Homeward Bound

Mom is safely back in the United States and her reflections of her trip are dripping with accounts of awe and humbleness. There is nothing so thrilling as talking to a person who is betwixt and between, living an international experience on their home soil. She tasted Haiti in her mouth while standing in a pristine, peaceful, quiet US bathroom, and her sleep is taking her back to the place that changed her life in under two weeks time. She talks about her team and it feels as though our family has expanded to include each member. I can say that Susan has certainly claimed a permanent spot close to my heart, and I have not even seen her face! How hard it must be to experience something so totally physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually and then be removed from the situation. As her own reality sinks back in, undoubtedly, Mom will see Haiti in the corners of her normalcy, and it will continue to shape her interactions with the world around her. Everyone who has read this blog, thank you for taking the time to do so and for your support. I love you, and am forever shaped by the way you took time out of each day to connect with a country you may have never known, my mom's story, and my words. Mom, thank you for being brave and helping others have the chance to do the same. I love you and look forward to paying it forward and cross pollinating.

Transitions

As the immediate crisis dies down in Haiti, a thin line is being drawn between it and the harsh realities of Haitian life after an earthquake. The U.S.S. Comfort is gaining immediate global attention, and the world is forcing an exultation and paying forward sincere appreciation for those willing to assist people in need, while we at home send money, pray, and exhaust ourselves while chronically watching the news. New teams arrive in Leogane, supplies dwindle, people are still hungry, and our team is beginning to pass the medical torch to incoming medical aid. Our team is saying good-byes, and some members are preparing to leave while others remain. Some team members are home now, sending thank you emails to their new comrades and remarking about the bittersweet joy they experience when holding their families close and lying in their own bed. Haiti is as permanent an experience as a tattoo, although it's influence may not stand out in twenty years as much as green ink contrasting on aging skin.

I started crying while teaching yesterday. The weight of the earthquake and the significance of my mother hit me hard. It was not full blown sobs, just big glossy eyes and a weird crackle in my voice. Probably the most effective form of classroom management to quiet a room that I have found. The students were pretty silent for a minute after the voice cracking. But then, they started working, I told them that I was choked up because of how proud I am of my mom, and the chaos of seventh grade pre-algebra in the afternoon resumed. The lingering impact of this was evident after class. Two students collecting their materials were talking about how they think it would be so cool to get up and go to a place they never heard of so they could help people. They decided that in doing so, they could be, like, super heroes, and, like, fix people's broken legs, and, like, build cool new school buildings for kids like them. This experience has taught them that the world is bigger than themselves, and that if they ever want to make a change, other people will fundraise for them, talk about them, share their stories, and support their efforts. Today, Mom called while I was teaching the same class. I put her on speaker phone (it was the least I could do for the class that has seen my emotional depth more than they asked to) and two of my students started yelling, "You're so cool!" I guess, in a paralyzingly profound experience, that is the best way to sum up the people who are fighting to survive and supporting survivors.

The next post will be from my mom. Below is a link to a New York Times article that she was in some way connected to:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/02/world/americas/02leogane.html

When the disaster is over

Facing new disaster must, in some ways, be easier than facing pervasive disaster. The news is beginning to shift away from the Haitian earthquake and Obama and his Republican pals are gracing the airwaves more than dust covered Haitian children. Amputations have been performed and casts have dried. Rubble lies in heaps. And what made news (riots for food, homelessness) is now considered real life. It must be trying to be in Haiti today. A mass exodus is taking place out of Port-Au-Prince, but really, where will people go where opportunity will provide a safe and secure life? The country, and its neighbor, are islands. There is no escape.



When I lived on St. Thomas, I sometimes wanted off the island so badly that, had I not been afraid of the water, I may have swam to another island. No threat to my life or the life of my family existed when that feeling washed over me. I guess this is where I must pull out cultural relevance and consider that Haitians have been on their own island for hundreds of years and may not want to leave, regardless of their fears. I wish I were there to ask people, what is it that you want for the long term? What could I give you today that would bring some relief to your soul? I would assume it would be food or shoes. That is what I want when I am afraid. Plus, without food, one starves, and without shoes in Haiti, one can hurt her feet and sustain an injury subject to life threatening infection. Yet, a sack of flour or rice will only go so far. The quote, "Give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he will eat for his life" comes to mind. Many of Haiti's people know how to fish and know how to grow food, but do not have the resources. So perhaps, instead of sending immediate food or shoes, knowing that resources for self sufficiency were low to begin with and are practically barren now, I might send something else. Prayers seem to be making a difference, just look at the survivors STILL being pulled from the rubble. I would also send seeds for planting and animals for sustenance. A goat can provide company, milk, meat and leather. I wonder if that is what people would want. It's frustrating to not be there to ask.

A link to Heifer, a world-wide organization that provides animals to low-income families across the world (including the United States)to provide opportunities for self-sufficiency:
http://www.heifer.org/

A Day Off

Mom is taking a "day off" today. She has been so consumed with her tasks at hand for the week and is in need of some slower paced activities. I liken her experience so far to driving in a car. Her forward movements have allowed her brief snapshots of a million scenes, and today she is pulling in to a rest stop. Unfortunately, this creates a space for homesickness and the chance for the depth of her snapshots to take hold and sink in. Undoubtedly, Haitian people have moved her and surprised her in ways she had not expected. Bob, the team's chaplain, wrote about how, when going to a doctor or seeing a doctor, patients do not moan or complain about pain. The only time wailing is heard is when a new facet is introduced to the extreme pre-existing pain, like when a patient in transport experiences a bump in the road. My mom commented upon the pervasive faith that Haitians have, and how she continually hears people thanking God that they are alive. People who have lost their children, whose legs are being amputated, whose newborns are malnourished reach out to God and thank him for what they have, which in many cases is solely their life. Despite a lack of resources, including restroom facilities, food and water, Haitians continue to tend to their dignity as girls plait one another's hair and grandmothers sweep the 9 square foot piece of street where they sleep at night. After the magnitude of loss the country has experienced, via earthquake and other natural disasters and political unrest, I personally would expect to encounter speculative people with distrust and fierce anger. The media has certainly fed me enough images of Haitian violence and heartache. Yet each story shared has an undertone of awe and pride for Haitian people. Their tenacity is heartbreaking and inspirational.

