Sunday, November 25, 2012
Where Thieves Break in and Steal
History seems to be repeating itself around here. It's time for the Habitat for Humanity group of 600 American short term mission workers to invade the Christianville property and work on some houses in the Leogane area. They visited last year around this time, as well. Before they come, a group of dedicated Haitians and Irish and American workers prepared the way by leveling the ground where the soccer field used to be, putting up fences and tarps (to keep the visitors in, or the local residents out?), setting up mess halls and tents, and erecting latrines and showers on the old eye clinic property. They also put up big bright lights that shine into the soccer field and into the street all night. You would think these lights would deter theft, but last year around this time massive amounts of furniture and other valuables were stolen from our friends, despite the lights and added security. And this year, just a few weeks ago, thieves broke into Ryan's eye clinic, the dental clinic, and the Christianville church. They stole medicines and equipment, and they even took brother Fanfan's accordion. What the men's choir is going to do without their famous accordion was a topic of discussion in church this morning. The pastor also gave a warning, saying he is certain it must be someone local and that the thefts will not be tolerated. Not sure if anything will come of it, but the thefts were a bummer, that's for sure. This makes the fifth time in five years that my husband's clinic has been robbed. For a man who was currently working with less equipment and space than he started with in Haiti (due to the quake), the robberies just make things all that much worse. But Ryan has been a real trooper about it. He just keeps trudging along, replacing what can be replaced, dealing without what can't be. I am proud of him and his determination to help the poor and sight-deprived here in Haiti, despite all the set backs.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Update on Lifrane and family
I just got a visit from a friend from Seguin who filled me in on some news regarding Marie Lourdes and her children. She is the woman I blogged about last week. Apparently, her visit to me was a veiled attempt to get me to take Maudeline as a restavek in my home. Of course, I would never take a child in who has a loving mom and dad, so when she saw that I was not going along with her plans, she went back to Seguin and immediately turned around and gave Maudeline and Joresse (her seven year old boy) to a friend of hers near Kapotye (about an hour down the mountain, where we used to do mobile medical clinics). The children were only gone from her for about one week, though, because on Monday she received a call from a Haitian pastor friend with the message that there was a person in Texas willing to pay for all her kids to go to school. This person was insistent that she bring back Lifrane, Maudeline, and Joresse into her home. So, she did. My friend from Seguin who was recounting this story to me was a bit frustrated. He said that the three kids came back very clean, with nice clothes and "round faces". He said they looked like they had each grown an inch. He was frustrated that they were back with their mother and father who rarely feed or bathe them. I asked him, "Were they happy to be back with their family?", and he reluctantly replied, "Yes, they were very happy.... happy to roam the fields and be dirty all day again!" So, there you have it. Marie Lourdes is reunited with all her children. No more tears for the time being. Although, getting them registered for school at such a late date may prove problematic.....
Monday, October 15, 2012
A Visit and A Moral Dilemma
A couple weekends ago, Ryan and I got a visit from a familiar face.... Marie Lourdes. She was my neighbor in Seguin. This is not the first time she has suddenly appeared at our doorstep. Two years ago, Marie Lourdes and her husband surprised us on Easter and asked that we take her immediately to the hospital because she was so sick. Last year, she and her husband showed up again, this time even sicker and in need of emergency surgery. She got the surgery, so this year, when she showed up unexpectedly, she was healthy and smiling and was accompanied by her oldest daughter, Maudeline.
There are a few things that happen to us with every visit we get from a Haitian who has travelled far to see us. The first thing that happens is that we are presented with a sack full of produce. Marie Lourdes was no exception. Even though she and her husband have lost their jobs this past year and lost their crops and livestock in Tropical Storm Isaac, she borrowed money in order to bring me a sack full of potatoes. She mourned the loss of another sack full of peas and yams that she had bought, but which was subsequently stolen from her on the tap-tap ride over the mountains. She was sad because she knew I love peas. I scolded her for borrowing money to bring me a gift and reminded her that she can show up at my house empty handed, then I thanked her and started cooking the potatoes. I knew she and Maudeline probably hadn't eaten all day, maybe not in two days.
