Beauty Amidst Chaos

The little guy was just skin and bones when I first met him*, his head drooped and there was little “life” in him. It broke my heart to learn that John was three years old when he is the size of a very small 18 month old. Dr. Dean, a visiting pediatrician, said that his size is not as much due to poor nutrition as to lack of stimulation. He hasn’t been held. He hasn’t been loved enough. It is evident that he isn’t fed well either because when you set a plate of food in front of him--no matter how big the portion, he will finish it all--more than I think I could eat. He just puts it away. I don’t know if he is staving, or is just so acquainted with hunger that he takes advantage of whenever food is available to him. He has a dislocated hip and has never been able to walk, so we were overjoyed when a physician at the Adventist hospital agreed to give him the necessary surgery.

John is an orphan and his little orphanage of 25 children has become our personal project. We have taken a couple teams of volunteers there to play with the kids and provide medical care and each time we go, the kids sit quietly by and act very much unlike children. Last week we took a group there, held a clinic and played with the kids. As soon as we got there, a little girl came up to me and tugged on my skirt. I asked what she wanted and all she said was “dlo” (water). I got a small cup, filled it with some water we had brought, and gave it to the child. She finished it swiftly and I refilled it. She put the cup to her lips again and then glanced down at a smaller child on the floor and instead knelt down and gave it to him.

I was incredulous that these kids didn’t have enough water to drink. There is no running water at the orphanage due to a pipe that burst during the earthquake and they buy water for the kids to drink and must ration it. Some of the team gave the kids lollipops when they were done with the clinic portion, but when we got water out for them, they dropped their suckers and held out their hands for water. When have you ever seen children ask for water above candy?!?! The team ended up putting together a makeshift meal out of snacks they had in their backpacks and the kids devoured everything in sight. By the time we left, they seemed to have revived a bit--like wilted flowers who have received much needed nutrients.

Last week we took food to them everyday as usual and I was unable to go due to other obligations at base camp. Leo (one of our translators) would come back with the report that he had “lots of hi’s for me”. Everyday all the kids would ask where I was and he would have to say I couldn’t come. I didn’t think the kids knew who I was since we have come with so many people. It made me smile.

This week I was finally able to make it back there to see them and they mobbed me at the door. They look much better, but still scarf up everything we put in front of them. It’s a joy to spoon feed the little ones, kiss them from head to toe and watch them grow stronger. These little kids have won our hearts and I want to keep them all. Trust me, you would too if you knew them.

—Lauren

*He still is, but there is a light in his eyes now

We were headed up to Marché Canard on Tuesday (which is over the mountains) to hold a clinic at an orphanage...when the bus broke down. Typical. One thing you can count on is things not going as you expect. We hung out in the shade of a gas station and three hours later, we were picked up and taken to the orphanage. However, by that point we didn’t have much time for the clinic. Villagers were lined up around the school and we struggled to keep them from cutting line.
We were the only medical access for many miles and I was glad that we could be in an area that was truly in need. We saw so many people from little infants to those over the age of 100. I was helping with triage and by the end we were trying to wrap things up and couldn’t take any more patients, but so many people hadn’t been seen yet. They begged me just to take their blood pressure, so I had a line of people on little wooden benches extending out around the overhang I was sitting under. It is incredible to me that these people had no access to medicine and were happy for me to just touch them and kiss their babies and cover a few basics.

It was a really fabulous area and except for the extreme heat, I loved it much more than the city. It was a different culture--people rode on burros and functioned as a community, it was beautiful. It was far more primitive than Port-au-Prince and the pace of life was slower. Running water is a nearby stream and a couple people in the village have generators. Having a generator doesn’t mean that they have electricity in their homes, but rather that they can power a couple outlets occasionally. These privileged few set up shop in front of their huts with the longest make-shift power strips I have ever seen. This enables the town to charge their cell phones and socialize while they wait. It’s always interesting to see how technology impacts a rural area. In Port-au-Prince you can find a lot of people who are living in a tent, but they have a TV. It is good to see that TV doesn’t seem to be a big part of life here. Family is a big deal and even though employment is low and there are thousands of people sitting around with nothing to do, they are not plugged into modern technology.

The winding trip back over the mountains afforded some amazing views and it was nice to see a bit more of Haiti than the dirty smoggy city I have become so familiar with. Beauty abounds everywhere and even in the midst of chaos, flowers bloom unwittingly, baby goats scramble over vine covered raised graves and happy children chorus a greeting. Dusk falls on the sleepy little mountain communities and we make it back to base camp feeling exhausted and fulfilled.

—Lauren

Death. It’s part of daily life here, and yet rather foreign to me. We passed another dead body on the street today. It appeared that he’d been hit by a car and no one knew what to do with him, so they just left him in front of the police station--people walking by and stepping over him.

