It's Complicated

This little girl was born over three weeks ago to a young mother who labored the better part of two days with this first child. She had not eaten for a couple of days as she has no food or source of income. The father unknown to the family or community, I was told.
Three weeks later the grandfather of the baby refuses to provide food for his daughter. The grandmother is a girlfriend of the World Vision agent for Sousafilip and she works at odd jobs but earns only enough to feed herself; not enough to share with the daughter.
The young mother, Margorie, obviously has never completed the application World Vision requires to provide food for pregnant women and nursing mothers. She has no milk to nurse the baby, and we found two small song birds tied with string to some flowers, she said would provide food for her this week.
Baby weight at 3 weeks is the same as at birth, which I assisted; just under 4 lbs. The skin is dry, baby lethargic and returned from the clinic with instructions to feed the mother and nurse the baby more. Instant replay of 2 months ago, and that baby is still only 2 lbs over birth weight!
If that narrative does not raise questions for others it certainly does for me. How can the grandmother who provides the home, eat and not share with the mother of the baby? How can she "date" the WV agent and not insist the application is filled out for a food program? How can the grandfather watch as his daughter starves and her newborn fails to thrive, when he has adequate resources to provide for all? How can the community shake their collective head, say "so sad" and excuse the situation because some "just don't trust World Vision or want to fill out forms?"
I walked on down the road yesterday and two men were sitting atop some bags of charcoal, both skeletal and asking me for food. I asked some local fishermen about them and they admitted the two lived in SaP, had no family and seldom are hired to work the charcoal boats. They have no property or livestock and sleep "in empty places." They are not "from" SaP but have been here "a long time." They have no resources or respect.
Conversation goes something like, "if it doesn't rain they may die since there will be no melons or peanuts to harvest. Lots who work the gardens will not eat and some will die." Those who speak, are themselves worried about the crops and have very low percent body fat. For those with money, meals include very small fish, flour patties fried in oil and ground corn. They eat large amounts of rice when available but that remains expensive and there is hope for cheaper melons to replace the mangoes that are now waning as the staple for the very poor.
In two years of living on the island, I discover the more questions I ask the less I understand the reasoning behind the answers. Life in a country with social programs and taxes to support education, health care for the very poor and even opportunity for the determined makes it hard to understand the hopelessness and acceptance of reality of life and death in a country where the government is not "for the people" but "above the people."
In recent conversations many are asking us if there is a possibility Haiti could become the 53rd state of the United States. Jokingly we once agreed with a mission team member that the best La Gonave could do would be to "secede" from Haiti and become a country on it's own. It is not a joke to me as I watch babies die and homeless go hungry. It isn't a joke, but it is extremely complicated. Shirley

Beyond Haiti

I'm reading a book most would not rush to Amazon to find, but interprets Second Isaiah and speaks of fantasy and hope as different than reality. The returning Jews had a dream or vision of the long remembered Jerusalem as golden city, yet the reality was a temple in ruin and a powerless society far removed from the fantasy.

As we dream for Haiti AND with the people of sud la gonave, our presence gives them a hope that we try to temper with reality. The vision and understanding of the United States is to them a fantasy that to us is a reality they don't want to acknowledge. The few hundred dollars received from family in the US is a fortune indicating life there is exceedingly lucrative.

A novice UM pastor recently visited Ansagale and mentioned to the pastor there, he planned to help them "when he got settled into his new appointment." Now I am attempting to explain the 200 students and families who have been told education costs will be paid for the coming year ($40,000.00 US) plus teacher salaries and daily meals is a dream that will not happen! The reality of a well intended promise triggered a fantasy out of desperation.

Kansas has been massing UMCOR Birthing Kits for me since I blurbed my surprising experience of delivering a baby in Sousafilip for the first time, sans the basic "nursing" supplies.

I will be passing out over 200 birthing kits at a Methodist Women's conference July 2nd with hopes they will make it into the hands of pregnant women to have available at delivery time. That may be a fantasy contents may be used or sold before due date.

The last few days two powerful local leaders have been at war and one old, very poor man has become the pawn in the middle of the chess board. Given permission to plant melons by one the other has pulled up half the garden, causing hysteria of the gardener and polarization of the community. Many have come to us as we represent authority (unrealistically) and are disappointed when we refuse to be drawn into the fight of these two decades old enemies.

We meet today with AAPLAG, a Haitian Agency, formerly uninvited to help with development on sud la gonave. We have planned an initial training program for leadership organization, agriculture, animal husbandry and fishing co-operative. AAPLAG is excited about being invited after 25 years to help one of the poorest areas in Haiti, and there is excitement in many communities about access to information and training long denied. The other side of the coin? Resistance by the self appointed power faction who prefer the disparity of power and poor. We pray ours is not an unrealistic vision.

