The WOW Chronicles: (Women of Washington)

A 10 Year Anniversary Ode to My Daughter

2012-03-05T17:42:00.000-08:00

10 years. Has it really been that long? 10 years today since I fell off my bicycle, on the road from Natitingou to Bakoumbe. 10 years since I remember being in Benin as a Peace Corps Volunteer. 10 years of healing, of letting go, of starting again. 10 years of creating this new life…both my own and the little one growing inside me now.

It seems so fitting somehow, that I’m in Haiti on this 10 year anniversary…sitting outside in the warm cool night after a hot day, listening to the sounds of children playing, dogs barking, old men laughing, radios blaring. I could almost be in Benin. Life seems so simple in this moment…beautifully uncomplicated in a country with so many complications. Just a simple Sunday evening of Haitian families spending time together in a Port-au-Prince neighborhood, looking up at the same stars, telling the same old stories, laughing at the same jokes.

I had two moments of true joy today that seemed tailor made for both Benin and Haiti. I didn’t even realize that it had been 10 years until I started writing this blog. And so, maybe these 2 moments were an anniversary present of sorts.

The first gift was a classical music concert by the Haiti Philharmonic Orchestra and the Petit Chanteurs (little singers) Haitian Boys Choir. My friend Alexis came and picked me up at my hotel, Le Jardin, and we went with another friend of hers from Mercy Corps to the St. Louis Garangue School Chapel. It was there that Haiti surprised me yet again. Of course they have a Philharmonic Orchestra and can deliver an amazing rendition of Vivaldi’s 4 Seasons. Why not?! It was a wonderful reminder that each country I encounter in the world has strengths and weaknesses, is over ‘developed’ and under ‘developed,’ is both national and global, has ugly spots and embarrassments and yet deep, overflowing beauty and promise. This is true about both Haiti and Benin. This is something that I didn’t fully know and understand 10 years ago.

The second gift today was a soak in the hotel pool as I watched the sun set behind the mountains, juxtaposed against a great big Haitian tree reflecting over the pool. The sky turned deep orange and the tree’s reflection over the water glowed in the ethereal light. It was a perfect moment. Just me and God and the sunset-filled tree…and our daughter, who was enthusiastically kicking away. It was a moment that doesn’t happen in normal, everyday life…a moment where the world melts into itself and Haiti and America and Heaven all merge into one. And my daughter, not even born yet, was in the middle of all of it. I kept whispering to her…things like ‘this is Haiti…isn’t it beautiful? Never be afraid of places and people, just because you don’t know them yet.’

I believe I had a moment like that on the road to Bakoumbe 10 years ago, when I stopped to take a picture of the countryside. A moment where nationality no longer mattered and I realized what a beautiful, timeless world it is that God has created and encouraged us to explore. Somehow, this is true. And yet, it’s also true that I am an outsider in both countries who will never truly understand. I will never fully comprehend Haiti’s pain, Haiti’s strength, Haiti’s hope. I love it, though. I love it as much as I loved Benin 10 years ago. Haiti, just like Benin, is not under developed, is not 3^rd world. It has deep rivers of wisdom in it, of solidarity, of integrity and beauty. These strengths could help teach and empower the world, if people would let it. And yet, it has great poverty and injustice too. Why is it, though, that more often than not, the world only chooses to see the latter?

My prayer of thankfulness and gratitude on this 10 year anniversary is that I have been able to heal and grow and see more parts of this world for what it really is: the making of our choosing. We can choose to see the beauty…choose to search for the goodness and kindness in people who are different from us…choose to work for justice and celebrate the steps along the way. We can choose life…again and again, in small and big ways, in different countries and with different cultures and at times when it feels oh so difficult. This is my prayer for my daughter: that she may grow up to seek and find beauty, and hope and God in the people and places that she encounters. That she might continue to ride bicycles even after the great falls in her life. That she will stay open minded and believe that even Haiti can have a great Philharmonic Orchestra. And that she will take time to sit in the middle of the water, watch the sun set over a foreign mountainside and know that she is safe to be and love in this world.

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH PARIS

2011-11-21T07:09:00.000-08:00

With only 24 short hours to be in Paris, I was happy to continue the long distance love affair this past weekend. I was able to go through Paris on my way back from Copenhagen for the same exact price and jumped at the chance. And although 24 hours is oh so short a time to be in the beautiful city of lights, I tried to make the most of it.

My adventure began by meeting up with my friend, Stephanie, a cousin in the home-stay family that I lived with 12 1/2 years ago (wow...has it been that long???!!!) We had a nice dinner while sitting outside by Rue Mouffetard, in the 5th arrondissement. Ahhhh, Rue Mouffetard. With your cobblestone quaintness and wafting perfumes of fondue and crepes, I'm a sucker for you every time. (I'm sorry to report to all you Midd Paris Kids that our favorite Crepe guy at the very top of the Mouffe is no longer there! I mean, really, it's only been a dozen years...what nerve!)

We then walked by Paris III, where I used to study in College, and down to Place d'Italie. We jumped on the metro and headed over to...le Tour Eiffel, bien sur! Oh, and she is just as belle as she has ever been. (am I allowed to give a blatant phallic symbol a new female identity?) We crossed the Seine and climbed the stairs up to the Trocadero and just waited for midnight. And anyone who has ever loved and experienced Paris in the last decade knows the magic that can come alive at midnight. The Eiffel Tower, already lit up like a Christmas tree, begins to sparkle and explode with light, like fire crackers or fire works, for a good 5 minutes. And in that moment, there's nothing more beautiful in the world then standing next to 100 other mystified onlookers, all standing in a reverent hushed silence, as they breathe in the amazing light show.

After sharing in the joy that is a Parisian crepe and spending 4 wonderful hours catching up on every detail of life, Stephanie and I finally said adieu. I then headed towards the street that never sleeps: the Champs Elysee. Oh, Champs Elysee, Oh Champs Elysee, au soleil, sous la pluie, a midi, ou a minuit, il y a tout ce que vous voulez, aux Champs Elysee. I just couldn't help singing the song to myself over and over again as I strolled down the Champs, alive with people (including families pushing babies in strollers) at 1am in the morning. With the Arc de Triomphe standing proudly to the West, the grand, lit-up ferris wheel near the place de Concord to the East, and the trees lining the boulevard dangling crystal discs that catch and reflect the colors and lights of the street, the Champs sparkled and pulsed with electric energy. I walked and walked, soaking in the people of all ages and backgrounds, dressed to the nine's and heading in all directions. Finally, when the ferris wheel lights in the approaching distance turned off, I knew that it was a sign for me to head home. I jumped on the metro and got off near l'Opera, just a few blocks from the apartment in the chic 2nd arrondissment neighborhood where I stayed. Slowly coming down from my Paris high, I finally drifted to sleep around 3am, with visions of nutella crepes dancing in my head.

The next morning, being the over achiever who thinks that she can do it all that I am, I rushed up to one of my favorite neighborhoods, Montmartre, before my 11am brunch with my home-stay sisters. It was a gorgeous, sunny Sunday morning, with Parisians happily strolling the streets of this hilly neighborhood, picking up their baguettes and pain au chocolats from the local Boulanger/Patisserie, oranges and apples from the neighborhood epicerie and well chosen cheeses from the fromagerie. I popped into a Boulanger and ordered a simple croissant and tempting pain au chocolat for breakfast #1. And then, with horrible American manners, and due to my very short time window to see my favorite city view, I ate these delicious treasures as I walked towards the Sacre Coeur Cathedral. (My home-stay family would be horrified! No respectable Parisian would ever eat while walking...croissants and pain au chocolats are to be savored at outside cafe tables with a friend and a small cup of strong, perfect coffee.)

As I weaved in and out of the small neighborhood streets, lines overhead with dangling pieces of sun drying laundry and each apartment window box full of brightly colored flowers, I saw the Cathedral peaking through in the distance. I've always had a special affinity for the Sacre Coeur (though, I guess in truth, just about everyone who sees it does.) I slowly began the climb up the grassy area below the great Montmartre temple, stopping along the way to take a picture of a beloved sign: "La pelouse repose...the grass is sleeping." (This one's for you, Jen!) As I made it to the top, I turned to catch my breath, from both the steep climb and gorgeous view of the city. And there it was, Paris laid out in early morning light...the Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle, where I and my beloved home-stay mother, Martine (may she rest in peace), home-stay sister, Natalie, and fellow Midd friends all witnessed an amazing orchestra concert 13 years ago, as we reveled in the murals and majesty of our surroundings. The Pont Alexandre, where I met friends for countless late-night strolls along the Seine when I was a student, discussing the meaning of life and where Senior year and beyond would take us. The Louvre, which has always been as beautiful on the outside as the famous works within it, and which was always a sign to me during my year abroad that I was getting close to home, in the 8th arrondissment.

Unfortunately, I had no time to explore the terribly touristy and yet somehow still charming streets of Montmartre, or to even go inside the Sacre Coeur itself. So, I just waved to the city, nodded appreciatively to the great church, and headed down the winding, narrow streets towards the Chateau Rouge metro stop. 30 minutes later, I was meeting my French home-stay sisters, Natalie and Marianne, by the fountain in the middle of my favorite garden: le Luxembourg. Not surprisingly, I was quite late, but they forgave me right away and after taking a few commemorative photos, we headed off for a proper French meal. This took us back to Place de la Contrescarpe, at the top of Rue Mouffetard, for an outside brunch by the lovely square's fountain.

It was so wonderful to catch up with these two women...hear their stories of their young children and families, where jobs and travel and overall life have taken them the last several years. We reminisced about Natalie's amazing, simple wedding 6 1/2 years ago, in the Alps. I remember picking flowers in the mountain fields that morning for Natalie's bouquet, with Martine and Marianne, and being in true awe of my surroundings. I remember seeing Martine for the very last time a few days later, on Bastille Day...seeing her face light up with joy as we sat on a gorgeous Paris rooftop only a few blocks from the Eiffel Tower, watching fireworks explode. She was so beautiful that night...so happy. That is the way I always like to remember her.

After lunch, Natalie and Marianne appeased my desire to walk through the Latin Quarter and head to my last major conquest of the trip: the Notre Dame, Seine and Louvre. We stopped along the way at one of the best frommageries in the city, we sampled a few delicious morsels and I finally chose and had vacuum sealed a beautiful Camembert and additional assortment of wonderfully odorous French cheeses for Mark. As we came to Place St. Michel, we looked up at the great Notre-Dame. After years of preservation and cleanings, the old Dame now gleams like new...quite a lovely surprise. We crossed the road and followed the crowds inside, enjoying a few quiet moments in that sacred space, while listening to the morning mass choir.

Next, we headed west on the Seine, enjoying the warmth and brightness of the day and sharing story upon story. We arrived at our final destination and took in the great Louvre palace. Even Marianne and Natalie admitted that it never ceases to amaze them, after all these years, how beautiful this space is. We lingered a moment, took pictures and just enjoyed the surroundings. Yet, my flight back to America was calling, and we had to jump on a bus to make it back in time to pick up my belongings. Marianne and I bid adieu and Natalie accompanied me to the airport, for another wonderful hour of sharing and tearful goodbye. As I sat in my windowseat on the plane, and looked out at the great city below me, disappearing in the distance, I said a special prayer. God, please bless these women and their families until next we meet. Please pave the way for Mark and family members to share in this magic with me one day. And please bless this amazing city and country, until we are reunited again.

