While living in country, there have been many things that
I’ve learned. I’ve made arrangements for having my laundry done (a huge feat as
laundry for four children adds up quickly), as well as learned how to arrange
for safe trips to the grocery store and an occasional errand. I really miss my
car. I have always been really good at using left over’s of everything to make
stuff. And I’m a recycler. Those skills have come in very handy in my time
here. There is no CVS, no 7-11 and no Target. Any and everything that I needed
had to be brought with me. Or I have to supplement by purchasing odds and ends
at the grocery store for a ridiculously inflated price. The kids and I have
tried a variety of international products, such as cheese made of palm milk
from Egypt, crackers and cookies from Brazil, Nicaragua, and India, butter and
milk from France, and of course we try as many of the local Haitian goods as we
can. Haitians have a very sugar rich diet and very sweet pallets. That will be
hard to break when they come home. We don’t eat many processed foods in our
home. And we rarely use sugar except for in baking.
Speaking a little bit of Kreyol has helped, although I have
been very thankful for the English-speaking friends that I have in Haiti. One
of the hardest things I’ve experienced in Haiti is that I am very easy to take
advantage of. I have learned the hard way that I have to say no. I’m really bad
at saying no, but after being taken advantage of and losing several hundred
dollars through scams by people I thought were my friends, I’ve had to start
saying no more. I’ve known an
artist who works selling art and crafts at the front gate of our hotel for over
two years. He offered to procure some custom sculpture from me. He also
borrowed money from J and then disappeared. I’ve seen him on the streets, but
knowing that he owes me money, he hasn’t come back to the hotel to pay the debt
or deliver the artwork I ordered.
There are also lots of people who show up hungry and in need of funds
and resources at our orphanage, and I have heartbreakingly told them that I
don’t have the ability to help them. It is a very hard and harsh experience to
say no when I have so much. But good friends have reminded me that I cannot
take care of everyone. I have a job to do here. I have five children and it is
my responsibility to take care of them first. Still it is hard to pass by
thousands of people in the streets walking through the puddles of rain and mess
that ultimately terrify me. It is their daily life. And I sit in a vehicle,
with the wind blowing through the open windows, in relative comfort and try to
remind myself that I can’t do everything. What I can do is help support the
right resources. Those are hard to identify. But they’re out there. There are
so many good people helping Haiti.
One night I hit an emotional bottom. I returned to my
apartment to find the grounds man I’ve befriended, but denied financial
assistance to, standing near my door. He had come to tell me that his son had
died two nights prior. He died because he was anemic. I am anemic. I've had several blood transfusions and for a spell of several months in 2011 I had to have weekly iron infusions. I couldn't handle knowing that his son died of something so preventable. My heart sank knowing that though I probably couldn’t
have saved his sons life, I could have done something to try to help. But I
chose to believe that saying no to him was best so that I didn’t have another
experience like the one with the artist.
I learned so much from this man. I hugged him and tried to explain how
much my heart hurt for him. And when we finished talking he went back out to
sweep the grounds around the pool to remove small bits of trash that the other
guests haphazardly drop and believe the wind will blow into the trash. His
reality is just not fair. But there is no one who can fix that for him.
One Wednesday night recently I came back from the O and there
was a man sitting on the wall outside of the hotel. He jumped up and ran over
to the van and waved at me deliberately and held a note in his hands. I didn’t
know who this man was, but I immediately worried that he was a friend of my
friend Micheline and that he was at the hotel to tell me that she was hurt. She
comes every Wednesday evening to have dinner with us and deliver our fresh
laundry. I went to speak with the man when I got out of the van. He handed me a
note from a hospital and explained in Kreyol that his 16 year old daughter had
appendicitis and needed surgery the following day. He said that he needed $600
gourdes. I was baffled and wanted to know why this man seemed to have sought me
out. I have had this surgery. I immediately thought of how Nelson's son died of anemia, something I live with, and I told myself thatI should help this man if I could. I asked him to wait and I took the note and went inside. I asked the owner
of the hotel who this man was and he told me that it was just someone who was
asking for money. This is a “new practice” in Haiti. When you need something
you just go around asking until someone is willing to help you. This is not a
“new practice”, as this has been happening to me the whole time I’ve visited
Haiti. However, there was something very different about this man. His calm,
but sad eyes spoke so many words. I went into my apartment thinking about how
or why this man would have asked me for help. Had Maxo, the man who scammed me
out of money sent him? Had someone told this man that a white chick at the
hotel might be able to help him? Or was this man just a sad and worried dad who
was looking for anyone at all who would be willing to help him? I looked at the
note again when I got inside and I decided to look in my wallet to see if I
could help him at all. $600 gourdes. What did I have that I could give him? I
opened my wallet and pulled out all my Haitian money. I counted…$100 gourdes,
$25 gourdes, $50 gourdes…I counted every single gourde I had and I had exactly
$600 gourdes. No less, no more. I knew that I was supposed to help this man. So
I took all $600 gourdes, which is roughly $13 US and wrapped it up in the note
and took it out to him. He was calmly sitting on the wall when I went back out.
I handed him the money and told him in kreyol that I hoped that his daughter
would be ok after the surgery. He thanked me with those sad, but now hopeful and
thankful eyes and as he turned to walk away I asked his name. He turned around
and held out his hand for me to shake and said, “Joseph”. I told him my name
and shook his hand and told him to have a good night.
So I helped a man, a complete stranger, by the name of
Joseph, who sought help at an Inn. And I had exactly what he needed. No more,
no less. Ask and you shall receive. He asked. He received. I am asking too. And
I hope I will receive as well.
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