Lockdown

           Going on day five of the most recent “lockdown” in Haiti.  I don’t even know that it’s so much a “lockdown” right now as it is a gas shortage and no one has gas to get anywhere.  This is the third time I’ve been in Haiti during a “lockdown,” and I have learned to keep myself occupied.

            First of all, do everything s—l—o—w—l—y.  There is no rush to get stuff done because when you finish, there still isn’t anywhere to go.  You literally have HOURS to fill, so efficiency takes a back seat to filling time.  And, if one does things slowly, one is less likely to work up a sweat.  For example, I had to put away my clean clothes on Monday. Usually, I fold the clothes and put like items into piles so that when it comes time to put the folded clothes in drawers, I just have to pick up the pile of shirts and put them into the correct drawer.  One pile. One trip.  Not so during a lockdown.  Fold one shirt and then slowly walk to the dresser to put it into the drawer.  If I really want to slow the process down, I open and close the drawer each time.  But, I have to balance slowness with not working up a sweat.  

            Secondly, it’s important to vary the times of day that one does one’s activities.  Too much routine can lead to boredom.  Every morning I get up and head up to the roof to play Candy Crush Saga, check Facebook, and read some headlines on CNN and FOX.  I also take time to read.

            After that, though, the schedule is completely open! Do I color first?  Or, should today begin with Bible study?  What about making the bed?  The options are endless!  For the most part, I fill my time with these activities:

1.     Coloring—during a “lockdown” one has the time to color in every little circle or speck in those detailed adult coloring books.

2.    Read

3.    Bible study—truly good for my soul.  

4.    Watch Netflix and/or movies—the shows that Michael and his family added to my external hard drive are coming in really handy!  Too many days stuck in the compound, though, and I’m gonna run out of new stuff!

5.    Stand on the roof and look out at the neighborhood—this morning’s highlight was the moto taxi driver in the winter parka (it’s cool today—about 75—and cloudy, and many Haitians find that pretty darn chilly.  I, however, am loving it!).

6.    Stand on the roof and listen to the arguments going on in the nearby market—I don’t understand much, but it’s something to do.  Yesterday’s arguments got really hot and some guy pulled out his gun to shoot it in the air.  I stopped watching and headed downstairs!

7.    New York Times crossword puzzles—I do the easy ones from Monday, so do not be impressed!

8.    Write—this could be in my journal, blogging, or for my book.

9.    Nap

Today I threw in some time with the kids.  Alavrez asked me to come downstairs and play with them, so I did. We played Ninja.  Basically players jump into a ninja-like stance, put one arm behind their backs, and hold the other arm out like a sword.  Players then commence swiping at each other with their sword/arm while making ninja sounds.  I lost every game—not sure how because I really don’t know what the rules are. Either Alvarez or Widley won each game, but I’m not sure how because they just seemed to chase each other while making ninja sounds and swiping at/hitting each other.  These kids hit hard, so I was not too disappointed to lose early on in each game.

            Once the ninja game was over—thank God!—it was time to play with my hair.  Alvarez and Widley tied knots in it for a while, and then Jonathon came over.  He, at least, brought comb and brush, so the knots disappeared.  After about 30 minutes they were done and ran and found a mirror so that I could see their handiwork.  Not bad—they had just combed the heck out of my hair and left it that way.  They wanted to use pomade to get my hair to stay in place, but I put the kabosh on that—I will only be so generous with my hair!

            Lastly, it’s important to pace the eating.  Because time is going so slowly during a “lockdown,” especially by day five, it seems as if hours must have passed and it’s gotta be time for lunch already.  But, in reality, maybe only 1-2 hours have passed and it’s really only mid-morning. It would be easy to think “Well, it’s almost 11:00, and that’s almost lunch time, so maybe I’ll just have an early lunch.”  If one gives in to the temptation for an early lunch, that leaves a rather large gap between lunch and supper, and psychologically that’s tough to fill.  Because if lunch is consumed by 11:00 or 11:30, the mind thinks that half the day is gone, but in reality, only a small portion of the hours have been filled.  And, too much snacking while doing little to no physical activity is not good for one’s health. The other real corker is when supper is served early.  The evening meal is supposed to ready at 5:00, which I think is pretty early anyway. It’s really rough, though, when supper is ready at 4:00.  Seriously, that could be afternoon snack time on some days!  With supper done at 4:00, that leaves a lot of hours to fill before bedtime.  Again, it’s a psychological issue as much as anything.  I mean, now there’s a good five hours to fill before bedtime, and I tend to go to bed early here because there’s not much to do once the power goes out!

