Shattering Perceptions

We choose what we see. Often, we don’t even need to see: our expectations act as a filter for our senses, and we fail to accept deviations from our idea of reality. I went to Haiti—where I’ve passionately wanted to go for the past year—and for the most part, I experienced what I thought I would. I had prepared by searching for photos and video clips online, reading articles upon articles. Without intending to, I had created my vision of Haiti before setting foot on the island.

Unsurprisingly, some of my preconceived notions did not hold. Underneath the excitement and fun of finally being in Haiti—and it was fun!!!—I was crushed. A slow crush. I just hadn’t expected the level of desperation, or the ways survival-mentality can direct people’s every action. Much more than in Phnom Penh, I sensed the hunger. Not that I know what hunger feels like in the least.

I left with a very different view of Haiti than what I expected to see. Not better, and not worse, just different. I’m still trying to understand. I wrestle with Haiti each day.

Many of my friends know how ANGRY I become when people view Haiti as “wild” “uncivilized” “violent” “lawless” “backward” and “forever dependent on our charity.” I get even ANGRIER when people look at Haitian poverty as a phenomenon of “Third Worldedness,” failing to recognize that it is OUR power that has oppressed and impoverished Haiti and so many other places. The public looks at Haiti’s “current situation” (long earning the country a U.S. State Department Travel Warning) in isolation. They don’t CHOOSE to see the uncomfortable reality of the relationships between Western powers and Haiti that have long blocked positive change.

However, realizing that I myself was not immune from faulty preconception, I don’t blame others for selectively seeing. Rather, I have a renewed desire to help educate, to offer up the understanding I continue to seek. I want to use my life to work toward justice, peace, equity, and brother and sisterhood. Impatience and anger won’t help. I need to bring people in, so more of us living in such wealth WANT to shatter our preconceived perceptions to finally see more truth about Haiti….and the world.

Living Haiti

Death in Search of Freedom, of Truth

A tribute to Benazir Bhutto. Title links to her NYT obituary.

The coverage, though mournful of her assassination and the ensuing chaos, describes her as "complex" and "contradictory." They say her lifestyle was hypocrisy to her populist stance. That her politics were clandestine, her ignorance of weapons programs during her rule dubious.

And yet, more than 100 people died upon her return to Pakistan in October. More than a score killed with her yesterday. She stood for freedom, hope of basic human dignity for oppressed people. And people believed in her. It seems wrong to paint a woman innocent people died for as "contradictory."

Similarly, the people of Haiti believe in Aristide, still protesting in throngs for his return. He too struggled for basic human dignity. He too was repressed, removed twice from power amidst charges of corruption. The second time, he was kidnapped on a U.S. military jet, overrun by paramilitaries empowered courtesy of my country smuggling weapons through the Dominican Republic. The evidence of a coup d'etat fostered by the U.S., France, and Canada is incontrovertible. And yet in every current news article about Haiti, STILL the press refers to a "popular uprising" that drove Aristide from power in 2004. Every time I read that obligatory phrase, I scowl: frivolous words demeaning thousands of Haitians' deaths and hundreds of wrongful imprisonments.

For both these leaders, we throw around epithets of "controversial" from our comfortable lives, while the people who matter stand and die in futile search for freedom. Our dishonesty keeps it beyond their grasp.

The poor and oppressed don't even have the luxury of truth. Power creates the stories.

100 Suggestions for Being a Catholic Worker

Okay, so I won't list all 100, but these are from a flyer on the refrigerator at Bethany House. Life instructions, as many have learned from living with our downtrodden brothers and sisters:

-take the sermon on the mount very seriously.
-don't take yourself too seriously.
-convene the kingdom of god over soup.
-compel them to come in.
-ask how far the line goes back.
-reside in the margins.
-draw a line. stand on it. get arrested.
-persevere in non-sequitur conversation.
-bless those who curse you, including guests.
-honor conscience, in yourself and others.
-be skeptical of forms, bureaucracies, institutions, and people who put you on hold.
-refuse to be called a saint.
-rage against patriarchy
-find love a harsh and dreadful thing.
-find love.
-be civil when answering the phone at 3 am
(you may swear if it rings again immediately)
-discern the times. take time. give time. do time. add thyme.
-build a new society in the shell of the old.
-try and figure out who is pilfering the toilet paper.
-study the faces of folk down and out.
-curse the filthy, rotten system.
-marvel at the survival skills of your guests.
-weep quietly in your room when necessary.
-stay in touch.
-sweat
-beg
-practice non-violence.
-argue economics over coffee.
-argue over economics and coffee.
-scrub soup pots as an exercise in contemplation.
-visit prisoners. be one.

