Hello!  I hope you are well.  The wireless is not working here.  I will update the blog once it is when I have more time to be online.  In case  you heard about the storm we had on Friday, or was wondering why I have not responded to emails for a few days, I am perfectly fine, but the storm did seem to effect the internet.  In case you did not hear about the storm, maybe I'll write a bit about it, when the wireless is fixed.

Community and Friends in Philly, I hope Oktoberfest went well.  I was thinking of you!

Take care.
Love, Kathleen
  

Ti kay

I have moved.  I am now living in a house.  It is very near where the tents are, on the same property.  In fact, as the house does not yet have running water, I am using the toilets and showers and am eating by the tents.
Living in the tent was a good experience for me.  At times it had challenges of course.  Sometimes I felt like I lacked privacy, because I certainly had less privacy than I am accustomed to.  When I wanted a moment to  myself someone would come into the tent.  Yet, as I recognized the challenge of this, I also realized how even as I perceived that I was lacking something, I still had so much more than most people who live in this country and most people on the planet.  Certainly, the tent I was living in assured me more privacy and was considerably safer and more comfortable than most of the many many post earthquake tents, some of which are makeshift, that are found throughout the city and surrounding areas.   

A a few of the articles of clothing I brought with me have become stained and ruined. When this happens I feel disappointed, as I think oh, I liked this shirt and now I won't wear it out in public again. Then, I realized I still have many other shirts, and I think of the children at Kay Ste. Ann.  They do not have their own clothes, they wear whatever fits them.  A long dress worn by a toddler one day is washed by the laundry women the next, and the following day the same dress may be seen on a five year old girl, coming down to her knees.  The individual child there really has nothing at all which is considered his or her own.

Being here has truly been an experience of simultaneously tasting poverty, while recognizing my abundance and becoming aware of how privileged I am.  I imagine, that there are a couple of people who after reading the first sentences of the previous paragraph started thinking about how to get clothing to me, to replace what has become ruined, but I truly do have more than enough.  I have supportive family, community and friends who have the means to help me replace whatever material possessions I loose, to fix what breaks.  Oh, how I wish everyone had that! There is nothing I have done to earn this, and those who don't have it are no less worthy of such support than I am.

This week at Kay Ste. Ann, I began working with small groups of children.  I have crayons colred pencils (which are also called crayons) and paper and allow them to draw whatever they want to draw.  I think it is going well, and the children seem to enjoy it. .  This appears to be quite different than what is typically done in this culture, as I have watched the children sit and wait while the teacher draws pictures for the children to color in.  On a couple of occasions while children were drawing their own pictures, adults came by and tried to draw shapes on the children's papers and told them to color them in.  I try to explain in Creole that I am using a different philosophy and would prefer the children make their own pictures.  I often need to remind myself that I am in a different culture where people think differently and where what I expect to happen is not what will actually occur.  One day the workers at the house turned on the generator and put on Chipmunks Movie for the children; an American movie, dubbed in French.  When the chipmunks were dancing and singing the children seemed to enjoy it, however as they could not understand the story well; most lost interest after a little while, (all of the children who were home are four and under.)  After a while most of the children drifted out of the room, nobody called them back in when they did, so I was playing outside with them.  At some point I realized that two children were still watching the movie with three adult workers.  I asked the adults, why more adults are watching the movie than children.  I was expecting at least two adults would come outside to assist me with the children, instead they immediately called all of the children back in the house and told them to "chita" (sit) and "gade" (watch.)  I had to laugh at myself for being so surprised by this.       

Oh Rats!  
I liked living in the tent especially in the beginning.  One night though I heard something in the tent, which scared me.  It sounded like a big animal.  It was difficult to go back to sleep.  I tried shining the flashlight on it, and making enough noise to scare it, while not making so much noise that I would awaken the other women in the tent; this proved impossible, actually.  As it was the middle of the night, I hoped I was just dreaming.  The next morning, there was a wrapper and a little piece of a chewed granola bar as well as a lovely little present on the floor of the tent.  The next night I zipped the doors well and checked that the velcro on the bottom of the door was attached to the Velcro on floor of the tent under the door.  I was convinced that this would prevent any large rodent from entering.  No such luck! It came even earlier, announcing its arrival with the sound of the Velcro coming unfastened. It found another one of the Italian lady's granola bars.  When I went to girl scout camp as a child, they would not allow us to keep food in the tent because they said we would get animals in the tent.  So, a couple of weeks ago, that when I did purchase a few snacks I also purchased a plastic container with a lid which sealed well, made sure packages were closed well, and placed the container on a bench.  I don't think the Italian lady ever went to Girl Scout Camp.  I tired to ask her, to zip the flaps and be sure food was put away, but since she still does not understand English or Creole, and I have not learned more than one word of Italian, this was a challenge.  She responded by saying a word that sounded a lot like "disinfected." 