Earlier in the week we passed a guy sprawled face down on a pile of rubble, and the next day he was still there! Can’t he at least be covered? It’s not that death offends me, but it pulls at something inside and you desire to give respect. As I write this, the strains of a brass band can be heard above the hum of the generator and I know instinctively that it is a funeral procession passing by. I go to the balcony and can only make out a faint movement as the top of people’s heads pass on the other side of a wall that lines an adjoining property. A seemingly endless line of people file by and great wailing mingles with the band to create a woeful harmony.

I have witnessed a few funeral processions in the short time I have been here and they are a stark contrast to the solemn, stately affair we call a funeral where people weep, they wear black, and they are quiet. Here, the procession is preceded by a marching band and followed by a line of friends and family that could make up a small village. It is not only the friends and family of the deceased, but also those of the immediate family. It makes so much sense--the friends of the grandchildren and the neighbors all join together to give support. There is color, emotion and a great noise.

To my understanding, the funeral takes place over several days where friends and family gather to socialize and commemorate the life of their loved one. After a viewing in the home and the time spent together as a family, the funeral procession bears the body to the place of burial.

The graveyards here contain large and elaborate burial chambers called a kav, rather than modest tombstones that we are accustomed to. This is largely because people have a fear of being placed beneath the earth once they die. These ornate, multi-bowered structures are often more costly than the home the individual lived in all their life.

It is a unique experience for me, to be in a place that has witnessed so much suffering, has seen so much death and has lived to tell the story. Maybe people are numb, maybe they feel powerless, but one thing that I know, is that there is yet hope. Hope in the radiant faces of small children and the earnest expressions of the young people. I long for a bright future when there will be no more death and every tear will be wiped away.

—Lauren

“Lead, follow or get out of the way!” Cam yells to our team of confused medical personnel. His guys jump to his every command and it’s amazing to see them work together to get things done when no one else seems to be able to. On Friday, Yates was joined by six young firefighters, and with them has come a new order of things. They are ultra prepared and really crack me up. Their leader, Cam, announced that they were not going to eat meals with us because they were “self sufficient”. So in that way it is difficult for them to integrate into the group because they are their own unit. They triple purify their water and they talk to each other on their radios when they are in the same room. They are always suited up in terribly hot navy jumpsuits, combat boots, sunglasses, gloves and hats. They came with matching backpacks, tents, Camelbaks, and everything you could possibly need hanging from their vests--all their gear even has monogrammed patches with their current assignment.

But as much as we may mock how these guys operate, they are so prepared. The first day they were here, they organized all our supplies and they always carry enough stuff for about 30 of us to survive 3 days. It’s a bit over the top for me as I lean towards the side that requires resourcefulness rather than preparedness, but they are the kind of guys you’d want with you in any situation. Additionally, they are some of the nicest, most respectful guys I’ve met. I have been rather blown away by their thoughtful and courteous nature, they are happy to do anything for you and work longer and harder than everyone else.

I walked downstairs this morning to see them all pouring over maps and plans--at 5:30 am! Do they ever sleep? They set up an Incident Command type board in the kitchen that lets everyone know who is where and what the plans are for the day. People tend to think that because they have a certain skill set that that is all they are able to bring to the group. These guys play with the kids, teach, learn, share--they are continually amazing me.

In addition to Yates who has a company specializing in rescue equipment, the team includes Cam, former L.A.P.D. who now teaches when he’s not fighting fires, Brad a PA on his second trip to Haiti, two shy redhead twins on their first trip out of the country, Reid, smart a dive medic who I keep wanting to call Grant for some reason, and Christopher who also teaches in the EMS program.

I have gradually gotten to know the team as Cam has drawn me out and been so intrigued by my training. Last night I was talking to them and Cam asked me to close my eyes and hold out my hand. Into my outstretched palm he placed a coin that had been made as a fundraiser for Haiti that he now carries everywhere with him. He said that this coin signifies the weight of the world, my duty to serve and care for it, and my permanent tie to their team. Because of my extensive training in their field and their appreciation of who I am, they have decided to make me an honorary member of their team. Christopher also gave me his fire knife, and thus was my induction into Shasta Fire.

—Lauren

The gas stations were crammed with listless people as we drove through town yesterday. There is a fuel shortage right now and since people buy gas by the gallon as they can afford it, they are all stranded without any means of transportation. The fuel tanker is in the bay, but not allowed to dock currently, so it seems to be just another reason to raise the gas prices. The crowds seemed quite calm when I saw them earlier in the day, but UN tanks lined the streets prepared to help manage rioting. I later learned that a man was killed at the pump that night when shooting broke out, so we have to be careful as things get dangerous when people are desperate.

