I have a very distinct memory from January 2009, of sitting at the PaP airport--my last time leaving, before the quake. Sipping a tiny cup of thick coffee in the upstairs cafe. Catching up on journaling. Then, a clear thought and sense, that I'd felt previously, but not with such clarity. "I will come back, and stay, and keep coming back."
My next return was March 1, 2010. Rushed preparation. After a month of running team logistics, I hadn't expected to be on the ground so soon; I lack the skills of an "early responder". But I was sent anyway. I spent my last night answering emails in the Miami airport. Around 5AM, twinges of nervousness became full-on fear: "what the heck am I doing? what can I possibly offer?"
Could have never predicted then how full and challenging and extraordinary the last two months have been.
This time, I'm eager. Anticipating, as I'm returning to similar work. But also comfortable with the wonder of what I can't expect.
I've said I'm working with Partners in Health, as a coordinator for medical volunteers at the General Hospital. So, more soon from HUEH.
**Importantly: all postings here are my own meandering thoughts, and do not represent the positions or opinions of PIH.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Emily
10 days at home...you'd think I could write one little story about dear little Emily. Apparently not. But don't want to leave anyone hanging, so I'll again leave the colorful description to Abbey:
http://abbeymerryman.blogspot.com/2010/05/orevwa-goodbye-haitibut-it-wont-be.html
On that note, big congratulations to Dr. Abbey Merryman and Dr. Kristina Sinnott, who graduated last week. Partners in hospital coordination. Fantastic friends. And co-godmothers.
http://abbeymerryman.blogspot.com/2010/05/orevwa-goodbye-haitibut-it-wont-be.html
On that note, big congratulations to Dr. Abbey Merryman and Dr. Kristina Sinnott, who graduated last week. Partners in hospital coordination. Fantastic friends. And co-godmothers.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
"Don't hurry, take time--the story will begin again"
My dear friend from Jamaica Plain makes calendars, featuring her art complemented by quotations to fit the rhythms of the year. Mom had turned mine to May already, so these words by Myra Shapiro met me when I returned home Friday night.
The time is certainly welcome. Already enjoyed an evening at the Kompound with food and wine and my favorite company. Nearly all my energy is still Haiti, though: finally perusing the team photo-sharing sites, searching for new Haitian music, pulling out my Kreyòl books to hit that tough next proficiency level, eager to re-read Uses of Haiti as a refresher on the historical power disparities.
Thinking about Haiti is now more a family activity. I woke up Saturday, uh, afternoon to have Mom immediately say, "Bren, I want to go back." It meant so much to have them experience it, learning & appreciating & enjoying. Barr rubbled with HODR and played with kids. Mom eagerly served as clinic "runner" and skilled lab tech for malaria RDTs.
Our last day started with me feeling a bit crummy, because I had no idea how to approach my "last" day. This team was strikingly awesome, and I'd thought more about more projects I could have taken on.... so felt unsettled, leaving things unfinished. And so attached to Leogane.
But after taking my friend Junior to the bus stop (he'd come from Carrefour-Feuilles for check-up with our ortho surgeon, as we plan his potential hip replacement in the States), I decided to walk deeper through the town than I normally take time to do.
On the outskirts, I saw four men building a wooden house. Clumsily tried to snap a candid picture, but one waved me off. So I went up to chat with them, show I meant no disrespect. They weren't hired workers, but rather, working together as friends. In rural areas, people share labor on farms in a tradition of holding "konbit", a work party. I think there are lots of konbit's now for rebuilding.
Later, went to MSF to debrief with Rachelle, the coordinator who showed good cheer during a few middle-of-night interactions. On the way back, told my moto driver I needed to change money. I'd rather have my last $60 in gds, to be ready for return.
Stop for curbside service, and I ask the guy, "Konbyen kòb li ye?" (how much is the money?). He quotes "sèt katrevenn dis." 790 Haitian dollars, per 100 US dollars. With the fixed 5 gds per Haitian dollar, that makes 39.5 gds / USD. Good rate. I am proud to know enough of the system here to do things like change money well on the street. But each day, I realize how much more to learn... I know quite little of Haiti.
One of my favorite activities is walking through town with team members, who work so hard at the hospital that their ventures beyond the premises are few. This afternoon, when we passed through the real Ste Croix, we were given a full tour by Suzi Parker, detailing the plans to reopen there later this summer. I hope it continues to move along.