            So, there you have it—what to do when leaving the compound is impossible due to violence, gas shortage, or any other reason that Haiti could cough up.  Enjoy!

Tèt Chaje

Tèt chaje.

Overwhelmed.  That’s what I’m feeling right now.  I’ve tried to blog about my return to Haiti, but every time I’ve thought about doing so, I don’t even know where to start.  So much has happened—lots good, some not so good—that I find it hard to put into words.

The week of September 2 was supposed to be a week of teacher in-service, but it wasn’t like any teacher in-service that I have been a part of.  Most of that had to do with the fact that many staff couldn’t make it each day due to the gas shortage.  Not much public transportation because there wasn’t gas to put in vehicles.  And, the price for a ride has increased; in some cases, the price of a ride is more than the average person can afford.  These prices aren’t that high to begin with (according to American standards), but now they are up to about $.25 a ride.  Up from $.15.  So, teacher in-service week was pretty much teachers just cleaning their rooms, making decorations, and doing some planning.  No meetings.  No motivational speeches.  No learning new things that teachers can implement in their classes.  Very anti-climactic.

The first week of school is supposed to be exciting—new students, old students coming back, everyone in new uniforms, new books and supplies.  A fresh start!  But in Haiti, the first week of school seems to be optional.  As in, most parents don’t send their children the first week. Teachers go to all the trouble to decorate and plan, and then pretty much no one shows up.  Not much happens because teachers don’t want to do too much because most of the kids aren’t there.  Therefore, the second week of school is really the first week because it’s not until then that the majority of the kids show up!  Crazy!

I’ve heard various reasons for this phenomenon: parents won’t send their children without a proper uniform and shoes; parents want to make sure that any evil spirits that took up residence in the building during the summer are chased away before sending their kids; parents haven’t been able to pay the entrance fee, so their kids can’t go right away. Regardless of the reason, the first day of school is a huge let down for me!

This year, unfortunately, the start of school has been hindered even more.  We did have school the first week with very low attendance (about 10 kids in addition to Gertrude’s 26).  But, this week—the 2^nd week of school which is supposed to be when all the kids come and things really get going—we’ve had to cancel school for three days due to violence and lack of gas.  Not only are some streets not safe, but many of the teachers can’t find public transportation to get to school.  We’ve had teachers wait for over two hours to find a taptap to get to work. Some have walked miles to get to a taptap stop so that they could come to work.  That’s dedication.  

The gas shortage and the violence aren’t just affecting schools.  It’s affecting the entire country, and the poor are suffering the most.  A good friend of mine and his family are down to their last small bag of rice.  Even though stores are open, he can’t just go to the store to buy more rice because that’s not how most Haitians get their food.  They go to the local market on the street.  But, because there has been so little gas and so few deliveries, the street merchants don’t have much to sell.  And what they do have to sell has become SUPER expensive.  That’s happening with all food, not just the rice—beans are more expensive, eggs are more expensive, Corn Flakes are more expensive.  I think you get the idea.  

            At least in the city there is the opportunity to find what one needs: water, food, gas, etc.  It will be crazy expensive, but it could be found.  Not so much in the countryside.  Burning tires, blocked bridges, and barricades make traveling in the countryside dangerous.  Many deliveries can’t be made because it’s not safe or there is no gas.  So, nothing gets to the people in the rural areas, and what they have to deliver to the city can’t get in.  It’s a vicious cycle in which everyone loses.  Except the rich.

            Someone asked me the other day whether anyone can lead Haiti out of its cycle of corruption.  My answer was “I don’t know.”  And I don’t know.  I don’t know what needs to change in this country so that elected officials actually do their job instead of skimming so much money off of projects to line their own pockets.  And the pockets of their families.  All I know is that what’s happening can’t continue.  Too many people are suffering.

Early End

            This entire school year has been wacky!  We started just fine, but then schools were closed for a week in November due to manifestations.  I missed that round of school closings because I happened to be in the States helping my parents recover from surgery and helping them to move.  For a variety of reasons, I ended up staying Stateside until after the new year.  That was two months away from the Center that I hadn’t planned on.

            I returned in January and was here for about two weeks before flying back home to attend the funeral of a dear friend who had died unexpectedly.  Another week away from the Center.   I returned to Haiti on February 1, and on the 7^th MASSIVE violence broke out in the country, and I returned to the States on February 14 and stayed until late March.  By this time I had spent more of the school year in the States than in Haiti.

