A Bientot!

Eight months ago, I had absolutely no inkling whatsoever that I would be penning the entry that I’m about to share with you.

In the words, of [John] Lennon, ‘life is what happens while we’re busy making plans.’

Roll-back to December 2009. Life finds me in my sacred spiritual sanctuary in S.E. Asia; Bali. My soul has come home. I’m looking forward to setting up my own little pad just on the outskirts of Ubud, and Meghan and I are excitedly brain-storming various ideas for the upcoming BaliSpirit Festival.

12 January 2010. Haiti is struck by a massive earthquake and I am compelled to respond, someway, somehow. Immediately I set to work, and by the time I land in Jamaica on 16 January, on behalf of Global Volunteer Network (GVN), I have managed to assemble an advance team of multi-talented professionals to make an initial assessment visit into Haiti.

3 August 2010.

It is with a mélange of contradictory yet confronting emotional feelings that I depart Haiti today, as [now former] Director of the GVN Haiti Volunteer Programme initiative.

During my time overseeing this programme, through the dauntingly hard work of individuals moved to make a difference in the lives of others, GVN has made viable contributions to the lives of hundreds of Haitian people. What’s more, for many of these volunteers – myself included – Haiti captured their/our hearts and moved them/me in ways they/I had ever imagined humanly possible.

Perhaps it was my own illusory thoughts of being a world class humanitarian veteran that brought me to Haiti in the first place! One thing I know for sure, Haiti is not for the weak at heart. As one meanders through the hills and valleys, streets and alleyways, this is a country that takes your breath away – and in some instances, not pleasantly so!

However, herein lays the allure that is the spirit of Haiti. As I shared with the kindred spirit seated next to me on my flight today from Port au Prince, aka, PAP to Miami, Haiti is undoubtedly the Africa of the Western hemisphere. Its soul and spirit has the ability to seep under your skin, ooze into your pores and stir up your emotions to unfamiliar levels that can and do manifest themselves into all sorts of actions. Few places with the exception of India and Africa have managed to evoke this sort of raw, primal emotion for me.

Yesterday, as I made my final rounds around Jacmel, I stopped by one of the very first places that we’d visited in Haiti – Le Rousse Ecole; a tiny orphanage jam packed with way too many children – from babies to age 10 – to be remotely comfortable. As I entered, my jaws literally dropped. The vast improvement in the aesthetics of the place in a matter of mere months, made my heart fill with humble pride and my eyes brim with tears.

Within a matter of seconds, there he was; the little withdrawn boy who I bonded with on my first visit to this orphanage. 5 months ago he was still a toddler. This time, his hair had been cut and he looked ever so handsome yet still withdrawn, in his little khaki and chocolate brown plaid overalls. Our immediate recognition brought us into a tiny corner where we could be alone, removed from all of the ‘frenzied-ness’ of the other kids who were only too happy to have another set of ‘new’ friends from abroad, bringing with them hearts filled with love and the possibility of hope. It is not unusual in such settings to have at least 5 children dragging and pulling at one’s hair, legs, arms, t-shirts, ID cards hanging from our necks, you name it.

The presence and memory of this withdrawn kid haunts me as much today as he did when we first encountered each other. When I inquired as to why he would be so withdrawn, volunteers with education experience informed me that this was likely due to under-stimulation. I intend to delve deeper.

Just prior to leaving the orphanage, the adults who oversee it called me in for a meeting. With some degree of apprehension, not quite sure of their agenda, I approached the even tinier room just off to the right of the single concrete floored classroom. Upon arrival, they offered me a seat. Obligingly, I accepted and smiled, wanting to exit this hot, cramped and unpleasant smelling spot as expeditiously as possible.

Our meeting began with the gentleman thanking me for coming to visit, and how the contribution of the volunteers have made a meaningful difference to the lives of these children. He further explained that plans were underway to re-locate the orphanage to a newly acquired plot of land that had been donated them. He was most eager to know whether I and/or GVN would be in a position to support this upcoming endeavour. I responded by letting him know that while I could not promise cash, that through our volunteers, especially those with construction/building experience, that we’d be only too happy to support this new dream for the community and the beneficiaries especially – these beautiful, innocent children who have been abandoned for one reason or another. True to Haitian form, he expressed his gratitude with such graceful dignity.

Next was the Madamme’s turn to speak – through her makeshift interpreter – the gentleman who had just concluded his ‘delivery’ to me. As she looked deep into my eyes with her large, hopeful ones, we sat across from each other, and I held out my hand to hers. This is what she said:

‘Mme. Nadine, I am very, very happy to see you here today. Even though we have not seen you for a long time, I see you in each and every volunteer that comes to Rousse Ecole. Thank you for remembering us and for your commitment to wanting to make a difference.’

In this moment, something deeply powerful transpired – at least for me. Irrespective of language, whenever humans, women especially, choose to step into who we truly are – spiritual beings having a human experience for the time that we know as NOW – only transformation is possible. This is what my encounter at the orphanage reminded me of.

As I thanked her for this necessary lesson, I promised that I would continue to maintain contact with them – directly as well as through the volunteers.

For now, my work in Haiti is complete. With several lessons learned, some more complexed than others, with immense gratitude, respect and love, I acknowledge each and every individual who have made this GVN Haiti Initiative possible – building something from absolutely ground zero to where we are today, having had a positive impact on the lives of others, and not least of our ourselves.

