A good friend once said: all I want is to be able to afford a bagel and coffee once a month.
I wish I could say that I share that sentiment. But really, I'm not so good at being poor. It's not a particularly enjoyable state to live in. I tend to feel grumpy when friends drive to restaurants to indulge in wonderful middle eastern food, and I sit at home on a Friday night eating rice & beans for the 18th time that week because I have neither money to pay for a restaurant nor transportation to get there. In my previous, salaried life, I dealt with this situation as any good American would: I whipped out my credit card and ordered-in sushi while updating my resume to find a better-paying job.
But, for better or for worse, I have chosen to eliminate such options for a time. A couple of weeks ago, I sent MCC an email that said something along the lines of, "I'm feeling a bit apprehensive...but I'll stay with MCC Haiti for an additional year."
Shortly after, I started having dreams of hoping into Calvin (my royal blue Honda Civic) and dashing off to Dave & Busters (an adult Chuck-E-Cheese, complete with skeeball). That dream doesn't even make sense. I hate Dave & Busters. (My only time there, I was forced to give a speech and play pool with my company's entirely male sales department.) I'm pretty sure, though, that the dreams are my subconscious way of admitting that I'm not terribly keen on the idea of remaining poor for another year.
I can't entirely explain why I made this decision. In the day to day, Haiti isn't a particularly fun country to live in. But it didn't feel like the right time to say that I'm leaving.
So, for the next year I will continue the process of learning to give up a salary, learning to give up luxuries, learning to give up options.
-L
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
All's Calm
I realized I should probably give an update on the situation: All's calm.
The Prime Minister stepped down (one of the crowd's requests). The President promised to subsidize national agricultural production. Prices are still high. MINUSTAH is still here. I walk to and from work every day, just like I've always done.
It's almost as though the protests never happened, tires were never burned, peaceful demonstrators were never beaten or shot, etc.
-L
The Prime Minister stepped down (one of the crowd's requests). The President promised to subsidize national agricultural production. Prices are still high. MINUSTAH is still here. I walk to and from work every day, just like I've always done.
It's almost as though the protests never happened, tires were never burned, peaceful demonstrators were never beaten or shot, etc.
-L
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Feels Like Hail
I grew up in a mid-sized Midwestern town where weather is a main event. As soon as the loud, monotone beep and furrowed-brow of our friendly weatherman cut into Heathcliff Huxtable's latest dispensing of fatherly wisdom, my family would toss down our corn-on-the-cob and run out to the back porch (as opposed to the basement where we had been instructed to hunker down). It was exciting, let me tell you.
Hail, though, is a different story. While it's exhilarating to watch a black wall of clouds form and begin to rotate, it is not so fun to be hit on the head by golf-ball sized chunks of ice (or at least that's what mom told me when I tried to run outside). So, when hail came along, we stayed inside and continued to watch TV, though the volume had to be turned up to hear Theo's high-pitched protestations over the hail crashing down on the roof. When it was all over, we went out to survey the damage: detached roof shingles, broken windshields, dented cars. It all seemed a bit surreal.
That's a bit how I felt during last week's protests. I stayed inside all day Wednesday, but heard gun shots & helicopters, smelled burning tires, and kept at least 1 ear glued to the news to try to understand what was happening. I read a book and a half. I napped, even though I had woken up just 2 hours prior. And then, when I went out the next day, I surveyed the damage.
Glass windows and plastic signs on nearly every business and organization had been destroyed by rocks. Black circles polka-dotted the main roads where tires had been burnt. Trash was everywhere, as were kids who were home all week due to the schools closing.
Despite my neighborhood's bad reputation, it seems that I was in a better place than my fellow MCCers in Port. Some saw lootings, beatings, and who knows what else. Another was gassed (with tear-gas) in his home.
But for me, the only time I really felt stressed or in danger was the day I spent listening to a colleague at RNDDH give minute-by-minute updates of the progress of events (some of which were false, I found out). It wasn't so much that we were in danger at that point, but her exaggerated, the-sky-is-falling manner of speaking put me on edge.
Things seem back to normal for now, but no one really knows if/how long the calm will last. The Prime Minister was stripped of his position, but it's not as though world food prices have gone down or international trade (or aid!) policies have changed in the past few days. So, we'll see.
Thanks all of you who called and emailed to check in. It's nice to know I'm not forgotten. If you want more details, check out my friends' blogs (see links on right).
