"This is Haiti"

'This is Haiti' is a common phrase used around here. Usually I find that it is a way of explaining the culture, the customs, the past, the way of life, the heat, the dust, the difficulty, the beauty… this is Haiti. So this is a blog about my first 2 weeks in Haiti. It has not been easy. Each day is so full, so rich, with good experiences and bad experiences.

I've been sweating for the past 24 hours straight… with the exception of a few hours that I slept last night because I woke up this morning not sweating-- I was pretty excited about that. The generator battery needs repair/replacement and the city electricity in Haiti comes on whenever it wants… which means that sometimes it comes on 5 minutes per day, 1 hour per day, or even 12 hours per day. It totally and completely depends.. On….nope, nobody knows. I feel relatively accomplished that I spent my first night without any electricity -- no fan, moving air only through your windows.. So I took a quick shower with a trickling faucet (because there's no electricity so the pump for the water isn't on) and lathered up with bug repellant lotion and tried to sleep… for about 3 hours. I even contemplated joining Yoti, the security guard of the house, on the roof. I have a much better understanding of why he sleeps on the roof--more air, more wind, more cool = more sleep. How ridiculous am I? The majority of Haitians have never slept in a real bed- a twin sized bed like in the states with an actual mattress. Many Haitians don't know what it feels like to go to bed with a full stomach from a dinner meal. Most Haitians can't afford the luxury of windows that actually open and close to allow air or close off air when there is a dust storm-- yup those happen around here.

This is Haiti.

There was a 24 year old man who came to the clinic today with malnutrition, dehydration, and an infection. One of our excellent nurses, Miss Edlange, took special care of this man, noting how low his blood pressure was and he hadn't eaten in two days. He is in his last year in school which is a big accomplishment in Haiti. He doesn't get fed at school and he lives with his brother who does not care for him. We sat him in the back kitchen/future lab area of the clinic and gave him some water and bread and peanut butter. Duckenson sent him home with a week's worth of high nutrition food, a jar of peanut butter, and bar of soap. We prayed for him before he left.

This is Haiti.

Sometimes I get frustrated because many people who come to the clinic (it's only been open 5 days-- since last Thursday) without specific needs. It's like they just want to see a doctor and we are a free clinic. Several women have come to the clinic several times since the clinic has been open, each time with different children. It's a curiosity too-- the new clinic in the area. As a healthcare professional it can be frustrating to care for someone who does not seem to have a specific need. It's almost insulting to our different skill sets. But is it so bad? These people come, get taken care of, get loved on (I hope), get educated about health and hygiene, get to see a medical doctor (healthcare access is not a regular thing in Haiti so who knows how long it's been since these people have seen a doctor), get prayed for, and get their prescriptions for free (I know, I know-- it's controversial). Is that so bad?

This is Haiti.

I had a meeting yesterday afternoon with a hospital administrator to nail down details of collaborating with his laboratory so that we can pay for lab work at his outside facility and not have to start a lab of our own. The meeting went well and we returned to the car only to have a dead battery. We spent the next 1-2 hours in the heat jumping batteries, switching out batteries, and finally got home. I received a text message last evening that the decision was made from this hospital administrator to not allow Onaville Community Health Center (our clinic) use their lab. I was a bit stunned. This is Haiti- there are so many cultural barriers and differences. The fact that I am a woman running a medical clinic offends plenty of people.

This is Haiti.

I understand now why Mr. Cundiff (director of We Care Haiti) carries around a binder with names, phone numbers, directions, contacts, etc. I showed up to Mission of Hope on Monday for a meeting only to realize that I had no phone numbers for the people I was meeting with. My iPhone went missing on Friday night and I had all my info in the form of pictures, numbers, emails, etc. in my phone. Needless to say it took us an hour to meet with the person we were supposed to meet with because of the high security that is needed in Haiti and the fact that the electricity shuts off at 3:30 and the campus pretty much closes down at that time.

This is Haiti.

At the same time, there is beauty all around. The mountains will never cease to take my breath away. Every sunrise and sunset is spectacular. The rain and thunder storms are awe-inspiring. The beauty and pure joy of a Haitian child will make a terrible day joyful again. The resilience, the love, and the hard work of these people who live in the harsh conditions of Haiti inspire me daily. I had a meeting with the two doctors that work for the clinic today and they reminded me -- Rachel you are not alone. You don't have to do this all by yourself. We are all here to support you. Wow. The entire staff of the clinic (2 doctors, 5 nurses, 2 cleaning ladies, 1 security guard/ground keeper/director of patient flow) have been hand-picked and assembled by God. They are all amazing, hardworking, compassionate, intelligent people who put up with my crazy on a daily basis (and y'all -- I've been a bit cray lately) and are so invested in this new clinic. I thank God for each of them daily.

This is Haiti.

Haiti is a complex country. Most Haitians you talk to (I'd say above 80%) have lost someone close to them…and not because they were at a ripe old age. Most of them have had young friends die of seemingly preventable things. The sexual abuse rate in Haiti is off the charts, I'm told. Women are not treated with respect here as much as in the US. There is a history of trauma and pain and grief. Haiti is a very jealous country. Because it is so poor, there is a culture of jealousy--you have something I don't have so I am jealous of you. People become truly violent because of jealousy. And yet Haitians are some of the most welcoming and loving people you will ever meet. The cook in our house, Mirelle (sounds like Mirae) is the guardian and caregiver of her sister's children (5 maybe?) after her sister died. That is no easy task when you think of the cost of food, education, transportation, housing, etc.

This is Haiti.

Haiti is so expensive! How is that possible when it's the poorest country in the western hemisphere? Probably half of the food here is imported which drives up cost. The corruption of the Haitian government does not help the people. Gas is expensive here ($5 US/gallon I'm told. Cars are marked up 40-60% compared to the US because they are all imported. When there's no city electric, you either go without any electricity or buy a generator. Big generators are VERY expensive plus the cost of fuel for the generator that burns a gallon of fuel an hour-- that adds up quick. Haiti is full of juxtapositions. How can a country whose inhabitants live on less than $2 per day survive? It's a struggle. It's a daily struggle for so many.

This is Haiti.

There's so many more stories and experiences. The last few weeks have not been easy. I have not been the best version of myself… probably more like the opposite. It's amazing how you revert back to all your old patterns in a new and difficult situation. For me that's taking on too much responsibility/carrying burdens, being a total stress ball, not being restful, running around like a 'crazy blanc in Haiti,' etc. etc.. But God is here. And I am learning. And I have no option but to trust in Him… or lose my mind. And I am learning the language… slowly… why am I not fluent in Kreyol yet?! …oh right… I've only been here two weeks. It feels like it's been much longer. The learning curve is steep. And I knew it would be and yet I still expect much of myself and think we should have a perfect system for the clinic and I should find a way for it to run super smoothly all the time. This is Haiti-- and thank goodness it's not America, or I would be fired already. ; ) There is grace here. And there is peace here. And God is here. And that is enough. And I am enough.