Things that make me happy

It's been a rough past few weeks. A lot of that has been due my thus far unsuccessful apartment search, combined with the extra hot weather, combined with the general stress of living in a "developing" country (do we still use that term? it seems rather politically incorrect), combined with 50 million other small annoyances. And, I think part of it is probably the process of culture shock.

I remember very few specifics from any of my college courses, but I do remember talking about culture shock in my cultural anthropology course. I don't exactly remember the approximated time line of it all (sorry to disappoint you, Terry), but there's a middle phase that's referred to as "Negotiation." Here's how one website explains it.

"The initial curiosity and enthusiasm turn into irritation, frustration, anger, and depression. Minor nuisances and inconveniences lead to serious distress."

Yep. That sounds about right.

So, to keep myself from going crazy, I've started making mental notes of things that make me happy. Here are a few items from yesterday's list.

• My own space. Last night I made a tomato, cucumber, and shaved carrot sandwich with homemade hummus, balsamic vinaigrette, and a touch of baby swiss. I flipped on the radio to a Kompa/Zouk station, poured myself a glass of wine, and sat munching away on the rocking chair on the porch overlooking the hubbub on Delmas. It almost felt like I was back in Shaw. The only thing I was missing was a good friend sitting next to me, discussing the ups and downs of life. (R, guess what we might do if you can make it over tonight.)

• Bill Bryson. A fellow MCCer recommended a book called "A Walk in the Woods" by Bill Bryson. Holy cow. I think the last time I laughed this much reading a book was when I was 7, reading Ameila Bedelia.

• Pierre Esperance. Pierre is the Executive Director of RNDDH. He is well aware of my house-searching frustrations and is not only patient, but even tries to help. He's offered that I can come live with his family. He's offered that I can take 2 weeks off to focus on searching. He's asked all of the staff more than once if any of them know of any apartments near by. Even if his ideas don't always provide solutions, I'm grateful for his efforts and understanding.
  

• Grimèl. In one of my first postings, I mentioned the tendency Haitians have to scream out "BLAN!" whenever they see a white person. Lately though, as I walk down the street, I've been hearing much less "blan" and much more "grimèl." As one striving to fit it with Haitian culture, this makes me immensely happy. Grimèl is the kreyol word for a white-skinned Haitian. I'm not quite sure why random strangers have decided to identify me as a Haitian, but I'm not going to argue.

-L

The Move, Part 1

I know, I know, you're all perched on the edge of your seats, waiting to hear about my move. Oh wait, half of you probably don't even know I'm moving...

SALT, the 1-year program I came to MCC with, is ending. I chose to stay with MCC-Haiti for an additional year, but this means that my status will change from a "SALTer" to "a normal person" as Garly, MCC-Haiti's interim Country Representative, called it yesterday. What does this mean? I get my own apartment. I get a larger budget (due to the fact that I will no longer have other people providing my supposed every need). I have access to the MCC vehicles (though I do not yet know how to drive a motorcycle or a manual-shift car). umm...I'm sure there are other things, but those are the big ones.

The apartment search has been a bit of a disaster, leading me to wonder if I really do want to stay in Haiti. (For those of you who know about it, no, I did not get the apartment that I wanted -- the one that would have been perfect.) So, for the meantime, while we continue the apartment search, I am staying in Josh and Marylynn's old apartment on Delmas. This isn't exactly a great solution (it's far from work & Delmas isn't exactly anyone's favorite location), but yet, it feels wonderful.

Yesterday afternoon, Joseph and I loaded up all of my worldly possessions (or, at least those that are not currently stored in my sister's basement...or my parents' basement, come to think of it), I said good-bye to Bernadette, promised to come back to visit, and headed up the hill.

Once all of my belongings were inside, I walked to the grocery store to buy the essentials (coffee, extra-virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, goat cheese, salt, pepper, etc.), lugged a tank of gas up the stairs for the oven, zested and juiced 2-dozen limes, baked 3-dozen lime cookies, ate a salad, and crashed in my bed exhausted but happy.

With as good as it feels just to be in this temporary spot, I can't wait to find/be in my own apartment. May it come soon.

