Discrepancies

  Usually, when I go home to the States, I find myself getting irritated at people.  It's a displaced irritation.  I'm not actually upset at the people themselves, but instead at the discrepancies between how we live in the U.S. and how the Haitians live here.  For instance, the time when I watched a woman hemorrhage in my car for seven hours after giving birth, while I tried to find her help at four different hospitals.  Then I went home to watch my friend have her baby in a luxury birthing suite with monitors and epidural anesthesia and round the clock nursing care, and I found myself getting irritated.  It wasn't my friend's fault that her birthing experience was a good one.  It was just the huge difference in available medical options between one place and another that was bothering me.  Or the year when we went home and wanted a 'simple Christmas' but ended up receiving eighty five hundred gifts for the kids.  I couldn't help feeling irritated, knowing that my Haitian friends were celebrating Christmas by going to church and eating a meal together that might include meat as a special treat.  It wasn't my family's fault for wanting to rain down gifts on the children they see only twice a year.  It was just the great gulf between excess and want that frustrated me.
  A few weeks ago, I found myself suffering from this displaced irritation once again.  And this time, I wasn't in the States.  It happened right here in my home.  A couple of the boys from the Jacmel boys' home came to visit me and talk about the food situation in the house.  Apparently, the money for their monthly food allowance is not sufficient, and they have been without food for a couple weeks.  They were hungry and frustrated, so they came to visit me and talk it over.  When they arrived, I asked them how their families were.  Usually, a Haitian will reply "doing well" or "fine, thank the Lord" or something of that nature.  But these boys replied "ou konnen mis, sa'k mouri, mouri".  That means "you know, those that have died are dead."  Jean Robert lost a teenage cousin to cholera two weeks ago, and has another relative in the hospital recovering from cholera.  Elira lost a sister with obstetrical complications a few months ago.  So, the boys were suffering loss, and they were hungry.  We talked for awhile, trying to resolve the food issue, then I sent them on their way with a little something for the road.  As they were leaving, my daughter started to scream. I had served her lunch right before the boys arrived.  I gave her a fork to eat her macaroni and cheese with.  She was screaming because she wanted a spoon.  She refused to eat the food with a fork.  I got irritated and said to her, "We just had starving people in our house and you are crying about a fork?"  I'm sure my four year old daughter didn't understand what I was referring to or care in the least, and I shouldn't have expected her to.  She's just a little girl who prefers spoons to forks.  I wasn't really irritated with her.  I was irritated, and a little ashamed, at the discrepancy between how we live and how those around us do.
 

Twelve Years In Haiti

I moved to Haiti September 4, 2001. The following is a brief synopsis of my time here since then.

Year One: I miss my nephew, Lukey! I meet Margarethe, deliver my first baby, and tend to a little burned boy: Jean Dony. The clinic starts functioning and the patients come en masse.

Year Two: I move from a cot in the dorms to an air mattress in my new apartment above the clinic. Communication with the outside world moves from satellite-phone-only to the internet. Tooth-pulling Tuesdays begin.

Year Three: Davidson Jean Phillippe, my first godchild, is born. I begin teaching baptism classes for the local youth. Chelsea and I spend two weeks in a Haitian house.

Year Four: Danny and Leann join the Seguin team. I turn 30 while cliff jumping in the Dominican Repulic. Danny and Leann move on to Jacmel, and I'm once again alone on the mountain.

Year Five: I float down a river in my Land Cruiser (oh, the irony!).  Cell phone reception makes its way to Seguin, and I make my first call to friends in Port from inside my Seguin apartment.

Year Six: Jessica spends six months on the mountain with me. Other wonderful interns come and go. In the end, I'm once again alone on the mountain. At the urging of friends, advisors, and the Holy Spirit, I give my six months' notice and pray about where God wants me next.

Year Seven: I visit Christianville at the invitation of Jim and Sandy. I meet Ryan. I move to Christianville. Later, I start dating Ryan, and we get engaged under a waterfall.

Year Eight: Ryan and I are married. Pregnancy immediately follows. Really. Immediately. Nine months later, Eleanor Nancy Price is born. I move from full time at the clinic to part time.

Year Nine: Our bodies, living arrangements, work environments, relationships, and perceptions are shaken to the core by the earthquake of January 12, 2010.

Year Ten: Our family grows to four, as Titus Christopher Price is born. I start a Children's Church program at Lasalle Church, and begin teaching Creole Grammar classes to American missionaries.

Year Eleven: Jim and Sandy move down the road, and I get used to working in the UNICEF tents with them. My sister and her family move to Haiti and live within walking distance of me (yippee!).

Year Twelve: Our family grows once again when we welcome our second boy, Samuel George Price. My sister and her family move back to the States (boo!). Construction begins on a new eye clinic. I continue working part time at the medical clinic, teaching Creole classes, and creating curriculum for the Children's Church program. I stay connected to Seguin via a latrine project, a Boys' Home for mountain boys that need to go to High School in the city, and through hosting many Seguin friends who come visit us at Christianville.