The second thing that inevitably happens with our Haitian visitors from parts remote is that, after initial "how are you's" and some general shooting of the breeze, they nestle down into our couches and fall into a deep sleep. So, while Marie Lourdes and Maudeline caught some z's, I got busy cooking up a meal with the potatoes as well as any protein I could find, and some rice, since I knew a real meal isn't complete here without it.
After bellies were full, Marie Lourdes and I talked about what was new in her life. She admitted to me that her 14 year old son, Lifrane, is living with a family - strangers to Marie Lourdes - in the town of Peredo, a little more than one hour down the mountain from her by truck. The family agreed to take him in because they needed help around the house and with their small business. In exchange, they are putting Lifrane through school this year and giving him food and a place to sleep. The family was recommended to Marie Lourdes by her cousin and her neighbors, who know the family and say they will be kind to Lifrane. There is a phrase here in Haiti for a boy or girl who lives in such a situation - Restavek. It means "live with", and it is by no means an uncommon thing. In fact, most Haitians that I know, whether from Seguin or the countryside or from Leogane or Port au Prince, either have a restavek in their home, or have given one of their children to someone else as a restavek. Christians and non-christians alike engage in this practice. Some people treat their restaveks with kindness and compassion, as they would their own children. Others treat them with decency but show them little affection at all. And still others mistreat and abuse the children under their care. I imagine it's a bit like the foster care system in the States in that regard. Only this system is not regulated at all and has no safety checks. At any rate, little Lifrane, who used to knock on my door every day after I finished working (just as I was getting ready for my afternoon nap) and ask for cookies, is now a restavek.
I asked Marie Lourdes if she visits Lifrane. She said that she visited him once or twice, but that he cried each time she left, and the family requested that she not visit anymore, because it made him too sad, and he wasn't sad if he didn't see her. I suggested to Marie Lourdes that she visit him anyway, any chance she can get, and make sure he knows that she loves him very much and has not forgotten about him or tossed him aside.
Here is where the moral dilemma comes in. Marie Lourdes didn't really come to talk to me about Lifrane. She came to talk to me about Maudeline, and three of her other children (there are eight total,) who cannot go to school this year. She said, because of the financial troubles they've had, that she and Emmanuel cannot afford to send any of their children to school this year. Maudeline, the oldest (besides Lifrane and Dyekivle - who quit school long ago), was especially sad about this. Marie Lourdes told me Maudeline cries at night, begging to go to school. I know all of Marie Lourdes' children go without food quite frequently, as well. So, what's better? To be Maudeline, at home with mom and dad and sisters and brothers, but without daily food or schooling? Or Lifrane, to be away from mom and dad and siblings, but with a full stomach and a years' worth of school? I don't know. I do know this... I can't single-handedly fix the restavek problem in Haiti. I can't give every family the monetary help they need to keep their kids fed and educated and at home with them. I can't even give Marie Lourdes all the money she needs to keep her family well fed and educated and all together. In the end, I gave her what little I could, and hoped she would make whatever decisions she deemed best with it.
Marie Lourdes and Maudeline got showers that night with running water, and slept long on a mattress that must have seemed huge to them. The next morning I drove them to Port au Prince to find a bus to Jacmel so they could begin their journey home. I haven't heard whether they made it back safely or not, or what Marie Lourdes decided to do about school for the children, but I hope,whatever happened, that she at least stopped by the house where Lifrane is living to give him a little visit on her way back up the mountain.
