My Monday morning started innocently enough. In the name of efficiency (but with a spirit of procrastination) I had tied off the kitchen garbage bag the night before and left it by the door to wait for a convenient moment to walk it over to the neighborhood garbage heap - the gated pit a respectable distance from our comfortable town homes where garbage piles up until a truck is hired to come and haul it all away.
As I was pulling together my lunch, I saw the bag and knew that there was no way justify leaving it there for the entire work day So I picked it up, slipped on my sandals and walked over to the heap. Usually I just absentmindedly pitch the bag from a good 10 yards away. This morning I walked closer to the edge.
Mid-way through swinging back my arm to pitch the bag, I saw him - a little boy, about 8 years old, standing down in the pit and looking up with expectant brown eyes. We made eye contact, I released the bag, and after a moment of hesitation in which i tried to think of what I should be thinking, I turned around and walked down the path back to the house.
I don't know what happened next down in the pit. I imagined him climbing up the pile to where the bag landed - hoping to find something inside that would help quiet his hunger or was clean enough to sell. I tried to remember what I had thrown away the day before - an empty tuna can, some scraps of mango peel, coffee grounds. I was disappointed that I hadn't managed to discard something of greater value.
There are days here in Haiti where I can forget that this is the poorest country in the Western hemisphere. There are days when I look around and all I see are the beautiful smiling babies, the vibrant colors of the mini-buses and the pink flowers cascading over compound walls. Yesterday was not one of those days.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Weekend at the Lake House
Last week I was looking at some photos a friend posted online from a weekend at a lake house. To me, lake house weekends are the essence of all that is good about Midwestern summers- good people, (too much) good food, sunshine, water play, down time, game nights, and conversations that just don't happen elsewhere (about topics both silly and serious). I was getting a bit homesick as I flipped through her slide show and started to wonder just why I was choosing to live this season in Haiti without access to many of my favorite people, places or activities.Then, on Thursday night, I got a very unexpected invite to spend to weekend at a Haitian "Lake" (as in the Caribbean Ocean) house. Everything that needed to happen fell into place in less than 12 hours - and now I am back home in Port-au-Prince with a very sleepy smile on my slightly redder face. Check out the photos here.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Just one more thing....
One more post for the day and then I'm working....and I mean that. L - one of the guys I talk about in my post on SODA below - worked as the "fixer" for the documentary on US policy and Haitian rice production featured here. I've heard that the end of the second part of the documentary includes a short segment on the AVJ poultry project. I personally haven't had a chance to watch it yet but would still encourage you to check it out. (For an interesting story of another "fixer" working in Iraq check out this NYT article)
For those of you who may be a little wary of the network sponsoring the documentary, I encourage you to take the time to read a little more about them. I personally find it exciting that there is another voice beyond the BBC and CNN in the global English-language news market- especially one that makes a pan-Middle Eastern perspective more accessible to the non-Arabic speaking world. Unfortunately most of us living in North America still have to look online to get it.
For those of you who may be a little wary of the network sponsoring the documentary, I encourage you to take the time to read a little more about them. I personally find it exciting that there is another voice beyond the BBC and CNN in the global English-language news market- especially one that makes a pan-Middle Eastern perspective more accessible to the non-Arabic speaking world. Unfortunately most of us living in North America still have to look online to get it.
Name that tune
Sitting inside my house I'm often distracted by the sounds I hear all around me. In the presence of Caribbean heat and the absence of air conditioning we live most of our home life behind screens rather than sealed glass windows and closed doors. I love the way it makes me feel like I am in the midst of things - even when I am alone at my kitchen table (like I am right now).
In the last few hours I've listened to the constant background hum of ceiling fans; the muffled roar of the diesel generator powering our neighborhood; the loud chirps of insects and tree frogs; the hollow plop of breadfruit falling off trees and hitting the ground below; the yells of my next door neighbor's kids and the splashing of families hanging out by the pool; the echo of tennis balls bouncing off racquets onto cement courts; the cheers and laughter of a group assembled a few houses away. Music is everywhere: in the ice-cream-truck-inspired version of the Titanic theme played over and over by trucks selling water; the singing (sometimes all-night) of youth groups assembled at the Catholic retreat center down the road; the horns and drums of the ra-ra bands which recently started parading through the streets again (they had apparently been on a post-Kanaval season hiatus); konpa and reggaeton coming through the little radio of the guard sitting near the neighborhood gate and my own ipod playlist out of my computer's speakers.