IN COPENHAGEN, BIKES RULE

2011-11-16T13:59:00.000-08:00

To say that Danes like to bike would be a gross understatement. In Copenhagen, bikes literally rule the roads and way of life. Biking paths make up half to two thirds of almost all streets. More people seem to be biking to work than driving. It's incredible! AND, bicyclists (as well as pedestrians,) obey all the traffic laws. I attempted to jay walk the other day when I saw that no cars were coming and both the fellow pedestrians and bicyclists standing next to me, waiting for the light, looked at me in a somewhat horrified manner. The simple truth is that people wait for the traffic light here, they signal before they turn on their bike and they're courteous to one another and the pedestrians around them.

It also helps that biking is such a high national priority and receives incredible support from both citizens and the State. This fact is evidenced by the great myriad of groups organized to protect biking rights and infrastructure: Denmark's Cycle Union, the Cycling Embassy of Denmark and the Cycling Secretariat within the government's Traffic Department. This last one has a goal of supporting a 50% biking commuter rate within the city of Copenhagen. Imagine the environmental impact of such a policy in Washington, DC, Chicago or New York City!

What I love most about the biking culture in Copenhagen is the overall personal enthusiasm. People seem like they're just really having fun, even as they head to work. And all ages are joining in the fun. And for children who are too young to do commuter biking, they get to ride in everything from nifty looking horse like carts to designer children seats and carriages. In this way, Danes have taken the art of biking to a whole new level. One of my fellow ActionAid colleagues in the Denmark office explained to me that she can technically fit 5 people in her bike chariot (my word, not hers.) Herself, a child in back and an adult and two small children in the cart in front...the entire family!

The enthusiasm is further felt through the great eclectic assortment of bicycles and their accouterments. Old time classics with wide handle bars and large wicker baskets seem to be one of the favorites. Large attached carts that can carry everything from children to furniture, designer weather-proof, tented carriages, bikes decorated with ribbons or fake flowers. You name it!

Here are a few other fun Copenhagen bike facts to give us some fuel for thought back in the States. Traffic lights include a special signal for bicyclists. People rarely, rarely lock up their bikes, but rather leave them outside of their office or apartment, on the street. Danish adults rarely wear helmets in Copenhagen (don't worry, Mom, I promise to not follow their example;), yet have one of the lowest rates of bicycling related accidents, including head injuries. The city helps track how many bikers ride over certain bridges per day with sensors that display the numbers for all to see.

Yes, it's clear that bicycles are the norm in Copenhagen and that Danes and those living in the city are the happier and healthier for it. It's just a small, yet important detail of this incredibly health-conscious culture that highly values simple living. It's an inspiring example of how the power of people, innovative thinking and political will can converge to create a more holistic, environmentally friendly city. Hopefully cities in the U.S. can learn the lesson as well.

MUSINGS TODAY FROM COPENHAGEN

2011-11-13T11:20:00.000-08:00

Copenhagen

I arrived in Copenhagen, Denmark this morning to participate in an ActionAid training on our Human Rights Based Approach to Development model that starts tomorrow morning. I've never experienced Denmark before. So, after a 4 hour nap at my hotel, I hit the streets eager to explore. What a great first day. I walked over 7 miles by the end of it! Copenhagen is a beautiful city, with a myriad of public parks, water front walk ways and an incredible melding of old and new worlds.

I started off walking down Frederiksborggade and into a new gourmet indoor food market called Torvehallerne...what a wonderful overwhelm for the senses! Tons of cured meats and fish, fresh fruits and veggies, pastries (including danishes or 'weinerbrods';) galore, the most beautiful chocolates dyed exotic blues and purples and multi layer chocolate pastries like castles or modern art pieces. I sampled a fish cake...delicious! And some chocolate hazelnut dipped almonds. Yummy. I should have had a danish right there, but didn't want to spoil my appetite for a famous bakery that I had read about and had my sights on. (but which I never ended up finding! Oh well, I still have 6 more days for danishes;)

The gourmet indoor 'Torvehallerne' food market near my hotel

Then, I walked through the older part of the city and saw the beautiful university and those narrowly winding, picture perfect streets I had heard about. I popped into a cafe for a legitimate Danish sandwich on their famous rye bread. (I actually liked it! very surprising. Not as sour as I thought it would be. Very full, hearty taste) and a warm chai tea. I consider myself somewhat of a chai connoisseur. This was one of the yummiest, warmest, most frothy, delicious chai's that I've ever had. And with a consistent low 40's temperature and chill in the air coming from the harbor, it hit the proverbial spot.

Next, I headed to the Rosenburg royal gardens. Beautiful! A renaissance castle built in 1604 by Christian IV as a summerhouse, but later inhabited all year round due to the King's love for it, it is a good reminder that the monarchy is still alive and well in Denmark. The castle sits on a lush, green, open park with large, full branched trees and beautiful trellises with cascading greenery and red fruit.. The castle is at the center of it all, surrounded by a small moat. After meandering for a while through the small gardens and looking on at a reenactment of a court knight dueling for a young group of children, I headed across the street to another public park, with a beautiful river-creek that ran through it. The late day, misty, shady with dappled sunlight weather filled the park, water and trees with this ethereal and mystical glow.

Rosenborg Castle and the Royal Gardens

Then I headed north to the Kastellet...another public park. It's a huge ancient fort surrounded by two moats in the shape of a star. A prominent historical site where Copenhagen defended itself during the Napoleonic wars, it also fell into the hands of the Nazis during WWII. You can climb up high on the ridge once you cross the bridge into the fort and get a great view of the city. It's next to the harbor on one side, so you can see the massive, old ships coming in. And on the other side you can see the castle and cathedrals. I was sitting down on a bench next to a preserved cannon, soaking in a magnificent sunset. There's this cold, strange sense in the city at that time of day...half way between feeling slighted haunted and slightly mystical...and very Scandinavian. Just then, a huge explosion across the harbor shook me from my revelry. A reenactment of some kind is what a local explained. Sitting next to the cannon, it felt surprisingly real indeed!

An aerial view of Kastellet

I then headed down south along the harbor as the rosy sunset colors faded, and had a spectacular view of the royal opera house...a modern, beautiful, larger-than-life building that almost looks as if it's sitting on the water . I ducked into a free little sculpture exhibit of replicas of some of the most famous pieces. Then, I continued by the Queen's castle and courtyard, saw the guards outside changing positions, and down to the royal theater and walked through an exhibit on innovations in the world of development and social change. Last, but not least, I headed up the Nyhavn or 'New Harbor,' a long, romantic quay along a water canal that goes inland. It was decorated to the nine's at dark,with holiday lights and plenty of intoxicating smells to peak your interest: outside vendors selling waffles, chocolate, fried dough balls and glog (rum spiced cider, I believe. Lots of outside cafe's, pubs and restaurants with heaters and people heartily eating...outside vendors selling christmas gifts, winter wear, Danish goods and the famous Danish pulsers or 'sausages.' I had a sausage with the works, which consisted of pickled herring, sweet pickles, mustard, ketchup and fried onions. I loved it, even with all of the interesting toppings! Then, I had a waffle with bananas and chocolate for dessert (bananas make it healthy, right?;)

Copenhagen Opera House

Pleasantly content eating my bohemian meal at the end of the quai and start of the colorful, lit up public square, I paused for a moment and tried to ignore the fact that the temperature was going down. Finally, the chill got the best of me and I headed back along a pedestrian only road, filled with colorful store front windows. I bought some warmer gloves at perhaps the only Copenhagen store actually open on Sunday nights, realizing the ones I had were just not going to suffice. I picked up a few essentials at a local grocery store (including more rye bread...will wonders never cease) on the way back to the hotel. And now, I'm ready to plop into bed and try to trick my brain that it really can go to sleep at 10pm, even if my body technically thinks that it's only 4pm. Hopefully those 7 miles of walking will have worked their magic.

New Harbor (Nyhavn) in Copenhagen at Night

In closing, I want to leave you with just a few fun, though rather surface level observations about Copenhagen, after only having spent about 5 hours exploring it. EVERYONE bikes here. Almost half of every single road is made up of huge biking lanes, with some people slowly meandering by with multiple children attached to the back or whipping by quickly on their way somewhere. (I learned the lesson real quick after almost being clobbered by an oncoming bike twice that you DON'T walk in the bike lane and you definitely look twice before even thinking of crossing it.) Sunday seems to be a day where almost every store is closed except for farmers' markets and grocery stores and pubs and cafes. Everyone has these modern old school strollers...like moving cribs that look ergonomically modernly enhanced, that they push babies and multiple kids around in. People love coffee! At least two thirds of the population is blond (felt very at home;) People of color and immigrants are scarce (at least in the city center.) Families love to spend time in the parks on Sundays...even if it's cold...and just seem to dress their children up in uber parkas. And last, but most importantly, Danes seem to LOVE pastries and overall sweets, as evidenced by a vast array of bakeries and restaurant dessert signs. God Bless them!

Waiting for Tropical Storm Emily

2011-08-03T16:32:00.000-07:00

View from the Pacot Hills of Port-au-Prince at 7am, Wed, Aug 3, 2011

View from the Pacot Hills at 7pm the same day. Tropical Storm Emily approaches.

Currently located in Port-au-Prince on a short work trip, I and my ActionAid colleagues are preparing for Tropical Storm Emily, which is due to hit Haiti within the next few hours. For us, this storm means buying more food and water, taking extra precautions and tightly closing up the guesthouse where we’re staying. For the 650,000 Haitians still living under tents, though, it means praying for the storm to take another path. Even if the storm goes further west, though, it most assuredly means that heavy rains will fall, and the people will continue to suffer flooding and increased cholera.

As the storm approaches, I cannot stop thinking about Marie Charles. Marie Charles Juste Luce Saintilmé, a member of the grassroots network, COZPAM, (Association of Community Organizations in the Metropolitan Area of Port-au-Prince), is a member of an IDP Camp in Mariani, just outside of Haiti. An experienced, registered nurse who lost her home during the earthquake, Marie Charles is fighting to protect women’s health, security and power to make a difference in Haiti IDP camps.

Marie Charles Juste Luce Santilme

Just yesterday, Marie Charles contacted me with this perspective on the effects of the previous month’s rains. “On July 12, there was an enormous rainfall, which caused the death of a young girl whose tent was flooded near our community. In the community of Gressier, just 10 kilometers away, people are being forced to leave their camps in the middle of the night, even while it is raining…incoming storms just prove that we cannot continue to live in tents like these any longer.”

Marie Charles is right. The Haitian people cannot continue to live in this manner…under flimsy tents that do not protect them from the hot sun, drenching rains or desperate gangs.

“We have the right to a decent life, which implies a safe place to live. We are the only ones in charge of our destiny. We have the responsibility to change our living conditions by advocating to the government to change policies and reduce the imbalances in the society.” - Marie Charles

Some of those urgently needed policies include a solid national housing plan that outlines exactly how to secure affordable, safe, long-term housing for people currently living under tents. Such a plan, however, can only work if it is created and implemented in direct partnership with Haitian grassroots, civil society and women's groups. These are the networks that work closest with poor and marginalized people and can help amplify their voices. As Tropical Storm Emily decides its next move, we must do the same. Now is the time to speak up to our respective governments and ask them to listen to and work directly with the Haitian people on a housing plan that prioritizes the needs of the most vulnerable.

2011-06-08T11:11:00.000-07:00

Here is today's Miami Herald article on the 23 storm-related deaths that took place yesterday in Haiti.We were able to work with the journalist on the article and got some quotes and information into it.

http://www.miamiherald.com/2011/06/07/v-print/2255876/death-toll-rises-to-23-as-heavy.html#ixzz1Oe6kApFQ

You can also read my work blog on the recent camp evictions taking place in Haiti at https://actionaidusa.wordpress.com/2011/05/30/camp-evictions/.