Then to the Plaj St Luke beach village on motos (kudos to Mom for riding one!). Caught the Caribbean sunset. Back home for a delicious dinner (per usual). Later, most of the team went to "Joe's", a bar around the corner which enjoys very good business from HODR vols & other expats. While I usually pass on these excursions, I of course went this time... and really enjoyed rousing conversation over Prestige's. I'll miss this group, excellent people.
Ran into Wesly as we returned to the house yard, and he pulled me aside. "I am so sad you are leaving. Please come back, Bre..."
Okay, another story soon. But I hope that doesn't mean the first ends.
The time is certainly welcome. Already enjoyed an evening at the Kompound with food and wine and my favorite company. Nearly all my energy is still Haiti, though: finally perusing the team photo-sharing sites, searching for new Haitian music, pulling out my Kreyòl books to hit that tough next proficiency level, eager to re-read Uses of Haiti as a refresher on the historical power disparities.
Thinking about Haiti is now more a family activity. I woke up Saturday, uh, afternoon to have Mom immediately say, "Bren, I want to go back." It meant so much to have them experience it, learning & appreciating & enjoying. Barr rubbled with HODR and played with kids. Mom eagerly served as clinic "runner" and skilled lab tech for malaria RDTs.
Our last day started with me feeling a bit crummy, because I had no idea how to approach my "last" day. This team was strikingly awesome, and I'd thought more about more projects I could have taken on.... so felt unsettled, leaving things unfinished. And so attached to Leogane.
But after taking my friend Junior to the bus stop (he'd come from Carrefour-Feuilles for check-up with our ortho surgeon, as we plan his potential hip replacement in the States), I decided to walk deeper through the town than I normally take time to do.
On the outskirts, I saw four men building a wooden house. Clumsily tried to snap a candid picture, but one waved me off. So I went up to chat with them, show I meant no disrespect. They weren't hired workers, but rather, working together as friends. In rural areas, people share labor on farms in a tradition of holding "konbit", a work party. I think there are lots of konbit's now for rebuilding.
Later, went to MSF to debrief with Rachelle, the coordinator who showed good cheer during a few middle-of-night interactions. On the way back, told my moto driver I needed to change money. I'd rather have my last $60 in gds, to be ready for return.
Stop for curbside service, and I ask the guy, "Konbyen kòb li ye?" (how much is the money?). He quotes "sèt katrevenn dis." 790 Haitian dollars, per 100 US dollars. With the fixed 5 gds per Haitian dollar, that makes 39.5 gds / USD. Good rate. I am proud to know enough of the system here to do things like change money well on the street. But each day, I realize how much more to learn... I know quite little of Haiti.
One of my favorite activities is walking through town with team members, who work so hard at the hospital that their ventures beyond the premises are few. This afternoon, when we passed through the real Ste Croix, we were given a full tour by Suzi Parker, detailing the plans to reopen there later this summer. I hope it continues to move along.
Then to the Plaj St Luke beach village on motos (kudos to Mom for riding one!). Caught the Caribbean sunset. Back home for a delicious dinner (per usual). Later, most of the team went to "Joe's", a bar around the corner which enjoys very good business from HODR vols & other expats. While I usually pass on these excursions, I of course went this time... and really enjoyed rousing conversation over Prestige's. I'll miss this group, excellent people.
Ran into Wesly as we returned to the house yard, and he pulled me aside. "I am so sad you are leaving. Please come back, Bre..."
Okay, another story soon. But I hope that doesn't mean the first ends.
Monday, May 10, 2010
This picture is too big for me
"I see them boys in town, asking me how they can find a job to feed their families. They suffering. I just want to help them."
"I don't care too much about working at this hospital, where some these guys just trying to get rich and don't care how they treating people. I just want to take care of my family, maybe have a business, be responsible for myself."
"So many people out there are hungry. I let some out there have food from my house, but it's not enough."
"I want to build a safe house for my Mom to come and leave with me. I've only known her since I was 25 years old, but I'm so worried about her. Her situation makes me stress a lot." [breaking down crying here]
Robenson has been my most loyal accompanier here: guided me to households for my surveys, helped me ford small rivers, and lifted me down bleachers at the soccer stadium when things got rowdy. Via personal couriers to the US, he sent me inspiring letters. I received the last one just days after the earthquake: a lengthy spiritual reflection dated January 6, quoting from the Bible he'd asked me to send him over Christmas. I wept for him then from Boston, not yet knowing if he'd survived. He's a surviver.