Community Christian Church supports my ministry.... from year one all the way up to the present!

Here are some of my favorite pictures.  The little boy standing with Eleanor was born the day after the quake, in front of my house.  The older woman and child are Margarethe's mother in law and Margarethe's fourth child.  God has been faithful to both Margarethe and me and has brought us quite a ways since those early days in 2001.

  

Haiti's Travelin' Blind Man

Many of you know Roger, Seguin's loudest blind man.  He's a tall, thin man who used to beg loudly on my front porch when I lived in the mountains.  We gave him a job as a human megaphone, calling out patient names for us.  Now that the clinic is closed, he is out of work and relies on charity to makes ends meet.

Roger is not only known for his loud voice, but also for his travelling ways.  Even though Seguin is a mountainous place with narrow, slippery clay trails and deep ravines, Roger uses his wooden cane to feel his way around and walk by himself over miles of terrain.  Once, Roger was crossing a very narrow bridge that spans an 80 foot ravine when he ran into someone.  He yelled at the person, saying, "What's wrong with you?  Don't you know I'm blind?  Watch where you're going!"  The person answered him, "Roger?  Is that you?"  It was Roger's cousin.... who is also blind.  The two men laughed about it afterwards.

Once I moved to Christianville, I expected to see much less of Roger.  I've only been able to visit Seguin a few times since my move.  Roger, however, was not satisfied with a visit every few years, so he decided to come see me.  And he has... several times, and always by himself.  Just recently he visited me, sporting a new T-shirt with vampires on it, some old shoes with soles that were coming un-glued, and his usual smile. He needed help with school for his children.  In order to come ask me for help, Roger had to ride no less than three motorcycle taxis, two tap-taps, and a bus.  Then he had to repeat that process to return home. He told me one of the tap-taps he was riding broke down and he had to overnight in Jacmel.  I didn't have the heart to ask him how and where he overnighted there.  Roger is a brave man.  Possibly, the most well-travelled blind man in Haiti.

My Third Culture Kid

Eleanor, my firstborn, turned 4 this past week.  We threw her a party that included American missionary friends and Haitian neighborhood friends.  There was pin-the-hat-on-the-Minnie-Mouse, a craft, and lots of running around and general noise-making.  There were no presents, though.  That was on purpose.  Being the third culture kid that she is, she doesn't know there are supposed to be presents at a birthday party, and she doesn't have any commercials on television or friends from school telling her that there should be presents.

There has been a lot written lately about third culture kids, with all the international travel that happens now.  For those of you who haven't ever heard of the term, it refers to a child who is raised in a country other than their parents' country of origin.  So, the child is exposed to one culture at home, and another outside the home, leading them to adapt by forming their own 'third culture'.  I think my kids are too young to really exhibit a lot of third culture behavior, but one thing I have noticed is that they are very adaptable.  They are accustomed to bumpy roads, rain on the tin roof, and sleeping under mosquito nets.  But they also do just fine in air conditioning, eating fish sticks and watching cable t.v.  I love how adaptable they are.  I love that living in Haiti means that Eleanor didn't ask for an American Girl doll this year, because she has no idea what that is.  What I don't love, however, is that sometimes living in Haiti means I can't give my kids what they ask for.  This year, Eleanor wanted strawberry cupcakes with flowers on top, and a helium balloon ('like the one Mimi had') for her birthday.  Two simple requests that would have been so easy to fulfill in the States.  Here in Haiti, though, it was a pretty tall order.  Even the fanciest grocery store in Port au Prince didn't carry strawberry cake mix this month, and the only place in town that advertised helium balloons could only fill an order for a large quantity, not a single balloon or two.  So, Ryan and I improvised.  I bought a white cake mix and dyed it pink.  Ryan's uncle Jerry told us that pennies in muriatic acid would create hydrogen that would float a balloon.  Ryan tried this technique, and I was upset that I wasn't home to see his attempts.  Apparently they involved oven mitts, safety goggles, and a mad dash out the door.  In the end, the balloons didn't float.  So, when all was said and done, Eleanor got a birthday party with friends that involved pink cupcakes and nine red balloons (some of which appeared to float using the magic of duct tape).  How did my third culture kid respond?  Well.......

I think she liked it just fine!