On May 23, property was destroyed and hundreds were forcibly evicted at the Kafou Apoyo camp near the Haiti national airport.

See more pictures from the May 23 evictions at Kafou Ayopo:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/gaetantguevara/sets/72157626664487129/

or the May 25 evictions in Delmas 3: http://www.flickr.com/photos/gaetantguevara/sets/72157626680420259/

LTE on Haitians' Right to Housing published in NY Times

2011-05-06T11:24:00.000-07:00

Here's the link!
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/03/opinion/lweb03haiti.html.

Haiti Advocacy Week a Success!

2011-04-01T11:06:00.000-07:00

Our Haiti Advocacy delegation did an amazing job this past week in speaking up for their rights with USAID, the US State Dept, World Bank, IDB and Congress. I invite you to read through our ActionAid blog that I wrote throughout the week, to hear the voices of Haitian grassroots and Diaspora leaders. It might help if you start at the bottom of the blog and work your way up, in order to understand the evolution of the week.
Visit https://actionaidusa.wordpress.com/.

Haitian grassroots and Diaspora leaders meeting with Rep. Eliot Engel from NY

Remembering Haiti on Ash Wednesday

2011-03-09T06:04:00.001-08:00

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 9, 2011

Today is Ash Wednesday, a reminder for some that life is short...and precious...and unpredictable. This picture of sunrise over the small town of Mellier in the Western Department of Haiti was taken at a pensive moment during my recent church work trip. On that morning, I was thankful to not be working, thankful to not be moving fast like I always do and not talking so much and to just stand still in the beauty of the moment. I remember not wanting to leave that place, to leave that moment in time. The fields and mountains felt so peaceful, the neighbors tending crops so friendly, the air soft and forgiving. Yet, I knew that it could not last forever.

A few days later, back in Port-au-Prince, a small 4.1 scale earthquake shook the earth once again and perhaps woke everyone out of any small sense of normalcy that has slowly grown. Me personally, I didn't even feel it. Yet, everyone could feel the worry, and then the sad memories seeping back into the social fabric. Perhaps nothing was physically broken in Port-au-Prince that day, but it reminded all of us that each day is unpredictable. We have a choice to either fear the uncertainty, or to embrace the possibilities...to hold on to the pain and anger, or to let go of all that holds us back.

My husband, Mark, and I are hoping to join our church this Lenten season in what they are calling a "money fast"...only making purchases for the week at one time and not spending anything that isn't absolutely necessary. (So, no chai lattes, unless I make them myself.) It seems like a very small exercise towards letting go of that which we don't really need, and embracing something healthier. So, I think I will hold onto this sunrise picture of Mellier during Lent, in order to help me to keep my perspective. I can reflect back on that morning and remember that the most precious moments in life are usually free.

Lessons from Mellier

2011-02-24T09:14:00.000-08:00

Elise (far left), one of our interpretors, Caz, Deanna (our amazing chef!), Molly, Claudie (another amazing chef) and Ace singing some Creole hymns together.

This morning constituted a tearful goodbye for us in Mellier. We had just enjoyed a lively last community dinner and night of singing and dancing with our new Mellier Methodist Church friends the night before. It was such a joyful event. Everyone noted that we rarely see this side of Haitian life in the US media. Even though 43 students are no longer able to attend the Mellier Methodist school after last year's earthquake, the teachers get paid only $60 per month and go for months sometimes without any pay at all and a number of skinny children and adults in the community are consistently malnourished, we still saw a clear picture of Haiti. It has great beauty, strength and wisdom to share with us. The Mellier Methodist Church community taught us what it means to share, to rejoice in music, to appreciate even the small things that one has. We bring these many lessons back to DC tonight and will continue to process and work together towards greater understanding and action in the days and months to come. Here are a few team insights for the road, though, in the words of our team members.

Doug: "It’s been bittersweet. I’ve made a lot of friends that I now have to leave. I’ve learned about capacity to give, including figuring out how much capacity I personally have…and what I don’t have."

Doug (far right) offering a gift of workers gloves to Mellier Foreman, Boss Wech

Susan: "I learned to love with a broken heart."

Susan, taking a picture in the back of our "Tap Tap" as we cross over bumpy Leogane roads on our way to buy papayas (which Nicole is holding.)

Laurie: "I learned to manage expectations…both my expectations and other people’s expectations. For being such a broken country in many ways, Haiti is still such an incredibly beautiful one. I wish that more people would take time to learn the history of the Haitian people."

Laurie helping Joseph, a 17 year old previous student who can no longer afford to attend school, review English lessons.

Molly: "I learned more about what it truly means to accompany people and really be present to them…that it is a long, but satisfying journey."

Molly (on far right) with Nicole, Elise, Jana, our interpretor Jean Claude and Mark...moving some dirt for the church!

Ace: "I learned that there are limitations in power to physically change things, but there is enormous power in love and community."

Ace with some of his new Mellier friends, Harold on the left and Jean Claude on the right.

Margaret: "I learned how to be prayerful and trust in God."

Margaret, 4th from the left, was an amazing addition to this small group meeting with women from Mellier Methodist Church. She had a special rapport with the women, especially being the only person with children on our team!

Mark: I learned that life is most fully lived on the challenging edges.

Mark helping Mellier 5th and 6th graders write letters to some of his students in Baltimore.

As we have a 3 year long commitment to Haiti mission, volunteer and advocacy work, we will continue to partner with the Methodist Church of Haiti in identifying the areas where we might be of greatest service. We're hoping to maintain and continue to grow this special relationship with the Mellier Methodist community in the middle of this work. And hopefully, God willing, we'll be able to come back in October so that we can learn and share at an even deeper level.

Haiti First Impressions

2011-02-19T04:21:00.000-08:00

Our Foundry United Methodist Church volunteer group just arrived yesterday in Port-au-Prince. As we jostled along the bumpy streets , sweating out the DC rat race and in the Haiti heat, it was wonderful to hear the team's reaction to experiencing Haiti for the first time. Here are a few of the observations:

Mark: Haiti is full of life: barking dogs, crowing roosters, car alarms at 3 in the morning, sellers peddling goods in the market, artists showcasing their colorful paintings. I hope to listen this next week and be a part of the wonderful community of this church and of Mellier.

Margaret: For me, the main thing is community. My first impression is that there is an importance of community here. I know that at least a dozen of the children in Mellier have lost their parents after the earthquake. From what we have heard, the community their has really embraced those children and is helping to raise them. I'm looking forward to witnessing this first hand. Second, for our own Foundry group...I feel like we are part of a larger system.

Doug: The American and Haitian methodists we've met so far have been incredibly friendly. I'm really looking forward to seeing the other parts of Port-au-Prince, especially where the center of the earthquake destruction has happened. And, I'm eager to arrive in Mellier, and see what rural life in Haiti is like compared to the city. From what I've heard, it seems like there's big divide. Fresh air sounds good as well.

Laurie: I was impressed with Petionville. Restaurants are running, some people are working. People are kind and friendly and seem to really be helping one another. At least some good things are happening. To each person whom I said "Bonswa," everyone responded with a smile on their face. I came across a few people selling art on the street. My impression of them was that they were extremely kind, very educated (tri-lingual!), very friendly. After talking for a while, I was able to ask them where they were the day of the earthquake. They were thankfully outside, getting some sun and laying up against a building. The ground started shaking right before their eyes and they ran for safety. Thankfully, they were alright. I look forward to getting to know people better throughout the week and just listening to their stories.

More to come!

Baby Doc is Back in Town

2011-01-17T07:04:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately, the rumors are true. The dictator dynasty heir, Jean Claude Duvalier - the same man who was thrown out of Haiti 25 years ago for having stolen millions and killed thousands - just landed in country. Last night, as I sat next to my colleague and friend, Marie, in a thankfully still quiet neighborhood of Port-au-Prince, we kept saying the same thing over and over: this is crazy.

Jean Claude Duvalier, back from exile

Everyone agrees that it doesn't make any sense for Duvalier, nicknamed "Baby Doc," to have returned. Perhaps as bad as his notorious father Papa Doc, who initiated a 30 year era of intimidation and fear through his dreaded gang of "Tons tons Machoutes," Jean Claude is an unwelcome sight. This country just got done mourning one of the worst disasters it has ever experienced. And now, they have to deal with this.

All around the streets of Port-au-Prince, people are asking "what does it all mean." Duvalier says that he has simply come back to help his country in this time of great struggle. No one is buying that, though. An old Kreyol phrase comes to mind: “tout sa ou we, se pa sa,” which basically means, “All that you see right now, it’s not really as it seems.”

Some say that the French let him back into the country in order to have a one-up on the US. Others say that the US masterminded it in order to initiate enough political upheaval to help oust Preval, put in their own hand-picked interim government and avoid having the leading Presidential candidate, Mirlande Manigat, come to power. Still others theorize that Preval is actually behind the surprise arrival, that he is trying to instigate some political upheaval himself in order to help keep himself in power until May. Still others say that Duvalier is sick, now an old man, and has come back to his home country to die. Who knows what to believe, though.

One thing is clear from last night's events: Haiti deserves justice. It deserves the millions of dollars back that it had stolen by the Duvalier family, other corrupt leaders and multiple bad trade and aid policies throughout the years. It deserves a solid reconstruction plan that is inclusive of the actual Haitian people, and built on the needs of the poor rather than the pay rolls of foreign companies. It deserves a robust and stable government that listens to its people, builds sturdy, sustainable infrastructure, and holds fair and democratic elections. And it deserves markets: fair global trade markets and actual physical markets in which to sell goods.

I saw one such market yesterday morning. The cell phone company, Digicel, has invested money in rebuilding the Hyppolite Market in downtown Port-au-Prince. The new market is definitely beautiful, and at least appears to be an example that rebuilding is happening. Yet, the question still remains: is this what people need most right now? What about the 1.5 million still living in deplorable camp conditions? In fact, Haiti needs much more: reconstruction that lifts the people up, creates proper interim and longer-term housing, implements an inclusive agriculture and food security plan and creates sustainable business and income generation.

The new, Digicel-funded Hyppolite Market in Port-au-Prince

One thing that Haiti does not need right now is a resurfacing ghost of the past who will only cause more problems. The country is poised now for the next big surprise. Does Duvalier’s return open the door for the return of Aristide? Can Duvalier actually be tried for his crimes against the Haitian people as Preval has promised? Hopefully history will not repeat itself and a peaceful solution can surface.

Food as a Human Right: Haiti's One Year Commemoration

2011-01-11T07:40:00.000-08:00

Haiti Food Aid Distribution

For me, one of the most striking images of the 2008 global food crisis was that of a young Haitian man with a mouth full of straw. The man was making a public protest at the astronomical food prices in local Haitian markets, reflecting nation-wide outrage at a food system that has been domineered by cheap imports and food aid dumping. Almost 3 years later, at the 1 year commemoration of the January 12 earthquake, Haitians have even more reasons to protest. Food security stands on a long list of neglected national and international policies that have thwarted their attempts at gaining sovereignty. Yet, the right to food...the right to grow it, to choose it and to earn enough money to buy it, is one of the most basic of human rights. Everyone on this earth has a right to eat enough nutritious food to live well, and to do it with dignity.

With 76 percent of Haitians living on less than $2 per day, 3 million people not receiving enough calories, and over half of all consumed food deriving from imports, this crucial human right is not being met in Haiti. This presents an even greater challenge in light of food price projections. Riots have already broken out in countries like Algeria and Tunisia, where people cannot afford to buy sugar, oil and basic staple foods. Experts agree that Haiti stands on even more fragile ground, ill equipped to absorb the next impending global food crisis.