So, between rats and bedbugs and challenging communication, when on Thursday, I was told that if I wanted to I could move into one of the little houses, with other long term volunteers, I did not hesitate to say yes!  The houses are new, prefabricated, and quite lovely. There are two long term volunteers in each house.  We were told that we would eventually get electricity and running water.  Then we were allowed to run an extension cord from the hospital for electricity!  We were given two brand new lamps; I was able to use the cardboard boxes from the lamps to make a book shelf.  I am still able to come to the house that was for long term volunteers but will soon be offices for the nearby adult hospital, to use the internet.  (There could however, at some point be a short period of time when I will not have internet access.)

Because some Americans were coming to do surgeries at the hospital, and they would be staying in the tents, the sister who is the administrator of the hospital put out some traps and caught a few rats.  I think she caught the one that came into my tent, because I did not hear it at all during my last night in the tent.  The other morning, from a distance I saw a rat.  During daylight hours, when the rat was outside and a quite a distance away, I must say, it was kind of cute!    

Ti Kay yo (the little houses)

Home Sweet Home

The picture is a little dark, but this is my room.

This week my heart broke when the most malnourished child I have ever met, the smallest three year old I have ever seen, ofered me the cookie she was eating.  It broke again when the same child sat next to a baby I was feeding and tried to catch drips from the baby's chin so she could eat it. 

I could not help but laugh when in the midst of a temper tantrum a young three year old started yelling "wo jezi, wo jezi" (king Jesus) repeatedly.

The baby house as Kay Saint Anne is sometimes called, is certainly a busy place.  There are many social and emotions needs that the children have.  Sometimes I feel frustrated about situations and have to remind myself that the staff there has a different cultural perspective and has not had many educational opportunities.  Some concepts related to cultural perspective are more challenging to understand and accept.  Somethings may not be possible for me to compromise very well, for example, my western understanding of disease transmission, as a result I insist that when I give the children water on not using the same cup for all of the children, unless I was going to wash it in between each child.  I say things to the kids like, "lave men ou apre ou itilize twalet (wash your hands after you go to the bathroom),which I suspect many of the children are not used to hearing.    
My frequent use of handsanatizer did not prevent me from getting sick though, but I am getting better.  I was in bed most of the day and just got up to check email, try to skype with my parents, update this blog and then I'll probably go back to bed; I expect to be better tomorrow.

The smiles of the children, make it all worth it.  When I arrive at the house and say bon jou, I tell them mwen kontan we' ou jodia, I am happy to see you today, and everyday it is true.         

My first full week working with NPH completed.  The children at Kay St. Anne are beautiful.  I am really feeling like this is where God has called me to be.  It is truly a gift to have that sense, that at this moment I am where I am supposed to be. 

This does not mean that this is always easy.  While I have made some progress in learning Kreyol, I am still far from fluent.  The children usually seem to understand me, but I don't always understand the adults.  Even when I do understand the words or what is being said, I am sometimes puzzled because of cultural differences and perspectives.  At times because of their culture and understanding the workers in the house are strict about things that would never occur to me to expect of children, but may not encourage the children to do or not do things that I because of my upbringing and educationwould would want children to do.  Such situations cause me to learn about myself and at times challenge me, as I wonder what is simply opinion and what is truly best for the children. 

Several new children came to the house this week.  It is now full to capacity.  One little girl who arrived on Friday, is extremely malnourished.  Although she is three years old she is smaller and weighs less than most one year olds.  Her body is scarred and bruised as well.  It is a sad situation, but there is hope for her because the program is able to provide her with a safe place, and nourishment physically and emotionally. 

Fr. Rick, who is also a doctor is the person who oversees all of the NPH programs in Haiti.   He returned to Tabarre in the middle of the week.  Daily liturgy resumed in the chapel.  His first day back the list of children who had died, in the hospital while he was away was read.  There were many names.  The following day the liturgy was also the funeral mass for the people who Fr. Rick and others were going to be burying; every Thursday they bury the unidentified dead from the area.  On Friday Fr. Rick spoke about Haitians who were detained for no reason. While liturgy is happening we can hear sounds of mothers and children waiting to be seen for medical care, or babies crying from their hospital rooms.  My challenges are quickly put into perspective.   
   
For all of you, in the United States Happy Labor Day.  I hope you are having a good weekend.
Love, Kathleen