Beautiful Birds and Gratitude

On Sunday I took just a little bit of time to walk around the yard with my camera in hand.  This is my third year living here.  Sometimes now it seems like I am taking the pictures of the same things over and over again.  Then, often, when I least expect it, God surprises me and  I see something new, different and beautiful.  On Sunday there were birds that either I had never seen here before or that I saw, from a different perspective.  It amazes me how easy it is to find beauty almost anywhere when we simply take the time to look. 

These are not the best pictures I have taken, but I share them to show the variety of birds I saw in our yard during a short stroll on Sunday afternoon. 

Updates

Once again this year we received food from the missionary (Agape) airlines so that we were able to have a Thanksgiving feast here in Haiti.  It was very enjoyable.  I realize I have so much to be thankful for.  Living here helps me to grow in gratitude and for that I am grateful. 

Already, I received an email notice that my new passport is ready, in Haiti and on its way to Cap-Haitian.  The embassy said it would arrive in two to three weeks.  It has only been one week and one day since I had my appointment at the embassy. What a pleasant surprise when something actually takes less time than expected! I am grateful! 

On Thursday evening some of my cousins in Ireland are hosting a fundraiser to benefit the children that I am working with. Thank you very much to all who are organizing the event and to all who will attend.  I am so fortunate to have so many generous relatives.  At the risk of sounding redundant, I must say that I am grateful!     

Thank you for taking the time to read this.  I won't say it again but you know that I am.....

Have a good week.  Many blessings!   

  

Immigration and Education

Early yesterday morning, I was the first person in the shortest line outside the US embassy in Port-au-Prince.  I stood by the sign that had a picture of a US passport and read,  "American Citizens Sitwayen Ameriken."  (I was glad it was written in English and in Creole.  I could read it twice!)  The lines for people applying for visas to enter the US were much longer and many people were already waiting when I arrived at 5:40 am.  The sister who coordinates the drivers in Port-au-Prince suggested we leave early because of traffic, even though we left 15 minutes later than she suggested we successfully completely avoided traffic.  The hour and  20 minutes of waiting before the building even opened provided me with plenty of time to ponder the shortness of my line and the length of the others.  It is not surprising that there are more Haitians are applying for visas to enter the US than there are Americans who are residing in Haiti who need to renew passports before they expire.

 There are not nearly enough jobs and opportunities in Haiti.  I don't know that people really want to leave their country and culture, but certainly, they want to have their basic needs met and support their families.   

This morning back in Cap-Haitian after teaching a high school conversational English class, while waiting for a ride, I read this article on NPR's website .  Just minutes after I finished reading it, the driver put the radio on and the person speaking was explaining in Creople what the end of the TPS (Temporary Protection Status) program will mean for Haitians who have been living in the US with TPS status since the 2010 earthquake.  I felt sad. 

Perhaps because I had just spent an hour with high school students, I thought especially of the high school student who was interviewed in the NPR article.  Since he is a junior he should be able to finish high school before he has to legally return to Haiti. What will he do once he gets here? What about students who are younger than he is?  What will it be like for young people who have now spent most of their school-aged years in the US if they have to come to Haiti and attend school here?  The education systems are very different.  Even if they were born in Haiti they would now be much more accustomed to the cultural expectations of an American classroom than of a Haitian one. Will the Haitian government plan programs for these students to help them with the transition?  At the very least will they allow them take tests in English instead of French?   Unfortunately, I am skeptical that their educational needs will be met. 

From my perspective, the educational needs of many children who are here now are not being adequately met.  As I have mentioned in previous blogs there are generally no services for those with learning disabilities or educational program for children with developmental disabilities.  Last week, because of protests in the city of Cap-Haitian, I learned that there are public high school students who lack teachers.  Someone told me that they will need to wait until January to start the school year.  The public school students showed up in protest at private schools and forced themselves through gates into the schoolyards to bring attention to this problem one day early last week. On another day they caused traffic jams, reportedly even lying in the streets to stop traffic in different areas downtown.  Schools in down-town Cap-Haitian were closed on Thursday and Friday because of the possibility of more protests.  According to the Voice of America website, the students were protesting that they lack teachers while the country's resources are being used to reinstate the Haitian army. 

The educational needs came to my mind since I am working in schools this year, but of course, there are many other complications and difficulties that will occur in Haiti and in the US if this is truly implemented. What about the children (US citizens) who were born while their parents were in the US with TPS?    Personally, I am not sure who will benefit from the end of TPS status for Haitians other than maybe those running for-profit prisons for detained immigrants.   Many people in Haiti are dependent upon their relatives abroad sending money to help them.  When this goes into effect some of those relatives instead of helping out financially will be here in Haiti looking for jobs that are extremely scarce.  I imagine some of them may one day find themselves waiting in very long lines early in the morning hoping to get visas to return to the US. 

Falling Meat: everyday travel in Haiti

Getting from one place to another in Haiti is not always simple, though sometimes ordinary everyday travel is an adventure.

On Monday I was not able to get to my ministry because that school's truck had an appointment for an inspection.    There are no tap-taps that go close to that school; I avoid using motorcycle taxis because I don't think that they are safe especially without a special helmet. I was not given enough notice to come up with another plan, and it is the directress of the school who is supposed to coordinate my transportation, and she said there was no way to get me there.  I was disappointed. 