Despite the unique challenges of today's post-earthquake environment, Haiti's food problem has been a long time growing. Many argue that Haiti was nearly self-sufficient in the 1980's, able to grow enough food to feed its people. Yet, the United States, other international governments and international financial institutions put great pressure on Haiti to liberalize its trade policies. This included cutting tariffs on outside imports like rice, reducing publicly financed support programs for farmers, allowing outside companies to cut down forests and deprioritizing agricultural development. In addition, foreign governments responded to different natural disasters by sending food aid commodities that competed with local markets.

Today, Haiti imports over 80% of all its rice. This is a direct effect of US food aid policies. At the March 10, 2010 Senate Foreign Relations Committee Hearing, President Bill Clinton publicly apologized for his contribution to these policies and Haiti's current food dependent state. "It may have been good for some of my farmers in Arkansas, but it has not worked. It was a mistake...I have had to live everyday with the consequences of the loss of capacity to produce a rice crop in Haiti to feed those people because of what I did." See full article.

Understanding Haiti's food and agriculture history and our own role in that history is an important step towards helping to correct the past. Multiple Haitian organizations and civil society platforms exist, like CROSE, MPP, Tet Kole and PAPDA, that have the expertise and people power to help change Haiti's food reality. These groups have been actively working with my own organization, ActionAid, to improve agricultural development and food security policies in country. They have protested foreign quick fix solutions, like Monsanto GMO seeds, and have promoted local production and food purchase. They have denounced food aid dumping and agricultural development contracts that are domineered by foreign firms, and have offered powerful alternatives that can help to lift the Haitian people into a new era of food sovereignty. If we truly want to help the Haitian people to feed themselves, then we must listen to these voices and challenge our own decision-makers to do the same.

Elise Young

Senior Policy Analyst

ActionAid USA

elise.young@actionaid.org

Cholera in Haiti

2010-11-16T19:22:00.000-08:00

Haiti, U.S. and International news feeds are all reporting on the devastating cholera outbreaks that are currently rocking the country. Over 1,030 people have now died, over 14,600 are reported as being infected and as many as 50,000-100,000 might actually be infected. The UN estimates that up to 200,000 are likely to become infected overall. The scary thing about cholera is that it strikes very quickly. Terrible diarrhea and vomiting can cause a person to become completely dehydrated and die within 48 hours. Haitian rural communities with little access to medical centers are understandably afraid. The hospitals in certain towns, such as Gonaives, are completely overfull with cases and cannot accept any new ones. I’ve talked first hand with Haitians over the last few days who express their desperate feelings of powerlessness in the face of this new invisible enemy.

Poulie women asking for cholera prevention trainings in the different local schools to help protect their children.

A lot of confusion exists about how cholera made its way into Haiti and about how it is spreading. Here is what I know or have heard so far. The Center for Disease Control tested certain infected persons and asserted that the current strain of cholera most closely resembles one from Southeast Asia. The cholera originated in the Artibonite area, near the Artibonite river, where Nepalese UN troops were stationed. Many Haitians and international NGO’s suspect that the Nepalese troops might have unknowingly brought the cholera to the country. The UN and World Health Organization contend that they tested the soldiers and that they are not the source. However, many Haitians doubt the truth behind this. As a result, certain protests against the UN troops have taken place in the Central Plateau town of Hinche and in the Northern town of Cap Haitien, where over 50 people have died. We were all very sad to learn today that in the Cap Haitien protest, which turned violent, a 14 year old Haitian boy was killed. Understandably, many Haitians and Haitian organizations now want the UN troops to go. Yet, with the pending elections and fear of potential violence, this leaves the country in a bit of a quandary.

The big question remains…how do we now deal with this cholera epidemic? So much money has been put into International NGO’s and overall health initiatives. One thing that I know for sure, though, is that success can only be achieved if International Donors, NGO’s and Health Systems respect the already existing Haitian organizations and networks. This is one of the reasons why I have faith in my new employer, ActionAid, and other similar rights-based organizations. I believe that they truly respect and partner with local Haitian organizations. The results can be amazing. I have the proof.

The ActionAid Cholera Prevention Training taking place in the small village of Poulie in the Central Valley, next to Lascahobas.

On Sunday, I was able to join the 10 member ActionAid Emergency Response Team as they executed a series of cholera prevention trainings in Lascahobas (the town that I blogged about on 6.27.10) and the neighbor village of Poulie. What an impressive endeavor. On Friday, after an ActionAid staffer came back from the field and reported on new cases of cholera and a request for ActionAid’s help, the team immediately contacted their local Haitian NGO partner, COSADH. COSADH, in turn, notified their field liaisons that ActionAid would be arriving on Sunday to do the prevention trainings.

Explaining the contents and use of the cholera prevention kits.

Our team arrived in Lascahobas at 11:30am on Sunday. We met for an hour with our partner COSADH and a team of local ActionAid/COSADH trained facilitators who are from the area and know the people well. We split up into 3 different teams. I joined the team going to the small village of Poulie, where we worked with the ActionAid/COSADH facilitator, Jacqueline Morette (who also serves as a facilitator for Oxfam.) Jacqueline is an amazing woman…strong, warm, well educated…a real community leader who helps to lead the Association of Women of Poulie. I actually had the pleasure of meeting Jacqueline in Washington, DC, when Oxfam brought her to the States to meet with NGO’s and members of Congress. (She remembered me well and was quite surprised to see me show up at her door in the middle of this very rural area.)

Jacqueline, ActionAid Emergency Response Trainer, Wesner, and Me in the village of Poulie in the Central Valley

Jacqueline sprung into action and mobilized the youth and local artists, who then went door to door to announce that there would be a community-wide cholera prevention training in 1 hour at the local school. We spent that hour talking with Jacqueline under her coconut tree and learning more about the community and the concerns over the growing cholera threat. At 2pm, we headed to the local school and low and behold, over 100 community members were gathered, ready and eager for the training. It was a wonderful, interactive, productive hour long training on the different ways to prevent and treat cholera, that included singing, story telling and community engagement.

I just kept thinking during the training, “this is how you do community development and community emergency response…with people, not for people…through the community, not above the community.”

Poulie Community members waiting in line to receive ActionAid cholera prevention kits.

This is the type of cholera response that Haiti most desperately needs right now. One that is considerate of local Haitian organizations, knowledgeable of the language and culture, connected into community leaders, and sensitive to the unique geographical needs. If International NGO’s and donors want to really help Haiti, we need to first look at our own intentions, prejudices and hierarchies, and seek to reach out in more authentic and respectful ways.

The ActionAid Emergency Response team handing out image-based educational flyers and cholera prevention kits (1 gallon bucket, chlorox to treat the water, soap, toilet paper and oral rehydration solution) to Poulie training participants

Mountains Beyond Mountains

2010-11-13T19:26:00.000-08:00

The book is right, Haiti is ridiculously gorgeous. I had the most amazing opportunity today to join my new friends, Alexis and her husband Ben, on a hike through a nature wonderland of sorts. Alexis is the head advocacy person at Mennonite Central Committee, based in Port-au-Prince. Born of American parents, having grown up for 18 years in Cameroon and having spent the last 2 ½ years dedicating her life to progressive Haiti development (and learning fluent Creole) she is quite the global citizen. Her husband, Ben, (also American, a good Creole speaker and a real globe trotter) is a talented photographer who works with several of the different International NGO’s operating in Haiti. After a few meetings with Alexis and realizing that she was my kind of person (down-to-earth, respectful of Haitian culture, warm and welcoming,) I was delighted when she and her husband invited me to join them for a day of hiking on a beautiful nature preserve in the mountain village of Kenskoff, about 20 kilometers north of Port-au-Prince.

The preserve is the work of a Haitian American woman named Janie, who bought up the land to protect it and turn it into a natural reserve where community members could help repopulate the land with indigenous plants. The result is a lush Eden of orchids, begonias, impatients, fruit trees, vegetables and green, exotic plants that I have never even seen before. We started up into the hike surrounded by a distant mist that gave the mountain and its flora an ethereal glow. We greeted every Haitian that we passed in Creole and were received with the warmest, most sincere response at every turn. (Creole goes a LONG way…It is inspiring how the Haitian people have held onto their language and so respect its use by foreigners.) I oohed and ahhed over the amazing agriculture projects all around us: terraces of sweet potatoes, cassava, peppers, tomatoes and onions. Green houses with marigolds and lettuce and herbs.

After several wonderful hours of exploring this natural treasure, we finally decided it was time to descend. Just then, the mist began to rise and the mountains and valleys and tiered terraces leapt out before us. Breathtaking. As we carefully navigated down the red earth path, we passed by a procession of community members dressed in red shirts, making their way up to the top of the mountain for a planning meeting. We said “Comment ou ye…or how are you?” to each person and were greeted with a warm smile and laugh. “Mwen byen, par la grace du dieu.” “Very good, by the grace of God.”

Once Alexis, Ben and I made it back down the mountain, we ventured to the town market, where Alexis enthusiastically greeted her friend Christine, a vegetable saleswoman who also dabbles in horticulture. I witnessed such a beautiful and sincere warm embrace between the two women. Christine was obviously delighted to see her old friend Alexis and talked a mile a minute in Creole to her, updating her on the news of the town and market. I felt the divides of race, culture and nationality just slip away at the moment. This is the Haiti that I came to see…a land of mountains beyond mountains and human connection beyond connection.

After Alexis and Ben bought a good sampling of vegetables and I bought a lovely orchid arrangement that Christine had created, we said orevwa and began to head back into the reality of Port-au-Prince. The traffic and noise and pollution and cramped corners slowly emerged. Yet, I still felt high from the day, and seemed to carry a new lightness back into the city with me. My new friends showed me that Haiti still has many wonderful things to teach me. And today proved yet again that one of these lessons is hope.

Parlez-vous soccer?

2010-11-12T17:22:00.000-08:00

This is the gorgeous view from the ActionAid Guest house in Haiti, in the Port-au-Prince neighborhood of Pacot. It is a wonderful reminder that beauty really does exist in Haiti...even despite the earthquake effects, cholera outbreaks and aftermath of Hurricane Tomas. I have 3 great examples to back up this claim.

First, beautiful views abound. If you just head up into the hills or mountains a bit, you can see bright blue waters, towering mountains, lush trees, colorful flowers. The higher you go, the more you realize that Port-au-Prince is not the only part of Haiti, and that its rubble, trash and compact IDP camps are not the only things that define its character.

Second, the Haitian people are beautiful. Warm, thoughtful, quick to laugh, sensitive, strong, loving...Haitians constantly amaze me. How, in the middle of so much destruction and sickness, can people be so human, so connected, so solid? Two wonderful proofs of this fact are my current roomates: Marie (our ActionAid Haiti Human Resources Director and overall organizational mom) and Irvy (Marie's best friend of over 30 years.) I will have to devote another blog entry entirely to these two women. Despite the fact that both women lost their husbands years ago, that both women were traumatized by the earthquake and lost people they cared about, that both have children to worry about educating and overwhelming responsibility to care for the lives of others, they are free, loving spirits. Their full belly laughs fill the home. Their kindness and smiles are infectious. They really know how to live (and how to make a foreigner feel right at home.)

Third, Haitian children are beautiful (ok, children do officially count as people, but they still get their own category.) When I emerged from the Guest House yesterday early evening to go for a walk with Marie, the children and their soccer ball descended. A round of voices started asking me if I knew how to play soccer. I joked and teased them and said of course I did, but did THEY know how to play soccer, or would I have to teach them. This resulted in the most beautiful chorus of giggles and laughter and enthusiastic pleading for me to come and play a quick game with them.

