Bon Ane! Happy New Year!

A lot has happened in the 7 months since my last post, including the end of 2011 and the completion of my first year in Haiti.  On the work front, I am still with HELP, teaching English and directing the waste management program, but I have since become the ESL Program Leader, an official resident advisor, and a Leadership teacher. Throughout the summer months, I developed and wrote the ESL curriculum, trained a new teacher, and implemented an intensive ESL orientation program for the incoming scholars. It was a challenge; I made some mistakes, learned A LOT, and, ultimately it’s proving a valuable and successful experience. I feel honored to have this opportunity, even though those who are close to me know that it has made me cry, celebrate, scream, and even think about quitting my “job” on multiple occasions. The hard work paid off in a congratulatory and satisfied compliment from my directors. SCORE!

Personally, I have made many more friends and explored more of Port-au-Prince and Haiti. I’ve enjoyed getting better acquainted with Haitian music and culture, and my command of Haitian Creole has made leaps and bounds. None of this would have been possible without my dear friend Winter, who has played a primary role in introducing me to all things Haitian, including the language. I’ve also started playing Capoeira (a Brazilian dance/martial art). It’s a ton of fun, a great way to stay in shape, and has exposed me to a whole new community of Haitians and foreign workers. I love it…and might even take it seriously enough to get “baptized” and try for my first belt! I want those cool, white pants, man…

I am currently back in PAP (Port-au-Prince) after a 2-week winter vacation in California. When I left, I felt so sad to leave Haiti. I didn’t want to go. I wasn’t ready to leave Ayiti Cheri. I even shed a few tears on the airplane. Of course, once at my mom’s, I thoroughly enjoyed hot showers, salads, lots of bandwidth, my plush bed, and the company of good friends and family. The Monday or Tuesday after Christmas, though, I was ready to return. The celebrations were over, I had seen my dearests, and my soul was yearning for Haiti. But, I was still looking forward to the trip to our family’s cabin in Aspendell (Bishop, CA). I hadn’t been since August 2010, right before I left for Haiti.

Mwen te sezi vre. (I was in total awe). It was as if I had never been there before, or seen anything like it. Every two minutes (from the drive to the walks in the mountains) I exclaimed, “It’s so beautiful!” Jarrett thinks I am NUTS and have emotional problems. I think I am simply present and conscious of how profound my connection is to nature, particularly with the Eastern Sierras. Anyway, the long of the short is that I love it up there, and that trip marked a shift in my experience Stateside. Why would I keep myself from that? There is a lot of history there. I grew up in those mountains. Was it just nostalgia? Was it appreciation that I couldn’t have had until I experienced the absence? I still don’t know, but not a single day has gone by when I haven’t thought about it up there. Whether it be the view of the porch and aspens from our dining table, or the feeling of inhaling that crisp, clean air with views that simultaneously take that very same breath away, I can’t get Aspendell off my mind.

At present, neither place is feeling “right.” The States were sterile and cold. There is sadly no sense of community in the suburbs of SoCal. When I am away, I miss my walk to work and the people I see on the way everyday. My students, my banana lady, my neighbors out chatting on the corner, the school children in colorful uniforms of all shapes, patterns, and styles, little girls with ribbons and bows bouncing with their braids with every step, the guys playing dominoes and blasting Konpa out of a boom box on the street, my gas station friends…they are my community. Just thinking about it brings the biggest smile to my face.

At the same time, I can say: Ayiti kole nan bounda m’ tankou yon pete (Literally: Haiti is glued to my ass like a fart. Correctly translated: Haiti is annoying me!). Everything here can be a challenge. Going to the market can take 3 hours. The dust, the traffic, the harassment from policemen…it’s exhausting!

