Transformation

One night, back in early June, Megan and I were in our usual spot - sitting out on the porch where you can catch a breeze - playing cards (Skip-Do/Bo obviously). I took a sip of my chilled drink, bugs swarmed around our porch light lit up with electricity, and music from my computer softly cut through the night. We were talking as Megan dealt another hand. She looked up at me, looked around where we were sitting and said, “Think about where we were this time last year.” ...Oh wow. This time last year we were at the old house in the pitch dark, huddled up in bed under our mosquito net, sweating half to death because our battery-powered fans were constantly out of batteries. There was probably a crying child in our room and we probably had no idea what we were doing; but one thing could be counted on, at some point the next day we would have to eat raman, a cliff bar, or if it was a good day, fake cheese and macaroni shells because that is all we had. We reminisced about life back in that other house and laughed. 

The first piece of land purchased by Respire, taken last June.

This trip down memory lane was just another moment in a long line of moments that hit me periodically throughout the summer; moments where I realized how our God is a transformative God. Looking around Bellvue Mountain, at Respire, the streets we walk down everyday, the people with whom we interact, in our very selves, the transformative work of God is clear and it is absolutely astounding.

The people cooker.

I think back to last year when Megan and I would walk with visitors up the back trail to the mountain. We would walk over to the tree and she would excitedly tell whoever it was that this is the land we bought and the site where the school was going to go! At that time, there were 100 students in the school meeting in the one room church (or people cooker as it seems most days). It was a great start, but man was it chaotic trying to teach 100 kids all sorts of different things in ONE very hot, noisy, crowded room. But now there is a school - the 6 classroom building was opened in January and the new 4 classroom kindergarten will be all ready to go when school starts again in the fall. So many of these children are restaveks (child slaves), orphans, and/or are living in extreme poverty. So many are getting to go to school for the first time. This is really challenging. But it is really beautiful to see transformation happening in their lives through education and all the work that is being put in to ensure that their education is quality. 

The new kindergarten building during construction.

Ramase Lajan recycling center!

I think about what Respire was when it started. It was a girl who may or may not have been crazy, moving down to Haiti on total faith, to love on children. Then came a school. Then came a child feeding program. Then came more land, and a builder, and more plans, and then buildings, then partnerships, programs, progress. Now instead of just focusing on one or two aspects of life, Respire recognizes that you have to look at a child holistically. Simply offering a child an education is wonderful, but so many other things affect their ability to receive an education: what's going on at home? are they healthy? do they have basic needs met? and on and on. Respire is working to address all these things by reaching out to and educating parents, opening a clinic, providing jobs to help families sustain themselves, feeding kids physically and spiritually every weekend. People are constantly coming in and giving time to enrich kids lives through English classes, guitar lessons, sports camps, art, you name it. Children are not just being taught how to read and do math; they are being taught respect, tolerance, and other cornerstones of strong character, through the feeding program turned discipleship program. And now, thanks to some incredible partnerships, Respire is supporting artisans through Haiti's Jewels (which you really need to check out), raising food for the school through sustainable agriculture with Love Your Neighbor, and opening a recycling center (OH YEA!) through Ramase Lajan. I am so proud of those organizations and the people behind them, they are all truly incredible. (Click on all those links, its so worth it!)

Love Your Neighbor's garden on the side of Bellvue Mountain.

I look at my dear, dear friend Tachi and how much she has grown over the last year. She is one of the strongest women I know. She started off staying with Megan and I for a week last summer in between jobs and now runs our house like a machine. And her cooking is great; we would all die without her. Tachi is a leader in our house, a dedicated mother, and an example to the ladies that work with us. Ladies like Darlene, who has come to live with us, along with her son, Jezilo. Their story is an incredible one of transformation, read more about it here on Megan's blog. 

Super Tachi and her daughter Esther.

Over everything, perhaps, I am most astounded by Megan and her family. Having been there when Micha first came to live with Megan, I don't even know how to describe the way this little girl has been completely transformed. I think back to the beginning - she was a poor, scared, erratic child. But she had such a magnificent and genuine smile despite it all. I can't imagine what she had been through and I can't imagine she thought, at first anyway, that this new found stability was going to last. I would sit with her and work with her on learning numbers and colors. She could not stinkin' remember pink (woz) or orange (jon abricot) and I thought to myself, "Man this is not good! Is she very smart?" And when I came back at Christmastime last year, I couldn't believe that thought ever crossed my mind. Micha is BRILLIANT. She knows English so well now that we can have conversations, and let me tell you, she is a neat kid. And she knows all her colors now :).