Last Thursday night, I gained a new appreciation for this relatively quiet corner of the city after spending the night at a friend's apartment which is directly on one of the city's busiest commercial streets. I'm usually a pretty solid sleeper but I spent almost 5 sleepless hours looking at the ceiling as I listened to non-stop sounds of people shouting; honking horns; barreling semi trailers; zipping motorcycles; barking dogs; and a rooster or two (which contrary to conventional wisdom do not wait until dawn to start crowing) .
Some of my most distinct memories from this Haiti season are linked to sounds: the hauntingly beautiful voice of a troubadour singer at an outdoor concert I attended during my first week in Port-au-Prince in 2006; our nutrition project team's rhythmic chants about feeding babies manba and the importance of vitamin A; the karaoke version of Livin la Vida Loca sung by drunk Sri Lankan UN troops who were sponsoring a party in my neighborhood (a good story now but the cause of a sleepless night back then); the deafening crash of tropical rains on metal roofs; waves lapping on white-sand beaches; and in some of my lonelier moments, the sound of my cell phone ring.
In the last few hours I've listened to the constant background hum of ceiling fans; the muffled roar of the diesel generator powering our neighborhood; the loud chirps of insects and tree frogs; the hollow plop of breadfruit falling off trees and hitting the ground below; the yells of my next door neighbor's kids and the splashing of families hanging out by the pool; the echo of tennis balls bouncing off racquets onto cement courts; the cheers and laughter of a group assembled a few houses away. Music is everywhere: in the ice-cream-truck-inspired version of the Titanic theme played over and over by trucks selling water; the singing (sometimes all-night) of youth groups assembled at the Catholic retreat center down the road; the horns and drums of the ra-ra bands which recently started parading through the streets again (they had apparently been on a post-Kanaval season hiatus); konpa and reggaeton coming through the little radio of the guard sitting near the neighborhood gate and my own ipod playlist out of my computer's speakers.
Last Thursday night, I gained a new appreciation for this relatively quiet corner of the city after spending the night at a friend's apartment which is directly on one of the city's busiest commercial streets. I'm usually a pretty solid sleeper but I spent almost 5 sleepless hours looking at the ceiling as I listened to non-stop sounds of people shouting; honking horns; barreling semi trailers; zipping motorcycles; barking dogs; and a rooster or two (which contrary to conventional wisdom do not wait until dawn to start crowing) .
Some of my most distinct memories from this Haiti season are linked to sounds: the hauntingly beautiful voice of a troubadour singer at an outdoor concert I attended during my first week in Port-au-Prince in 2006; our nutrition project team's rhythmic chants about feeding babies manba and the importance of vitamin A; the karaoke version of Livin la Vida Loca sung by drunk Sri Lankan UN troops who were sponsoring a party in my neighborhood (a good story now but the cause of a sleepless night back then); the deafening crash of tropical rains on metal roofs; waves lapping on white-sand beaches; and in some of my lonelier moments, the sound of my cell phone ring.
Bon moun yo
My 2009 New Year's resolution should probably have something to do with consistently taking more photos. In the mean time I've scrapped together the few recent photos I do have of some of the good people (bon moun yo) I've encountered here in recent days. Most of the images are thanks to others who more faithfully document life here. Please note that there are lots of good people missing from them!
At the end of June I spent a week in and around Ithaca. Here are a few photos. Notable missing images include C and the G family who hosted me; my friend J's beautiful babies and our post- bed time wine and cheese in her backyard; a too short but still satisfying coffee shop hour with the lovely S and T; Friday happy hour with A and S; an unexpected chance to be a wedding date for my high school friend M; and a quick visit with the S family outside Philly.