My respite is teaching. I adore my students and my time in the classroom. Yesterday, I taught one of my favorite lessons so far. I’ve designed the 3^rd year ESL curriculum to be more of an English style ESL class. Essentially, we’ll be studying ESL through various readings (and other materials, like images and film), and then doing a lot of discussion and writing to troubleshoot lingering grammar challenges. If that’s confusing shoot me an email and I’d be happy to explain more. It’s a really interesting course, and is proving effective and engaging for both the students and myself. (Much gratitude is due to Grace and Libby, two of my best professors at Oberlin, for they always created dynamic courses that continue to inspire me in my lesson planning and teaching)

Would you like to know what we did? What a silly rhetorical question, of course you do!!! We are wrapping up our “ESL through Media Literacy” unit and before the break had been discussing profiles. Who do we profile and why? What are the advantages and disadvantages of focusing on one person? How and from what sources do we collect information? etc etc. They responded quite positively. One of our sample profiles was about one of my favorite actors, Viggo Mortensen. (This is the privilege that comes with being the teacher…you can indulge in yourself a bit, but in all seriousness it was an excellent example).

For homework over the break, they had done some vocabulary, comprehension, and analysis work. This class period, however, we steered away from the interpretation of media and focused on the creation of it. I asked the students to review the Viggo article and come up with a list of questions they think the author asked Viggo and the other interviewees. Then I asked them to generate their own list of general interview questions that one could use to start any old interview. We discussed what details made the Viggo article compelling, and how that information might have been collected. I asked them to think about how to get those anecdotes and specific details, noting that descriptions of environment and physicality can be advantageous.

Then, I turned them loose on each other. We finished the last 45 minutes of class conducting our own interviews in English. Everyone got the chance to do an interview and be interviewed. They loved it! They were completely immersed in the process and had a lot of fun talking about their personal stories. I didn’t even have to scold anyone for speaking Creole once; they were so into it! Naturally, there was an odd number of students, so I had to be interviewed. My interviewer was truly excellent and asked me some pertinent and probing questions about my “life story” and my personal experience in Haiti. Their homework is to write a profile of the person they interviewed based on their notes. I am really excited to see how the profiles turn out next week!

On a more somber note, today marks the 2 year anniversary of the earthquake that devastated Port-au-Prince and, by default, much of the country. Jodi a nou sonje tout moun ki mouri e tout moun ki kontinye ap viv malgre tout difikilte. AYITI CHERI.

I'd like to take a moment to remind my few readers that Haiti is defined neither by its poverty nor its tragedy. Do not look upon Haitians with pity. Be compassionate. See them as equals, as real human beings whose stories include pain, suffering, struggle, victory, and celebration...just as any of our lives from the "developed" world. Haiti is a beautiful country, with a rich and triumphant story, full of incredible people with souls, hopes, dreams, and intelligence, and a culture that rivals those esteemed in Europe/the West. 

Until next time everyone! Thanks for reading, despite my lack of discipline to post. 

Mr. Big Stuff, who do you think you are????

Yes, I am currently on a Jean Knight kick, but rest assured that the song and title of this blog post couldn't be more perfect. Just keep reading!

The other night I decided to stay at the office through the rain to get some extra work done and putz around on the internet while I had the chance. A student, Richard, was willing to stay and escort me home.

We left the office around 8:15 at night. Once it's dark out, I usually take the "safer" route home, which is slightly out of the way, but has street lights. This time, though, there was a police car stationed along the quicker route, so we decided it was equally safe and headed that way. What we failed to evaluate was how this might appear to police, who aren't accustomed to seeing blan (white people), let alone a white woman, walking at night down vacant streets with a young Haitian male.

So the chef (Creole for policeman) called us over. "Bonswa, ti blan. Sa w ap fè avek ti neg sa?" (Good evening little whitey. What are you doing with this little Haitian?) I'm thinking: okay, that's reasonable. I guess this does appear to be a little out of the ordinary. So I explain to him in my best Creole that we are on our way home, and that Richard is accompanying me there. There is no problem. I'm fine. I'm not afraid. I know him; he is my student.

He responds (in Creole, but I've translated it), "Why are you walking? Where is your car? Blan don't walk in Haiti, especially not at night."  Ah, yes chef! You are right. I am the only blan in Haiti without a car, so that is why I walk. I also live very close to where I work, so I don't need a car. 

Chef: Where are you from? Let me see your passport.
Me: I'm American and my passport is at my house.
Chef: "Si ou pa gen piyes didantite, n'ap arete w." This means, "If you don't have an ID with you, we're going to arrest you."

All this time, the student I am with isn't saying anything. He was obviously afraid of the police, and whether or not they were serious, he didn't want to mess around.