I am proud to report, that I scored 2 goals, blocked over a dozen attempts and successfully managed to not embarrass myself on the makeshift soccer field (consisting of a small dirt patch of semi-even ground, rocks for goals and a sadly deflated soccer ball.) In fact, I even got some good praise from the gathered bystanders. Of course, my fellow players were only 8 year old boys who were playing without shoes, but that's beside the point. Soccer turned out to be a language that we could all speak. And the children's supreme delight with me playing reminded me that Haitian children are beautiful miracles...with a joie de vivre that deserves our greatest respect.

I suspect that my next blog might be a bit more reflective of the many challenges that Haitians are facing right now: the cholera deaths, the slow pace of removing rubble, the disputes of land tenure and fact that Haitians are being pushed off of IDP camp land. Yet, today, I just want to bask for a minute more in the beauty that is Haiti. I hope that you get a chance to do the same.

Haiti, Take 2

2010-11-09T20:41:00.000-08:00

Just a quick blog post to announce that I'm heading to Haiti tomorrow for a week-long work trip. My June trip to Haiti exposed me to the massive damage that Port-au-Prince had suffered during the January 12, 2010 earthquake. Now, in the wake of Hurricane Tomas and Cholera outbreaks, I'm not quite sure to expect. So, again, I'm really, really, really going to try and just listen, watch and learn. I'll also try to update my blog with pictures and stories from the field.

And I promise, promise, promise both my mother and my husband, that I won't eat any street food this time. Learned my lesson the hard way last time;)

Check out tonight's Washington Improv Theater Comedy Performance

2010-10-29T11:19:00.001-07:00

http://washingtonimprovtheater.com/pages.php?pageName=fullshow&view=ID&ID=180&month=10&year=2010&showName=Moderate-ly%20Funny

An Office of One's Own

2010-10-15T07:33:00.000-07:00

One of the many blessings of this new job at ActionAid is that I have my own office, with a door that closes…if I pull the couch out to just the right place and wedge the door past it. And, I have a big window, so that if I lean way over to the right, I can just see a bit of sky in between the tall buildings. This little space that I call my own is no small thing. (Ok, it technically is a relatively small space, but I’m talking metaphorically here.) It is a place where I can regroup…a place where I can seek refuge…a place that I can call my own.

In the spirit of owning up to my space, new job and general work callings, I’ve decided to thoroughly decorate my office. Hence, I have the usual suspects in the room with me: Mahatma Ghandi, butterflies, a map of people from around the world, my friends and family (with my hubby right in front of my computer, where I can keep an eye on him;)

Last week, I made a proud purchase of 3 sweet little office plants that the woman promised me would be very difficult indeed to kill. An added bonus is that the kitchen (and hence the potential for them actually getting watered) is right next to my office. I grabbed a cute little pumpkin while I was at it, plunked him down in full view at the corner of my desk and declared it fall time, as verified by the Monterey calendar on my wall. My space felt almost perfect...more like a work home. Yet, I realized yesterday that there was one more thing missing.

And so, I surrounded my computer this morning with some key reminders. They’re little pieces of advice that I’ve accumulated over time from wise friends, family members and prophets. Here are a few of them:

- Listen and Look
- Do not be afraid
- Knock, and the door shall be opened
- When in doubt, give
- Seek and you will find
- Live by faith and not by sight
- Forgive
- Be patient

And the big one, placed right at the center of my screen so that I just can't ignore it...Love.

Last week, I had a few work days where I think I broke just about every one of these guidelines. This week, I’m trying to make them a little bit harder to forget. So, I’m thankful to have the space in which to do that.

The final item that I have in my office as a reminder of how I want to work and live my life is a poem, given to me by a dear friend. It goes something like this:

"I asked for strength...
And God gave me challenges to make me strong
I asked for wisdom...
And God gave me problems to solve
I asked for prosperity...
And God gave me brain and brawn to work
I asked for courage...
And God gave me danger to overcome
I asked for love...
And God gave me troubled people to help
I asked for favors...
And God gave me opportunities
I received nothing I wanted
I received everything I needed."

An Ode to Working Mothers

2010-10-12T18:06:00.000-07:00

My church, Foundry UMC, www.foundryumc.org

I was amazed this past weekend by the women who spoke at the Haiti education event that we organized at my church, Foundry United Methodist. Both women are of Haitian descent and work on Haiti recovery and policy efforts around the clock. Both are married and mothers to young children. Both travel back and forth to Haiti for their work, with one woman in particular traveling at least twice per month. Yet, there they were this past Sunday...dynamic, eloquent, passionate, soulful women who are so committed to Haiti reconstruction that they packed their entire families into their cars and gave up a portion of their incredibly limited free time in order to help educate us. Talk about having a WOW moment.

Something that particularly struck me during their presentations was the amazingly challenging path that committed working women have to walk. Due to a lack of available childcare, both women had their 3 year olds pulling on their skirts as they attempted to present and then answer questions. (I was lucky enough to take care of one of the women's darling 1 year old daughter...but still had to use every trick in the book to keep her amused for an hour.) I just kept thinking that these women probably get an average of 5 or 6 hrs of sleep per night (if they're lucky.) They work long, hard weeks and some how have to balance being 100% available to their families.They must have been exhausted. Yet, they were able to give perfect, intelligent, comprehensive commentaries on one of the most challenging post disaster countries in history as their 3 year old children yanked on their clothes, jumped up and down and tried to get their attention. And they performed the roles of professional, friend and mother all without blinking an eye. My question is, how did they do it?!

Two of my dearest friends, both of whom are intelligent, successful professionals, just recently had their first child. Already, they are having to navigate through how they will balance their new roles. How much time can they afford to take off...how long will they nurse their babies...when will they need to go back to work...when will they get sleep...how will they maintain their friendships and community. And, both friends are incredibly blessed with progressive, caring, engaged husbands who are thrilled to be fathers and to co-raise their children. I, myself, have every confidence that my husband Mark will be an equally wonderful father some day. Yet, it is still the mothers, for the most part, who must play the most challenging roles. It is the mom's who must be all things to all people at all times. Perhaps that is why these women who presented at our Haiti church event were able to navigate through multi-tasking so easily. Their lives inevitably center around this skill.

I hope and pray that I am blessed enough to experience this challenge of multi-tasking through the roles of professional, spouse, daughter, sister, cousin, social justice advocate, church member, neighbor, friend and especially mother one day. In the meantime, I extend some much deserved admiration and appreciation out to all of you working mothers. May we, as a culture, work to better support our mothers (and fathers too!) so that they don't have to choose between their careers, their families and themselves.

Haiti: Six months on - Fault Lines - Al Jazeera English

2010-09-13T17:34:00.000-07:00

Haiti: Six months on - Fault Lines - Al Jazeera English

I just attended a Transafrica Forum event at which I was privileged to watch a powerful short documentary on post-earthquake Haiti produced by Al Jazeera. As I watched the real story behind what is happening in Haiti camps, I kept thinking, "what can I do about this...I mean really...what can I personally do about this?"

Of course, this might seem like a slightly crazy question, since my full-time job at ActionAid centers most of its attention on Haiti advocacy. Herein lies my life and career dilemma, though. Advocacy sometimes feels like a slow and clumsy beast...so very distant from real life people. And it's real life people that I want to engage with. Yet, where would we be without big picture changes? I suspect that we'd be stuck in the mud somewhere...trying to get the same metaphoric disaster truck with only two wheels on it out of the mud yet again.

I guess this is why I've always gravitated towards film and documentaries. They can tell a personal, real life human story, but in big picture ways that can have positive ripple effects over time. I love that.

Haiti has an important story to tell...a deep, rich, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes inspirational story. I only hope that we can find authentic ways to share this story, and to especially bring it to big picture policy makers. So, to all of us advocacy and policy folks out there, let's try to remember that Haiti's story is first and foremost a human story.

Walker's Way

2010-08-26T21:00:00.000-07:00

So, it’s official. I just began a bonafide, full-time, salaried position as Senior Policy Analyst at ActionAid USA. Wow! I feel so incredibly grateful for this blessing. After an entire year of searching for a job (I just completed my 100th application a few weeks ago,) it feels like I can finally fully breathe again. I will continue to work on Haiti advocacy efforts at 85% time and will start to integrate work on Central America at 15% time. I’m excited to get to use my French, to learn Creole and more Spanish and to advocate for the anti-poverty initiatives in which I believe. To show my great appreciation for a year’s worth of support and prayers, I want to send these words out to the Universe, God, family and friends: Thank you, thank you, thank you.

A few weeks ago, Mark and I were also able to take a vacation up to Maine, to celebrate our 3rd anniversary and revel in a little R&R before the start of the new job. During our trip, we and my mother visited my great uncle, Richard Walker, at his retirement home outside of Portland, ME. This past year has been a hard one for Uncle Dick, as he lost the love of his life, his wife of 62 years. Talking with my favorite great uncle helped put my own last year into perspective. No matter what kind of challenging transitions and job searching I have had, it pales in comparison to the loss of a beloved spouse. Uncle Dick showed us picture after picture of Sally, telling stories of their many adventures together in raising three girls, leaving the family business to pursue their dreams in ME and making a new home by the ocean. He has such love for this woman. I held Mark’s hand a little tighter with each story, thankful that my husband is still with me for the journey.

93 year old Uncle Dick and his beloved wife of 62 years, Sally Walker

What I love about Uncle Dick is that despite his own loss, he is still able to contribute. In fact, his whole being seems to gravitate towards this. As he gives us a tour of the grounds, he points out little projects here and there that still need his full attention. “Those benches over there need to be redone, so that’s my next project,” he tells us. Or, “I still need to check in on Henry in the care unit, he’s been having a rough go.” Uncle Dick finally brings us to his favorite place at the home, a beautiful distant view of the ocean. He explains that it used to be impossible for the residents to actually walk down to the ocean, without having to climb over boulders and bushes. Then he says with that well-known twinkle in his eye, “Follow me, my friends.”

He leads us down a new walkway through the woods, saying jolly hello’s to everyone we pass by name. We come to a special bench, a resting place on the path. “Now, we finally have a way for us old geezers to walk down and see the ocean up close,” he explains. He points to a small sign over the bench that reads, “Walker’s Way.” It takes us a few moments to realize that this walkway is named after Uncle Dick, after my mother’s family name. He suddenly looks a little shy and explains that is wasn’t his idea to put up the sign, just to build the path. I marvel at my uncle, who at 93 years old, is still finding ways to blaze new trails and give of himself.

Liz and Dick Walker at "Walker’s Way" in Piper Shores, ME

Afterwards, we head back to Uncle Dick’s apartment, where we are able to ask him questions about his older brother, my grandfather William, their sister Bobbie and their parents. Uncle Dick tells us about growing up during the Great Depression, of how his own mother (who has sometimes been branded a bit of a tough cookie through family lore) was the glue that kept everything together. When the Depression struck the hardest, and his parents were uncertain if they would be able to keep their house or feed their 3 children, Marian Walker took matters into her own hands. Marian was wonderful with flowers, a true botanist. After some unsuccessful attempts at selling flowers and seeds, she decided to try writing. She finally amassed everything that she knew about gardening on paper, drove herself to the New Jersey train station, took the train by herself up to New York City, and began knocking on the doors of every Gardening Magazine in town. An unknown, jobless house wife was somehow able to convince these magazines to publish her articles, through her own sheer conviction. My great uncle explains that this income was what saved the family through the worst part of the 30's. Despite her sometimes tough exterior, Marian Walker was a survivor and a provider.