            The spring months went well until the June 9 when another round of violence erupted and closed schools for another week.  We re-opened on June 17, and only 30 students showed up because parents were still concerned about the safety of the streets (and I don’t blame them!).  As an administration we decided to end school that day.   No big, formal, sit-down discussion.  We just decided that it was in the best interests of the kids to be done.

            Even though the school year ended early, kindergarten graduation has been postponed a week!  Why, you ask?

Ironic: we ended early, but finish late.  Figure that one out!

            Well, during the week of violence, the seamstress responsible for making the graduates’ dresses, slacks, and shirts couldn’t work because the streets weren’t safe.  Couldn't leave the house to get to work to make the clothes.  No new clothes means no graduation.  We also couldn’t get pictures of the kids in their gowns and caps, so we weren’t ready for graduation.  Even if we had had the pictures, we wouldn’t have been able to print their certificates—most folks don’t have computers, printers, electricity, etc., so none of these things could be done at home.

            I’ll be honest . . . kindergarten graduation doesn’t mean a lot to me.  I don’t think pre-school and kindergarten graduations should be done in the States, and I really don’t get the BIG deal it is here in Haiti.  But, it’s an important cultural piece of Haiti.  So, regardless of what I think, it needs to be done the Haitian way.  The “Haitian way” means a number of things: fancy new clothes, dances, musical pieces being played, lots of food and drink, numerous outfits and costume changes, recitations, presents, speeches, and a passing of the torch from the graduates to the 4-year-olds.  Family, friends, and the entire school attend.

            This year’s graduates, though, won’t get all that.  Because the leaders of this country can’t figure things out, this year’s graduates won’t have the same experience as their older siblings.  They will have a scaled down version--maybe one song/dance, snacks instead of full meal, only parents in the audience instead of a crowd.  I feel sad for them that they won’t have the same special memories of such a major cultural event.  

            Last year at the end of the school year I was so excited.  I was like, “Yes!  Year one is in the bag!  We did it. We succeeded.  We can do this!”

            This year I’m like, “Uh, we’re done. Thank God we made it to the end.”  We limped across the finish line instead of finishing strong with hands raised in the air. 

            It’s as if this year needs a footnote:

            2019-2020¹

            ¹Extenuating circumstances in the country affected the quality of experience for students, 

   staff, and parents.

Violence . . . Again.

         In case you haven’t heard, Haiti has erupted in violence and political protests again.  The planned demonstrations began on Sunday, June 9, and have continued through today (June 12).  Rumors are that they will end today, but one never knows.  The opposition says that it won’t stop until President Jovenal Moïse steps down.  He hasn’t done that so far, so I’m not sure what will cause him to do so now.  

            I have spent these days up on the roof of the orphanage, mostly reading but also playing Candy Crush Saga, communicating with folks via email and Facebook, and watching the kids play school (I did get in on one rousing game of Hopscotch!).  I hear gunshots occasionally, some closer than others, but I am totally safe here in the Notre Maison compound.  This morning I can hear the shouts of the protestors off in the distance. I’m far enough off the main roads that the violence doesn’t reach us, but it’s unnerving even to hear it.  For the past few days there has been no public transportation on the roads (no taptaps and no moto taxis), but I’ve heard that personal vehicles are out.  

            We haven’t had school this week, and I’m not sure whether we will tomorrow.  This is the third time this academic year that schools have been closed due to the public unrest.  Kids missed days in November, in February, and again now. The disruptions have been evident in students’ performance and behavior.  Our students performed poorly on their 3^rdquarter exams, but they had missed two weeks of school!  And, even though they’re kids, they know something’s up.  They may not understand the details, but they understand that Mom and Dad are worried.  They understand that money is tight because parents can’t work.  They understand that food is scarce.  They understand that their routines have been turned topsy turvy.  This round of protests is taking place during exams, so who knows what the impact will be!  

            Even in the midst of the ugliness of what is happening right now, cool things are taking place at the Haiti Center for Inclusive Education (HCIE).  We had a mom come in last week with her son who has some deformities with his arms.  In every other way he is a typically-developing four-year-old boy, but schools won’t take him because his arms and hands look different.  Burns me up when that happens!  But, God has placed us here so that we can educate him in a safe place and so that we can educate others that this child, and others like him, are just regular people.