Me: "Tann, tann, tann." (Wait, wait, wait). "Ou pa ka fè sa. Mwen pat konnen. Sel bagay mwen genyen se yon kart dasirans." (You can't do that. I didn't know. The only thing I have is my insurance card).

Until then, I thought it wasn't too serious, but they kept threatening arrest, so I started to get concerned. I turned to Richard. Still nothing. He just reiterated what the policeman said, saying that I needed to carry an ID, otherwise I could be arrested. Grreeeeaaaaaat! Garry (my big boss, HELP's country director) was out of town, so who was I going to call if I ended up in Haitian jail? It would be an experience, that I knew for sure. How many blan ever get arrested in Haiti, let alone an attractive, young lady blan?

After accepting my insurance card as a form of ID, I figured it out. They just wanted to talk to me, and keep me there as long as they could. So I indulged them a bit in conversation. Told them a little about myself, blah blah blah. Which of course led to, "Eske ou gen menaj?" (Do you have a boyfriend?)

The correct thing to say would have been, "Wi, m geyen menaj. Ayisyen memn!" (Yes, I have a boyfriend. A Haitian one even!) But I am seriously bad at dealing with these men, and said, "Mwen pa bezwen menaj" (I don't need a boyfriend). This only invited them to continue.

Oh bel famn (pretty lady) I'll be the best boyfriend. I want to take you to Petit Goave, the most beautiful beach in the South. You can be my queen, and we'll start an empire together. Let's join our names, and have children. Obama's mom is white. We can be like Obama. Please, give me your number. I have to have you. Insert any other pick-up lines or come-on's you want. This chef was intense, and it went on for about 20 minutes.

I finally appealed to them to let me go home because it was late and not safe for a lady to be out on the streets at this hour with a big backpack. It was around 9 pm by then. Oh, but that just got me into more trouble.

Chef: "Wi, se twop ta. N ap menen ou lakay la." (Yes, it is too late. We'll take you to your house)
Me: "OK. An ale. N ap mache ansemn? Se tou pre" (OK, let's go. We'll walk together. It's very close)
Chef: "Ahh no, cheri! N ap menen ou nan machine la" (Oh no, sweetie! We'll take you in our car)
Me: "Se vre?" (Really?)...."uuuhhhh...OK...an ale." (OK, let's go)

And off we went, literally down the street 200 yeards and around the corner, me in the back seat with the lights flashing and everything. Escorted home by the police. What a riot! At least I didn't go to jail, nor was I fined, AND, the kicker, I got away without giving them a real ID or my number. SUCCESS!

Mr. Big Stuff! Who do you think you are? Mr. Big Stuff! You're never gonna get my love!

Come on, really? You're going to use your "authority" to holler at me? Uh-uh buddy. Not gonna happen...

It's like thunder! Lightnin'! The way you love me is frightenin'!

It's been almost 4 months since I last wrote, and I know that all of you out there are aching for me to write. Instead of trying to catch you up, I'm just going to continue from this point forward. Maybe I'll make some "looking back" posts, but judging by my current blogging statistics, it's unlikely. Anywho...

It's officially the RAINY SEASON in Haiti. That means hot, hot heat during the day with about 99% humidity and thunderstorms throughout the afternoon/evening to cool everything off for the night. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of experiencing a Haitian rainstorm, allow me to elaborate:

It begins with a sprinkling, seemingly harmless, but nonetheless persistent. This could last anywhere from 10 minutes to a couple hours. Then, BOOM! The downpour begins, and is often accompanied by thunder so powerful it rattles your eardrums and shakes your heart from within your body. It's unsettling and invigorating all at once; I have yet to keep myself from jumping.

The duration of the storm is unpredictable. Sometimes is will only last about 30 minutes. If it lasts much longer, the consequences become worse. This is largely due to Port-au-Prince's TERRIBLE drainage, which means the more it rains, the more the streets flood. And when they flood, you better not plan on going anywhere, otherwise you'll be trudging through a foot of water. But the streets don't simply fill with rain runoff. No, sir! The floods carry all the mud and trash that people throw in the street, too.