The book I'm reading suggests the understanding of Jesus role or power was the result of liturgy from early Judaism, finally fused into the servant and shepard characteristics of the Messiah. Powerlessness most powerful when persistent and thinking beyond the restoration of of one nation but "all of creation."

Living and working in a poor and powerless culture creates a desire to dream or vision changes that may be based more on guilt and compassion that reality and rationalism. Tempted to offer a means of power clouds ones vision of Christ we feel we were called to mission to see.

Mother Theresa saw Christ in the face of the dying poor and abandoned. I would rather see Jesus in the face of the well fed, clothed, sitting on a nice front porch sipping safe water and having a mid day healthy snack!

Facing the reality of a world of greed that uses and abuses; of technology that creates games to play costing more than two thirds of the world lives on a year; and, the powerless, once made powerful will probably become also corrupt and greedy, I find I'm drawn to the books outlook.

It isn't power that will change or improve life but persistence. Persistent expectation that all are important but life is far more rewarding for those who serve and those who lead with gentleness and compassion. A persistent understanding that the power of God is displayed more in shared responsibility and solidarity, one with another and one with creation, and thinking beyond Haiti. Shirley

Not To Cry

When a child is hurt or sick in Haiti they are admonished "not to cry." An infant may be nursed but toddlers or older children are scolded, ignored or even hit into submisson. At funerals hysterical behavior is preferable to tears. Crying seems unacceptable at any age.

The small children of our staff are around much of the day and little Swiye, born shortly before we arrived, has been cranky and needy with a slight fever and runny nose the last few days. As I walked out yesterday he was sitting on the ground and had been crying loudly while his mother was doing laundry. I picked him up and he sniffeled as he snuggled into my neck. I sat on the step and he fiddled with my locket until he fell asleep. Missing my own grandkids it felt good but I wandered if it was a right or wrong thing to do. Others ignored us.

In a culture where all must be strong to survive, and children are frequently hit and hurt into obedience, is it wise to offer behavior different than the norm. Very small children take livestock, including onery horned cattle to the mountains, and drive laden, stubborn burros up rocky roads, while in the US we won't let our small children even walk curbside on a family outing.

Infants suck on rocks and marble size hair do dads, climb rocky slops and stairs and nap on sidewalks or rocky ground with geckos, spiders and ants crawling in and out of mouths and ears. Little girls learn to cook building small fires and making mud pies from dirt and pee. School children are sent to live with extended family and used as house slaves or worse for tuition. Parents seem proud of their children, have them in great numbers and seek help when they are ill. Parenting is not easy here.

In Kenya, I watched as small orphans crawded from under market booths each morning to build a tiny fire out of paper cups and beg a handout. My 7 year old granddaughter was not yet allowed to light a match and was tucked in at night by everyone in the house.

Yesterday, holding Swiye, I dreamed for him an education, career and maybe a world in which he will feed his children every day. I hoped for him a world in which there is justice and equity and comfort when there is pain. A world where children aren't taught "not to cry."

The Palace

Sitting on the hill above Sousafilip is what we refer
to as "the palace". The structure is concrete covered blocks and tin roof with outdoor facilities for cooking, shower and toilet. We like the added touch of the satellite dish for a modern flair.

Ten solar panels adorn the roof and provide power for 2 to 4 lights and the wire-less and computers. Ice is purchased each week and stored in an old freezer that once used propane tanks.

The large catchments that we cleaned today is used to fill one room of the large cistern during the rainy season. The well a mile on up the hill fills the other room of the cistern during the dry season.

We asked only for a private dwelling and aside from the 3 to 10 adults who gather in the back each morning and evening, and the children who play cards on the steps and run in when they think there may be something of interest on our laptop, we have as much privacy as most in Haiti. A tap on the wall announces company.

We do share the dwelling with some gray striped rats who enjoy line dancing or roller boards from early evening to about 4 am at which time they get cool and climb noisily into the dresser drawers . Other frequent guests are welcome geckos that eat the moths and flys they can catch on the window screens. An occasional tarantula comes in out of the rain. They are stealthy and are generally discovered when furniture is moved to sweep. They can jump very high. So can I.

As all chairs were very hard with rattan seats we brought some foam filled seat cushions and commissioned a carpenter to build a sofa. Later we discovered high humidity makes padding uncomfortable and it was a first ever sofa to be built by the carpenter. The arms extend about a foot beyond the seat and leave interesting bruise formations on the thigh. We did ask him to saw about 4 inches from the legs so our legs could reach the floor.

I am writing about this luxurious living as an enticement to any GBGM Long Term Volunteers who may be seeking an experience that will fill their life with blessings.

Each morning, early, I open the door and look out to the sea which is a beautiful teal green over the reef and then dark Caribbean blue with occasional white caps. Sometimes there are early sailboats leaving the pier and the occasional large freighter out in the deeper canal. Generally quiet there are mornings when the sea speaks a quiet thunder to the wind, and I know, I'm not in Kansas anymore.