-L
Hail, though, is a different story. While it's exhilarating to watch a black wall of clouds form and begin to rotate, it is not so fun to be hit on the head by golf-ball sized chunks of ice (or at least that's what mom told me when I tried to run outside). So, when hail came along, we stayed inside and continued to watch TV, though the volume had to be turned up to hear Theo's high-pitched protestations over the hail crashing down on the roof. When it was all over, we went out to survey the damage: detached roof shingles, broken windshields, dented cars. It all seemed a bit surreal.
That's a bit how I felt during last week's protests. I stayed inside all day Wednesday, but heard gun shots & helicopters, smelled burning tires, and kept at least 1 ear glued to the news to try to understand what was happening. I read a book and a half. I napped, even though I had woken up just 2 hours prior. And then, when I went out the next day, I surveyed the damage.
Glass windows and plastic signs on nearly every business and organization had been destroyed by rocks. Black circles polka-dotted the main roads where tires had been burnt. Trash was everywhere, as were kids who were home all week due to the schools closing.
Despite my neighborhood's bad reputation, it seems that I was in a better place than my fellow MCCers in Port. Some saw lootings, beatings, and who knows what else. Another was gassed (with tear-gas) in his home.
But for me, the only time I really felt stressed or in danger was the day I spent listening to a colleague at RNDDH give minute-by-minute updates of the progress of events (some of which were false, I found out). It wasn't so much that we were in danger at that point, but her exaggerated, the-sky-is-falling manner of speaking put me on edge.
Things seem back to normal for now, but no one really knows if/how long the calm will last. The Prime Minister was stripped of his position, but it's not as though world food prices have gone down or international trade (or aid!) policies have changed in the past few days. So, we'll see.
Thanks all of you who called and emailed to check in. It's nice to know I'm not forgotten. If you want more details, check out my friends' blogs (see links on right).
-L
Friday, April 4, 2008
Lavichè
Things are pretty good right now in Haiti. The elected president has remained in power. Kidnappings are down from a couple of years ago. (Some) people are actually being brought to trial for their crimes. However, Haiti is facing a problem that could very well change all of that: lavichè (la vie chère in French, or high cost of living in English).
Globally speaking, prices are up: oil (isn't oil always up?), rice, corn, wheat. I'm sure most of you have noticed and are rather annoyed. But again, consequences seem to have greater meaning here. People are modifying their diets (though Haiti is not in the crisis forcing people to eat dirt that was reported by the world press). Protests against lavichè are becoming increasingly violent. The post-holiday drop in crime that typically occurs has not.
MCC is in a process of dialogging about, among other things, the pay its workers receive, and asked a few of us "out in the field" for our opinions. Given the general high cost of living in Haiti (it's not that different from the COL in the US), compounded by the current increase, I was tempted to write and say, "please! give your workers more money!" But then I remembered that most of the people I spend my time with live on a fraction of what I receive every month. If I were to have more money, how would that affect those relationships? How would my understanding of what it means to live in Haiti be different if I received a bigger "paycheck?"
When I get annoyed at the 5-gourde (0.13 USD) increase in a can of milk, I try to remember how fortunate I am that I can choose to buy entirely unnecessary items simply because I enjoy their taste.
-L
(note: For those of you interested in international trade policies, look up the Economic Partnership Agreement [EPA].)
Globally speaking, prices are up: oil (isn't oil always up?), rice, corn, wheat. I'm sure most of you have noticed and are rather annoyed. But again, consequences seem to have greater meaning here. People are modifying their diets (though Haiti is not in the crisis forcing people to eat dirt that was reported by the world press). Protests against lavichè are becoming increasingly violent. The post-holiday drop in crime that typically occurs has not.
MCC is in a process of dialogging about, among other things, the pay its workers receive, and asked a few of us "out in the field" for our opinions. Given the general high cost of living in Haiti (it's not that different from the COL in the US), compounded by the current increase, I was tempted to write and say, "please! give your workers more money!" But then I remembered that most of the people I spend my time with live on a fraction of what I receive every month. If I were to have more money, how would that affect those relationships? How would my understanding of what it means to live in Haiti be different if I received a bigger "paycheck?"
When I get annoyed at the 5-gourde (0.13 USD) increase in a can of milk, I try to remember how fortunate I am that I can choose to buy entirely unnecessary items simply because I enjoy their taste.