Once the water level settles, banks of said mud and trash become visible throughout the streets. Seemingly shallow puddles disguise themselves in 6-inch deep potholes. Unpaved "sidewalks" become slippery, slimy mud pits. This makes for eventful walking, especially since it's rarely light out after the rain stops and street lights are few and far between.
Who wants to mail me rain boots?

I discovered a good portion of this the other night when I was making my way over to the Hotel Oloffson (a beautiful old, run-down gingerbread mansion--once a vacation palace to the presidents, now a hotel and low-key hangout for journalists and RAM fans--see link). Michael, Hervé, and I went there for their Monday night twoubadou performance.

I LOVE twoubadou! It's considered traditional Haitian music which includes guitar, drums, saxophone, accordion, maracas, banjo, and singing. There aren't many young people who play it anymore, so it's also fun to go see these old guys rock out. They're the cutest! And they still have moves! Crip Prestige (Haitian beer), the Oloffson porch, a slight breeze, some dancing, and of course, twoubadou, make for a great night. Next time I'll take some photos.

In other news, I am become my own ti menaj (little boyfriend), as I bought myself a bouquet of flowers. My students tell me that a beautiful woman in Haiti isn't supposed to buy herself flowers, but I could care less. They're pretty, they brighten up my room, make me smile, and it supports the guys who trek those flowers down from the mountains. Plus, I retort that if getting flowers the "right" way means having to get a REAL ti menaj who is possessive and jealous , then I am better off being my own boyfriend. They think I am totally NUTS! And I think I'm the best boyfriend I've ever had...well...minus the obvious setbacks.

Alright, I need to get some rest before a big day of teaching (superlatives for a few classes, and a podcast for the advanced group). Thanks for tuning in folks... A pi ta (Until later)!

WHAT?

I live in Haiti! WHAT?

Just having one of those days, looking out over my desk onto the courtyard at work, thinking "Holy cow, I live in Haiti. How did I get here again? Why am I here?"

But then I snap out of it and realize how normalized my life has become here, and how proud I am to be working for HELP and with HELP students. Every time I feel like giving up because of loneliness or frustration, I remember all the sacrifices my students have made to get to where they are, and how much they are still willing to give up. Throwing in the towel and fleeing home is always an option for me. I am lucky to have choices because my students don't. At least not in the same sense that I do. This is their one chance. It's all or nothing, so how could I desert them just because I've had a pretty bad month? I can't. They mean too much to me to leave. I don't really know if I am making that much of an impact on their lives, but I am certain that they have already changed mine forever.

(For those of you waiting for the Oscar memorial post, it's coming...I've just been struggling to find the right words)

Elections

Yes, I am well aware that I am failing miserably at this whole blogging thing. Jarrett Allen never lets me forget it. Maybe it will be one of my New Year’s Resolutions…?

Anyway, I have many experiences to catch you all up on, but I feel the most pressing is the election. (Look for a summary post of my goings-on later) On November 28, 2010, the presidential election took place in Haiti. Let me preface this by saying that there was and still is a lot of hubbub about this election.

First of all, elections in Haiti have a history of going sour—it’s not uncommon for the president to refuse to leave office and things often escalate to violence—and people had been preparing for this one like we were going to war. I mean the shelves in the markets were bare. No one was out and about. Even the nightclub down the street from my house closed out of fear and caution. And if you know me well, you know that this just made me want to go out more. If there was going to be violence or excitement, I wanted to witness it. Come on, I am in Haiti after an insane earthquake, in the middle of a serious cholera epidemic, and during a tumultuous election and I am not going to have anything to show for it? Really? That’s simply unacceptable.

To my perverse dismay, everything went relatively smoothly, in my neighborhood anyway. I still did not get to go out because the students were being total chicken-shits, but I suppose I can’t blame them. Based on previous experiences with elections, they probably have good reason to be overly cautious. Instead, I sat around with them all day watching the progress on TV. By about 2 pm the majority of the candidates were calling for an annulment, claiming widespread fraud in favor of Jude Célestin, which they are saying mostly occurred throughout the polls in PAP.

