Thursday, 22 October 2015

“It is better to do a good small thing many times over than to wait your whole life for the best big thing that may never come.”

What happens when your work abroad was incredible and life-changing, and allowed you deep multi-national friendships that you know you’ll keep for life, and affirmed your commitment to your organization…and was also wounding and disillusioning, and left you feeling betrayed by some of the people that you truly cared about, and threw into question what you really thought you could give and what is actually needed and/or the organization can provide?  

In some ways, my time in Haiti was one of the best experiences of my life, and in other ways, I sometimes wonder what, exactly, I accomplished there, and why I was even allowed to go in the first place….   

I feel like this dichotomy was perfectly illustrated by the first week in October:

I volunteered at the NPH gala the first Saturday in October and it was one of the most fun and rewarding nights I’ve had in AGES!!  The excitement and energy was palpable, and there’s something magical about being with and working alongside so many people that are sincerely passionate about the same great cause.  I was lucky to be asked to run the slideshow, so I got to see to see the entire gala unfold, and it was truly inspiring.  This year, after living and working abroad at one of the homes, the gala had a special meaning for me—I recognized many of the people and places highlighted in the slideshow and I felt like Frank (Donaghue; President/CEO NPH USA) and Reinhart (Koehler; Board Chair NPH International) were speaking directly to me…ha.  We raised almost $600,000!  In one night!  Such an extraordinary amount when you think how far that money can go.     

Six days later, I woke up to an e-mail sharing the news that yet another person—the fourth in two years—was robbed and shot in front of St. Damien hospital.  An electrician who helped the team that manages generators, solar panels, and the power grid, in collaboration with the German volunteers.  He was shot in the face, and robbed for probably (to most Westerners) a negligible amount of money.  Five days later, I received another e-mail that, despite all measures taken, he died from his injuries.

Although I didn’t know the victim, I was crushed to hear this news…I could have known him.  Or it could have been me.  I can clearly picture the gates in front of St. Damien—I passed there almost every single day I lived in Haiti, and (although we were not supposed to) I walked in the streets many times….  Sadly, receiving a heartbreaking dispatch from this country is not new.  I feel so many emotions every time I think of Haiti—I’m wistful thinking of how much I loved parts of my time there, and how much I miss my friends.  I’m guilty, thinking of how I left (and how used to people leaving most Haitians must be).  I’m angry and frustrated, thinking of how unfair life is, and how little Westernized countries know and/or care about life elsewhere. 

 

Working in Haiti has affirmed both my joy, gratitude, humility…and also my feelings of loss, grief, and helplessness.  The more time passes, the more questions I feel like I have…and I certainly don’t have the answers.  

  

However, the first flash of peace I felt in relation to this incidence was thanks to the response of a friend who wrote, “Let's just make today an awesome day.  All we can do, right?!”

So simple.  But at the same time…yes, all we can do. 

Thursday, 20 August 2015

How many languages do you speak??

It’s so interesting to hear how people answer this question; I honestly never know what to respond.  Three?  One?  Two and three quarters?  Where is the bar we’re setting….

One of the things I loved most about my time in Haiti was the opportunity to not only be immersed in Haitian culture and language, but also to be constantly engaged with people from all over the globe.  The first night I stayed over at the NPH home in Kenscoff, I remember realizing with awe that of the ten people in the room, we were from eight different countries.  Aside from Kreyol (and French and English), most days I would also hear people speaking Italian, Spanish, and German.  I also clearly remember one night just after I arrived when one of my Italian friends had the entire kitchen laughing because he (inadvertently) spoke a single sentence using three different languages.  It was brilliant! 

That said, when you’re speaking a non-native language (or languages) consistently, it can be exhausting.  It takes an incredible amount of mental energy to try and not only catch all of the words that are being spoken, but also understand the context and cultural significance of everything that’s been said.  After I became comfortable enough living and working in Haiti, I was sometimes frustrated and disappointed by my lack of progress in learning Kreyol.  Even after eight months I felt far from the point where I could truly keep up when natives were speaking around me, and I felt like I had the same conversations over and over.  And over.  And OVER.  “Kouman ou ye?”  “Byen, mesi, e ou menm?”  “Byen, gras a Dieu.”  “Kouman fanmi ou ye?”  “Tout bagay anfom.”  “M kontan pou tande sa.”  And at some point after that…there were so many instances where I desperately wanted to continue the conversation, but…I just couldn’t think of enough words that I knew!  I reflect on this often now that I’m home and can effortlessly eavesdrop on any conversation occurring nearby…or know with certainty that I will both know and understand every single word that somebody says to me…or can painlessly make small talk with a stranger for hours, if need be…it makes life so easy!!!!

