Best day in Haiti so far I think
Such an exciting day. Note: Life here runs on a different pace. There is a different set of criteria for what constitutes excitement, which are entirely dissimilar to what those criteria might be in the US or elsewhere. On the best days, it seems that my head overflows with new sensory experiences and interactions.
Since my last post I’ve been through the worst low as of yet. I find that being tired or hungry or irritated about my inability to understand 90% of the conversations swirling around me everywhere is difficult in itself; it is at these times that I have to stay especially cognoscente that both desperation and stigmatizations appear in many unforeseen disguises. I can certainly take in the scene of poverty and humiliation while retaining my dignity and patience of conscience, but the inescapable personal confrontations, invariably presented at a moment of unrelated weakness, always seem impossible to shake. These moments rattle free my misconceptions (which are plentiful), overshadowing other likely important lessons that have passed in my inattentiveness, because they leave stabbing imprints of the truth.
My low point came at the end of the day last week, when finally I had the realization that Haiti will truly be my home for 6 months (the prospect of which was and is still very exciting but difficult to process at that moment). Mostly, I was tired, hungry, very dirty, irritated at the isolation caused by a temporarily broken internet connection at our office, and annoyed at my lack of language comprehension. The dark gray sky accompanying the rain cloud that had followed me up the hill on my walk from work didn’t help much either. After a guard chased me out from the front of a luxurious hotel where I stood waiting for my ride, I sat down on the corner by a packed intersection in Peton Ville across from a tent city that envelops what was once a lush park. I could hardly look around without the piercing sensation that I was a part of some insane circus.
Just then, a little old lady approached my pathetic concrete stoop. Now I’m a pretty big fan of little old ladies; they tend to know more than others how and when to extend some bit of therapeutic pleasantry. As she approached, she looked right at me with the hint of a guarded smile, and said “Bonsoir.” I let go of any reservations about this new contact immediately, attempting to return her good evening wish but instead stupidly spitting out the first thing that came to mind, “Merci.” And right as the relieved word escaped my mouth, my conversant put out her hand in front of me and with the confidence of feigned kindness stated, “Ban mwen kob. (Give me money)”
Neither her request nor the unkind words she eventually sent my direction after my refusal to give really stung so much as left me deflated and hungry for the safety of solitude. It began to rain again a few minutes after my run in with the little old lady. I sat trying to quietly accept this circumstance, putting out of my mind the expectation of a small positive interaction. As the rain began to come down harder, people in the vicinity ran underneath the hotel awning. A man, jogging towards the awning spotted me on the corner, and quickly looked my way saying, “Monsieur, vini,” and motioning towards the shelter. At first I resisted, preferring my own spot, but he continued to encourage me to please just do the commonsensical thing and get the hell out of the rain. I submitted, and although an overt thank you would have seemed unnecessary, even rude, I was glad for the man’s insistence.
Earlier that day, I listened to the advice of a priest who insisted that to truly face a difficult task, instead of attempting to be strong enough to handle the situation, to acknowledge the weakness that accompanies difficulty. At the time, I tried to remember his advice, not attempting to escape somewhere else in my head. In hindsight, I don’t think times like that offer any other option unless we are actively willing to interpret things in a more hollow way. Any superficial strength I would have conjured up would only have calmed my ego while a chance at real empathy for the people that have so displaced my thoughts blew by. I think for me, burying turmoil when it reaches a level where it is really just that bothersome only enforces the desire to withdraw to my own familiar and comfortable state of mind; and then my ego instead of conscience or empathy or something else justifies my actions. And that is a great way to end up isolated from anything reasonable. It was uncomfortable because it had to be. Either that or the old lady was evil, the weather was out to get me, and all of Haiti is generally insane.
Today, we met with Fonkoze, a microcredit bank that has programs all over rural Haiti. The meeting was very informative and exciting; it left us with a lot of pointers for what will certainly be a great deal of work. We also left the meeting reminded of how important it is to target our specific group and with the sense that our program is brimming with possibility. Some days, everything seems to work. I got to talk to all the people I wanted to both here and at home, had the chance to see the potential in our program, talked to some intelligent and driven Haitian students. I took the tap-tap up to Kenscoff, and the whole time, although I could only understand about a quarter of what was going on, people talked loudly and laughed, and the women next to me lightly chided me for my fairly obvious ignorance. Today I had the chance to relate to things that are so enjoyable to people on such a basic level that I couldn’t possibly be overwhelmed with the more challenging parts of the day. Some days it works, some days it doesn’t.
One misconception of note, if you haven't figured it out already: life in Port au Prince does not just continue through the rain; in fact it stops in a ton of places as people run under such things as hotel awnings (the director of my program called me out on my assertion that people ignore the rain). I think it just seems that way because there are people everywhere at all times and not everyone can get out of the way.
Patience