Micah, Jessica, and mangos as BIG as their heads!!

Had to include one of Jessi in the Pooh Suit
because it is my life's joy!

I remember when I first heard that Jessica, Micha's younger sister, would be coming to live with Megan as well. I was a little worried - she just became a mom and now was getting another kid. Jessica came on the exact day that I left last year and I didn't get to meet her, which I still think is funny. But seeing her from Christmas to June and June to August, she is growing beautifully as well. I am so thankful she is here. Jessica reminds me of my little sister in so many ways, she's totally got 'tude. I would probably call her a turd under my breath about 4 times a day, but oh my gosh, this child is so precious. And the more she is loved on, the better she gets. And the fact that she and Micha have each other has made such a noticeable difference in their lives. It brings tears to my eyes thinking about them together - playing, laughing, fighting, getting older - and knowing how much my sister has meant to me. Jessica and Micha both, day by day, are growing in the good, Spirit-filled, loving home that they are being raised in. 

Throwback: us in college.
See? Totally different :)

And at the head of that home is Megan, who is one of the great treasures in my life. I have loved seeing what the Lord has done transforming her into a mother. I can't really speak to the extent that it has been difficult for her, even having gone into the trenches with her as much as I can. And I don't know many people that could've done it, or would've been willing to make the sacrifices that she has. She stepped up. She was not a mother back in June of last year, but she said yes to taking in and loving these sweet girls with all her heart. God took that and transformed her into a mom, and a goshdarn good one at that. (I have a lot of bad to compare it to thanks to my last several psych/social work internships.) It is truly amazing and such a testament to the transformative power of God. 

Momma Megan

The craziest thing that has struck me in all this is that this thing didn't just start last year. It didn't start when that crazy girl decided to move down to Haiti. It started 14 years ago when Pastor Benito and his wife would go up Bellvue Mountain to pray every Sunday morning at 4am. Pray that God would do something, bring somebody, to transform that mountain from the dark, voodoo ceremony hotspot it was to a place that brought life and hope to the people of Gressier. And things fell into place over the years. Megan had experiences that shaped her and lead her to where she is now. Our paths crossed in college and I'm blessed to have been along for this ride. Bernard was learning English from New Yorkers and getting shaped into the genius he is today. Tachi was busy overcoming remarkable odds to get where she was when we met her. And so on with every person's story who has been a part of Respire Haiti. 

When the Benitos were with Megan signing papers for the purchase of the first piece of land, they cried and praised God for answering their prayers. After 14 long years, God answered, and in a HUGE way. It makes me wonder with much excitement what he has in the works right now, in all of our lives. What person might we meet tomorrow that points us down a certain path, what random inspring thing might we read, what nice looking rock or bit of glass (Sophie) might we see on the ground will God use to continue his transformative work in our lives? All praise and glory to him for his mighty works! And for another great summer in Haiti. 

DR Vacation!

At some point last month, I decided that I was going to take Megan on vacation - a REAL vacation. Actually get her away from the chaos of Haiti and the demands of work. And then I commenced the planning of this marvelous trip. We would take a much-needed, girl bonding time, beach, history, adventure, long-weekend in the Dominican Republic. At night, I would pour over Trip Advisor and other such travel sites trying to make this the BEST vacation ever. And finally, after much fretting over perfecting this trip on my part, we left for Santo Domingo last Thursday. Here we go.

Its sometime around 6:30 in the morning and I wake up to the sound of my alarm and practically shoot out of bed. VACATION IS HERE AT LAST! Megan is a little slower on the uptake. She finally gets out of bed after I’ve eaten breakfast and finished up the finer details of packing. We kiss the girls goodbye (which is dramatic) and then hop into the truck with Josh. We take off by 7:30 which gives us plenty of time to catch our 10 o’clock bus from PAP to SD. Josh remarks that I look like a kid on Christmas. I try to deny it, but my goofy grin and excessive early morning energy betray me. As we get into the city though, there is HORRIFIC traffic. At first I am unphased; we have plenty of time to get there right? But time keeps moving, the cars in front of us do not, and we start to get a little panicky. I try to call the bus station and ask if the bus is on time, but of course, we’re in Haiti and the phone number for the bus company doesn’t work… Megan and I are flipping. Will we make it!??!