My great grandmother, Writer, Artist and Botanist, Marian C. Walker

This story inspires me. Political analysts have sometimes likened our current economic plunges and unemployment rates to those of the Great Depression. I don’t believe, though, that the majority of us truly understand what it must have felt like to live during the 30’s. Of course, current immigrants and those living in poor, rural and urban neighborhoods do. Many of us, though, take a lot of what we have for granted. However, I believe that both the Depression and the current economy are proof that no one is too smart, educated or wealthy to be immune from potential loss. Therefore, every job and paycheck is a blessing. Our houses, cars, food, water and clothing, they are also blessings. AND, no matter how hard it gets, loss always presents a new opportunity to grow…to try something new… to give.

As we hug Uncle Dick goodbye and wave a final farewell, I start to think about this next stage of my life. The truth of the matter is that my new job might just be a temporary gift… an impermanent step on a long pathway of learning. My husband, my family, my convictions, they are the cornerstones. Thank you, Marian Walker, for teaching me that perseverance can indeed save the day. Thank you, Uncle Dick, for showing us that it is always the right time to clear a path for others. And thank you, Mom, for guiding me towards the greatest gift that I will ever need to survive in this crazy world: faith.

My mom, Liz Walker, Me, my husband, Mark, and Uncle Dick

The Voices of Haiti's Civil Society

2010-06-29T09:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, after meeting with several Civil Society leaders and finding a little time to visit a local Artisanal Shop, I finally encounter something that brings me to tears. Maybe it’s because the sign is in English. Maybe it’s because the camps had finally gotten to me. But the words, “We Need Help. Food, Water, Tent and Doctor,” moves me in unspeakable ways. Packed onto the grounds of what must have once been a great palace, displaced Haitians are practically sitting on top of one another in makeshift tents. The old African-American spiritual comes to mind, “How long, Lord, how long?”

Even though the common theme in Haiti is that people need jobs, this sign reminds me that some people are still in desperate need of immediate help. This sign must have been a humbling one for people to have written. It is my understanding after 1 very brief week in the country that Haitians are a strong, proud, unified people. Creole signs like “Ansanm Nou Fo” are everywhere. “Together we are strong.” Over and over, I hear from people that they do not want aid handouts. What they want is national and agricultural sovereignty.

Yesterday, I met with the organizations Tete Kole and PAPDA. One of my goals on this trip is to identify potential partners on the ground who can help our Haiti Advocacy Working Group to effectively lobby the U.S. Congress. Congress, the UN, the World Bank and the international media have often portrayed Haitian Civil Society as a poorly organized, dispersed force, much like the displacement camps that populate Port-au-Prince. Organizational leaders Jean and Camille, however, have a different story to tell. By their account, Civil Society is indeed well organized. The “4 G’s,” an effective coalition of peasant and agricultural NGO’s, can testify to this. Jean and Camille, whose organizations are members of the “4 G’s,” are eloquent, intelligent, detailed organizers and strategists. So, wherein lies the disconnect?

Camille Chalmers, Director of PAPDA

The truth of the matter is that Haiti has amazing talent and spirit, with a much better organized civil society than the International Community has portrayed. It does lack sufficient infrastructure; that is painfully clear. However, unfair debt and loan burdens, an elimination of tariffs that allow unwanted products to be dumped on their markets and exclusion from key national and international reconstruction planning are what have really choked the country. The havoc wreaked by this earthquake is not simply due to natural disaster. This many people did not need to die. Hundreds of thousands did not need to be imprisoned by displacement camps with sub-human conditions. This is a question about political will and needing to listen to the voices of the “4-G” and other Civil Society organizations. Haitians are crying out for inclusion in their own reconstruction. And it is up to us to start listening.

Score: 1 Goal for the Americans

2010-06-27T21:34:00.000-07:00

The entrance to Lascahobas in the Central Region

Yesterday, I was riding next to my Action Aid Colleagues, Alcee, Wesner and Thomas, climbing a green mountain pass to a majestic overlook of Lake Peligre, and trying my very best not to be sick. Our driver, Thomas, was an expert road nagivator. So much so, in fact, that he was attacking the curvy turns with the strength and determination of a 400 lb sumo wrestler. My stomach, however, was down for the count. Once we finally cleared the mountain pass, though, life improved considerably. We were entering the Central Valley and Lascahobas was on the horizon.

Lake Peligre

My colleagues graciously agreed to escort me to the site of an Action Aid ‘Cash for Work’ project that employs about 110 community members with partial funding from the United States. The participants work to conserve soil and improve harvests by utilizing a series of naturally made barriers that prevent flooding and soil erosion. In this rural zone where farming and small intraregional markets present one of the few sources of income, soil is worth its weight in gold.

The first town that we come to in the valley is Mirebalais, what I affectionately now call, Pothole Heaven. Actually, the word ‘pothole’ does not really sufficiently describe the state of the roads. To come to think of it, the word ‘road’ doesn’t really seem to suffice either. Think rocks. Think boulders and mud holes and craters.

View of the rocky "road" in Mirebalais

Trying to break the ice with our sumo wrestling driver, Thomas, I throw in a joke or two about the art of driving in such conditions. “On doit vous appellez Colonel Thomas, comme vous devez etre un soldat pour passer sur cette route la!” Translated in English, “We have to call you Colonel Thomas from now on, since you have to be a soldier to make it over these roads!” I get nothing but a slight head nod from Thomas. After years of having lived and traveled in Africa, I know that it is always smart to make friends with your driver. Your life can depend on it! But, Thomas is just as stoic as his sumo counterparts, and doesn't budge an inch.

Part way through Mirebalais, we encounter an ominous series of road blocks and multiple signs indicating that there is insurmountable construction ahead. This is of little concern to brave Thomas, though, who jumps out of our 4 wheel-drive chariot, pushes the sign aside, and plows through onto the “roads” under construction. When we finally clear the worst of it, we hit the main part of town and encounter new challenging gauntlets. Goats and dogs and children and hawkers fill the streets. No problem! Thomas weaves in and out of them like he is dodging samurai throwing stars.

One of the better roads in Mirebalais

I quickly learn the language of the road on this trip. One honk means, “Heads up, because I am coming around this corner and my car is bigger than yours.” Three honks mean, “Get out of my way, you crazy pedestrians/dogs/goats/donkeys, because I am not slowing down!” Continuous urgent honking means, “I am going to kill you if you do not throw yourself from the road side this very instant!!!” After Thomas just barely misses a young girl carrying a load of bananas on her head, Alcee and Wesner start to protest. A short conversation in Creole ensues and I imagine Thomas saying something like this. “What are you talking about? I missed her by a mile! Would YOU like to drive instead?” I try to break the tension with another joke. “It’s war out here, Thomas. We’re lucky to have such a good tank and commander!” Alcee and Wesner chuckle a little, but stone-faced Thomas just nods again. And so, we rumble on.

Community Members in the fields of Lascahobas

After 2 ½ hours, we reach Lascahobas, a small, rural town that inhabits some 6,000. We pass through the modest town and head out into the even more rural periphery to meet the project members. Community leaders show us the natural barriers that they are creating, using strategically placed raised beds that are reinforced with sturdy sugar cane sticks.

'Cash for Work' project leaders explain water flooding barrier system.

We escape the sun and 100 degree heat by congregating under a big mango tree. Community members start joining us one by one, curious about the foreigner and city folk who have come to visit. Linda is a young, 24 year-old mother who has recently arrived from Port-au-Prince, along with hundreds of other displaced persons. Despite her age, she is the first to step up when I start off by asking what the greatest needs of the community are. She echoes a similar theme that I have already heard from every single Haitian with whom I have spoken: jobs.

Linda turns up her bravado and explains how difficult it is to be a displaced person in Lascahobas. “Before, we ran businesses. We sold items. We worked in shops. We worked in offices and schools. Now, there is nothing but farming. And so, we have become farmers. It is the very first time, though, that we displaced persons have even seen a field, much less used a hoe.”

Community leaders who grew up in Lascahobas explain to us that at first, it was difficult to integrate the Port-au-Prince natives into their project. However, the local participants quickly adapted and started training the new arrivals on the basics of farming. Linda explains to us that they are all united now, under this common ‘Cash for Work’ project, as they only have one another to survive.

Lascahobas 'Cash for Work' project members

Alcee, Wesner and I ask a series of questions over the next two hours, as our impromptu meeting grows to include almost two thirds of the project participants. Men and women take turns explaining to us the logistics of how they organize meetings, the rotation of responsibilities, their success in working with Action Aid and the local NGO partner, COHSAD, and the struggles that they are facing as a community. My colleagues are especially patient with me and help translate into Creole, as I try to frame and reframe my questions.

As for community identified challenges, health is on top of the list, with record cases of water-borne illnesses due to poor water sources. “Our babies and children have constant diarrhea,” explains Linda. “It is difficult sometimes for them to even keep down food and water.” And in this 100 degree heat, that makes diarrhea the number one killer of children.

Lodging is also of great concern. Houses are made out of crude palm branches and splintery wood. Strong storms can decimate the structures, requiring constant repairs and rebuilding. Fruit trees are plentiful, but the community does not have the capacity to dry and store fruit for when it is out of season. Despite some small scale husbandry efforts, protein and starches are scarce.

Home made out of palm trees by Lascahobas 'Cash for Work' participants

When we ask what the greatest concerns of women are, a dozen voices cry out at once, “Vaginal Infections!” Despite the fact that a community hospital does exist a few miles away, medicine and qualified personnel seem to be in constant shortage. I hear many stories of women who die within just a few days of their first symptoms. Several mothers tell me that they are worried about infections that they are potentially passing on to their babies through their breast milk as well. One woman explains that, “it is sometimes difficult to know what is worse…to continue nursing them or to switch them to the water and formula.”

Me and women participants of the Loscahobas 'Cash for Work' project, with Linda in orange.

Assets in the community include a school that all participants’ children can attend, a market place where participants can sell the small amount of surplus crops that they produce and a wealth of plant biodiversity. Crops include corn, beans, rice, potatoes, yams, melons, mangos, papayas and bananas. Linda chimes in again on her new form of employment. “I never knew that Haiti had such a wealth coming from the earth in just one place. If we had the proper water and way to transport everything, it could really be something.” Yet, the community has very little in the way of infrastructure, except for a few donkeys, hoes and shovels and the rich soil that is forever vulnerable to flooding. The ‘Cash for Work’ soil conservation program, however, hopes to change that liability into an asset.

Children at school in Lascahobas

After a long series of picture taking, laughing, more picture taking and shaking each community member’s hand, we say goodbye and head over to Linda’s family’s home down the road. At their displacement camp, we meet Linda’s 3 month-old son and her grandmother, Piorette. I like Piorette right away. She has sparkling eyes, a loving embrace and absolute termination that she is no older than 58. “Don’t believe her,” her grandchildren tease. “She is 72 years old!” Piorette chastises the collection of children, grandchildren and great grandchildren who surround her. She insists over and over again that she was born in 1908 and is therefore not a day over 58. The family giggles and snickers, like they must have heard this same argument before. Despite the teasing, though, it is obvious how much they love her.

Piorette has 10 children, 53 granchildren and God only knows how many great grandchildren. In Port-au-Prince, she used to sell food, medicine, clothes and little trinkets in the market place. But here in Lascahobas, she and her family have nothing. “If I could pray for one thing, it is that my children and grandchildren can find jobs out here in the country. And, that the little ones go to school. I just have to pray that God does not forget us.”