Here is a picture of the back of an empty tap-tap.  

Another morning this past week, I took a tap-tap to a school which is in a safe area and only a short distance from the end of the tap-tap line.  On that particular morning, I waited at the corner longer than usual.  Every tap-tap that passed by was going somewhere else.  I have learned the hand signals that are used to communicate with potential passenger regarding the destination of that particular vehicle.   On these routes, there is usually a kontwolè, a person (in my experience it has always been a male) whose job it is to ride on the back of the tap-tap, collect money, and signal to the driver (by tapping the back of the truck) when to stop to pick up or drop off passengers.   I was relieved when one finally stopped for me.  It was really already beyond full but I entered anyway. There was no seat avalaible for me. A couple of people were already standing on the back. To find a place, I had to step over a large white bucket whose overflowing contents where covered in a thin black plastic.  Someone offered to hold my backpack; I handed it over because if I hadn't it would have hit the people on one side of me in their faces.  Due to the height of the roof I had to hunch over, my feet between the feet of the passengers, doing my best to balance by holding on the side of the cap, my hand in the space in between people's heads.


After a few minutes, someone called for the driver to, "kanpe!" (stop!) "vyann an tonbe!"  (the meat's falling!)  From where I was (sort of ) standing  I could not see what was going on.  Once we stopped the kontwolè and a woman exited.  A couple of minutes later another woman decided not to continue her journey in this tap-tap so I had a place to sit towards the end of one of the benches and could hold my own back-pack without the likelihood of injuring or annoying my fellow passengers.  I turned my head to see that the kontwolè, and the woman who had exited where trying very hard to attend to the meat that had fallen.  They were lifting the dead body of a goat that had been skinned but not yet butchered. It was partially covered by a sack; its legs and feet were sticking out.  They were struggling, unable to return the meat to the roof of the tap-tap.  Finally, seeming somewhat annoyed, the driver exited the cab and assisted them in returning the goat cadaver, whose legs were now a bit sandy, to its spot on the roof above our heads.  We continued for a few minutes before stopping again.  This time it was to inflate a flattening tire; there are businesses along the way that consist of a machine to do so and a generator to run the air machine (since electricity is not reliable.)  Once most of the people had exited the tap-tap, the smell of uncooked meat became evident to me; the white bucket I had climbed over contained some kind of meat too. Fortunately,  it was nearly time for me to exit and begin the short walk to school, which concludes with a hike up some steep steps.

Since it had rained last night, the walk this morning from the street to and from the building that our young parish uses for mass (we don't yet have a church) was not as simple as usual.  If it were not for the makeshift bridge quickly constructed of cinderblocks and long wooden boards, I am not sure what we would have done.  As you can imagine, this was particularly challenging for some of the older parishioners.  Leaving required waiting in line since the entire congregation that had gathered for liturgy had to leave in single file and walk slowly so as not to fall into the water.   

Sometime during the summer bean seeds were sown in many places in our yard including along the path that goes from the carport to the back door.  The plants have flourished! They are so healthy that when I take that route, sometimes for or a moment (especially if I've been doing play therapy that day,) I imagine I am making my way through a jungle.  Turning the last leg of the daily journey whether or not it has been simple, into a bit of an adventure!


Have a good week.  Many blessings!

   

Lanmò

On All Souls Day the mother of one of the sisters, I live with, died.  On that same day, a cousin of the same sister died as well.  Many of the sisters, some of the postulants and a few of the sister's co-workers went to the funeral on Saturday.  We could not take the orphanage and formation house mini busses because they are not designed for climbing steep mountains on unpaved roads and crossing bridgeless rivers.  A parade of crowded pickup trucks and SUVs made its way to the little town (not far from the border of the Dominican Republic) where the sister's mother lived.  The mother had been paralyzed due to a stroke she had several years earlier and had needed constant care, which her family lovingly provided.  I never met her, but apparently, she was a lovely and hardworking person with a beautiful smile.  Since she had suffered greatly following her stroke, many people had mixed feelings when hearing of her death.  The cousin who died the same day though was only 30 years old, the father of three young children.  His death was much more sudden, perhaps some kind of an infection; there was mention of a fever. We spent time at the mother's family's home visiting in the yard, before the funeral.  The casket was in front of the simple cinderblock house. When it was time to go to the church, it was placed in the back of one of the Holy Cross Sisters' pick up trucks and we followed behind, slowly, walking in procession to the church.  The cousin's family and friends seemed to have had a similar procession and met us at the church; it was a double funeral.  There was much grieving and crying during the liturgy.  After mass everyone processed with the two caskets to the nearby cemetery for the burial.     


The next day, as I was walking to the orphanage, I was reflecting on the sister's cousin's death. I could not help but think that it was quite possibly preventable.  Would he have died at this time if he had lived somewhere else, if he had access to better healthcare?

Yesterday's Funeral

As the cries of the grieving continue to echo in my ears 

from yesterday's funeral,

an untimely

perhaps perfectly preventable tragic death, 

Catching my eyes, 

in the midst of a polluted stream,

surrounded by discarded empty plastic bottles

and lots of litter

a green plant grows

and upon it rests a white butterfly, 

silently inviting me to trust in resurrection 

even, or rather, especially, 

when the death is: 

unjust, untimely, and perhaps perfectly preventable.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.  Have a good week. Many blessings!