Yesterday, Mom went to the Marine and Naval compound in another area. (She does not know where she is in relation to any particular place. In fact, Haitian Americans do not know where "home" is any longer because the structures of childhood are not their as beacons to their internal compasses.) The Marines have blown Mom's mind. Their gentleness with children seems to be her underlying observations of these heavily garbed military people. Food for U.S. citizens is not abundant, and the military seems to eat only what will allow them to keep their strength. Most only eat 1/4-1/2 their rations and then slowly sneak small amounts of food to children throughout towns and in their camp. Haitians who receive food bars are now ingesting over 2,000 calories daily and this sudden increase in satiated stomachs is causing a rush of visits to the doctor for stomach and head aches. Imagine living a life with a half empty stomach most of the time and then suddenly experiencing fullness and how sick that would feel!

So far today, during her "day off", mom has talked to me while running from a giant turkey, described the cows and calves eating in the grassy field, watched the Japanese contingent do their daily calisthenics, and had to get off the phone to start an IV of fluids in her dear teammate who needs hydration. This may be the most unique "day off" of her life.

The Wolf Moon

Yahoo news has replaced its headlines about Haiti with an article on tonight's wolf moon. We exited 2009 with two full moons in a month and entered the year with the brightest full moon planned for 2010. If you are lucky enough to have clear skies tonight, Yahoo says that your world will be fully illuminated. Imagine the things you can see tonight by the light of the moon that you never get to see! The shadows of trees by night, the glimmer in someone's eye that is ellusive in daylight, the intimate gestures of intimacy such as the close proximity of bodies walking silently from one place or another. The rare and seductive bath of moonlight often draws us out of our safe confines of home when its glare awakens us from sleep. In Colorado, moonlight can be like a naughty friend seducing you to run away, as it pesters sleeping souls with brightness as the coyote calls in the background hit resound like whispers telling you to wake up, come join the party. Full moons are often associated with odd and heightened behaviors, people with alzheimers are prone to a night of insomnia and retrospection, lover's swoons sound like falsetto desperation, and girlfriend giggles turn into tear filled nights of gut laughter.

I have read a lot of prayers on the internet about Haiti, and I am saying my own. My grandmother is praying and if anyone can remember to pray about the specifics, she can. No doubt remains that the people of the world are sending their thoughts to all people in and around Haiti. Tonight, I will pray for a small thing. I will pray the the people who suffer the loss of loved ones, limbs, jobs, homes, faith, food, water, favorite possessions, and assets unimaginable will have clear skies. I hope that their life will be illuminated in unexpected, unique, and beautiful ways. I hope that Mom doesn't even need her headlamp as she makes her rounds to examine children's faces as they look up at the moon.

Making Connections

Here are two links that are connected to our team in Haiti:

News article from Boulder, Colorado's Daily Camera, about our team:
http://www.dailycamera.com/boulder-county-news/ci_14282887

Prayer that is held close to the heart and sent by Susan, Ora's wife, to me as we sought comfort in exchanging news of our loved ones:
http://www.gbod.org/worship/default.asp?act=reader&item_id=48380

News From Leogane

Despite the extremely hot temperatures, our team is out in full force, doing home visits and seeing people in the clinic. Using the electric generators that the Japanese brought, the team is utilizing their materials as well as possible. The crew from Iowa has been working on medically-based health needs, while our team is working primarily on pediatrics and orthopedic-based needs. The people of Leogane are living in tent cities, with approximately 300 people living on each "block." With limited food supplies and no potable water, families are reuniting, connecting with one another, and expanding their communities in ways they could not have foreseen. Little boys collect cans and string and spend hours trying to fly their invented kites while mothers and fathers look after our nursing staff and ensure our loved ones are receiving loving support.

While death is a veil over Haiti, life is sprouting and healing is taking place. The United States Marines travels throughout the country, young people in the heat wearing full regalia, passing out smiles and picking up the injured. They stop by our team's clinic to drop off critically ill patients, and once those patients are stabilized, the Marines take them to their naval ship to continue treating them. The Marines are gentle with children, and give all children any/everything they may carry in their pockets. They ask Haitians, in fragments of verbal language and gestures, permission to support, and they cradle babies as if they have been doing so all their lives.

Our team sees at least 200 people per day and is performing 20-30 orthopedic surgeries per daily. Mom tends to children and worked with her team yesterday and greeted a baby entering the world. The mother of this child will undoubtedly remember the man who held her body and the man and woman who caught her child as she entered the world! Along the road from Leogane to Haiti, where Mom was driving to get anesthesia to bring back to camp, people making a mass exodus from the scene of their earthquake devastation. Everywhere, people are helping people. Mom reported that not a single one of her patients has died! She stays up at night monitoring the children, using a headlamp as her source of light. She has identified all the street dogs, not by their shape or color, but by their howls, and I listened to the baying of sorrowful dogs in the background throughout the entire conversation. While the people surrounding Mom seem to be working hard to glue back pieces of their lives, it is the dogs that are staying in one place and verbally mourning the evident disaster of the earthquake.

Our team is now a family. They love and value one another, and they are keeping their eyes on the goal of supporting the people around them.