            Through the generosity of others, some of our staff will be able to attend teacher in-service training over the summer with InnovEd, an organization housed at Quisqueya University in Port-au-Prince that works to provide top-notch teacher development for Haitian educators.  Two of our staff members and our Curriculum and Instruction principal (Mme. Suze) will be heading to Cap-Haitian at the end of this month to train other educators in ways to meet the needs of special-needs students and students with learning disabilities.  And, HCIE has been chosen as a training location by the Fondazione L’Albera della Vita, an Italian organization that has offices around the world.  It has many projects, one of which focuses on meeting the educational needs of schools; that includes training needs as well as material needs.  Not only will our staff be trained, but we will be able to collaborate with others in the field and develop professional relationships.  

            Now, lest you think all is hunky dory for us, we still have the regular, mundane, day-to-day issues to deal with: a water tank that keeps leaking, toilets that won’t flush, missing toys, a messy chicken coop, etc.  So, all in all, typical Haiti with all the good, the bad, and the ugly, and lots of ups and downs.

            I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.  

Random Things and Good Things

          Well, I've been back in Haiti now for about a month.  I have settled back into some routines, I've had good times with good friends, I've stressed about some stuff, and I've experienced both touching moments and moments of frustration.

Let's start with some random things:

I never feel clean in Haiti, not even when I'm in the shower!  I blame it on many things--the constant dust; the foul water that splashes on my feet when I drive through puddles on my moto; the foul water splashed on me when larger vehicles speed through puddles, not caring that they get me wet; and my propensity to sweat.  Constantly.  I blame that one on my father.  He passed onto me the sweat gene, and, boy, does it go into overdrive here in Haiti!

Might as well check under the
shipping container!

Easter egg hunts in Haiti appear to be a rarity.  I had to explain it to our new staff members, and they looked at me as if I were a bit off (which I very well may be!).  Easter egg hunts in the States either have so many eggs that every child is bound to find one, or after the kids find them, the eggs are evenly distributed.  Not so in Haiti.  It's every child for him/herself!  We had five-year-olds with 14-year-olds, and those poor little kids never stood a chance!  And God forbid you be a bit shy or a bit confused about the whole thing.  By the time some kids figured out what was going on, the hunt was over.  Some teachers were also confused about the "hiding" of the eggs.  Most were put in plain sight for the little kids (makes sense), some were put under leaves or up in trees to challenge the older kids (makes sense), but some were hidden inside boxes buried under the box's contents!  Took quite awhile to find those eggs!

Back to the sweating thing.  I don't mind sweating; really, I don't.  Basketball practice?  Sweat good.  Mowing the lawn?  Sweat good.  Sitting still?  Sweat bad.  Sleeping at night?  Sweat bad.

Jeffte and Wilcia with their
new outfits

Gas shortages.  A few weeks back most gas stations didn't have gas, so when gas was delivered to a station, people mobbed it.  It was mostly organized chaos, but to me, it was overwhelming.  So, I was paranoid about running out of gas.  If I ran out, I wasn't sure I could find a gas station with gas or whether I would be able to navigate the crowd to actually buy the gas.  One late afternoon I stopped at the gas station not far from Notre Maison.  It was packed, but it seemed calm.  I started talking with a couple other moto drivers who were waiting for gas.  I asked whether there was gas--yes, there was.  When would it be available--they didn't know.  They were just waiting until the station decided to start giving out gas again.  And, since they didn't have any gas in their motos, waiting was their only option.  Since I had gas and was just wanting to top up, I decided to head back to Notre Maison. There is more gas available now, but I still fill up every chance I get just in case there's a shortage again.

The good things:

My birthday fell over Easter Break, and when we got back to school one of the teachers had bought me a birthday present!  She gave me a card, two apples, and a bunch of grapes.  That was so thoughtful!  We've become friends over the years, and it meant a lot to me that she spent money (that she and her family probably didn't have to spare) on a gift for me.

Paola and me

One of our special-needs students is a young lady named Paola.  She is a total sweetheart and really enjoys coming to school.  Unfortunately, some health issues often keep her out for days or weeks at a time.  Well, since my return at the end of March, she has started referring to me as "Marren," or Godmother.  In Haiti, to be a child's godparent is a HUGE deal.  It's a special relationship that is to last the child's entire life.  I don't know why Paola began calling me Marren, but for now, the name has stuck.  And I am honored.

A picture of Jean Daniel with
the chickens--just because!