On the Port-au-Prince side, while my world continues to be geographically limited, quite a number of good people have managed to cross into that small space. We've had a regular rotation of people through the neighboring town house reserved for short term clinical volunteers and visiting researchers. Constantly welcoming and sending off people is a little wearying....but mostly in a too-much-of-a-good-thing sort of way.
My trip to NY was a helpful reminder just how relatively settled here I've become. Flying out of Port-au-Prince, I ran into two clinic colleagues in the airport waiting room and then was recognized from this blog by another blan nutritionist volunteering in Haiti. (Little did I know when I started that blogging is potentially costing me most of my 15 minutes of lifetime fame. The other day I met another person who said she knew of me from this site.) For my overnight in NYC before boarding the bus to Ithaca, I stayed with S and T - good friends I made here in Haiti earlier this year. On the flight back, I ran into a Cornell colleague waiting to board the same flight out of Philly, was stopped mid-aisle by another Haitian colleague while boarding my next flight out of Miami , and then ran into three more women I know in the Port-au-Prince immigration line. Either this is a very small town....or it's actually achieving some degree of hometown status for me.
At the end of June I spent a week in and around Ithaca. Here are a few photos. Notable missing images include C and the G family who hosted me; my friend J's beautiful babies and our post- bed time wine and cheese in her backyard; a too short but still satisfying coffee shop hour with the lovely S and T; Friday happy hour with A and S; an unexpected chance to be a wedding date for my high school friend M; and a quick visit with the S family outside Philly.
On the Port-au-Prince side, while my world continues to be geographically limited, quite a number of good people have managed to cross into that small space. We've had a regular rotation of people through the neighboring town house reserved for short term clinical volunteers and visiting researchers. Constantly welcoming and sending off people is a little wearying....but mostly in a too-much-of-a-good-thing sort of way.
My trip to NY was a helpful reminder just how relatively settled here I've become. Flying out of Port-au-Prince, I ran into two clinic colleagues in the airport waiting room and then was recognized from this blog by another blan nutritionist volunteering in Haiti. (Little did I know when I started that blogging is potentially costing me most of my 15 minutes of lifetime fame. The other day I met another person who said she knew of me from this site.) For my overnight in NYC before boarding the bus to Ithaca, I stayed with S and T - good friends I made here in Haiti earlier this year. On the flight back, I ran into a Cornell colleague waiting to board the same flight out of Philly, was stopped mid-aisle by another Haitian colleague while boarding my next flight out of Miami , and then ran into three more women I know in the Port-au-Prince immigration line. Either this is a very small town....or it's actually achieving some degree of hometown status for me.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Revisioning neighborhoods
I meet R, an independent North American journalist, through my former house mate here in Port-au-Prince. R writes about Latin American and Caribbean (LAC) politics and US-LAC relations for a number of well-known newspapers, and other policy-oriented media. He also produces stories for Telesur, a pan-Latin American television network launched in 2005 that offers a progressive, uniquely Latin American perspective on regional and global affairs. A quick google search reveals a bit about R's own interesting path from Idaho to Port-au-Prince, but it's what has kept him in Haiti that was the focus of our conversation when we first met back in April.
In 2005 a group of young people in Jakè, a neighborhood outside Port-au-Prince (where R has been living) came together to improve their community. (see history link here) While they started by organizing a youth basketball tournament and street cleaning campaign, they quickly moved to addressing the inequalities in access to education affecting kids in their neighborhood. In Haiti, education is seen as the top priority for every family - the key stepping stone in moving beyond absolute poverty. However, only a small percentage actually complete formal education. More than 85% of schools are private - most are run as a for-profit businesses. Government schools require people to pay registration, uniform and textbook fees. Families living on less than $1 day have to make the choice of which, if any, of their children they will be able to send and for how long. It is estimated that half of school-age children in Haiti are not in school.
By rallying adult and older youth as volunteer teachers, the "Jakè Neighborhood Association" (AVJ) started a free community school that meets 5 days a week and offers more than 120 kids a chance at an education and a daily hot meal. They are taking a progressive, participatory approach to education - teaching in Kreyol and focusing on critical thinking and life skills (in contrast to rote French approach adopted by most Haitian schools).