Eventually we make it to the bus station at 10:07 and FLY out of the car. The bus is still there! We make it on and settle into our seat giggling like kiddies. We’re going on vacation! The bus is actually super nice and pretty empty so Megs and I pig out on snacks that we packed in the special “bus snacks” bag before claiming our own rows of seats and passing out. In no time, we make it to the border.

Megan at the border

Ohhh the border. First of all, the traffic is so jammed up trying to get into the DR, we watch an ENTIRE movie before even getting to customs/immigration. When we finally get there, we are herded off the bus and into this nasty, hot, chaotic, outdoor office thing to get our passports stamped and all that. We change some money and go wait in line to pass. Well right in front of our faces, some Haitian guy pays a bribe to a border officer who promptly escorts him to the front of the line, which happens to be right in front of us. Megan does not accept this and begins yelling at both of them in Creole. I love when this happens. Everyone’s faces around us look all shocked and amazed that this white girl 1) speaks Creole 2) uses it to chew out grown men. Needless to say, he does not get his passport stamped before ours and a couple of people applaud when this happens. Then we make our way back to the bus as several small children hit us up for money or poke us, only stopping to buy several mini-bags of roasted peanuts. (Total time spent at border: ~THREE hours.)

The rest of the bus ride is pretty uneventful. We watch Downton Abby and then feel a little carsick and sleep. Finally about 11 hours later, we make it into SD! I am the HAPPIEST person when we get off the bus and immediately a cab driver out front yells, “Kat!” and waves at me. I was so worried about getting a ride from the bus station to our hotel that is actually outside of the city about 30 minutes in Boca Chica, a cute beach town. After trying to arrange something with our hotel and not working it out (as the bus is really inconsistent timewise), I figured we would just have to catch a random cab. But the same day we are on the bus, we find out Bernard has a driver he has used in the DR who speaks Creole. So Bernard called up Julio who met us at the bus station. When I hear Julio call my name, my anxiety gets put to rest and I know this is going to be a super vacation.

We make it to our hotel safe and sound. We then eat a delicious pizza and fall asleep in our own separate beds in an air-conditioned room. Ah, paradise.

The next day, I have a terrific day of sight-seeing in SD planned out for us. But first we sleep late, have a delicious complimentary breakfast at the hotel, and stroll/lay on the beach for a bit. Then in the afternoon, we catch a bus into the city. A real bus with seats and air-conditioning, like, not a tap-tap. Ah, paradise. The level of development on this side of the island blows our minds. Really I can, and probably should write a whole other post about how mind-blowingly different the two sides of this island are because its jarring. It gave me so much to think about. Sure they have their problems over in the DR, but they also have highways, tourism, real stores (like IKEA!), restaurants everywhere, running water, and the list goes onnnn. But anyway, the bus drops us off at the gates of the old city, in Independence Park.

Raphael & Meg at The First Hospital of America!

We walk around for a minute getting our bearings and admiring the park, when we are approached by a tour guide. Yes, we would like to take a tour. And sure I would like to feel out more tour guides and pick the best, but we’re overly excited and their doesn’t seem to be anyone else around. So Raphael, this short, kind of old dude in a camo hat is our guide for the next several hours. He takes us around the colonial zone, at a very rapid speed. I try to stop and take pictures and then look down the road and see that I am getting very left behind. He knows all the spots but that’s about it. So he walks us to whatever beautiful, cool, historic thing and says, “… The First ________ of America!” The blank was filled in with things like, “cobblestone street, hospital, town hall, cathedral” etc. And when would ask more questions about the first whatever of America we were looking at, he would kinda shrug, and then take off down the street again. So we saw many, many beautiful Firsts of America, but we couldn’t tell you much about them… Thanks Raphael. Oh my gosh, everything in the colonial zone is gorgeous though. We are loving SD!

The cathedral in Christopher Columbus Park

Cool hats, colder margaritas :)

After the tour we are approached by a random new friend of ours who changed money for us earlier so Megan can buy a sweet new fedora. We’re hungry so he tells us how to get to a good restaurant before asking us if we like to dance and inviting us to go salsa with him at the disco. If I had a peso for every time someone asked me to so salsa with them at the disco over the course of this trip, I would have SO MANY pesos. These people love their dancing. And bringing new friends dancing. Anyway, we go have a cheese platter and delicious Italian meal. Man, it is such a sight to see us trying to get around speaking Spanish. My Spanish is extremely limited and Megan’s is completely non-existent, so basically we end up pointing at things and laughing with people who are laughing at us… After mid-afternoon meal,  we browse some shops and meet a friend for happy hour drinks. Post-happy hour we end up at this super fun Mexican restaurant, ah paradise! Then we dance the night away – salsa, bachatta, meringue, excellent freestyling. And not at obnoxious discos, but little hole-in-the-wall legit places. Like old people are dancing there too. In fact, we dance with several cute old men who smell like aftershave and teach us new steps. It is precious, and SO much fun! I am in love with the city, it is so charming and beautiful.