We are fine for the time being as we have some fuel stores, but even this won’t last very long since all our house power is run by a large generator and we have a small bus and a taptap that require a significant amount of fuel to get us to our various sites. If the gas shortage lasts too long we may have to resort to buying our fuel from the UN, but I think things will break before too long.

After going by the kitchen to get things going for the day there, we went to visit an orphanage with the team of doctors and nurses that have come in from various parts of the United States. We did mass triage of the children as there were over 150 of them and very little chance of getting an accurate history. We’d ask them to raise their hand for a certain complaint and then assess them from there.

The doctors held clinics for the children on the roof of the orphanage and then we waited for lunch which the rest of our team was delivering. I sat down with the children and they excitedly tried to teach me some games. It took us a few tries for me to get all the rules down, but when I did they clapped delightedly. We made up secret handshakes and shared music. One of the girls sang a song for me in Spanish--it was a gorgeous song and she had an amazing voice. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a nine-year-old sing so well, I wanted so much to be able to record her. I haven’t been able to get that song out of my head.

Like famished children, they soaked up all the attention we could lavish upon them--they were a little rambunctious, but this was completely understandable considering their circumstances. They were beautiful and just like the people lined up around the block for fuel, they are just trying to survive.

 “Yates...Yates!”, Andy1. yells as we stand in the waiting area outside the baggage terminal. The new makeshift airport is a converted warehouse and white awnings stretch beyond it2. Bewildered travelers spill out into the Haitian clamor and squint in the bright sun. We are at the airport to meet a new volunteer who was supposed to have arrived already. We were not allowed in (despite Andy’s pleading with the guard), so we are with everyone else pressed against the bars to gawk at the foreigners who arrive every hour. Andy keeps bellowing this guy’s name and I said: “Well, are you just going to yell at every guy that walks through that door?” He shrugs. “Do you have a better plan?”

All we know is his name, and that he is a firefighter from California. Supposing he is white, it is easy to narrow our search to just a few passengers. From there you can eliminate the encumbered mission groups and the pairs of businessmen on their cell phones. You can eliminate the women and those flashing a non-U.S. passport. Besides, if he looks like a fireman he’ll be easy to spot. “Yates!” Andy yells again. I just roll my eyes. He decides to make a sign.

Nothing happens fast here. Flights are delayed, baggage is lost, customs is slow--you just have to go with the pace of life and not expect things to happen as planned. After an hour of waiting at the airport and no sign of Yates, we had to leave.

We had promised to take a kid to the hospital and were already running behind. The boy is 15 and staying at an orphanage just down the road from our base camp. He has severe eye problems and Dr. Mi3 has taken this child on as her special project. She found an eye specialist at a Cuban hospital downtown and arranged for us to come and see him. We went to pick up Dr. Mi and then went to the orphanage to pick up the boy, we also brought along two of the staff from the orphanage--one of whom wanted to be seen as well. It was great that they came because we weren’t entirely sure where this hospital was and they were able to get us there.

There were many patients waiting in the entry way, but as we marched in, the sea of people parted for this young band of white people and their friends. We inquired in the office where to go--explaining who we were and what our mission was. I was greatly amazed when we were escorted directly into the exam room in front of so many people. I don’t know if it was because we had arranged this ahead of time, or simply that we were foreign, but it was nice that this did not become a whole day affair.

The Dr. was very nice, very helpful and extra attentive to our young charge. He even saw the woman who had come with us and was quite cordial. It was determined that the boy needed cataract surgery. He is completely blind in one eye and unable to see well with the other. We are going to try to get him to Cuba for the surgery since nothing is available here. If we do get the paperwork we need to get him out of the country, we still need to raise the money for the surgery and hope that a donor is found. So much more to work out, but it’s looking good.

I eventually met Yates later in the afternoon. He indeed was white and looked like a fireman, he would have been easy to spot, had we had more time.

1. Andy is in his early twenties and is serving as our logistics guy, he’s funny and has a way with the locals. We are all amazed by how quickly he has picked up Creole.
2. The original airport is nearby, but suffered so much structural damaged that it was condemned and has been taped off since the earthquake.
3. Mireille is a cute young doctor from Brazil, people have a hard time pronouncing her name, so they just call her Mi. She likes it, but it’s a shame because her name is so beautiful.

Weaving in and out of traffic on the motorbike, I clung to Andy and wondered if this was the wisest of plans. “I could die right here and now”, I thought as a reversing truck almost made us another layer of the pavement. I had been elected as the ambassador for the organization to go to a meeting on rehabilitation and prosthetics. As the greenest member of our team, I was not the most logical choice, but I was eager for the opportunity to experience this side of disaster relief and they were ready to initiate the new recruit.

