Ashley, Molly, and I are all going through an online leadership course together through an organization I already have tremendous respect for called Acumen. I recommend either of the following videos for a glimpse into how we are being challenged. The first video concerns living a life of immersion and the second video is about the danger of our preconceived ideas regarding others.

Our assignment this week: "Experience the world from the perspective of a community you are trying to serve, an issue you care about or an individual/community you don't usually interact with." I chose to spend a morning with one of the mothers with a child in our nutrition program. With the help of Guilene, who heads up our PTA, I selected a mother named Fabienne and spent this morning with her and her family. Although I've now spent 9 months in Haiti, and the "new" has mostly become "the normal", I tried to experience this morning with fresh eyes, being extra observant to my surroundings, and to get a closer glimpse into the lives of the families CNP is here to serve.

It’s 8:20am. Time to get rolling on this assignment. I figure going by moto is best so I have Yvon find one for me. I call Fabienne to ask if I can come now and hand the phone to the moto driver to get better directions. All I know is she also lives in Chatuley, the same area as us, so we won’t be going far. 

I’m pretty comfortable on the motos here. I put a lot of trust into the chauffers, assuming they are extremely experienced drivers—though this particular driver doesn’t look a day over 16. You also typically do not travel very fast on a moto, so unlike riding them in Tennessee where I always have a helmet and we’re typically going at much faster speeds, I typically sit comfortably, hands on my legs or maybe one hand gripping the side when on the rough roads. Our route this morning takes us on the back roads near the CNP house. The roads are a mix of dirt, gravel, rocks, and in today’s case—lots of muddy puddles after the rain last night. It’s quite impressive to watch these moto drivers navigate around the bumps, potholes, chickens, goats, children, and so forth.

Fabienne had told us to drive to a certain point and then start asking for Markenson. Unfortunately, the first man we ask isn’t sure which Markenson we need. We ask a woman standing by a gate. Still no direct answer. Then comes a man riding a bicycle. Same story. It’s after a little while before I even look at what he’s holding in his hand… a medium-sized black pig, hanging upside-down by a rope around his back and legs… squirming… now squealing. Still squealing as we drive away. 

At this point Fabienne agrees to come meet us on the road. We wait… and wait. I’ve already gotten off the moto and I’m just standing beside it, observing my surroundings. I’d driven past this spot before. There is a hotel nearby and I hear construction not far off. It’s a quiet area, but there are people passing by from time to time, some motos as well, and a couple big trucks. There’s a big portion of a concrete wall in front of us. Maybe it fell during the earthquake or was never complete to begin with. There are some goats sleeping on top of the wall. I watch one wake up and try to decide where it can safely jump back down. A dog passes and I attempt to call it over. That rarely works here. But it sparks a conversation about dogs with the moto driver. He asks if dogs in America listen when you talk to them. I tell him they typically do and they even learn certain words like “sit”, “come”, “walk”, and “bath”. Then I explain to him how most dogs react to “walk” vs. “bath”. “Cats are like that too. They don’t like water,” he says, and then he asks, “If you put a dog in the ocean, will it swim?” I told him yes.

“Hurry up and wait” is a good motto in Haiti. You always feel pressured with the many things you need to do, but as you make your plans you still often find yourself waiting. I personally don’t mind most of the time. I’ve learned over the years to just go with the flow. But the times I find myself most uncomfortable with the waiting time are when I’m with someone else… like standing here with this moto driver. While he is standing here with me I think about how he could be picking up his next paying customer, and I wonder if he is thinking that too. 

After about 15 minutes (and calling Fabienne a few times to check she is still coming and that we’re in the right spot) we see her and her sister coming towards us. I’ve never met Fabienne before. And it’s not actually until we arrive at her house that I realize she is Fabienne and not Fabienne’s daughter. For some reason, I expected Fabienne to be much older. Instead she is early 20s and could pass for a teenager. We decide to take the moto together to her house. I climb back on behind the driver and they both get on behind me, Fabienne, in her skirt, riding sidesaddle on the end. Another adventure in Haiti, I think.

