2010-2015

In the early part of this week I resumed staff support/counseling sessions for another NGO who contacted me in January, and who have waited since then for my availability. As I begin to write, I wonder who I am writing for. I believe I initially began this blog so thatanyone interested might receive some first hand information from Haiti. Later, it seemed to me that I wrote for myself; to share the images, stories, words I cannot carry alone. Now, I believe I blog for every Haitian who has courageously opened up and shared with me—-and for those ho might still be waiting for someone to listen. These stories take up residence in our bodies. Unshared, they can begin to form and shape us from their hiding place inside. No-one should bear the weight or shape of these stories alone. One man, whose story I will share later, only wanted …

This seems like a much busier trip, its difficult to find time to write. Things in Haiti are very accelerated. Similar to Aceh after the tsunami, the second wave has arrived—here they are referred to as the second earthquake, or the invasion of the “extra terrestrials.” There are so many ekstranje (foreigners), or blan (“white”) as we are called. As someone who is not Haitian, but is considered local, I am privy to the sometimes humorous and sometimes distressed musings and rantings of my Haitian brothers and sisters. We all hoped that the inpouring of aid would somehow be tailored to the Haitian people, and context. This does not appear to be happening. Its actually mostly the NGO’s that people both appreciate and express concern about. There are many, many new NGO’s operating here, without any prior history, and apparently, without much interest in taking the time to listen. As …

Yesterday we worked with our new staff support team, who gave their first “wellness presentation”. They were marvelous. I was ecstatic all day. After — and along with — so much destruction and suffering, the pure pleasure of training, teaching, sharing, inspiring a team is absolute joy. People ask me all the time why, or how, I do this work. This is why. I am certain our team will serve our program brilliantly. And as one of the first comprehensive staff support teams/programs to be implemented after the earthquake, they will serve Haiti by inspiring the same types of support at other organizations. The feedback from training participants — especially other NGO’s — was that the training was original, and well contextualized for Haiti. Everyone felt ready to begin this process; essentially, to develop programs to take care of their local staff — which means taking care of the Haitian …

We’ve been in training all week–moving around much more than before. A colleague and I are training a staff support team to provide full time and long term support to the local employees who are affected by the earthquake. Affected is such an understatement: Today we drove into work a little late, and passed through the road we are actually not supposed to drive on. Everything is collapsed; some of the buildings hang precariously towards the road. A big enough tremor or a hard enough rain and they could crush traffic moving alongside or under them. It will be years before this area is clear—-so far, only locals with small tools are seen working through the massive piles of rubble. A crowd was beginning to gather, and peer down the hill. We were late for work so we continued on the remaining five minutes, thinking nothing of it. Thirty minutes …

Internet has been spotty and time is seeping away. This is a very busy trip as I am both counseling and setting up a longer term staff support program, which means hiring, training, preparing people. Today I rested for a few hours in the mountains, at a friends home. The cleanliness, silence and beauty was a dramatic contrast to Port au Prince. It is easy for me to forget how lovely Haiti is when I am spending so much time in the destruction. We spent a small part of the afternoon looking for tiny little frogs that live in the highlands and make a shrill sound, like the high pitches of a xylophone. No luck today. Two evenings ago we celebrated a friends birthday–a young birthday. She is not yet 30. Most of her family was killed in the earthquake. She lost the center of her life, and has struggled …

There are so many small moments that become the threads of hope, healing, and others that contain traces of grief, fear. When I first drove up to the office, the groundskeeper happened to be right there. His face became a burst of light as he walked up to me and took both my hands and said “Oh–you’re here. You came back.” He held my hands and my gaze as he recounted how many times he sat in the office and smelled an oil, or prayed, or reflected on something. And felt quiet, calm and safe. He has moved back into a structure to sleep. His one living child has a protected place to be during the day and his school will re-open soon. He sleeps. He showed me the tiny bottle of oil, still in his pocket, still a vial of hope. One of my clinical colleagues has begun using …

The trip in was easier—every flight landed early every transition smooth. I sat beside two women who were returning to their birthplace for the first time since the earthquake. Both praised God when we landed at the busy, busy airport safely, and both cried as we wound our way through the new airport, looking through large glass windows at the old, cracked, sad looking international airport. I waited in the hot sun for an hour for my ride. The traffic is thicker than I have ever seen. Its impossible to get a car near the arrival area. The driver rushed up, apologetic. He had been in traffic for over 2 hours (it can be as brief as a 30 minute drive from the office to the airport. The roads seem thinner, because the rubble has been gathered in, waiting to be removed. Higher piles beside the road, neat and organized. …

Returning home, this time for a few weeks, I prepare to be in a place where homes still stand, where the air is fresh and clean, where driving to the store and stocking up on favorite snacks is not a luxury or a privilege, but just another task in a busy day. The morning I flew to Haiti, news reporters were swarming American Airlines check in counter, interviewing Haitians flying on the first commercial flight to Port au Prince since the earthquake. When I rushed up, my clothes crooked and hair uncombed because I had dressed so quickly when I learned my original flight was leaving 2 hours early, I was relieved to find a seat on the second flight and was signing the credit card receipt when one of the reporters yelled “Hey, thats woman’s buying a one way ticket!” Suddenly there was a glare of many cameras on …

Today has been stressful. I was to be picked up early and transported to Jacmel, via Leogane, with a “VIP” team (CEO’s) visiting the projects. Because the driver forgot to pick me up and because the “VIP” team would not wait 10 minutes for me to catch up, I missed my ride—and arrived 1.5 hours late for two days of intensive counseling—group and individual — in very hard hit areas. The domino effect meant that there were many people expecting group or individual time with me, who never got it. I learned that the “VIP” team actually got mad they had to wait for me—-I wonder if they have any idea how long people who lived the horrors of January 12 have waited for someone to come and listen to them, counsel them, care? I question any CEO’s leadership if they no longer have the insight to appreciate the importance …

A quiet night, thank goodness. I slept at a friends home in heavily damaged Pacot –her small 2 bedroom apartment is home for 8 people, and the streets are cramped with families living in makeshift tents. The night was noisy, smelly and heavy. It felt strange in an uncomfortable way to walk out of a safe (or not, if you are one of the many people who cannot yet sleep indoors due to elevated stress and fear levels) dry apartment building and see tiny children laying asleep on thin plastic sheets right on the asphalt street. More difficult stories.A man who was finishing work, a 5 minute drive, and had to run (20 minutes) to his lakou where his entire family lived in a quadrant—three houses collapsed, one on top of his son, one on top of his mother, the other on top of his sister. All yelling for help. …