In early April three friends visited, as they often do.  I met Marg, Sheri, and Emily six years ago at Notre Maison, and for the most part, that's the only place we see each other (twice a year: November and April).  I often go with them when they take the typically-developing kids to the Haitian public beach, but this year I couldn't go.  Instead, I was able to go with them when they took a number of the kids with handicaps to the beach.  What fun I had!  I was responsible for Maxo, and he was content to simply float in his inner-tube all day, so I was able to float in the water next to him.  Not a bad way to spend the day!  Wilcia loved the boat ride and chair danced so much on it that I was afraid she would topple off the side of the boat.  The best part of the day, though?  The ride back.  We were crammed in to the van, which is typical of Haitian vehicular transportation.  Because of that, I held Woodmeyer in my lap for the ride home.  Now, Woodmeyer is not (very) cognizant of his surroundings.  I'm not even sure he knew he was at a beach.  I'm not sure whether he even knew he was in a vehicle.  I'm not sure whether he even knew he had left the orphanage.  But, he got to fall asleep on the way back while being held in someone's arms.  I'm not sure he knew that that happened.  But I did.  And I was grateful that God allowed me to do that for Woodmeyer.

Madame Kettlie and Medjina

Vacation Days

Girls with attitude!

Haiti doesn't do "observed days" as versus "days off."  Like, regardless of when Martin Luther King Junior's birthday actually falls, the 3rd Monday of January is the "observed" holiday.  In Haiti, folks get the actual day off or nothing.  This year, because May 18--Flag Day--falls on a Saturday, schools don't get the day off.  While there's something to be said for a three-day weekend, a mid-week break is nice, too.  This year, May 1--Agriculture Day or Labor Day--fell on a Wednesday (today), so we don't have school today.  That's nice.  It also means that yesterday was sort of a "party day" at school. The kids, and most of the staff, dressed up in traditional Haitian attire and brought traditional Haitian food for snack.  Each of the kids living at Notre Maison had a brand-new, homemade outfit to wear, including hats for the boys.  The kids were too cute!

Oscar--1st Grade

Students also had an hour-long recess during which much dancing took place.  Not by me, mind you, but by the students!

Tough Times, Tough Transitions

            

          So far, 2019 has been filled with tough times and tough transitions.  After spending two months in the States at the end of 2018, I returned to Haiti on January 12, 2019.  

            I’m not sure why, but this transition back to Haiti was hard.  Very hard.  I cried myself to sleep most nights.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my life in Haiti and the work that I do, but I missed family and friends something fierce.  I was also dealing with changing my role in the school—in the early months of 2019 I planned to turn over more of the leadership and decision-making responsibilities to the Haitian principal and vice-principal.  That brought a sense of loss even though I believed in my heart that it was best for me and for the school.  

            Two weeks into being back in Haiti I was settling into my routines and feeling better (at least not crying all the time) when I learned that a dear friend of 25 years had passed away suddenly.  That news rocked my world.  She was friend, colleague, mentor, and encourager.  I made arrangements to fly home immediately and spent a week back in the States.  I then returned to Haiti still dealing with grief and loss.

            I knew that two groups would be at the orphanage guesthouse when I returned. What I didn’t know was that I would be sharing my room with two people.  I have no problem sharing my space; it just would have been nice to know so that I could prepare—the space physically and my heart emotionally.  All of my stuff had been moved around, and it was hard to find things that I needed.  In the big scheme of things, not a big deal.  I get that.  At the moment, though, it seemed like too much: 

I was still grieving, had no privacy, and had to put on a happy face for the guests.

            One group left, I had three days of school, and then all hell broke loose in Haiti. The civil unrest that started on February 7 shut down the country.  Schools closed, businesses closed, and protesters roamed the streets.  For the next week I stayed at the orphanage compound, never leaving because it was too dangerous.  No one else left the compound either due to the danger.

            A week after the civil unrest started, I made the difficult decision to return to the States.  While I knew I was safe at the orphanage, I worried that my presence there might put the orphanage director, her staff, and the kids in danger, for where there is a blan, there is money and food, or at least access to money and food.  After checking to make sure that the roads to the airport where safe (no barricades, no fires, no gangs), I purchased a one-way ticket, packed a bag, and headed out with my escorts.

            I had only been back to Haiti for 12 days when I had to leave again.  Another tough decision.  Another tough transition.  More tough times for Haiti.

            

            I write this blog from the safety of my home in Illinois.  I don’t know when I will be able to return to Haiti—it could be in a week or two or a month or two.  The not knowing is hard.  Not sure how to stay busy, but also not sure how “settled” to become.