A Bientot!

Haiti: The ‘Senegal’ of the Northern Hemisphere

 

Paris, meets downtown Kingston.  This is Petion-ville; one of Haiti’s capital Port au Prince’s, suburbs.  

The soul that this nation exudes is by no means a reflection of its devastated exterior.  As one of our [GVN] volunteers said recently of her experience there, ‘you don’t choose Haiti, Haiti chooses you.’

Six months ago, little did I imagine that it would have, could have captured me to the extent that it has.

A lifelong humanitarian with emergency response and logistics background who reigns from the Caribbean region, supporting Haiti’s recovery wasn’t a luxurious choice I had. Rather it was a clear and humbling call to service.

For a long time, I thought that Jamaica, my birthplace, was the nation that had the capacity to swing me from one emotional pendulum to the next.  With Haiti, if I’m not mindful I could develop and perhaps display schizophrenic tendencies.  There are those raw moments where the depths of emotion I feel are so strong mere words evade adequate articulation – like walking into the Jacmel Community Centre compound one blazingly hot sultry afternoon and to bear witness to a group of adult men completely engaged in an adult English class being led by one of our volunteers.  Though devoid of material wealth, Haitians remain abundant with hope.

Yet there are those other instances where one wants to move so far away from the place, you might liken it to fearing a highly contagious disease.  Upon reflection, that which I wish to discard as dis-ease may in fact be an awakening grander than anything I’ve ever experienced.  Perhaps the best place to observe this is at Port au Prince airport as weary ‘do gooders’ anxiously check-in for their flights that will return them to the safe, the comfortable, the clean, the familiar, only to realize upon their return to ALL of this that a restless void now lives within them.     

My first [social] night out in Haiti last week Friday at a local spot called ‘Half Time’ remains etched in my memories and one I know that I will treasure for a very long time.  I was reminded that most certainly, all work and no play makes for a very dull and exhausted Nadine.  The immense responsibilities of my professional position within Haiti had threatened me to starve my soul.  Thankfully, neither of my colleagues Samuel nor Jessica were having it, and insisted that I come out for a drink. 

Rum Sour #1:  shoulders drop, laughter emerges and she starts to relax. 

Rum Sour #2:  about halfway through, a dancer at heart, no longer can I remain contained in my seat.  As my newly acquired Haitian dance partner starts to sashay me across the concrete floor with the dense night heat pelting down upon us, I notice where unlike in Jamaica where our hips are in full throttle when dancing, Haitians tend to take it down a notch.  Haitian music, I experience, is a melting pot of African and Latin music that rhythmically translates to rich subtleties in the dance movements.  As I share my observation with Samuel, his only comment, which exquisitely encapsulates the distinction, is this:

‘In Jamaica [dance], y’all dance to say ‘it’s here.’  In Haiti when we dance, we say, it’s coming.’  ‘NUFF SAID.

With rum sour #2 complete and refusing to engage in #3, as we unwind we continue to be swept up in the hedonistic magic of the moment – the sweltering heat, the rum, the peanuts, the dance, the laughter and not least of all, the love. 

Given that we’d dutifully promised not be out too late – I had a flight to catch early the next morning – we left shortly after midnight, with not a care in the world.  As we approach our vehicle, we notice that it has a flat tire.  While one of the guys expeditiously pumps it up, I continue to dance in the streets, while discreetly eyeing the very handsome police officer charged with maintaining law and order.  We exchange a few pleasantries in Creole/French and tout suite, we’re on our way!

The nighttime darkness that looms over Haiti is like none I’ve experienced before, only to be accented by candlelit stalls that line the streets.  Samuel takes us to a spot where they supposedly sell the best road-side chicken in Haiti which brings back memories of the vendor near *‘Topsy,’ back in the day.  *You may need to be Jamaican and born in the sixties to perhaps appreciate this one!

As we await this succulent chicken that slowly roasts, we’re STILL dancing in the streets.  Across from the chicken vendor is a stall that boasts some cocktails that I’d dare not even inquire as to their composition.  The one I taste echoes rum, passion fruit, ginger, cloves and several other things. 

Eventually we leave to return to our place of abode in Croix des Bouquets, the area that is renowned for its metal art in Haiti.  As we depart from this street corner, Samuel brings to my attention the graffiti that adorns the wall; paintings of Marley, Guevera, MLK Jr and Aristide!

Not wishing to share the tears that are streaming down my face, I hang my head out the window, ruminating on the week that it has been and the emotionally intense night I’ve had.  Sentimental yet melancholic, I am as humbled as I am proud of the tremendous feat of efforts and success stories of the GVN volunteers; past and present. 

In barely 3 months, from absolute ground zero, we have succeeded in building a community centre, treating over 300 patients in temporary health clinics that we’ve run at both our locations; Jacmel and Croix des Bouquets, we’ve taught hundreds of Haitians everything from art to yoga, we’ve collaborated with existing NGOs on the ground; both large and small and we’ve run feeding programmes.  We’ve shared everything we have and have received – from teddy bears to medicines.

ALL of that shared and said, nothing compares to the humility, love, gratitude and sheer joy that we’ve received in return. 

Perhaps it was our Australian pastor volunteer who said it best:

‘Thank you Haiti for reminding us of who we truly are’ – heart-filled human beings.

And so it is.

Namaste!