The Godmother, Part 2: The Graduation

Well, Makenson Luc did it!  He graduated!  And fellow missionary Marie, Samuel, and I got to attend and experience his graduation in all its glory.  We arrived at 9:30am and the ceremony ended at 3:30pm, so it was truly an all-day cultural experience.  The ceremony included the following highlights:
-processional
-singing of the national anthem
-singing of the Pocahantas theme song
-introduction and standing ovation for Jean Claude Duvalier ("Baby Doc"), Haiti's ex-president/dictator
-singing of the Lion King theme song
-a sexy dance
-a speech in French from Baby Doc Duvalier, which included a list of all the possible professions these young students might enjoy in the future ('deposed dictator' didn't make the list)
-another sexy dance
-the mash up of a sexy song and Ave Maria
-giving out of diplomas
-a fashion show of outfits from 'around the world', including beach attire (Jamaica?), country attire (Seguin?), city attire (New York?), and a turban and metal arm bands (???).  This particular part of the program was the most popular, winning hoots and hollers from the crowd (and looks of confusion from the Americans in the audience).
-more giving out of diplomas
-reciting a poem about being a student.  The most interesting line of this poem was "the rich in Haiti eat three times a day, the poor in Haiti eat three times a year"
-more giving out of diplomas
-the passing of the 'torch' from the senior to the junior class

The ceremony did not, however, involve the godparents giving any speeches or formally presenting any gifts to the graduates, which was a huge relief to me.  I enjoyed giving my gift and words of encouragement privately.

The graduation may have been long and confusing to me, but it didn't lessen the fact that Makenson finished high school, amidst all the obstacles he faced.  I'm proud of him and I pray God guides him in the next stage of his life and education, which often can be more arduous than high school here in Haiti.  Develop your future, Makenson.  I hope it's a bright one!

The Godmother, Part One

   Being a godmother here in Haiti is a pretty common thing.  They have godparents for everything.  Children, marriages, graduations, any big life event.  Not only do the Catholic Haitians do this, but all Haitians seem to do this.  So, needless to say, I've been asked to be a godmother quite often.  It is the responsibility of the godparent to financially and emotionally support the person in certain respects (sometimes in all respects).  Often, I decline.  "No, mesi.  Not this time, sorry!"  That is my typical response.  However, I have said 'yes' on occasion.  I am the godmother to several children here.  Sonson (Margarethe's son) is one of my 'fyel' - godchildren, as well as a couple other children that I delivered.  I have varying degrees of responsibility with them all.
   A few weeks ago, Mackenson asked me to be the godmother of his graduation.  Normally, I would have given him my pat answer "No, mesi.  Not this time, sorry!"  But, his case is different.  I first met Mackenson about seven years ago, when he came to my clinic as a young teenager with an injured leg.  He had been dragged by a horse and had some muscle damage.  I told him he might need to go to the hospital.  He cried. I didn't know it then, but he wasn't crying from the pain or from fear of being hospitalized.  He was crying because he was a restavek and he was afraid that his family would not like spending money on him at the hospital.  He was correct.  Shortly after his injury, while he was recovering, his foster family told him they didn't want him anymore, because he would be more expensive now that he was 'injured' and couldn't work hard.  He had to find a different place to live.  This is when the boys' home started.  We rented him and several other boys a home in Jacmel where they could continue their schooling under the supervision of a Christian chaperone.  Mackenson did well in the home, and has come to his last year of school.  He graduates on June 22 of this year.  Through these past seven years, I've given him advice from time to time, listened to his struggles and hopes and dreams, tried to find him work, and generally filled in the role of a concerned family member for him.  He has a mother who lives very far away and is ill.  His father is deceased.  So, when Mackenson asked me to be the godmother at his graduation, I realized I would be the only 'family' representing him there, and I just had to say 'yes'.
   Here's the catch:  the graduation is a big ceremony.  There will be hundreds of people there.  The godparents have an actual speaking role at the ceremony.  There are specific things I am expected to say and do and bring.  And, ex-president Duvalier (you may know him as "Baby Doc") will be officially presiding over the affair.  So, no pressure.
   I had a big sit-down talk with Mackenson the other day, where I took notes about all that I needed to prepare for.  The big event happens in less than a month.  I'll let you know how it goes!

Samuel George Price

He arrived!  Samuel George Price was born at 2:11pm on Monday, April 1st after 12 hours of pitocin and 6 minutes of pushing.  He weighed 8 pounds 6 ounces and was about 20 inches long (the nurses had to guestimate because he was wriggling so much).  He has been hungry and growing ever since.  He likes to eat every 1.5 hours, which is good for him, but difficult for mommy, especially at night!  He really likes to take in his surroundings between 2 and 6am.  His brother and sister think he's "so cute", but otherwise ignore him.  They are busy playing with their extended family and going to preschool two days a week.

We are planning to return to Haiti as soon as his passport comes, but apparently that might take longer than we've experienced in the past.  We're still waiting on his social security card.  Please pray that paperwork comes quickly.  We love being with family, but we are needed back in Haiti in May.

Thank you all for your prayers for a smooth and healthy delivery and for a healthy baby.  God is good!  It's amazing what He can accomplish in nine months!