We arrive at the house and there are several people there, including two small girls. I immediately recognize one of them as a girl, China, I took a photo of last week at a Ti Fwaye. I wonder how many people Fabienne told that a “blan” is coming to her house today and if they are all there to see what I’m all about. (Turns out 10 people live in this house, so good chance they would all have been here anyway. I suppose I’m really not that special.) I tell them that I’m taking a class and have a homework assignment that requires me to learn more about Haiti, how Haitians live, and so on. And that I would just like to sit with them, chat, listen, and learn. Like most Haitians I’ve interacted with, they are very okay with this. Most Haitians I know are extremely hospitable and do not mind you asking questions, taking pictures, or coming into their homes or churches. Even still I always feel a bit out of place and as if everyone is staring at me. Because they are. I have never enjoyed being in the spotlight. I never took drama classes and I don’t even like to dance in front of people. You don’t go unnoticed when you are serving in Haiti. I would love to do the same work that I do, but to blend in… instead of sticking out like a sore thumb. Everywhere I go I hear, “Hey you!” “Blan!” “Gade blan” (“Look at the blan!”). Some days that kind of attention really drains me. While I am looking forward to spending time with this family, I realize that it’s still not a truly authentic experience as I am most definitely the outsider and everyone is aware of that. Thankfully, most Haitians love foreigners and enjoy having you visit. They will bring out a chair, sometimes offer you a drink, make sure you’re not sitting directly in the hot sun, etc. 

I try to buddy up with the little girl I knew from last week but she is not yet interested. It is only later, when playing with her aunt’s phone, that we bond after she hands it to me and I turn on its radio. 

The owner of the house is Magalie. She is 53 years old and they all seem to work together selling food items out of the house. They have rice, cornmill, juice mix, spaghetti, ketchup, onions, and much more. There’s a place in Leogane to buy the products and then resell them. For example, they buy Magi (bouillon cubes) 5 for 10 goudes (25 cents) and sell them two for 5 goudes (12.5 cents), making 6.5 cents profit for each 5 they sell. I ask her what they do during a typical morning to which she replied, “Ou konnen. Ayati pa gen vi,” which translates, “You know. Haiti doesn’t have life.” I took that to mean all of the many things that could mean… including, life in Haiti is not without its difficulties. Opportunities to find work are slim to none. You sit. And you sit some more. Though this family, like many, makes the most of their sitting. They talk. They share. They do whatever “ti bisniz” they can. 

A brown dog wanders around and I call her over. She is timid like most, but I can tell she is in a familiar setting, I quickly assume she lives here too. I find out later they call her  “Anvi we’w” which translates “I want to see you”. She eventually comes over and I pet the top of her head, still with her tail between her legs, but relaxing a bit. Sadly, most dogs here rarely receive affection. I personally believe that deep down in every dog, there is that desire to be loved and accepted, and interactions like these further confirm that. After enjoying my affection, I have her trust, and she lies down for a deep sleep at my feet. I wonder if it’s the deepest she has sleep in a while. I have a similar belief when it comes to people. There are many broken and hardened lives here. I see it even in some of the children I interact with. They are timid and do not know who to trust. Those barriers often don’t come down within minutes, but with time and devoted relationships, transformation of a life can occur and they can trade fear and suspicion for peace and trust.

Throughout the morning, there are 3-4 young males around and the same for females. For a while, they chat just the same as if I wasn’t there. They  talk about money, then Rara (traditional festivities), then buying and selling, then about some Haitian man doing good work in the community. It is like any family or group of friends sitting around shooting the breeze.  Later they start asking me questions about my family, life in the States, visa applications, etc. A 22 year old named Phara comes around the same time as the dog. She said I could have the dog. She also tells me I can have her pudgy baby. I tell her I don’t have a place for the dog. And I tell her that her baby has a great mother already. Later I have her baby Pharlander on my lap. As I pick him up I tell him, “Pa pipi sou mwen.” “Don’t pee on me.” (Not that he’s potty trained.) Less than a minute later, what does he do? He pees all over my leg and on the dog below, who wakes, licks it off, and goes back to sleep. At least it’s just pee.