-celebrate the incarnation.

Se fini

Creole for "it's finished," meaning the journals on Cambodia. I could post a lot more, but I think I should stop, to offer new thoughts from the moment. But to everyone who wanted to hear: thank you. Awwquun jraan (thank you very much). I often would rather listen than speak, but it means a lot to be asked to share something so raw in me.

So final thoughts:
Thursday August 9, 2:35 am (somewhere)

"Now I am really out of Southeast Asia, on the plane, suspended in time. I will sleep. But now, I am churning. Following my friend's suggestion again to ask 'how am I feeling today?' before journaling...today I feel split in pieces.

Part of me is calm about my return. My friend also told me I was going to Cambodia for a reason, one I may not have known at the time. I think I've seen this reason now, in a deeper way, though I guess it's not far from my original thoughts. In the book, "Their Eyes Were Watching God," Janie Crawford says, 'You got to go there to know there." I went to Cambodia to know Cambodia, as much as I could in eight weeks anyway. I read the terrible history, and I wanted to see people rebuilding from it.

I admit that my selfish reason for wanting to go abroad so badly was to see if I could live and work in a poor country maybe long term. Also to continue to discern that medical call I keep hearing. I think I found both. At least I took a step. I'm open to being led, but I'm also ready to continue this path, however slowly I may go.

From Michael Himes, I learned that vocation is about joy, though not always happiness. From Pope JPII and Romero, I learned that solidarity may require great personal sacrifice. Being a doctor in a country like Cambodia...or Haiti doesn't feel like a sacrifice to me. It sure as heck isn't 'saving the world,' as people joke. I just feel as if I'm being pulled in a certain direction. I love the learning and the praxis. But I don't think I've started on any path on my own, without being pushed. And I don't think I can just forget about it.

My family's motto, 'from those to whom much is given, much is expected.' The Gospel for this coming Sunday (Luke 12:48): 'Much will be required from those entrusted with much, and more will be required from those entrusted with more.' Coincidence? Wow.

Teaching taught me about the real need for connection and partnership. My students can do great things...they don't really need our help to heal Cambodia's wounds...they just need us to allow them the resources they deserve.

Everything--especially the hospice--is showing me what it might mean to be a doctor. I love Phalla, my sister; all I did with her was talk and laugh and make flowers and cuddle. And my dear Malis....I guess I changed her and dressed her bedsore and stuff. I held her hand and sang and looked into her beautiful eyes. Did I help either of them? Really help? No. But these women, and so many like them, need real help.

Right now, I want to keep feeling these pieces. I want to love in humble awe. I had to leave Cambodia...so feeling is the very least I can do."

Magic

Thursday July 12, 10:06 p.m., Phnom Penh, Cambodia

"I have felt so inept and useless at my hospice placement. I can't listen [language barrier], so I feel I can't share, that my being with them is not really being with.

But today was magical. I went Tuesday, at Sr. Regina's suggestion, to Boeung Tumpun to learn to make these silk flowers--as an idea for an activity for the five hospice ladies who are feeling pretty well. So I went to the hospice today. Yungsaw has gone home, and a new lady named Dany is here. I sat on Soreun's bed, and showed Chunty and her the sample flowers I made. I am continuously learning and practicing new Kemi, so I can understand and communicate superficial ideas pretty well. I asked if they wanted me to teach them. When I sat down with the materials, Phalla (who's blind from CMV retinopathy, who told Adel that being here is the first time in her life she's been happy) sat down next to me. She felt the flowers, said "sa-at" (beautiful) and motioned for me to teach her.

I guided her hands for the first part and handed her materials, but she caught on really quickly, working intently on her own as I watched. Soon, the caretakers, Saman and Hyup, came to join in, making little silk petals. Soreun and Chunty weren't feeling well, so they watched, laughing at Phalla's visible pleasure. We ended up with a community-effort bouquet, but it was mostly Phalla. she's so resourceful and sheepish at the same time. She still teases me about the way I pronounce "neak" (you), but she's getting more satisfied with my attempts. It was a beautiful afternoon with the bawng srays (ladies)."

Live...from one of the most hellish places on earth

Stung Meanchey: the Phnom Penh garbage dumps....where hundreds of families live to pick throught trash for recyclables. Imagine wading through your own waste for that one aluminum can you forgot to recycle, so you can turn it in for a few cents. Imagine doing it at age 6, barefoot, every day, instead of school, sick and hungry.