Before coming, I hoped for an opportunity like this. I envisioned arriving, well dressed, to an air conditioned conference room full of important people and while there was a room full of important people there, my arrival was slightly less sophisticated. A beard of soot lined the bottom rim of my sunglasses and my hair was crusty from the dirt and smog. Passing cars had splashed my pants with mud collected from the nightly thundershowers and my ears were ringing from all the blaring horns. If the ride itself wasn’t scary enough, my appearance should have been, but this is Haiti and when I walked in there, I looked like everyone else.

There were about 50 people at the rehabilitation meeting representing various NGOs. We all signed a roster and there was a line for title. Everyone put things like Country Director or Medical Officer...and then there was me.

ACTS is in Phase III of their disaster relief efforts in Haiti. We are now shifting from more broad spectrum healthcare to other needs. We have the kitchen up and running this week and fed 150 today. We are slowly adding to that number until we can manage the intended 3,000 meals per day and beyond.

We are also partnering with local orphanages and schools to provide for their needs. We have so far, just visited the sites, but tomorrow we send a medical team to one of the orphanages to provide care and 300 meals.

The other part of phase three is getting involved with prosthetics for earthquake amputees-thus my attendance at the meeting. They said that 80% of disabled persons here in Haiti do not have prosthetics mostly due to cost. Even when there is only a small fee charged, people cannot afford it-much less upkeep and replacements (especially for children).

This area of the relief effort is still in the planning stages and they have yet to establish a database that can accommodate the need and insure no overlap of organizations. Their plan is to establish sites that will both make the prosthetics locally and train people to fit them properly. This will help to cut down the cost, but still all funding will need to come from outside sources.

Sitting there in that meeting, I thought “Wow. This is just where I want to be”. 
I think I have found my niche, not in prosthetics, but in post disaster relief work.

~Lauren

“Blanc!, Blanc!”* children yell as I walk down the street. They grab my hands and chatter away in Creole, excited to be in the presence of someone who is clearly not from around here. I know a few French words and have learned about 10 Haitian Creole phrases. My vocabulary is increasing by the day, but it’s going to take me a while to comprehend this new tongue. There is a surprising amount of Spanish spoken here and between this and animated gesturing, I am able to communicate at least the basics. Quite a few people speak some English, but few speak it well. Language is such a vital element of communication and without it I am very limited in my ability to interact with these beautiful people. I long to hold the children and talk to them about who I am and how adorable I think they are. I have gotten to know some of the children that are living in the hospital compound, it doesn’t seem to occur to either of us that we do not speak the same language. They run up to me and ask me to take their picture, stroke my face, and look at me quizzically. Claude, a boy of about 8, has been my little shadow. “Ryan” he yells as soon as he sees me, and runs to throw his arms around me. Several days ago he asked what my name was and for some reason he thinks it’s Ryan. I like it.

I stick out everywhere I go. I am okay with this most of the time and have perfected my Miss America wave. Sometimes though, it gets tiresome to be under constant scrutiny. The Haitian people as a whole have been very warm and welcoming. I do not feel unsafe at all. I am careful, but I now feel comfortable to just sit and hang out with the locals. I am still learning the culture, but I love hearing their stories-and they love sharing them. Most of the volunteers that are here have come back two or three times in the last few months. It is easy to connect with the Haitian people and it really matters to them that we are here, I believe this is what keeps the volunteers coming back.

I still cannot understand how they drive here-it’s insane. I would either die or kill someone within a few minutes of trying to drive here. Busses billowing smoke, horns blaring, people darting in and out of traffic, it’s really a harrowing experience. Nothing is enforced and there are no traffic signs, however there seems to be an unspoken understanding among the drivers as to how to navigate the roads here. Basically anyone can drive anywhere they want: on the sidewalk or the opposite side of the road, and the vehicle with the loudest horn has the right of way. The other day I was amazed to see a bulldozer, which was rumbling down the road and came to truck parked on the sidewalk. There wasn’t quite enough room to pass, so he just shoved the truck off the sidewalk and kept going. I stood aghast. No one seemed to care.

Most people get around in taptaps--pickup trucks converted into taxis with covered bench seating in the back. People hang on where they can and pay a small fare for the ride. Haiti must boast some of the best mechanics in the world because the vehicles seem to run fine, though they appear they should have died long ago. There are mechanics along the road and guys selling gas by the gallon on street corners, so you don’t ever need to worry about breaking down or running out of gas as this is likely to happen right in front of such a service. Gas here is very expensive at around $5 a gallon, I don’t know how the locals afford it if I can’t.

Each day is a new and wonderful experience and I am excited to be in the presence of Someone who is clearly not from around here.

~Lauren

*Hey, white person!