The AVJ youths' vision isn't only for their own neighborhood. They began to reach out and organize youth in other communities to replicate what was happening in Jakè. Today there are neighborhood associations forming community schools in 6 different communities - 4 in Port-au-Prince and 2 in rural Haiti. In 2006 these movements organized into a network called SODA - Sosyete Djòl Ansanm pou Demokrasi Patisipativ which translates as "like-minded people working together for participatory democracy". SODA sponsors teacher training and uses its status as a national NGO (as well as the status of its partner NGO in the USA Friends of SODA) to access donor funds that support school feeding, outreach to other communities, and other projects - like the chicken farming project they started in Jakè to generate income for the association and food for the community school kids.
When Reed heard that I am a nutritionist he asked whether I could review the menus for their school lunch program. They are committed to supporting local agricultural production and have started networking with Haitian farmers to source all local food for the community schools. Last Thursday, I finally got the chance to visit Jakè to see some of what is going on.
We spent most of our visit at the AVJ's poultry project. (Photos here)The association purchased 300 chickens back in April and is working towards increasing production enough to supply neighborhood street markets and Port-au-Prince super markets with local eggs. (Most eggs in supermarkets come from Miami or, until recently before imports were stopped due to a bird flu threat, from the Dominican Republic). Poultry projects to generate income are nothing new in community development circles. What is impressive about this one is that the day-to-day work on the project is being done by a core group of school-age kids who come to work before or after school. The Haitian agronomist training and supervising them is an adult volunteer who lives in the neighborhood. No missionary groups came down to build the chicken coop, no international NGO is providing training and supervision - it's a group of neighbors buying into a true community-centered vision and making it happen.
After seeing the chicken project we passed by Reed's house which was full of neighborhood kids. We met J and L- the two early 20-something Haitian guys who started AVJ several years ago. In near-perfect English they each articulated their vision for Jakè, for SODA and for Haiti. J is organizing the feeding program - he manages the grant money, coordinates local farmers, and organizes volunteers to prepare the food. He told us about a school for street kids they just started that meets in a nearby public park every afternoon.
If you google the term "hope for Haiti" you come up with a long list of US church campaigns, mission groups and international NGO projects. What you should find is a photo of J, L and the agronomist from Jake. Haitian-led social, political, and structural change fostered by individuals and movements like SODA is the true "hope for Haiti."
In 2005 a group of young people in Jakè, a neighborhood outside Port-au-Prince (where R has been living) came together to improve their community. (see history link here) While they started by organizing a youth basketball tournament and street cleaning campaign, they quickly moved to addressing the inequalities in access to education affecting kids in their neighborhood. In Haiti, education is seen as the top priority for every family - the key stepping stone in moving beyond absolute poverty. However, only a small percentage actually complete formal education. More than 85% of schools are private - most are run as a for-profit businesses. Government schools require people to pay registration, uniform and textbook fees. Families living on less than $1 day have to make the choice of which, if any, of their children they will be able to send and for how long. It is estimated that half of school-age children in Haiti are not in school.By rallying adult and older youth as volunteer teachers, the "Jakè Neighborhood Association" (AVJ) started a free community school that meets 5 days a week and offers more than 120 kids a chance at an education and a daily hot meal. They are taking a progressive, participatory approach to education - teaching in Kreyol and focusing on critical thinking and life skills (in contrast to rote French approach adopted by most Haitian schools).
The AVJ youths' vision isn't only for their own neighborhood. They began to reach out and organize youth in other communities to replicate what was happening in Jakè. Today there are neighborhood associations forming community schools in 6 different communities - 4 in Port-au-Prince and 2 in rural Haiti. In 2006 these movements organized into a network called SODA - Sosyete Djòl Ansanm pou Demokrasi Patisipativ which translates as "like-minded people working together for participatory democracy". SODA sponsors teacher training and uses its status as a national NGO (as well as the status of its partner NGO in the USA Friends of SODA) to access donor funds that support school feeding, outreach to other communities, and other projects - like the chicken farming project they started in Jakè to generate income for the association and food for the community school kids.