-L

Tribute to Barikad

This past weekend, 4 members of one of Haiti's better-known music groups, Barikad Crew, died in a car accident. There is some debate as to exactly what happened, but essentially their car caught fire & burned everyone inside while fellow band members and friends looked on helplessly. The following day, 2 of the girlfriends of those who died attempted suicide. One was successful. She was 3 months pregnant.

Though I find this tragic, I'm perhaps even more taken aback by the effect it has had on the population as a whole. Death is common in Haiti in a way that it is not in developed countries. Loss is a regular part of life. (Though it is deeply mourned.) But as news spread of the deaths, Haiti took notice in a way I had not expected. For some it is a loss of friends. For others it is a loss of a favorite musician. But even those who would never listen to the group's songs feel the loss. As far as I can tell, this comes from 2 sentiments.

First is a sense of family. Similar to Indians (that is, people from India), Haitians refer to other Haitians living abroad -- in the US, Canada, France, etc -- as the Diaspora. There is a profound sense that even those who have been out of Haiti longer than they were in it are still Haitian and still family. I wish I could say that I understand the Haitian concept of "family," but I don't. But there seems to be a sense that all Haitians are distant relatives and are touched by this tragedy.

Second is the hope they represented. They came from nothing -- from a neighborhood called "bas peu de chose" -- but they managed to do more than just survive, and to do it legally. Maybe they would have joined forces with Wyclef Jean as the next great philanthropists to Haiti. Maybe they would have shown the world that good things do come from Haiti, opening the door for future Haitian success stories. In any case, there seems to be a collective feeling of let-down, of "shoot, we almost made it this time."

I don't quite know how to end this posting. This isn't exactly an appropriate space to express condolences. Perhaps I should simply promise to try to better explain this shared grief at a time when I better understand it.

-L

Change Is in the Air

Springtime has arrived, which means that many of you will soon find yourselves humming along to the sweet tunes of the ice cream truck as you scrounge for your pennies and dash out the door to indulge in a pre-dinner orange push-up.

As I mentioned in a previous blog, it's not the ice cream trucks here that belt out music-box versions of 90s pop-music hits, but the water trucks. (Namely because there are no ice cream trucks in Haiti.) Though I've been told they have a small repertoire, the only song I've ever hear the trucks play is Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On."

But not anymore, my friends.

The past few days, the over-played theme of Titanic has been strangely absent. What has taken its place? The song from Napoleon Dynamite.

To be completely honest, I'm not actually sure what song they're playing. But it reminds me of the song from ND, which makes me think of the movie and smile, so I'm going to let myself continue thinking that's what they're playing.

I have to say, this is a welcome change.

-L

(And you thought this was going to be a soul-searching post!)

Human Rights Education

Woohoo! I'm now a Human Rights Educator!

On being rich (and continuing with MCC)

This past Sunday afternoon, I met up with a couple of friends down on Champs de Mars (Haiti's equivalent of the National Mall) to engage in one of my favorite past-times: people watching. After a while, one of my friends turned to me and asked, "Have you eaten yet today?" I hadn't, nor had either of my friends, so they decided it would be a good idea to go buy some fried spaghetti. I told them to go ahead without me. Looking concerned, they offered that if it was a problem of money, they would simply buy a bit extra and we could share. I thanked them but refused, explaining that I didn't feel like eating just then.

The conversation that ensued basically went like this:

Friends: That's crazy. You have money. You're hungry. But you're not going to eat?
Lindsay: Yeah, I'll get around to eating later.
Friends: That's crazy. If you don't have money, it's understandable that you skip a day or two of eating. But if you have money, you eat.
Lindsay: But I've never had a day in my life when I didn't have money for food.

(Awkward silence)

Part of the awkwardness of working with MCC is that you end up spending time with the "have-nots." And just when I start to feel sorry for myself for having chosen to volunteer with MCC, rather than the UN (UN volunteers receive $3,000/month), conversations like this occur.

MCC doesn't give its workers a lot of money, but it does give us enough to eat each day. Granted, with the rise of world food prices, our meals may increasingly consist of rice & beans or popcorn, but even that is more than many Haitians can afford. Life would probably be a bit easier if I spent my Sunday afternoons in the upper class suburbs, rather than sitting Champs de Mars. I probably wouldn't be so painfully aware of my riches. But, then, what would be the point of being in Haiti with MCC?

-L

On being poor (and continuing with MCC)

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