Protests broke out in parts of PAP and throughout other areas in Haiti, namely Cap-Haitian, where tensions were already high due to the cholera outbreak that many angry Haitians blame on the UN Peacekeepers. But demonstrations seemed to calm down by the Tuesday after Sunday Nov. 28 and we all went back to work, markets were reopened, etc.

A few days later, some reports came out that it was looking like Mirlande Manigat and Michel Martelly were leading the polls, and that Jude Célestin, the corrupt candidate from Préval’s party Inité, was out of the running. I thought, oh good, things are okay. The candidates who the Haitian people really want to be in the 2nd round will be there, but little did I know that we had just reached the eye of the hurricane.

We’ve spent the last two weeks hovering in a state of mixed emotions, mainly comprised of relief, anxiety, frustration, and anticipation. What would the CEP (Counseil Electoal Provisoire) release? [Note: There is little faith in this organization, as they are believed to be in bed with Préval and the ruling political party Inité. They are the ones responsible for making sure the voting process is proper and just, but citizens say the CEP officials were stuffing the ballot boxes with votes for Jude Célestin; hence, crazy tension.]

Tuesday, December 6, the office closed at 4 pm sharp because the CEP stated they’d release the results at 6 pm. The tension was palpable. If Jude Célestin would make it into the next round, you could just feel in the air that the entire country would lose it. The students gathered in the kitchen/living area with nervous stares and eagerness. Huddled around a little radio, we waited and listened.

In this photo: Kenal (white hat), Samuel (black shirt), Barthelemy (green shirt), Marc Arthur (white shirt), Léonel aka "Senegal" (Tommy Bahama style shirt), Hégel (blue shirt), and Makelot (red stripes). More students were sitting on the stairs nearby and at the kitchen table.

The results were in: Mme Manigat won around 34% and Jude Célestin barely slid into 2nd with around 24%. He beat out Martelly by less than 1%. Everyone was up in arms. The reaction in the street was instantaneous. Gunshots, yells, screams, arguments…it was on. We entered a new phase of unrest, especially since everyone knew that Célestin had cheated.

Everything shut down again. I knew it would be days until I had to work again…days until the markets reopened. Stuck at home.

It’s been five days now of staying mostly at home, eating peanut butter and bananas, taking multiple cat naps per day, basically living the lazy life and going stir crazy because of it. I am not good at staying put, particularly when I am told that I have to. The first day of demonstrations, I went out to the street to see what was going on.

I headed to Débussy (one of the other student houses) because I couldn’t stand being inside and I had told Lubin, a student, that I would visit despite the disorder. I wasn’t really afraid, but just in case, I walked with my cell phone in hand ready to dial Mathieu in case something went down. (Mathieu is a medical student who was very concerned for my safety, yet was too afraid himself to walk with me. They’re all a little bit too paranoid if you ask me. At some point, they need to stop being so afraid because the fear itself is inhibiting progress here)

Anyway, there weren’t many people out, mostly men, except for the women selling bread and canned milk. A stench of burned rubber and smoke filled the air. On every corner there were simmering tires leaving behind mounds of black soot and wires. People had obviously been throwing rocks and shoving piles of the rubble further into the street. Navigating through the mess, I finally made it to the house, where I enjoyed the student’s company and had a nice break from Noam Chomsky’s Hopes and Prospects.

I’ve been venturing out everyday a little bit. Most of the time I went with a student or Michael. One day Agronome, a lovely HELP student who is very considerate and helpful, took Michael and myself out to try to find some food. Right as we were leaving a huge riot broke out in the direction we were heading. On the radio they were reporting guns and machetes to be present. Needless to say, we turned around and walked the other way. It was later reported that many people were shot at that demonstration.

Last night, Michael and I had had enough, and we thought we’d go see if this local bar was open. As it turns out, Muncheez was totally open and we got to enjoy an odd mix of blues/jazz, reggae, bad ballads, and Sweet Dreams are Made of These. It was strangely comforting.

Things aren’t really calming down, but places are starting to slowly reopen. People can’t go this long without work, food, etc. So while the riots continue, everyday life is picking back up anyway. It’s a good thing, too, because with everything closed, it’s difficult to find clean water, food, and medical attention, all of which are not helping the cholera epidemic. I guess we’ll see what happens in the coming week. For now, I am staying safe and simply waiting for it to be over.