There are a few things that happen to us with every visit we get from a Haitian who has travelled far to see us. The first thing that happens is that we are presented with a sack full of produce. Marie Lourdes was no exception. Even though she and her husband have lost their jobs this past year and lost their crops and livestock in Tropical Storm Isaac, she borrowed money in order to bring me a sack full of potatoes. She mourned the loss of another sack full of peas and yams that she had bought, but which was subsequently stolen from her on the tap-tap ride over the mountains. She was sad because she knew I love peas. I scolded her for borrowing money to bring me a gift and reminded her that she can show up at my house empty handed, then I thanked her and started cooking the potatoes. I knew she and Maudeline probably hadn't eaten all day, maybe not in two days.
The second thing that inevitably happens with our Haitian visitors from parts remote is that, after initial "how are you's" and some general shooting of the breeze, they nestle down into our couches and fall into a deep sleep. So, while Marie Lourdes and Maudeline caught some z's, I got busy cooking up a meal with the potatoes as well as any protein I could find, and some rice, since I knew a real meal isn't complete here without it.
After bellies were full, Marie Lourdes and I talked about what was new in her life. She admitted to me that her 14 year old son, Lifrane, is living with a family - strangers to Marie Lourdes - in the town of Peredo, a little more than one hour down the mountain from her by truck. The family agreed to take him in because they needed help around the house and with their small business. In exchange, they are putting Lifrane through school this year and giving him food and a place to sleep. The family was recommended to Marie Lourdes by her cousin and her neighbors, who know the family and say they will be kind to Lifrane. There is a phrase here in Haiti for a boy or girl who lives in such a situation - Restavek. It means "live with", and it is by no means an uncommon thing. In fact, most Haitians that I know, whether from Seguin or the countryside or from Leogane or Port au Prince, either have a restavek in their home, or have given one of their children to someone else as a restavek. Christians and non-christians alike engage in this practice. Some people treat their restaveks with kindness and compassion, as they would their own children. Others treat them with decency but show them little affection at all. And still others mistreat and abuse the children under their care. I imagine it's a bit like the foster care system in the States in that regard. Only this system is not regulated at all and has no safety checks. At any rate, little Lifrane, who used to knock on my door every day after I finished working (just as I was getting ready for my afternoon nap) and ask for cookies, is now a restavek.
I asked Marie Lourdes if she visits Lifrane. She said that she visited him once or twice, but that he cried each time she left, and the family requested that she not visit anymore, because it made him too sad, and he wasn't sad if he didn't see her. I suggested to Marie Lourdes that she visit him anyway, any chance she can get, and make sure he knows that she loves him very much and has not forgotten about him or tossed him aside.
Here is where the moral dilemma comes in. Marie Lourdes didn't really come to talk to me about Lifrane. She came to talk to me about Maudeline, and three of her other children (there are eight total,) who cannot go to school this year. She said, because of the financial troubles they've had, that she and Emmanuel cannot afford to send any of their children to school this year. Maudeline, the oldest (besides Lifrane and Dyekivle - who quit school long ago), was especially sad about this. Marie Lourdes told me Maudeline cries at night, begging to go to school. I know all of Marie Lourdes' children go without food quite frequently, as well. So, what's better? To be Maudeline, at home with mom and dad and sisters and brothers, but without daily food or schooling? Or Lifrane, to be away from mom and dad and siblings, but with a full stomach and a years' worth of school? I don't know. I do know this... I can't single-handedly fix the restavek problem in Haiti. I can't give every family the monetary help they need to keep their kids fed and educated and at home with them. I can't even give Marie Lourdes all the money she needs to keep her family well fed and educated and all together. In the end, I gave her what little I could, and hoped she would make whatever decisions she deemed best with it.
Marie Lourdes and Maudeline got showers that night with running water, and slept long on a mattress that must have seemed huge to them. The next morning I drove them to Port au Prince to find a bus to Jacmel so they could begin their journey home. I haven't heard whether they made it back safely or not, or what Marie Lourdes decided to do about school for the children, but I hope,whatever happened, that she at least stopped by the house where Lifrane is living to give him a little visit on her way back up the mountain.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Numbers
Here are some important numbers in our lives this fall:
September 4 made 11 years for me here in Haiti. Yikes.