I was discussing this with a friend, and she pointed out that when you’re first learning a language, ANY progress seems monumental because you’re starting from nothing.  Once you have the foundation built, however, improvements can seem slower—it’s much harder to make the transition from being able to function in daily life to being able to have nuanced, in-depth conversations about more complex topics.  Not long after I returned to the states, I saw this article, which articulated some similar themes eloquently:

http://www.economist.com/blogs/prospero/2015/05/johnson-polyglots

There’s definitely a difference between speaking a language and just talking in one, and it’s fascinating to learn that even fluent speakers may know only one-tenth of the words in a given language that a native speaker does.  Perhaps the best conclusion to take away from this is as the author wrote:  “Often asked, it is impossible to give an easy answer: ‘How many languages do you speak?’ The more languages one has studied and the more experience one has, the more the answer feels like ‘none!’” 

 

Thursday, 16 July 2015

I just opened our “junk drawer” looking for the scissors and thinking about how there was probably no paper in there either, since my sister had been lamenting that earlier in the day…and I had to laugh to myself when I saw—carelessly tossed among the detritus—a U.S. passport.  

Some of the conversations I’ve had with my Haitian friends:

One of our chauffeurs asked me to write a letter to the U.S. Embassy on his behalf to help him get a Visa.  I said that while I would be happy to do that, being a “blan” (white) did not mean that I had power in ANY way and that not all Americans are rich.  He replied something along the lines of, “Even poor people in America have more money than Haitians.”  I didn’t know what to say after that because I knew that in some ways, he was right.

One of our other chauffeurs—with whom I remain close friends—told me that he had something very serious to discuss with me when I returned to Haiti after Christmas.  I was baffled, and a little worried…he then asked me in confidence if I would pretend to be his girlfriend so that he might be able to get a U.S. Visa to see his fiancée.  I told him that I didn’t want to go to Haitian prison for lying to the government…and then we laughed until I had tears in my eyes.  But underneath that, I know that he was serious, and I know that I was sad and frustrated that I was having this conversation with a friend that I love dearly.

I think the thing that disturbs me most is that I will never be able to truly convey what it is to live in Haiti, or another country like it….  I think of Haiti one hundred times a day if I think of it once.  I think of it when I hear from my friends there (Zanmi m!  Kouman ou ye?!), and I think of it when I don’t.  I think of it when I go to work now and look in awe at the level of luxury we’re accustomed to here…I’m extremely fortunate to work at a world-class hospital that does inspiring work, but still, I find myself asking when enough is enough…the new NICU extension we built on the 11^th floor has private rooms with en suite baths, TVs, iPads (iPads!  What do you need an iPad for when you just had a baby and you’re in the NICU?!), and two (not one, TWO) fridges in each room….  It is a truly beautiful and well-appointed space.  But then I think of my NICU in Haiti, where sometimes we ran out of IV catheters.  Some days the water wasn’t working.  Our linens (when we had enough clean ones) were old and recycled.  We didn’t have formula.  I still can’t wrap my head around the disparity, and often I just get exhausted thinking about it. 

Living and working in Haiti left me with far more questions than answers, but one thing I’ve learned for sure is that being born in the United States (or any other “developed” country) has allowed me a level of luxury that permits me the leisure to even have time to ask these questions….  I don’t know the answers yet, but what I do know is that every day now, there are multiple times that I think—with gratitude—about the million little things we have in the states that I used to take for granted.  Endless, sweeping, beautiful roads; who cares if there’s gridlock traffic, the roads are PAVED!  The ability to walk safely down the street.  Air conditioning.  IV catheters and running water and diapers and linens and rooms upon rooms BURSTING with supplies at the hospital…all sterile and brand new….  Starbucks.  Any restaurant pretty much, and the fact that I can go to one whenever I want, in a car that I can drive….  Lawns and green space.  Riding a bike.

There are a million questions, and I never feel like I know any of the answers.  But the one that always haunts me is, how do you find the balance??