd) Andyson. Yes he is my favorite, and I pretty much give him anything he asks for, whether it be my camera, or candy. But I can't help it, from the moment we first hugged 2.5 years ago we have been close. If I could bring him home and give him everything I ever got as a child I would. If I could hug him every day, and remind him how much he is loved I would. But the orphanage is his home, and it is the best place for him, so I will have to keep coming back again and again to get hugs from him.
On Monday afternoon, after a morning of sanding concrete in the school Cafeteria I was sitting on a bench kind of zoning out waiting for VBS to start and a little boy and girl sat down next to me. There names were Titi (teetee) and Ginny, and they were brother and sister. Titi, the older brother grabbed my hand smiled at me with his big beautiful white teeth and said to me "Chante" (Sing). Now I am not very good at being put on the spot so I said to him "ou chante pou mwen" (you sing for me) and he began to sing in Creole 'Come Now is the Time to Worship'. A song that I know they had taught at the first VBS the UK group did 3 years ago! It was so beautiful to hear him sing it, I wished I could have sung it with them.
Sitting on that bench with us was also a small little boy with corn rows, and the whitest perfect little smile I have ever seen, and that is when I fell in love, and the little boy followed me around for a good deal of the week wanting me to swing him around by the arms, and pick him up. Unfortunately I don't know his name, because every time he told me it, he said it with such a high pitched little voice, and thick creole accent I couldn't understand him.
Now I am not saying my 'biological clock' is ticking or anything like that - the thought of having to grow one of those tiny little humans inside of me is still rather frightening for me, but being there, and being able to show these children love and care that I know they deserve is something I haven't really had much experience with before.
On our last night in Haiti we were all having a discussion, and Juliet posed the question; "If you could sum up the week in only a few words, what would they be?" And without hesitation I instantly thought of the word 'motherly'.
This is my 5th trip to Haiti, and on all of my other trips, my focus has been around learning the language, and getting to know the older kids because a) we could communicate a little better, and b) I hadn't really found children to be extremely interesting or entertaining. But on my 5th trip I found my self capable of carrying on a conversation in Creole, and even being able to understand some of the church sermon, songs being sung, and casual conversations going on around me. I was called upon to interpret for those who could not communicate, and I was able to understand what a little child wanted when they came up to me, grabbed my hand, looked at me with their big brown eyes, and asked something of me.
All of the high school age and young adults that I have come to know as my friends were extremely busy while we were there preparing for exams, or simply just having a life that didn't leave much time for the Blan that wanted to sit down and chat. So I was (happily) forced to turn all of my love and attention on the younger children- mostly who were not orphans at all, but the neighborhood kids who came for their daily meal, and our not-so-put-together Vacation Bible School. There were a few children in particular that I got to spend a lot of time with.
I should first mention my favorite kid at the Bon Berger (Good Shepherd) Andyson. Yes he is my favorite, and I pretty much give him anything he asks for, whether it be my camera, or candy. But I can't help it, from the moment we first hugged 2.5 years ago we have been close. If I could bring him home and give him everything I ever got as a child I would. If I could hug him every day, and remind him how much he is loved I would. But the orphanage is his home, and it is the best place for him, so I will have to keep coming back again and again to get hugs from him.
On Monday afternoon, after a morning of sanding concrete in the school Cafeteria I was sitting on a bench kind of zoning out waiting for VBS to start and a little boy and girl sat down next to me. There names were Titi (teetee) and Ginny, and they were brother and sister. Titi, the older brother grabbed my hand smiled at me with his big beautiful white teeth and said to me "Chante" (Sing). Now I am not very good at being put on the spot so I said to him "ou chante pou mwen" (you sing for me) and he began to sing in Creole 'Come Now is the Time to Worship'. A song that I know they had taught at the first VBS the UK group did 3 years ago! It was so beautiful to hear him sing it, I wished I could have sung it with them.
Sitting on that bench with us was also a small little boy with corn rows, and the whitest perfect little smile I have ever seen, and that is when I fell in love, and the little boy followed me around for a good deal of the week wanting me to swing him around by the arms, and pick him up. Unfortunately I don't know his name, because every time he told me it, he said it with such a high pitched little voice, and thick creole accent I couldn't understand him.
Now I am not saying my 'biological clock' is ticking or anything like that - the thought of having to grow one of those tiny little humans inside of me is still rather frightening for me, but being there, and being able to show these children love and care that I know they deserve is something I haven't really had much experience with before.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Here we Go!
The time has come! Tomorrow afternoon I will be stepping off a plane in the tropical country of Haiti! I will do my best to post as many blogs as I can during the week I am there, and I just want to thank all of you who have supported me. I can't even tell you how many bracelets I have made in the past year (or how many times I have super glued my fingers together) But I hope all of you who have received a bracelet have been happy with the product. Thank you again for everything!
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