-L
(note: For those of you interested in international trade policies, look up the Economic Partnership Agreement [EPA].)
Monday, March 31, 2008
Spring Break(s) Report
I know you're all curious to know how my vacations went, so here's a quick run-down.
The Dominican Republic is paradise.
It has roads: roads with overpasses and underpasses; roads with bridges; roads that don't suddenly turn to gravel in the middle of the country's main highway; roads absent of potholes the size of the a VW bug; beautiful roads.
It has electricity: electricity that runs longer than 11pm - 4am 5 nights a week (that's if you're lucky in Haiti); electricity that allows for hot-water-heaters; electricity that enables constant refrigeration; wonderful electricity.
It has stores: stores where you go inside to try on clothing before you buy it, rather than trying to size yourself up with the second-hand jeans from the States sold on the side of the street.
It has green: green parks you can sit in; green plants growing healthily along the roads; green trees holding the mountains together.
It has Kreyol: if you happen to not speak Spanish, you can simply make friends with all of the Haitians and navigate your way around.
It's amazing.
I know what some of you are thinking; you've heard that the DR is poor. In fact, you probably have friends who have been to the DR on mission trips and come back with stories of just how horrible the poverty is. I am not disputing those stories. But trees on mountains and 5 minutes of hot water are luxuries for me now.
Oh, and I got to enjoy a week with two of my closest friends. It was wonderful.
Haiti with mom & dad was an adventure.
Mom had spring break this past week, so she & dad came down from Tuesday to Saturday after a quick trip to Grandma & Grandpa's in Florida. Mom, dad -- I hope you weren't wanting a restful vacation!
Given the short time they were here, I fit in everything I could: up the hill to the Baptist Mission, back down the hill to tour Port, off to the beach, back up the hill to Kenskoff, a quick stop at Fort Jacques... all of this zipping in and out of traffic, bumping over what we call roads here, in my little rental car.
The good thing is that now my parents will have a slightly better understanding of what I'm describing in my blogs, emails, and stories. The bad thing is that now my parents will have a slightly better understanding of what I'm describing in my blogs, emails, and stories. (I promise mom, I will try to find options other than riding on the top of a school bus when I go on trips. But yes, tap-taps are my primary means of transportation.)
Overall, both weeks were wonderful! Now it's back to work...
-L
The Dominican Republic is paradise.
It has roads: roads with overpasses and underpasses; roads with bridges; roads that don't suddenly turn to gravel in the middle of the country's main highway; roads absent of potholes the size of the a VW bug; beautiful roads.
It has electricity: electricity that runs longer than 11pm - 4am 5 nights a week (that's if you're lucky in Haiti); electricity that allows for hot-water-heaters; electricity that enables constant refrigeration; wonderful electricity.
It has stores: stores where you go inside to try on clothing before you buy it, rather than trying to size yourself up with the second-hand jeans from the States sold on the side of the street.
It has green: green parks you can sit in; green plants growing healthily along the roads; green trees holding the mountains together.
It has Kreyol: if you happen to not speak Spanish, you can simply make friends with all of the Haitians and navigate your way around.
It's amazing.
I know what some of you are thinking; you've heard that the DR is poor. In fact, you probably have friends who have been to the DR on mission trips and come back with stories of just how horrible the poverty is. I am not disputing those stories. But trees on mountains and 5 minutes of hot water are luxuries for me now.
Oh, and I got to enjoy a week with two of my closest friends. It was wonderful.
Haiti with mom & dad was an adventure.
Mom had spring break this past week, so she & dad came down from Tuesday to Saturday after a quick trip to Grandma & Grandpa's in Florida. Mom, dad -- I hope you weren't wanting a restful vacation!
Given the short time they were here, I fit in everything I could: up the hill to the Baptist Mission, back down the hill to tour Port, off to the beach, back up the hill to Kenskoff, a quick stop at Fort Jacques... all of this zipping in and out of traffic, bumping over what we call roads here, in my little rental car.
The good thing is that now my parents will have a slightly better understanding of what I'm describing in my blogs, emails, and stories. The bad thing is that now my parents will have a slightly better understanding of what I'm describing in my blogs, emails, and stories. (I promise mom, I will try to find options other than riding on the top of a school bus when I go on trips. But yes, tap-taps are my primary means of transportation.)
Overall, both weeks were wonderful! Now it's back to work...
-L
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Mush
My brain is mush.