When Reed heard that I am a nutritionist he asked whether I could review the menus for their school lunch program. They are committed to supporting local agricultural production and have started networking with Haitian farmers to source all local food for the community schools. Last Thursday, I finally got the chance to visit Jakè to see some of what is going on.
We spent most of our visit at the AVJ's poultry project. (Photos here)The association purchased 300 chickens back in April and is working towards increasing production enough to supply neighborhood street markets and Port-au-Prince super markets with local eggs. (Most eggs in supermarkets come from Miami or, until recently before imports were stopped due to a bird flu threat, from the Dominican Republic). Poultry projects to generate income are nothing new in community development circles. What is impressive about this one is that the day-to-day work on the project is being done by a core group of school-age kids who come to work before or after school. The Haitian agronomist training and supervising them is an adult volunteer who lives in the neighborhood. No missionary groups came down to build the chicken coop, no international NGO is providing training and supervision - it's a group of neighbors buying into a true community-centered vision and making it happen.
After seeing the chicken project we passed by Reed's house which was full of neighborhood kids. We met J and L- the two early 20-something Haitian guys who started AVJ several years ago. In near-perfect English they each articulated their vision for Jakè, for SODA and for Haiti. J is organizing the feeding program - he manages the grant money, coordinates local farmers, and organizes volunteers to prepare the food. He told us about a school for street kids they just started that meets in a nearby public park every afternoon.
If you google the term "hope for Haiti" you come up with a long list of US church campaigns, mission groups and international NGO projects. What you should find is a photo of J, L and the agronomist from Jake. Haitian-led social, political, and structural change fostered by individuals and movements like SODA is the true "hope for Haiti."
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Mwen kontan
This week ended well. I felt, for the first time in a long time, happy (kontan) to be in Haiti. Happy is very good place to be. I've missed it.
We started the first eight beautiful 6-month old babies on the manba. I was a bit concerned about how Day 1 of the intervention would go - especially because I had just gotten back to Haiti the day before it was scheduled to begin. (I spent 9 great days in and around Ithaca at the end of June). We tried to do way too much preparation in that one day. The leader of our study team came down with a migraine. I didn't finish all the interview guides I had planned to use.
Fortunately one thing I've learned over the last 8 months is how to adjust expectations. We had already decided to use the first 8 kids as a "soft start" and to get through the first month with them before scaling up enrollment to reach our goal of 82 babies.
So far so good. It's good to be holding babies rather than spending all day behind a computer screen. It's good to watch the members of our little team do what they do best - counsel and encourage moms. It's been good to welcome a wonderful new med student intern to work with our team. It's been good to spend more social time over the last few days with some good people.
This morning, as we drove to brunch with some friends (yes there are lovely restaurants serving brunch in P-au-P) I listened to the Konpa music on the radio and looked out at the colorful Kreyol signs painted on the cement compound walls and found myself saying aloud "Maybe I could stay in Haiti for awhile." It was not a prediction or a promise, but for now, it's definitely progress.
We started the first eight beautiful 6-month old babies on the manba. I was a bit concerned about how Day 1 of the intervention would go - especially because I had just gotten back to Haiti the day before it was scheduled to begin. (I spent 9 great days in and around Ithaca at the end of June). We tried to do way too much preparation in that one day. The leader of our study team came down with a migraine. I didn't finish all the interview guides I had planned to use.
Fortunately one thing I've learned over the last 8 months is how to adjust expectations. We had already decided to use the first 8 kids as a "soft start" and to get through the first month with them before scaling up enrollment to reach our goal of 82 babies.
So far so good. It's good to be holding babies rather than spending all day behind a computer screen. It's good to watch the members of our little team do what they do best - counsel and encourage moms. It's been good to welcome a wonderful new med student intern to work with our team. It's been good to spend more social time over the last few days with some good people.
This morning, as we drove to brunch with some friends (yes there are lovely restaurants serving brunch in P-au-P) I listened to the Konpa music on the radio and looked out at the colorful Kreyol signs painted on the cement compound walls and found myself saying aloud "Maybe I could stay in Haiti for awhile." It was not a prediction or a promise, but for now, it's definitely progress.
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