Displaced Port-au-Princian, Piorette. Mother of 10, grandmother of 53.

World Vision helped move the family out here into makeshift tents after the earthquake. Piorette, Linda and their family lost everything: their home, their shop, their goods and some of their family members. Piorette tells me with sad eyes that she never thought she would leave Port-au-Prince, the place of her birth. Her eyes begin to sparkle, though, when Linda’s adorable baby starts cooing and giggling. A dozen family members look knowingly at one another for a moment, perhaps sharing sad memories of what their life once was, perhaps sharing a moment of joy that this new life survived the earthquake.

Linda and her 3-month old baby

At the end of our hour conversation, I present Linda with rehydration and vitamin C packets and encourage her to only use them if the children become very ill with diarrhea. Piorette holds me with her two strong hands and kisses me on each cheek. “Mesi, mesi,” she says in Creole. The love in her eyes is overwhelming and I find myself not wanting to let go of her.

We finally pull away from Linda, Piorette and their family and head back to our warrior driver, Thomas, who has been watching the family scene for the last hour. We head back to downtown Lascahobas and share a nice Haitian meal of chicken, plaintains, rice and beans. After visiting a new school and water pump outside of town and navigating past villagers on their way home from market, we start back towards Port-au-Prince. Thomas seems to be driving a little more slowly now. He also stops each time that I go to take a picture and finds us the best place to buy mangos on the way. Deciding to try my luck once more, I go for one last attempt at some intercultural humor. “Thomas, it’s a good thing that the roads of Lascahobas and Mirebalais are behind us. Otherwise, we’d have mango juice by the time we arrive!” Finally, finally, Thomas breaks into the biggest smile and gives a quiet, yet definitive chuckle.

While listening to the radio on our way home, we learn that Ghana has defeated the beloved U.S. soccer team in the finals. Alcee and Wesner tease me a bit about our American team and hypothesize on whether it will be Argentina or Brazil who will win the World cup. I just smile though and look out at the beautiful, lush Central valley. Ghana may have won the match, but score one smile for America;)

Thomas, our driver, finally smiling.

Port-au-Prince 101

2010-06-23T19:22:00.001-07:00

Paula Drumond, Elise Young and Philipou community members with Action Aid at the 'Cash for Work' project in the Philipou Neighborhood of Port-au-Prince.

I arrived in the Port-au-Prince airport this morning under a hazy, sleep-deprived mental cloud. As we came in for a landing, though, I perked up considerably. Beautiful, mountainous Haiti was quickly approaching.

It has been a long day of meeting people, visiting Action Aid sites, taking pictures of the earthquake’s destructive aftermath and trying to stay awake for my first Haitian dinner. My very first impression of Port-au-Prince is that of a crumbling post-war zone. Every other building has experienced significant damage. Several buildings have collapsed onto themselves. Rubble and trash strew the streets. Makeshift camps populate each intersection, park and open space.

My second impression of Haiti is that people seem to be miraculously coping and moving on with their lives, at least on a surface level. Girls balancing heavy loads on top of their heads navigate over rubble piles with expert grace. Sellers enthusiastically peddle their goods at every corner. Colorful tap-taps whiz around piles of broken mortar with ease. Children are playing. Music is blaring. People are laughing.

Yet, we hear a different story when we take a closer look at one of the camps at Marini, on the outskirts of town. Here, we inspect a new Action Aid model shelter, a small, yet sturdy 2-room home, coordinated with the help of a local organization called COZPAM. This solid building has a stable foundation, a good tin roof and windows to let in the light. We meet Daniella, a laconic forty-something women’s leader who will soon move into the new home with her two young girls and four additional family members. Daniella explains that her community, although starting to get organized, is still in desperate need of help.

In her neighborhood, 1 toilet is available for every 130 people. Food is scarce and presents a daily challenge for survival. Dead bodies on top of the mountain range have contaminated the water source, which is making people sick. Jobs are non-existent and constitute a major barrier against sustainable recovery. And yet, Daniella and her neighborhood are some of the lucky ones. They have occasional food aid and shelter support from Action Aid and UNICEF. They have a sturdy meeting hall for children, youth and community meetings. They are identifying internal leaders, are meeting 3 times per week and are starting to utilize their voice.

When we ask Daniella and the community members what they would ask for if they had an opportunity to meet with their reclusive mayor, she doesn't hesitate. "We need jobs," shes says firmly. People want to work. People need to work. Although they are thankful for what they have received, donor fatigue is setting in and it has been 22 days since they've seen any food aid. But, they don't really want food aid. That want to buy and produce the food for themselves. Plans for a community garden are already underway, if enough rubble can be removed and water ways unclogged. Daniella herself hopes to run her own business one day. That way, she can have a sustainable source of income for her family and bring much needed clothes and goods into the community.

Despite these hopeful dreams, life remains extremely difficult for people in Marini. A certain quiet sadness seems to fall over everyone that we meet. Action Aid’s Director of the Americas has the perfect cure, though. He asks the hovering group of curious men, women and children if they support Argentina or Brazil for the World cup. “Brazil, Brazil!,” they collectively cry out. Giggles and laughter and whoops ensue and smiles finally radiate each face.

Despite the fact that this community doesn't have an elementary school, hospital or even a place to bathe, Brazilian flags proudly decorate each corner. Perhaps Team Brazil presents an opportunity for Port-au-Prince Haitians to band together around a regional symbol of pride. So, as we wave goodbye and head back to our nice, air-conditioned 4 wheel drive Toyota, I say the following short prayer. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, for the game of soccer. And please, please, please, let Brazil win.”

Haiti or Bust

2010-06-21T06:39:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I start off on a week-long work trip to Haiti. I am going so that I can learn, listen and see. Although I have been advocating on Haiti's behalf for a month now, consulting and volunteering around Haiti relief efforts for 4 months and praying on Haiti for 5 months, I have never visited the country. It has been a long-distance relationship across the great gulf of our cultural differences and misconceptions. Finally, I have the opportunity to resolve this disconnect.

I am both excited to go and a little nervous. I have all of my vaccinations, started my anti-malarial medication last week, and have assembled a nice little pile of food bars, anti-bacterial gel, a good pocket knife, immodium and my best intentions. 100 degree heat, malaria mosquitoes and travelers indigestion don't really worry me, though. Nor does the hurricane season, political instability or the scary idea of losing my checked bag. (For all the SIT Cameroon alum out there, anyone remember our checked bag debacle on Cameroon Airlines? Oh, I mean, Air Peut-etre;) What worries me is being face to face with the enormous amount of suffering which must be gripping this country, and not knowing what to do with it.

When September 11th gripped our own country in its hold, the results were overwhelming. It felt like the entire region was collectively suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Syndome and that the entire country was in deep mourning. Everyone was affected. Everyone now remembers where they were when September 11th struck. We lost thousands of dear souls and had our financial and cultural infrastructure shaken to its core.

As I reflect on our own National tragedies at ground zero or with Hurricane Katrina, I try to envision what the comparison must be like on the ground in Haiti. The only word that comes to mind is overwhelm. 200,000 people and counting. Maybe a quarter of a million. That's more people than were killed at Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined. How can one country contain so much pain and suffering? I imagine tears running out into the streets, mixing up with dirty flood water and spilling into the ocean...the only container big enough, perhaps, to hold such an event.

My Haitian friends tell me that despite this pain, Haitians still have hope. They have experienced their unfair share of political upheaval, hunger, poverty and national crisis in the past. Yet, a strength, wisdom and unity seems to still persevere in Haiti. And so, I hope to go and listen to Haitian voices and Haitian stories. I plan to maintain this blog as often as I can for the journey. I hope to document my own personal experiences over the next week and see where the Spirit may take us. It may be a bit of a wild ride, but I still invite you to join me through this blog. Just don't forget to bring some dramamine, in case it ever gets a little bumpy:)

My Big Fairytale Dragon

2010-06-08T20:28:00.000-07:00

Three weeks into my new contract position as the Haiti Advocacy Officer at Action Aid USA, I realize something important. I really like this work. I really get this work. I’m really thankful to be doing this work right now and to be getting paid for it. (I got my first paycheck today, btw, which made me giggle with delight… somewhat unprofessionally, I’m afraid.) In short, I feel like it is a fairytale treasure at the end of a long 9 month quest.

For the last three weeks, I have been using as much moxie as I can muster to try and help rally Congress to pass supplemental funding for Haiti. Ok, actually, that’s not really what I’ve been doing. Other people already worked on getting the supplemental funding into this proposed bill. I’ve actually been working on trying to convert some of the food aid in the bill (as in the commodity rice that we’re planning to dump yet again on Haiti, even though Bill Clinton admitted recently that this was a disastrous choice back in the 90’s) to cash so that Haitians can buy food from their own markets.

I have been doing my homework, working closely with great organizations like CARE, American Jewish World Service and CRS, and narrowing in on our congressional targets. It helps that I use to fight this same fight over at Bread for the World when we were working on Farm Bill reform back in 2007 and 2008. For goodness sake, even President Bush wanted to convert 25% of food aid to cash for local markets back then. Yet, the big bad farm lobby beat us that time. I remember taking the loss pretty hard, as did so many of the faithful partners who lobbied side by side. So, this time around, when I hear from different congressional offices that it’s just going to be too hard to change the way that we send food aid to Haiti, I just smile and nod and start calculating my plan of attack. These Staffers have no idea who they’re messin with.

You see, Haitians want to work. They want to sell in their own markets. They want steady income. It’s what they want more than anything else, actually. A recent Oxfam survey confirmed that the biggest thing on Haitians’ minds right now isn’t food or clean water or even shelters (though those things are indeed crucially important for survival.) It’s jobs. And herein lies the big disconnect. We, as a country, keep trying to deliver aid like we are a gallant white knight riding in to the rescue. Meanwhile, Haiti is the Fairy Princess who keeps saying, “Uh, thanks and all. But, I’d rather just rescue myself, if you didn’t mind lowering the drawbridge.”

Even though you don’t HAVE to have an official job to be a valuable asset to your community, it does seem to make a difference. This is something that we job seekers in the U.S. share in common with our neighbors in Haiti. Everyone wants to contribute their gifts. Everyone wants to receive some recognition and fair wages for their contribution. A vocation, like a good education, holds a special place of honor within our literal and metaphoric villages. To use one of my favorite quotes on vocational calling, true joy comes, “when our greatest skills and desires meet the world’s greatest needs.”

And so, tomorrow afternoon, I am going to march over to the House of Representatives, proudly carrying my part-time, short-term badge of Advocacy Officer on my sleeve, and I am going to join my new colleagues in the fight for Haitian farmers and Haitian jobs. Watch out, food aid dragon, we’re bringing the big guns.

Entering the Realm of the Semi-Employed

2010-05-13T12:57:00.000-07:00

Well, my friends, I received some very good news yesterday from the Policy Director at Action Aid USA. They've asked me to start a half-time, 3 month consultancy as a Senior Policy Advisor for Haiti. Semi-employment, here I come! When the Policy Director asked me when I could start, I said, "How about yesterday?" We settled for this upcoming Monday.

I'm also excited about having an interview tomorrow at Catholic Relief Services in Baltimore. This week has confirmed my theory that the mischievous planet of mercury in retrograde was interfering with my whole job search mojo. Maybe now that it's back in its proper alignment, things will go better for all of us.

Mark and I celebrated Italian style last night with a little wine, pizza, tiramisu and improv comedy class. When I land a full time, salaried position some place, then we might upgrade to champagne...just a little bit, you know, as I still need to pay off school loans;)

So, since I can no longer claim full unemployment status, I am officially changing the name of this blog from "Chronicles of the Unemployed," to "Chronicles of the Semi-Employed." I invite you to keep following and contributing to the journey if the spirit moves you.