September 7 made 5 years here in Haiti for Ryan.
October 4 will make 4 years of marriage for Ryan and me.
November 6 Titus will turn 2. Nora is 3. And I'm 10 weeks along with Baby Price #3 which means...
April 4, 2013 may be another important day for us, since that's the due date.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Stateside and Tubes in June
I receive many comments and questions from people regarding Haiti. Most of them go like this: "How can we pray for you?" and "If we come to Haiti, what do you need us to bring for you?" So, I've made a few little additions to my blog. On the left, you'll find a list of prayer requests (updated as often as I update this blog...hopefully monthly). Also, you'll find a list of things that we could always use around here, just in case you're planning a visit here soon.
We spent the month of June in the U.S., visiting family, going to weddings, and enjoying some summertime fun. The picture above is from the Madison Zoo, when the kids experienced popsicles on sticks for the first time. Nora was a fan, but Titus thought they were way too cold. We had a good time in Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Alabama, Texas, and Georgia. The kids are glad to be back home, but they talk about visiting their grandparents again quite often. Well, Nora does. Titus has a limited vocabulary. He says, "no, yes, thank you, cheese, mama, ball, book, and bye-bye".
During this past year, Titus has been battling many ear infections. We tried all the different antibiotics recommended, as well as shots and antihistamines, but nothing seemed to be helping his poor ears. So, while we were in Alabama, we took him to the doctor for advice. He sent us to an ENT. We were able to see the ENT on a Thursday, just a few days after our pediatrician referred us. We waited for an hour. The ENT did testing and recommended tubes for his ears. She was able to get us a surgery appointment for Friday, the very next day. He went into a nice, clean, friendly surgery center. The nurses gave him a teddy bear, the pastor came to pray for him, and the drugs helped him relax. They took him to surgery, and 15 minutes later he had tubes and was recovering. By the next day, he was feeling much better. Our insurance is helping us cover some of the costs. When I reflect on this experience, I can't help but compare it to the experience of my patients in Haiti. I have several little girls and boys who come to me daily for help with ear infections. Normally, they and their mom will wait at least 5 hours to see me. Most of the time, the antibiotics I give them will solve the problem, but sometimes, they are like Titus, and no amount of medicine will help. In those cases, they will wait another 5 hours to see me again, and get another antibiotic and a shot. If this doesn't work, the process is repeated, with different antibiotics, until the ear either gets better, or perforates on its own. This is painful and could cause scarring. The other option is to send them to a specialist in Port au Prince. This is often a last-ditch effort for us, since it involves the mom and child going to an unfamiliar place on public transport, spending a lot of money that they don't have, going through many tests they don't have the money for and don't really need, and then, hopefully going through a surgery (which could involve outdated anesthesia and risks of infection). The difference between their experience and mine is day and night. Maybe that's why a huge wave of gratefulness mixed with guilt hit me as I walked out of the surgery center with Titus. Grateful for what God has given us, and sad that not everyone has access to the same care, and guilty that I can't do more to narrow the gap.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Be the Parade
Friday, the 18th of May, was Flag Day here in Haiti. Usually it's a day when kids dress up in uniform with fake swords and guns and march in formation and sing songs in the streets. We were told that we shouldn't go out much this year, because the ex-military had warned that they would "show their strength" on Friday. From what I hear, their 'strength' was broken up by some UN rubber bullets and tear gas in Port. We didn't see any of that kind of thing in our neck of the woods.
I did hear a parade, though, and thought the kids would love to see it. Eleanor wasn't in the mood to go outside, so I took Titus and we went down the road to where the kids were lined up, marching with their fake weapons. A tiny band was playing, and a group of about 20 or 30 people were standing on the side of the road, watching. Titus and I walked up to join the crowd. After 10 years in Haiti, I should have known that I can't "join a crowd", especially with a white baby in my arms. But I had a mental lapse and tried it. After being there for a few seconds, the majority of the crowd and some of the members of the parade had turned around to look at Titus and me. All of a sudden, we were the parade. Ryan told me later that I should have started marching and just gone with the flow. But I didn't.