The next morning we sleep in again, fabulous, and then take a beach day. Our hotel is on a gorgeous beach and has a nice private area where we can totally relax and avoid all the people running around trying to sell you annoying stuff. We get massages on the beach, which is 2 parts excellent, 1 part awkward. I conclude that massages probably shouldn’t be given in public. And after spending the day chilling, we go out to a Swiss restaurant in Boca Chica. Yes, Swiss. I LOVE it. We get a bottle of wine, salads, a meat plate, and (drum roll please) cheese fondue!!

Boca Chica

We are scheduled to catch the bus bright and early the next morning, but soon realize that it would be so cruel to make ourselves get up early and then sit on a bus for 10 hours when we just got here and still have so much more fun/relaxation to do! I’m really proud of us for making the choice to stay one more night, aren’t we spontaneous? We make the necessary arrangements and then spend one more day on the beach – sunning, swimming, playing cards, eating cheeseburgers – and at last feel good and ready to head home.

I had SUCH a good time in the DR. And after getting back home, I had a very productive week. Although the power has been out since we returned... irritating. Kyle has finally made it back, which has been super helpful. We also went and played basketball for the first time on a pretty nice court at the soccer stadium in Gressier. I have to mention that because it was a total blast and something we’re definitely going to start doing regularly. I say that, and then remember that I’m only here about two more weeks. I can’t believe that. Time is precious. And vacation was excellent. 

Peaceful Pacing

Megan and I are leaving for a little weekend trip to the DR tomorrow – SO excited – so I thought I’d squeeze in a post before taking off on what will presumably be an epic adventure.

Except for a misadventure here or there, things have been pretty calm around here. I’ve been reflecting on the pace of my life here over the last week; it has been nearly perfect. I’ve gotten to wake up slow in the mornings and take time to study the Bible or play with the girls. My work has been enjoyable – talking with groups, helping to teach English class, brainstorming new directions for programming. I get to enjoy delicious meals with my friends each night. I have space (ok not really, I share the top floor of this house with 7 people), I have time to breathe, I have time to listen to the Lord.

I was walking back through the garden that connects our house to the intern house last night with my American cell phone in hand. It struck me that the only reason I had it was to light up my path. I couldn’t get texts or emails, check my facebook, or tweet about rice and beans or something. I’m not constantly tethered to my phone, checking it every five minutes for hardly any reason at all. Wherever I am, I am present. Whoever I am with, that is who I am with in that moment. It is freeing.

At one point, the flashlight went out for a moment as the phone went to sleep. A glimmer caught my eye. I looked up and saw the most intensely dazzling night sky. It forced me to stop, lay down on the pavement in our front yard, and just marvel at the hugeness of God. I am being so richly blessed with rest right now.  I am taking so much joy in the current pace of life and in the obvious ways God is working around me everywhere.

Wish us luck on our little DR excursion (and send us prayers)! Can’t wait to tell you about it.

Adventures in School Mapping

The first week I was in Gressier, Megan and I discussed a project that she wanted me to take on this summer; a school mapping project. The idea being to map out all of the schools in town and find out some basic information about them in order to have an idea of the education situation in Gressier. I thought this sounded great as I’m prohibited from working on my research project and set to work finding a decent map of Gressier.

Turns out Google maps has a pretty good street map of town. Google blows my mind. They know EVERYTHING about EVERYWHERE, right down to mapping out the streets of some random town in Haiti. I wonder who got the job of making the Gressier map... Anyway, so I sent the map to a friend in the States who would be coming down with the team from BR who blew it up at Kinko’s and brought it to me (shoutout Holly!).

Once I got the map, I had to hit the ground running fast as there was only one official week of school left in the year. So hit the ground running I did. Each morning, I would put on my village explorer outfit (pale orange fishing shirt and khaki shorts) and a lot of sunscreen, grab some gourde for water bags and head out with Sophi to look for schools. Sophi has been an incredible translator and fellow village explorer with me. We’ve had some pretty excellent adventures and found some Gressier hotspots. We now know where the chicken-fighting arena is, all the great river laundry/bathing hotspots, found a well-stocked mini-mart by our old house, checked out the new Gressier community center, and happened upon a great little soccer field right next to the sea amongst other things.