In the meantime, here are a few lessons that the last 9 months have taught me.

- Vocation is a calling, not an obligation...a blessing, not a burden.

- Even though I believe this, it doesn't always feel that way...and that's OK.

- Life is all about timing. Be proactive, but also try to let go if it's just not working.

- Being unemployed has nothing to do with your skills or worth as a professional or a human being. Rather, it has everything to do with a crappy economy and that big spiritual question about timing.

- Being unemployed can be a surprise blessing, as it equates to spending less, recycling and reusing more, choosing carefully, going slower, asking for help, going outdoors more and rediscovering what you really want.
- When searching for a job, always invest in good dark chocolate. Believe me, you're worth it.

And now, onto preparing for tomorrow's interview and Monday's first day of work. Hence, I leave you with the great words of Song Diva, India Arie.

"So get in where you fit and go on to shine.

Clear your mind, now's the time.

Put your soul on the shelf. Go on and love yourself

Cause everything's gonna be alright."

Taking the Long Way Home

2010-05-04T23:29:00.000-07:00

It took me quite a while to find my way today...literally. After having applied to 11 (yes, count them...11) jobs, I then took my bike on the metro and went into the city to have 2 helpful informational interviews with fellow MIIS grads. At 5pm, I decided to revel in my state of joblessness and enjoy a luxuriously long bike ride home. (My husband will be the first to tell you that I will always choose bike over metro if given the opportunity:) I've biked the 13 miles in and out of the city a few times now. However, I decided to try the less traveled path...or rather, the less direct path.

So, there I am on Massachusetts Avenue, asking passerbyers if they know the way onto Rock Creek Parkway. Mysteriously, no one knew how to get there. Everyone could see the parkway; everyone knew that the trail was very close, but no one could point me in the right direction. Yet, in an incredibly sweet and yet sad attempt to be helpful, people still offered their bad advice. And so, I kept going down wrong streets, just to find out at the bottom that I would have to climb my way back up the hill and start searching all over again.

On the third attempt, I threw up my hands and laughed at my slow metaphoric comprehension of my current job search. Finding a job in this economy feels like the never-ending goose chase for the elusive Rock Creek Park Bike Trail. You know it's there; you can see it in the distance. Everyone wants to help you get there. You just can't quite find it.

A kind biker finally pointed me to a roundabout path that he knew would eventually link up with the bike trail. (It was the same path, I might add, that I originally started down. Therefore, if I had listened to my own instincts in the first place, I would have made it there much sooner.) He explained that I would have to walk my bike for a while at the bottom, but that it would eventually cross the river and connect to the trail. And so, I walked.

As I hiked along by the babbling stream, I tried to let go a little and just enjoy the sunshine, balmy weather and beautiful surroundings. And yet, just on the other side of the river lay what I wanted: the path. I paralleled it, trying to peer ahead for this so called bridge that would finally connect me. I didn't see it, though. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes passed. I started to feel desperate to reach the other side and contemplated wading through the shallow river. Again, I laughed at myself.

"This makes perfect sense," I said out loud. It represented my job search yet again. I had been so impatient, so obsessed with getting to the other side that I had forgotten to just enjoy and trust in the journey. No sooner had I come to this realization then I saw the bridge up ahead in the distance.

I finally reached the bike path and continued my journey north, this time on the fast track. At a big crossroads, a biker stopped and asked me for directions. "Excuse me. I'm a little lost. Any chance that you know how to get back into the city?" he asked. I pointed towards the southern route and said, "Head that way. Just when you think that this can't possibly be the way, go a little further and veer left at the fork. Trust me, I've just come from there."

As I watched the biker head south, I felt satisfied that my bungled attempts at finding my way could serve someone else on their own search for the path. Of course, I realized yet again that this was a metaphor for these post-graduate job search years. (God, please let it not take years;) Not too long from now, I can use this experience to help encourage others on their own journey. I smiled to myself, turned north to move onward and encountered my third metaphoric lesson for the day: one last big hill in order to reach home.

Mercury Madness and May Mojo

2010-04-30T12:46:00.000-07:00

I must admit, I’m pretty excited about the arrival of May and the return of Mercury into its proper orbit. You see, the planet will be in retrograde until May 11 and I have been secretly blaming job search communication breakdowns on this fact. Take today, for example. It took me 4 grand tries to successfully submit a very long application for a recruiting agency. And yesterday, my husband and I took a test with the U.S. Census bureau for potential temporary work, and his test just mysteriously disappeared at the end. The administrator couldn’t find it anywhere and had to assume that someone must have swiped it (hopefully by accident.) It has been a job communications slowdown, my friends, and I am here to tell you that we’re not to blame!

Weeks like this past one remind me of times in my life when I’ve just kept trying to move forward in the same direction no matter what the situation. Sometimes we get blocked for a reason, I believe. Maybe we’re going in a wrong direction, or new opportunities are waiting on the outskirts of our previous expectations. Maybe we just need to slow down for a while, or learn to be patient, or find new ways to dismantle the walls in our life and build ourselves new.

So, May 1^st begins tomorrow and I am giving this shout out into the universe: Here I come, job! I’m tearing down those employment walls, sending good communication vibes into the cosmos and planning for success very soon now. You just try to stop me this time;)

75 shout-outs. Just 1 call.

2010-04-26T10:51:00.000-07:00

Last week I hit my big 75 mark. 75 applications for 75 different jobs! And so, we baked a cake. Sure, it was officially for my husband, Mark's birthday. However, I held a little piece of it for myself to celebrate these 75 hopeful endeavors. Although I also affectionately call them my little ego shakers, they are still my optimistic testimony to a simple belief...that my next calling is coming soon.

Last week I woke up in the middle of the night with that nagging call feeling again. "Go and look for jobs right now," a little inner voice said. And so, I listened. I went straight to my computer and spent the next 2 hours searching and applying to different international development positions at CARE, Catholic Relief Services and World Vision. And then I saw it...and I mean IT. A Senior Policy Advisor for Humanitarian Response in Haiti position at Oxfam America. "Yes!" I almost shouted out loud. This felt like what I had been looking for. I have been encountering Haiti everywhere I go: doing a little consulting for Haitian Americans and Volunteer Efforts, volunteering with the National Organization for the Advancement of Haitians and now coordinating my church's Haiti Response Team. I felt like this position made so much sense to me...it could use my French, my program management skills, my passion for advocacy, desire to liaise with development efforts on the ground and heartbreak over Haiti's recovery efforts. And so, I worked hard for the next 4 hours on that application and said a little extra prayer over it as I hit the send button.
Haitians know about ego shaking...figuratively and literally. Imagine losing your entire home, your capitol and remaining infrastructure, your confidence in the future. Job searching is not even an option. Where are the jobs? No one has jobs to offer, products to sell or money with which to buy them. Life becomes a race for survival in which no one cares if you have secret gifts just waiting to be discovered. And yet, isn’t there still hope for Haiti?

The truth of the matter is that life is hard sometimes…and especially hard for some. The challenge to survive, much less thrive, is a reality that affects each person and culture at some point in their life. I believe it was Nelson Mandela who said that it is difficult to truly understand the suffering of another. Just keeping this knowledge close to our hearts, though…that we have all struggled to find our calling and survive in the global jungle, is a way to build ourselves up strong again. And keeping our hearts open to the suffering of others…of those who have nothing close to the same amount of opportunities that we do, can inspire us with new courage and compassion. It can also help us find that one true calling…that crossroads where our greatest gifts and desires finally meet the world’s greatest needs.

Business Cards, Websites and Dove Dark Chocolate

2010-04-24T09:26:00.000-07:00

So, I've been sending my website around to potential employers and have been getting good feedback. And I had 1 1/2 interviews last week! (One in person and one on the phone...which I guess counts as a half;) Another potential employer said to me, "Wow, is this website what you have to do nowadays to get a job???!! If so, I might never leave my position!" We both laughed...me in a "ha, ha, that's really funny, but I'm pouring my soul out here and need moolah now" type of way.

It's wonderful to hear that you have great skills and are doing all of the right things on your job search. It's not so great to hear that they still gave the job to someone else. It's even worse to hear that they'd totally give you the job, but their funding just ran out. It's a bit of an emotional rollercoaster ride...psyching yourself up for supreme greatness and then consoling yourself after the rejection with Dove chocolate and friends that say, "they're a fool for not hiring you!"

So, this past week of job searching has led me to think a lot about identity. I am currently labeling myself as a "Consultant." As in, "Hello, I am Elise Young and I am an International Development Consultant. Here's my card as proof!" And although this is an important step, and for some, a very important career path, it doesn't feel quite right. I miss belonging to something organized that is greater than myself...a church, Bread for the World, Graduate School, a campaign to cut world hunger in half. Yet, the biggest adventures in life so often start with a jump out into the unknown, label-less void.

This is the hardest, longest search that I've ever had to find and claim my work identity. Perhaps this means that the end result will be even larger and more meaningful than I could have first imagined. Until that point, though, I'm holding on tight to my Consultant business cards, secret stash of Dove Dark Chocolate and supportive group of friends.

And to all those of you who are searching for your own work identity, please remember this: who you truly are is never defined by what you do, but by how you share yourself with the world. Peace and work blessings.

Into the Blog Mystic - April 13, 2010

2010-04-24T08:28:00.000-07:00

Today, I begin my journey into the blog mystic. It took months of unemployment and a humility-inducing job search to prompt me. As I sit in the Java Green Café at 19^th and K NW, glaring at my wifi-less computer and racking my brain as to what to do next, I realize that perhaps what I really need to do is share my experience with others. Joblessness is an ego shaker…an energy hoover, sucking the life force right out of all these great skills and experiences that we’ve accumulated over the years. It rattles the bones and plucks my courage from its high perch. Yet, I know that there is still hope.

I have worked for 10 years as an anti-poverty advocate, development practitioner and community organizer. I have fought for the underdog in low-income urban areas, rural Africa and the halls of Capitol Hill. Yet, I was never one of them. Perhaps these hard wandering times come to us so that we can know true compassion, true solidarity with our brothers and sisters who battle for their livelihoods. And yet, even this notion is a farce. After all, I do have a Masters and two Bachelors degrees. I have job references and previous colleagues who will advocate for me. I have friends and family members who will rally for me if it gets too hard. I have never known homelessness or hunger. I have never felt completely hopeless or alone in the world. What about the Orphan in Mozambique who begs for food? What about the Welfare Mom in West Baltimore who prays for a living wage job? How much more difficult their search must be.

I believe that it's definitely important to acknowledge our challenges, ask for help and give ourselves some grace in this current crazy job recession. Finding solidarity with unexpected people can be a first step in the right direction. Yet, if we hold too tightly to the, “Why me, Lord?” mentality, then we miss the boat entirely. No matter how difficult our situation, someone in the world is suffering more. So, how can we use our own employment crisis to help others, while still nurturing our own bruised hearts and egos? Perhaps we can share our story and be gentler with one another, more generous to those with less and more willing to go the mile with others. And, we can embrace the hidden blessings…like more time with our families, a chance to go slower and reflect, time to breathe and pray.

Speaking of which, I send this prayer of encouragement out into the universe as a step towards those goals. God of love and second chances, help us job seekers to follow the wise words of the prophet, Isaiah. He told us that even the strong will grow weary. And the young will fall down exhausted from time to time. Yet, those who actively wait for God…or love…or hope…will rise up on wings like Eagles. May it be so.