I stood there, holding Titus tight as people touched us and asked if I would give him to them. That's a pretty common thing we hear here in Haiti. "Give me your baby!", someone will shout from across the road. I'm not sure what response they are looking for. "Here you go!", or "You bet, take him!". I'm not sure. On a bad day, I ignore them or say "No" grumpily. On a good day, I remember that it's a bit of an African (and Haitian) tradition to say something off the wall to someone, just to see what funny quip they will come back with. So, on good days, I usually respond, "I can't, he's my only boy." That gets them laughing. Not sure why, but they usually stop asking me to give them the baby, and they start talking among themselves, repeating me and laughing their heads off. Humor in other cultures is a weird thing. Sometimes I'm funny to Haitians because I try, but most of the time I"m funny for reasons unknown to me!
At any rate, that was our Flag Day. We walked along with the parade, trying to 'blend in' and not cause so much of a distraction that the marching kids would trip or lose their step. I think the people in the parade were happy when we went back home... they got their audience back.
I did hear a parade, though, and thought the kids would love to see it. Eleanor wasn't in the mood to go outside, so I took Titus and we went down the road to where the kids were lined up, marching with their fake weapons. A tiny band was playing, and a group of about 20 or 30 people were standing on the side of the road, watching. Titus and I walked up to join the crowd. After 10 years in Haiti, I should have known that I can't "join a crowd", especially with a white baby in my arms. But I had a mental lapse and tried it. After being there for a few seconds, the majority of the crowd and some of the members of the parade had turned around to look at Titus and me. All of a sudden, we were the parade. Ryan told me later that I should have started marching and just gone with the flow. But I didn't.
I stood there, holding Titus tight as people touched us and asked if I would give him to them. That's a pretty common thing we hear here in Haiti. "Give me your baby!", someone will shout from across the road. I'm not sure what response they are looking for. "Here you go!", or "You bet, take him!". I'm not sure. On a bad day, I ignore them or say "No" grumpily. On a good day, I remember that it's a bit of an African (and Haitian) tradition to say something off the wall to someone, just to see what funny quip they will come back with. So, on good days, I usually respond, "I can't, he's my only boy." That gets them laughing. Not sure why, but they usually stop asking me to give them the baby, and they start talking among themselves, repeating me and laughing their heads off. Humor in other cultures is a weird thing. Sometimes I'm funny to Haitians because I try, but most of the time I"m funny for reasons unknown to me!
At any rate, that was our Flag Day. We walked along with the parade, trying to 'blend in' and not cause so much of a distraction that the marching kids would trip or lose their step. I think the people in the parade were happy when we went back home... they got their audience back.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Friends at Easter

Margarethe and I were able to catch up on all that has been happening since I left the mountain. It was good to have her here and spend time together again. My children were a little shy around her kids, but they all ended up playing together (or near each other) in the end. On Saturday, I hid a bunch of eggs and taught the kids about a silly Easter tradition that we Americans do. They had fun running around, finding eggs.

Margarethe also told me about how life is for her family presently. She and Ecclesiaste live in Seguin and both have employment. Two of her brothers work, and her father is a farmer and
raises animals. The rest of her family lives in Jacmel and is either unemployed or in school. Her mother, her four sisters, her three children, their four cousins, and one orphan child all live in a two room house together. They all sleep in the same room. Margarethe didn't seem to think this was unusual. She talked about how the children don't fall to sleep before 10 at night. She thought they were night owls. But when they were at my house, they fell sound asleep by 8pm. The yard where they could play had something to do with that, but I also think it was a soft mattress and a room that wasn't full of ten other snoring, kicking, sweating bodies. I gave them a double mattress and two single mattresses for the five of them to sleep, but all three kids piled onto one of the mattresses and fell fast asleep. Force of habit, I guess!
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