Sophie at the new community center on the other side of town.

And, in addition to the bonus of getting to know our community a little better, we of course found schools. LOTS of schools. We visited an average of 4 per day by just happening upon them, asking people on the streets if schools were nearby, or just following kids in uniforms (not in a creepy way of course :). In a little over a week, we were able to cover most of the map. We found 21 schools and counted over 4,000 students! We also have a pretty good idea of what the average price is to go to school in the area. That is one thing that kept weighing on my mind as we visited schools – every kid in school pays to be there. Pays a considerably high price that bars many children from going. We are SO fortunate to have FREE public education in America. And don’t get me wrong, it’s a flawed system (I could expound upon that for days), but its existence is a huge feat. I’m so thankful for the ministry of Respire Haiti and Respire Haiti Christian School reaching out to children who can’t afford to go to school otherwise with a free education.

And on top of that, Respire offers a free education from solid teachers in appropriate sized classes. The variation in school conditions that we saw in Gressier was interesting. Some schools were in small, one-room churches with kids packed onto worn looking benches. Some schools had pretty nice facilities. My favorite school had classrooms built out of containers that were painted bright colors built by the Digicel Foundation. Some teachers and administrators seemed very engaged and bright, we saw others that I couldn’t help but wonder what they were even doing in a school…

Super School Mappers!

The connections that we made in the community were a great first step in getting to know the culture of education here in Gressier. We’re also hoping in the future to use this information and these connections to bring together educators in the area and facilitate their communication and learning together. 

Staycation

I’m drifting in and out of consciousness this morning as the pig family grunts next door when I realize that something is not quite right. I feel a little nauseous, but I can’t really tell whether its real or if I’m dreaming. A few minutes later I decide I should probably fully wake up and determine which is the case. Upon doing so, I realize that I really need to barf, in real life. I go into our bathroom and, ya know, but then feel a gurgle in my stomach and remember we don’t have toilet paper up here… so in search of paper and a little more privacy I race downstairs into our old bathroom. I would be ok with going into detail with what happens next but I’m not entirely sure of who you are and your comfort level with this so we’ll just suffice it to say that while on the potty I have to reach for the shower bucket to catch what is coming from my face. Wow, a bonafide double whammy. What the heck did I eat?!

So anyway, I slept a lot today and ate some crackers. Its evening and I’m feeling a lot better now. I just tried some carrots and fruit snacks with no negative results, so that’s optimistic. But I’m still sitting around the house and am bored. I figure it’s a great time for a blog post.

The last couple of days have been real treats. The big team from BR left early early Tuesday morning so we decide that Tuesday and Wednesday shall be our weekend as we worked straight through the real one. Megan, Josh, Wesley, and I go into town for the day for a bit of a staycation. Its only been, oh like 3 and a half weeks since we’ve gone to the grocery store as Josh has been away. Wesley takes us to this restaurant called Magdoo’s. I am skeptical of this place because of the name that I find to be a funny combination of Skip-Do (Megan and mine’s fave card game) and McDonalds. Turns out Magdoo’s is fabulous. So fabulous that I would like it in America. Then we go to a grocery store that I have never been to before – Giant. Or BigGigantic as I like to call it. They have a stinkin’ car garage and deli at BG! I get a quarter pound of deli-sliced turkey as I have been dreaming about turkey sandwiches on and off since arriving here. Yum. After the turkey victory, I spend most of my time trying not to cry about the prices. A box of Life costs something like $8, wahhh. So I settle for some very, very off brand honey nut O’s. I also buy a can of green beans, skim milk, and some cheese. Pretty exciting stuff there. Following BG, we head to this place called the View. It has a great view (go figure) of PAP, Petionville and nearby towns surrounding the bay. And, more importantly, it has sushi. Yep, I totally forgot where I was for awhile. Magnificent.

The car trip home is fun thanks to listening to “Call Me Maybe” for the 50^th time on this cool CD I made for us and two anonymous people in the car both having ridiculous gas. I spend half the time with my head out the window because the stench of Haiti smells better than what is going on in our car. There must have been a secret ingredient of beans or something in the sushi. Good times J

Yesterday, the whole team took a trip to Taino beach (the pretty, fantastic, totes beautiful beach that I went to over Christmas). It was magic, as usual. God truly gave me a day of rest. At one point, the combination of watching Megan journal, Wesley read Rohr, the jam box playing Radiohead, and the fantastic palm canopy above me sent me deep into a moment of introspection and reflection. It is the first time in a very long time I can actually remember truly relaxing and mediating on my own thoughts.

