a few reflections.

Sorry, once again for the long time between blog posts. I have this general rule of blog posting when my spirits are high and I have a level head, and I guess my lack of blog posting says something about the past few weeks... :) The challenges have been numerous, and the adjustments difficult, but I am finally falling into the rhythm of life here, and I can say I'm currently in good spirits and I'm happy to be blogging again.

My challenge of living here is trying to figure out how to live in solidarity with the poor that surround me, when I know complete equality is not possible. No matter how simply I try to live here, I know that I do have friends and family who would never let anything happen to me if it could be prevented. In that way, I have an endless network of support, and that comes along with money too. Here, if my friend loses a house to a fire or just to general ware and tare over the years, he cannot just turn to a support network as I can, because everyone is in the same boat. So, although I can create an illusion of living in complete solidarity, in reality, it can’t be accomplished, and that frustrates me. Even the very simplicity of a concrete floor is something that many people lack. It is so hard to reconcile the extreme differences in what I have known in my life to what these people have grown accustomed to.

Another large challenge is to know how best to help. I’ve read enough examples of bad foreign aid projects, and good intentions gone awry, but I don’t want to stand here helpless out of fear of doing something wrong. Even living off of the simple stipend MCC provides, I am comparatively rich to my friends and neighbors, and it’s hard not to feel guilty walking on my concrete floor, taking a shower in an actual bathroom instead of river bathing, and eating a variety of foods instead of just the rice and beans normally available. I cope with this disparity by giving what I can, usually food, but I feel like I can’t give of myself enough. I also know there are systems in place that have pushed the poor further into poverty, and put money into the pockets of the already rich and corrupt, and I am helpless to change those systems. But I can form relationships, and try to prove I am no different- that we are all equals trying to make sense of life. I can work alongside of the masonry workers building the caretakers house on the grounds, and show them that blan (the word for “white” in creole, but used to describe any foreigner) can sweat and work too. When they offer to share their simple breakfast of avocadoes and crackers, I partake, not because I need that food to sustain me, but because I need to show them we can share a meal, sit at the same table (so to speak- although it’s usually sitting on whatever concrete blocks and rocks are around). I insist to eat in the kitchen with our cook and friend Nikol, instead of having a large table set for us with all the niceties we would find in a restaurant, while she eats on a stool in the corner of the kitchen.

It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

I recently read an interesting article passed on to me by a friend. The title was taken from a Haitian proverb, "We see from where we stand". The piece focused on aspects of corruption in some foreign aid operations, and also unique organizations that used a different approach of living among the poor they were serving. Our perspective is shaped by where we choose to live, who we choose to associate with, and what we choose to do. From where I stand, here in rural Haiti, nestled in a valley of the Central Plateau, I see a very different example of life than what I have ever known in my life.

From where I stand, I see a system that is deeply broken. Good intentions and ideas gone wrong, left to deteriorate. However, I don’t just see dilapidated stick houses, but I hear the laughter that the kids inside create. I don’t see a broken pipe spewing water into the air, I see the ingenuity used to fix it despite the lack of resources. I don’t just see a plate of plain rice and beans, but rather, I see the pride on the smile of the person handing it to me, pride that they have the resources to offer this blan something to eat. I see endless potential to show Christ’s love through simple conversations and interactions. It is an overwhelming responsibility, but one I have chosen to accept, and one that gets me up every morning, excited to see what this world has to show me.