I told him today about my plans: "That's fine if you gotta go work in Port au Prince. I understand. I'll follow you."
Deported and often shunned by his home culture, he deserves a chance in life. We talked about building job skills.... since we both know interpreter positions never have permanence. Potentially moving out of Leogane to follow connections or opportunities. If I do one good thing this year, it'd be to help him find a livelihood. He would be loyal to it, I hope. And I've seen him go beyond himself, with generosity to strangers in need. Though decidedly unpolished and often frustratingly distractable, I believe he is a samaritan.
"I worry about the situation in this country all the time. This picture is too big for me."
"I don't care too much about working at this hospital, where some these guys just trying to get rich and don't care how they treating people. I just want to take care of my family, maybe have a business, be responsible for myself."
"So many people out there are hungry. I let some out there have food from my house, but it's not enough."
"I want to build a safe house for my Mom to come and leave with me. I've only known her since I was 25 years old, but I'm so worried about her. Her situation makes me stress a lot." [breaking down crying here]
Robenson has been my most loyal accompanier here: guided me to households for my surveys, helped me ford small rivers, and lifted me down bleachers at the soccer stadium when things got rowdy. Via personal couriers to the US, he sent me inspiring letters. I received the last one just days after the earthquake: a lengthy spiritual reflection dated January 6, quoting from the Bible he'd asked me to send him over Christmas. I wept for him then from Boston, not yet knowing if he'd survived. He's a surviver.
I told him today about my plans: "That's fine if you gotta go work in Port au Prince. I understand. I'll follow you."
Deported and often shunned by his home culture, he deserves a chance in life. We talked about building job skills.... since we both know interpreter positions never have permanence. Potentially moving out of Leogane to follow connections or opportunities. If I do one good thing this year, it'd be to help him find a livelihood. He would be loyal to it, I hope. And I've seen him go beyond himself, with generosity to strangers in need. Though decidedly unpolished and often frustratingly distractable, I believe he is a samaritan.
"I worry about the situation in this country all the time. This picture is too big for me."
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Leaving, and Arriving
Feels like a long time since I've written. And now, as I struggle to put words to thoughts, I realize how much I needed to write over the last two weeks. A shift occurred then. No longer were we constantly pulled 5 different directions in each instant. No longer do the day-to-day operations at the hospital require our direct intervention. Dr. Coles and Peter, our Haitian leadership, take care of it all. They do a darn good job, too. We've continued to tie up loose ends and tackle little projects. But the field hospital's biggest current needs stretch beyond what we as medical student coordinators can offer.
Not only have I felt more useless, and helpless, but also less vivacious. My energy dipped too low to sustain the desire I need for each day. I don't want to admit that feeling, the sense of dead weight, to even myself. I'm irritated about being tired. But I am tired.
So, it's time to move on. Take a short time at home to simply rest, and to reconnect with Haiti. My mind and spirit have been full time, full force on this hospital effort since February 1. I desperately need to step back, to reflect for a moment on this place. Why am I here? Where is my solidarity? How can I be an accompagnateur to this country, which draws me in ways I can scarcely describe?
I've been given an opportunity to work with Partners in Health at the state's public general hospital: HUEH, L'Hopital Universite de l'Etat d'Haiti. More to follow on the details, but would be a volunteer coordinator, etc... similar to what I've done over the past two months in Leogane. I spent a day and night there last week, with a PIH doctor and one of their current teams. There seems to be an active role to fill. I'm excited. And a little nervous. Both adjectives are understated.
Mom and Barrick arrived today to spend the week with me, as I tie up things here. We all leave Friday. At home, I hope to find a renewed way of being here. A way to enter each day with energetic humility: ready to work, ready to learn. The Catholic Worker attitude, as I first found this vivacity at Bethany House, living and working in the emergency women's shelter 4 years ago.
More reflections later on the leaving, and the plans for coming to a new place here. But I close this post with Peter's words: "You are going, so I will work doubly hard here. We can do this ourselves."
Not only have I felt more useless, and helpless, but also less vivacious. My energy dipped too low to sustain the desire I need for each day. I don't want to admit that feeling, the sense of dead weight, to even myself. I'm irritated about being tired. But I am tired.