Then I decided to go for a snorkel. I have yet to snorkel in Haiti because I’m a bit of a snorkeling snob and didn’t think Haiti would have much to offer. However, right off the beach at Taino there is a 20-30 ft high reef with gorgeous fish! I felt like I was swimming in God’s aquarium and he was right there with me, happy to be with his kid enjoying his creation.

I spend a lot of time in the tension between recognizing and being sensitive to the suffering and hardship around me versus enjoying the good and beautiful things around me. It’s a delicate balance for me, especially in Haiti. There is suffering absolutely everywhere and its easy to get caught up in it and feel overwhelmed. But then sometimes, I numb myself to the jarring stuff and focus solely on the good. It is difficult to sit with two and balance them. Lately, I have been caught up in the dark, bad, and difficult. So I was very thankful for a day to truly relax and just be with the Lord, who is so good, in his beautiful creation.

So now I just have to finish kicking this stomach bug and it’ll be back to work tomorrow!

Where there is darkness...

Haiti is hard. I’ve known that. Everyone knows that the minute they step off of the plane in PAP and drive through the streets filled with chaos, burning trash, starving dogs, and sick children. The poverty and filth that you see and smell and hear are gripping. It is shocking and unreal. But since I got here about three weeks ago, the Lord has been opening my eyes to difficulty and poverty that you don’t see, smell, or hear. He has been revealing to me the dark spiritual oppression gripping this place.

Even having been here all of last summer and again in December, it wasn’t something I recognized, or was forced to recognize, all that often. But this year, it has been around every corner. My Haitian friends have been talking to me more and more about voodoo. I was making some joke about the “zombie apocalypse” happening in the States the other day and one of my friends got very serious and told me about how zombies are a big part of voodoo. Her own mother was killed because of some voodoo rite that I don’t understand. Voodoo ceremonies combine all sorts of elements of spirit worship, dark magic, possession, and sacrificing. And the religion is so blended with Christianity here, its just confusing. In this darkness, confusion and fear reign.

I had no idea just how many people practice voodoo. The CIA estimates that at least 50% of the population practices, but my friends tell me it is much more of the country. Coming from New Orleans where voodoo amounts to a kitschy way to make money off of tourists and an arena football team, I had no idea how real it is here. How very real the power is that it has over people’s lives. The stories my friends tell me of the evil they’ve personally witnessed because of voodoo are saddening and distressing. The darkness is so deep.

But it doesn’t just stop at stories; the team has personally been confronted with the ugly grip of voodoo several times recently. The man that I wrote about last week in "This is Haiti" was one stark example of the havoc generational bondage to spirit worship and oppression wreak on life.

While up on the mountain this week, on the land Respire is preparing to buy, we started to notice evidence of voodoo ceremonies – certain drawings etched into the ground, stones arranged in circles, burn marks on trees. Two nights ago, Josh drove us and the interns up to the land to pray over it. As we got out of the truck and began to walk, a man came up to us wearing a traditional African-looking robe. He spoke in Creole, then began speaking in English saying, “We are busy. You need to leave. We are busy.” Megan said something along the lines of, “Oh… Ok?” Then he told us we could come back in 30 minutes. Instead of picking a fight with a voodoo priest whose ceremony we just interrupted, the group walked the short distance to our land. As we turned to walk, I heard the sharp, unmistakable cry of an animal dying; a sacrifice.

We spent a good time after that praying over the land together, singing songs, and worshipping God - the sovereign Lord who already owns that land and is gracious enough to let us and anybody else stand upon it. The Lord who casts out all fear, dispels lies, speaks clarity into confusion, and overcomes all darkness with his light. In the presence of his Spirit on that mountain, I could rest and rejoice knowing that he is already victorious over whatever evil was happening next to us. And we were humbled by the knowledge that God loves even people calling upon other names and spirits as much as he loves us who call upon his name. And he calls us to love them as well. There is no greater weapon to wield against the enemy than Love.

Tonight, we went back to the land to pray along with the 19-person team in from Baton Rouge. Shortly after we got to the top and began to worship, people arrived to begin another voodoo ceremony. Wadley spoke with them to find out a little more about what they are up to and share with them why we were there. One of the men asked to meet with Wadley again to talk more. I’m eager for this opportunity for Wadley to speak truth and love to him.

