The Start of my Story

So here I am, almost a full week in Haiti. I arrived safely, navigated customs just fine, and even managed to get my accordion through the journey without incident. I'm afraid I've been procrastinating on this initial blog post from Haiti, not for the usual reasons (being that I am by nature a procrastinator). But, I've been considering the fact that, for many of you reading this, my account of my experience here is all you've got to go on. You don't know 10 or 20 folks living here, all providing status updates and tweets describing a diversity of places and events. You may be checking in with Haiti news on occasion, but you won't see first hand the stories of each and individual woman selling fruit on the side of the street, or every single tap-tap driver. Now, I'm not saying that I do get to see all of those stories. In fact I'm saying just the opposite. My story is just that- my story. It is not a comprehensive explanation of current events, culture, or history of this country. We talked in orientation about the danger of a single story. We listened to a lecture given by Chimamanda Adichie, a Nigerian woman who speaks very eloquently of how we too often let one single account or story shape our opinion and vision of a broad range of people and places. Click here if you are interested in watching a video of the full lecture. I highly recommend it. It really stuck with me, and as a result, I approach this first blog entry with trepidation. I invite you to read on, if you will promise to take my words for what they are, and not to draw conclusions or judgements based on them.

My very first impressions at the airport were pretty much as to be expected. Hot hot hot. And busy. Sweaty, dusty, noisy. Despite my efforts to learn a bit of the Creole language before my arrival, it all sounded so mumbled together and I could barely make out more than a "wi" "non" or "merci".  The drive from the airport confirmed many pictures which I had seen passing on the news, or in various blogs of development organizations working here in Haiti. Tent camps here and there, many vendors lining the streets with precariously stacked citrus and melons. People carrying random items on their heads, bicycles, or motorcycles. Tap taps crammed full with a few younger men hanging off the back, ushering in more folks to join the sweaty mess. I was fascinated to watch out the windows, but at the same time terrified to venture outside the car doors. Not for safety's sake. No, not at all. I have felt completely safe since my arrival. It was more that I feel so ill-equipped. I don't speak the language, I don't understand bartering, I'm not always so sure if what I'm wearing is culturally appropriate. I know that with time, these fears will fade away, and they already are starting to, but again, this is just my initial instincts.

Now, a few days in, I have figured out a lot about my new situation. The cold showers are not as cold as I was expecting. I know how to pump diesel to figure out the generator if we don't have any power (which we haven't since I arrived). The best way to get a good nights sleep is to take a thin cushion and my mosquito net, and set up camp on the balcony of the MCC guest house to catch the night time breeze. The best way to learn Creole is to try, try, and try again, and probably make a fool of myself in the meantime. People here are often quite receptive and patient to blan (foreigners) making an effort to learn Creole. I should never whistle in the presence of elders, and if such an elder passes gas at an inopportune time, it is perfectly acceptable to pass the blame onto a nearby child. Every culture has its quirks and I'm enjoying learning them one by one.

I have had mostly a smattering of orientation activities here, but outside of that, I have seen a local basketball game (the police vs. a local supermarket), I have had some delicious goat meat. I have done the typical tour since the earthquake, of seeing the crumbled national palace up close and personal. The collapsed roof and pillars are still just as they were almost 3 years ago when the quake struck. I have seen the sharp contrast just a few miles away, of an elite country club, tennis courts and all. The juxtaposition makes me a bit uneasy. But really, I should feel that uneasy no matter where I am, because such contrasts are just as bad when the extremes are further away. The proximity just makes the sensation all the stinging.

As far as logistics are concerned, perhaps you are curious. I (along with my co-SALTer Jon) will be staying at the MCC guest house here in Port Au Prince for the meantime. Our work site is in Mirebalais, about 2 hours away from here. The work site is not quite livable, and it seems we will need to live at the retreat center as we are fixing it up. Our move depends on the progress of the work site. We are learning to only expect to be surprised. And even to enjoy said surprises. :)

Overall, I've seen that Haiti is a beautiful country. One day, we were able to hike up Kenscoff, a mountain on the outskirts of Port Au Prince. The heat and altitude were proving to be quite a challenge for me, and in my head, I was secretly asking myself if the view could possibly be worth it. Once we made it to the top, I took back all of my internal grumbling. The view was breathtaking. We stood in the midst of rolling green meadows dotted with goats and cows overlooking mountains and cities surrounding us on 3 sides. We heard music floating up from hill side villages, and saw the city sprawled out along the ocean coast. It was a view I never expected so close to the city. Although a lot of my first impressions were to be expected, that was one that completely blew me away. So once again, I am resting in the principle that I can't control or plan on too much here, but I will plan to be surprised.

Hope you all are well.
Peace,
Annie

p.s. If you'd like to send me letters by chance... then shoot me an email to ask for the address. I'd prefer not to post it here. Packages are another story, and so if you'd like to send one of those, also let me know and I will figure out the best way to get it here. Do not send it to the same address that letters may come to. Customs charges are ridiculous.

Orientation comes to a close...

I have the unique experience of being a second time SALT program participant. From the get-go, I have intentionally tried to refrain from butting into conversations with "well when I was here last time..." or, "back when I was a SALTer in 2009...", so that I did not become 'that person' you don't want to get stuck at the lunch table with. I also felt as though somehow, I was cheating. Like I have all the answers and I have to keep my mouth shut during sessions and give the other folks a chance to answer. But, eventually, I was outed and the reaction wasn't so bad.. People have been very inquisitive about the little details that they might not ask in a group session. Maybe MCC should always throw in a "second time SALTer" as an undercover question-answerer. :)

I have been so blessed once again by this orientation in Akron. MCC does a wonderful job supporting their workers before, during, and after assignment. And once again, SALT orientation is combined with IVEP (international volunteer exchange program), which brings young people from around the world to live and work in the U.S. and Canada for a year. Last time, I was so intrigued by all the different cultures represented, but being  bit shyer then than I am now, I was too timid to join in the fun. This time around, I am really trying to soak it all in as much as possible. Last night, I stumbled into the IVEP group from Africa practicing for worship this morning. They couldn't find the music for one of their songs, and so they hummed a line for me. Next thing I knew, I was sitting at the piano bench, playing in the midst of beautiful singing, dancing, and beating of drums. The next few hours were filled with a similar scene, and I went to bed with my toes still tapping to the beat in my head.

Once thing I am struggling with here, is thinking that somehow, the SALTers are getting the better deal of the exchange. For the most part, we are all heading out into very warm, inviting cultures. Places where doors are left open, people sit out front of their houses and warmly smile at passer-bys. Where you can hug and give a kiss on the cheek to anyone, and where you don't have such a huge sense of personal belongings and boundaries. Here, by contrast, people can be very protective of their things, locking doors and hiding behind fences. We do not readily share what we are truly feeling, and we may find it strange if someone does. These are not necessarily bad traits,  This orientation is set up in such a way that the IVEPers can ease in to that culture shock by spending time with a bunch of like-minded, patient, and kind individuals, but I'm afraid the change will still be drastic. All I can do is hope that they encounter kind people and have a great year of growth and joy. I have come to love them all so much!

As I head out from this place soon, into the unknown, my prayer is that I will be used by God to do his will. I pray for the patience and strength to get through all of the changes that culture shock brings. Pray also for my co-SALTer Jon. We will be working side by side in this project, and neither of us quite know what to expect. That being said, I am very excited for the unknown, whatever it may be.  It is well with my soul.

Peace,
Annie