I'd like to say that because I live in the developing world, volunteer for a living, work with amazingly intelligent people, and work for a much needed cause that staying focused is easier than it has been at other times in my life. But, in all honesty, a job is a job -- or more accurately in this case, vacation is vacation.
Next week 2 of my closest friends are coming down for a visit. I am currently translating a 50-page document, researching to write an article on the recent orphanage scandal in Les Cayes, updating a blog posting that I started 2 weeks ago, etc., etc. But really, all I have been able to think about for the past few weeks is lounging on a Dominican beach.
So, I apologize for having been a bit absent in blogging (as well as emailing -- woops!). And if anyone from my office ever happens upon this, I apologize for my less-than-ideal productivity.
L & J, get rest Friday night & on your flights Saturday. You happen to be coming the one weekend when I know what's going on in Port, so we have a full schedule as soon as you arrive!
Everyone else, wish me luck. This is the first time I'll have left Haiti since arriving.
-L
I'd like to say that because I live in the developing world, volunteer for a living, work with amazingly intelligent people, and work for a much needed cause that staying focused is easier than it has been at other times in my life. But, in all honesty, a job is a job -- or more accurately in this case, vacation is vacation.
Next week 2 of my closest friends are coming down for a visit. I am currently translating a 50-page document, researching to write an article on the recent orphanage scandal in Les Cayes, updating a blog posting that I started 2 weeks ago, etc., etc. But really, all I have been able to think about for the past few weeks is lounging on a Dominican beach.
So, I apologize for having been a bit absent in blogging (as well as emailing -- woops!). And if anyone from my office ever happens upon this, I apologize for my less-than-ideal productivity.
L & J, get rest Friday night & on your flights Saturday. You happen to be coming the one weekend when I know what's going on in Port, so we have a full schedule as soon as you arrive!
Everyone else, wish me luck. This is the first time I'll have left Haiti since arriving.
-L
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Lindsay's First Kanaval
Imagine a typical street-party.
Along the sides of your imagined street, add in elaborately decorated 10-foot tall stands (I'm guessing on the height here), one right after the other, turning the corner after one block and then another, creating a U-shape.
In front of the stands, place vendor after vendor selling hot dogs, fried plantains, bbq chicken, french fries, water, soda, alcohol, energy drinks, and anything else that can be consumed from cans, bottles, and brown paper bags.
For the entertainment, picture marching bands whose only instruments are home-made and who huddle together, rather than marching in formation; rows of costumed dancers; semi-trucks towing the equivalent of small buildings (or big buildings, depending on your perspective) on top of which Haiti's most popular bands blare their specially-written Karnaval songs with dozens of people dancing, lights flashing, and confetti shooting into the air; elaborately decorated floats; adolescents in paper-mache bird costumes running in and out of the crowds; and the occasional fireworks display.
And finally, to whatever number of spectators you had imagined at this street-party, add a few thousand, and then a few thousand more, all dancing, drinking, singing, shoving, and sweating. (Keep adding people to your imagined crowd till those in it have no choice but to bob up and down and shift forward in unison, till the fear of falling is completely gone because bodies are pressed so tightly against one another that falling literally is not an option.)
And now you know how I spent the past 3 days.
-L
Along the sides of your imagined street, add in elaborately decorated 10-foot tall stands (I'm guessing on the height here), one right after the other, turning the corner after one block and then another, creating a U-shape.
In front of the stands, place vendor after vendor selling hot dogs, fried plantains, bbq chicken, french fries, water, soda, alcohol, energy drinks, and anything else that can be consumed from cans, bottles, and brown paper bags.
For the entertainment, picture marching bands whose only instruments are home-made and who huddle together, rather than marching in formation; rows of costumed dancers; semi-trucks towing the equivalent of small buildings (or big buildings, depending on your perspective) on top of which Haiti's most popular bands blare their specially-written Karnaval songs with dozens of people dancing, lights flashing, and confetti shooting into the air; elaborately decorated floats; adolescents in paper-mache bird costumes running in and out of the crowds; and the occasional fireworks display.
And finally, to whatever number of spectators you had imagined at this street-party, add a few thousand, and then a few thousand more, all dancing, drinking, singing, shoving, and sweating. (Keep adding people to your imagined crowd till those in it have no choice but to bob up and down and shift forward in unison, till the fear of falling is completely gone because bodies are pressed so tightly against one another that falling literally is not an option.)
And now you know how I spent the past 3 days.
-L
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