Typically, ceremonies such as these are carried out only every so often; not as frequently as what has been going on atop Bellevue Mountain. My very dear friend Wadley, a translator for Respire and probably one of the greatest men I know, explained that the reason they are having to come back over and over again is because what they are trying to do is not working. And we do not have to be scared of them, or what they are trying to accomplish, or of any of the dark powers in this world; because, as John writes, “You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” (1 John 4:4).

I grieve the spiritual oppression of these people and the darkness in this land. The same darkness that covers any place in this world where people worship and run after things that are not God and not of God, whatever that looks like - spirits, power, wealth (cough, America), romance, anything. It only ends in emptiness and destruction. But praise God that no one is too far away, too far gone, to ever turn and receive redemption!

Where dark forces are at work, God is even more so, redeeming and reclaiming his people. Where sin increased, Grace increased all the more (Romans 5:20). This is the story of Respire Haiti. This is the story of God, in his great power, entering into the bleakest situations and bringing together some unlikely characters to bring forth hope, freedom, and LIFE. This is the story of the kingdom of God.

Please join us in praying against the strongholds of the enemy and for true FREEDOM for the people of Haiti. 

“The weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds.” 2 Corinthians 10:4

Accidents and Adventures with Auntie Katine

Josh came back from the states this morning, YAY! Everyone at the house is very excited to see him. But just as soon as he gets in, he and Megan, with Jessica and Esther in tow, have to turn around and go back into PAP to meet the giaganto team that is coming in today. I graciously (sarcasm) offer to stay behind and get Michaelle from school. I need go up the mountain anyway and check on some construction stuff for Megan and Kyle. (Oh and I don't want the black boogers that always follow my trips into town...) We’re about halfway through Kyle’s month long trip back to the states and just wish he would come back already because Megan and I are not exactly…er… construction experts. So they take off and I try to get a little work done. Instead of working however, I go over to the intern house and goof around for half an hour or so before going up the mountain with Wesley. Random side note, I saw a snake slither across the road on the way up, ew.

I check out the construction situation and pick up Micha. Then we start back towards the house flanked by two other boys from the school. Micha runs down the mountain, the boys with her, and I think its cute how they’re playing together. That child is so fast she can outrun the boys. She is SUCH an athlete, we’re marveling about it all the time. Megan wants to start a Respire softball team so Micha can put that incredible arm to use. I, of course, want a basketball team though so she can be the star point guard.

Anyway, we soon catch back up to the kiddos and I can tell this isn’t so much a playful/fun interaction anymore. They shove each other a little bit and I yell at them to stop. The boys keep talking in Creole in a tone I don’t like. But I’m paralyzed to do anything about it because I don’t know what they’re saying. It gives me such a sinking, awful feeling. All I can do is tell Micha I’m sorry that I don’t know how to defend her in Creole, sandwich myself between her and the boys, and just keep walking. We get to the highway and she grabs my hand to cross. I squeeze it tight. When we make it back onto our street, I can tell she’s crestfallen. I try to talk to her about lunch, but her little voice is shakey and sad and I can’t help but pick her up and carry her the rest of the way home because it makes me want to cry. We talk about what just happened and I tell her not to worry. We can go home and get lunch and play or rest or whatever she wants to do. And that’s exactly what we do.

Once home, we lay on the bed and wipe down our faces with some excellent “Say Yes to Cucumbers” wipes that someone left behind. Micha then lets me know that she would like cornflakes for lunch. Ew. But alright, cornflakes it is! She says she can make it herself so I let her go right ahead. She puts the cereal in a bowl, dumps milk powder on it, and THEN pumps water into the bowl. Not the traditional order, but hey… We manage to get it to a decent-ish consistency and she finishes the whole bowl just as I find leftover rice and beans in the fridge. I know what I’m having for lunch! She of course wants some too, so I heat it up and make plates for her, me, and Baby J. OMG I think this is my first mention of Baby J. His actual name is Jesulo and he is the COOLEST baby. Megan took in he and his mother, Darleen about a month ago. He was extremely sick and malnourished and they had nowhere else to go. But now he is healthy and beautiful and SUCH a happy little toddler. I love this kid.

Baby J and I playing pretty princesses!