Phara wants me to talk. She tells everyone to talk to me to get me to talk. Here’s that spotlight again, I think to myself. I heard her earlier tell a neighbor as he passed by, “Look at our beautiful visitor!” I tell her that I want to learn from them today and listen and observe. She’s not quite satisfied but it changes the subject momentarily. My Creole is good. I can say just about anything I want to say. I may not know all the vocabulary, but I will find a way to get my point across. Listening comprehension is more of a challenge. The Creole language has so many contractions, shortened forms of the words, not to mention how quickly everyone speaks and me not yet knowing the entire vocabulary. It is still difficult sometimes to have a detailed conversation, though I mostly catch the gist of what’s being said or what I am specifically asked. Coming to sit and observe this morning is fine, but asking me to engage more brings me out of my comfort zone. Especially with the young men around. Many Haitian men love foreign women, so I’m constantly having to slide out of personal conversations they are trying to have with me. Right now I’m getting the usual, “Are you married?” “Can I have your phone number?” “Are you on Facebook?” And then one guy comes in from the street and boldly professes his love for me. These interactions are my least favorite and sometimes I have to be creative in how to gracefully end them. My energy level is draining once again.

Magalie asks China’s mother to fetch some water. I ask if I can go too and she says yes. I see the pump not far off. As we walk away China starts to cry. I pick her up and bring her with me. This doesn’t comfort her until she realizes I am taking her in the direction of her mother and then she is fine with it. When we reach the pump I tell her to show me how to do it so I can pump out the water. It’s a simple hand pump, just crank it up and down and the water flows out. We finish and I carry the water back. It’s just a couple gallons but heavy enough after our short walk. I think about how far some families have to carry water, even more than this, and sometimes up a steep mountain. Wow.

I chat some more with Fabienne. Fabienne’s only child, Shamaelle is 11 months old and is in our Outpatient Therapeutic Program. She is growing, thanks to regular follow-ups and the Plumpy Nut (peanut butter type food supplement). Last Friday ended the two week Ti Fwaye Fabienne participated in—our hearth program that teaches mothers how to cook balanced meals with local and affordable ingredients, among other lessons. You can tell Fabienne (and the father, who is thankfully still an active part of their lives) want to care for Shamaelle as best as they can. Shamaelle gets the hiccups. I learn the Creole word for hiccups is “okèt”.

Magalie shows me around the house and in the back where you can still see the support beams from previous home that fell during the earthquake. Thankfully no one was hurt. They tell me all of the homes in that neighborhood fell on that day. I don’t ask much more. Maybe a deeper conversation can be reserved for another day. She is proud of her home and points out her banana and cherry trees. Shamaelle’s dad is tending to a brewing pot on top of an EcoZoom stove, I recognize it as a donation we gave out to our staff and many in our programs.

Before I leave, I take some photos to remember the day. I will try to find a place to develop them so I can give them to the family as well. I buy some random items from their “store” as a thank you. For $2.50 I bought two packs of spaghetti noodles, a pack of ketchup, some juice mixes, and an onion. I have no current need for any of them, but wanted to support their “ti bisniz”. Phara is heading out as well so I ask her to walk with me to find a moto. We find one and ride together to my house then she can continue to hers. I have a good sense of direction but the moto weaves down streets, seemingly in circles, and I don’t really know which way my house is, but I trust he does. We arrive and I give Phara money to pay the driver when she gets home, along with a pack of spaghetti and ketchup. She had told me earlier she was hungry. I assume that is why she had taken a cup of water, added a ton of sugar, and drank it. She also had told me she needed work. “I can wash clothes for you,” she had said. I wish I could satisfy all their bellies and give them all jobs. I wish there was something I could do to make life a little easier for them. But I’m glad for what CNP is doing for many of these families and I’m thankful at least for this brief morning together. To sit. To chat. To learn. “When are you coming back?” they had asked. And that is one reason I love Haiti. People are genuine. If they like you, you will know it because they will look forward to spending more time together. I will be looking forward to it too.