So, it's time to move on. Take a short time at home to simply rest, and to reconnect with Haiti. My mind and spirit have been full time, full force on this hospital effort since February 1. I desperately need to step back, to reflect for a moment on this place. Why am I here? Where is my solidarity? How can I be an accompagnateur to this country, which draws me in ways I can scarcely describe?
I've been given an opportunity to work with Partners in Health at the state's public general hospital: HUEH, L'Hopital Universite de l'Etat d'Haiti. More to follow on the details, but would be a volunteer coordinator, etc... similar to what I've done over the past two months in Leogane. I spent a day and night there last week, with a PIH doctor and one of their current teams. There seems to be an active role to fill. I'm excited. And a little nervous. Both adjectives are understated.
Mom and Barrick arrived today to spend the week with me, as I tie up things here. We all leave Friday. At home, I hope to find a renewed way of being here. A way to enter each day with energetic humility: ready to work, ready to learn. The Catholic Worker attitude, as I first found this vivacity at Bethany House, living and working in the emergency women's shelter 4 years ago.
More reflections later on the leaving, and the plans for coming to a new place here. But I close this post with Peter's words: "You are going, so I will work doubly hard here. We can do this ourselves."
Monday, May 3, 2010
Sharing
*In "ugh" news: a few strong mini-earthquakes in last 24 hours (haven't read up much on the geology, but heard it's too late for them to be accurately called aftershocks). One last night at 1 AM; I was awake, standing in Kristina & Abbey's room because night interpreter Yves woke us to say he thought the generator wouldn't have enough gas through the night... with 2 people on oxygen (fortunately it did). That was 4.0.
This afternoon, a 4.4 right under Leogane. Was also in the house at the time, so feel them more there than on bare ground. Loud commotion from clinic and the nearby displacement camp. It only feels strange to me.... but can't imagine how terrifying for people who lived the first horror.
*In happy news: noticing others' compassion probably gives me more pleasure than anything else, and there's plenty of shared compassion here.
Natasha, one of the night nurses, comes to the house every evening to bring Emily to the hospital. She almost squeals as she walks in the door, picking up "her" baby, to watch all night.
Frantzy, the facilities/trash worker, notices it's extra hot in clinic today, so comes to me to get more water for people.
Every day, I go to market to get a plate of food for Williamson, our resident orphan (hopefully Save the Children will offer guidance tomorrow on his situation). We try to feed him as much as we can, but he's become pretty ravenous. Today, he jumps to take the styrofoam carrier from me, scurries to his bed, scrummages through his acquired belongings for an extra tin plate and spoon.... and carefully divides his food in two. To share with his friend, housekeeper's son Jonas.
He even split the chicken wing with his hands.
This afternoon, a 4.4 right under Leogane. Was also in the house at the time, so feel them more there than on bare ground. Loud commotion from clinic and the nearby displacement camp. It only feels strange to me.... but can't imagine how terrifying for people who lived the first horror.
*In happy news: noticing others' compassion probably gives me more pleasure than anything else, and there's plenty of shared compassion here.
Natasha, one of the night nurses, comes to the house every evening to bring Emily to the hospital. She almost squeals as she walks in the door, picking up "her" baby, to watch all night.
Frantzy, the facilities/trash worker, notices it's extra hot in clinic today, so comes to me to get more water for people.
Every day, I go to market to get a plate of food for Williamson, our resident orphan (hopefully Save the Children will offer guidance tomorrow on his situation). We try to feed him as much as we can, but he's become pretty ravenous. Today, he jumps to take the styrofoam carrier from me, scurries to his bed, scrummages through his acquired belongings for an extra tin plate and spoon.... and carefully divides his food in two. To share with his friend, housekeeper's son Jonas.
He even split the chicken wing with his hands.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Baby Adventure
For those seeking a more colorful story of Emily Ann's return home to us, and how Abbey ended up with 40 children singing happy birthday to her in the hospital, see her blog:
http://abbeymerryman.blogspot.com/2010/05/lets-start-with-good-news.html
Includes more pictures!
[note: we decided the baby sling I was using is too big for our little girl]
Happy Feast of the Worker!
http://abbeymerryman.blogspot.com/2010/05/lets-start-with-good-news.html
Includes more pictures!
[note: we decided the baby sling I was using is too big for our little girl]
Happy Feast of the Worker!
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