So the three of us go out to the front balcony to have lunch. Micha and I spend half of our lunch trying to coax Baby J into sitting down and eating his r&b, but he is just interested in doing so many other things. Finally, he squats into a little perch (which is totally a normal way for a kid to sit here) and looks like he’s about to eat. Oh, but instead of eating, he just takes a big tinkle right there on the balcony!! “Katine! BABY J IS PEE-PEEING!” Yells Micha. I freak out and then we both erupt in laughter. Micha runs to the sliding door and closes it to quarantine the little stinker outside while I pull off his pee-pee undies. (I neglected to mention that this is the SECOND time he peed on the floor today. Earlier he took a tinkle in Megan’s room right next to the bed…) I throw down his wet britches and run inside to grab Wet-Ones and start wiping him down. Then I grab his undies and run out to the back balcony where Darleen is doing laundry in the yard. Micha yells down to her that Baby J just peed and needs his britches cleaned. So Darleen strolls over and I toss them down to her. She casually catches his pee-pee britches in her hand like it ain’t no thing and brings them over to wash. I try not to die laughing so I can grab the necessary supplies to clean up the puddle. Micha, the other half of operation clean-the-pee-pee takes Baby J downstairs while I soak up his pee in some napkins, half laughing and half gagging. This is so gross; ugh, children. A Clorox wipe finishes the job and Micha and I get back to our nice r&b lunch.

Michaelle and I at the zoo party. 

I really enjoy spending time with Micha. Her English is so good now that we can actually TALK to each other. Like really talk. After lunch we do some coloring and she teaches me the names of fruit in Creole. Then, unfortunately, I have to tear myself away and actually get some work done. I almost completely finish the revisions to my proposal, but we haven’t had power in 2 days so my computer dies. (Luckily power finally came on later in the evening.) I really enjoyed my afternoon with Micha though. She is a special kid and I am very proud to be her (pseudo) aunt.

The other HUGE event of the day was that the piece of wood that has been stuck inside my toe since my December trip (see blog entitled “Well That was Fast”) and has been slowly surfacing ever since finally came out this evening!! We were up worshipping on the mountain with the team when I got a little distracted for a moment picking at my toe... and, low and behold, it spit out this huge splinter! Man, that sucker took its dear sweet time exiting my body. I put it into a necklace that Sophie’s artisans made so that I can keep it forever. I just feel it’s a sentimental piece of memorabilia - a little piece of Haiti I carried around with me in Austin that just couldn’t come out until I made it back to the island. Special, no?

My Special Splinter displayed on this love necklace by Haiti's Jewels.
(Good press, eh Sophie?)

TIH

Well, there's just nothing to call this blog except for TIH (This is Haiti) - our favorite little phrase that explains all the CRAZY that goes on here and simply can't be explained any other way. 

On Saturday, I wake up and spend a little more time with these two guys, Richard and Chris, who have been staying with us this week from an organization called Loving Orphans Global (website!). They were fantastic and had such full, loving hearts. I learned a lot from them and am grateful that God crossed our paths… And that they were here for our Zoo To Do party on Friday night!  As the official fun coordinator (I think I’m about to start calling myself the cruise director) I’m planning to keep it real FUN with some theme parties this summer. I was extremely pleased with the creativity and effort put into the animal costumes for the second bash. Best of Party goes to intern Joel who dressed up as a gorilla by covering himself head-to-toe in mud. SO good. Bravo!

Anyway, Chris and Richard leave, which is a bit of a bummer because they are so cool. I spend half the afternoon working and half the afternoon goofing off because its Saturday and that’s what the weekend is for, right? Come evening, I go for a walk with sweet intern, Hannah. We walk up to the top of a hill to a slab (earthquake leftovers) where I’ve gone in the past to watch the sun set over the Caribbean. As we walk out on the slab, I notice a new house just beyond it and see a girl playing in the backyard. She stops, gives us a puh-recious smile, and we exchange greetings before Hannah and I walk over to sit and look at the water. But before we can get in much of a chat, the little girl appears on the slab accompanied by her father. They come over and start talking to us. Hannah and I are working hard to combine our meager Creole powers to make this work, but after a few sentences, we just plumb run out of things to say. Yet the man and little girl keep staring at us and smiling; beautiful smiles. We look at each other like, “Okayyy, this is a little awkward?” kind of thinking they would go home. But they don’t. And we can’t help but smile back at them. Next thing you know, the man excitedly asks us if we would like to come over to their house and meet his wife. Of course we would like to meet your wife! So we walk the short distance home with them.

His wife greets us at the door and is also adorable and pregnant. We use our mediocre language skills to figure out that she’s six months along. I can’t help but rub her stomach and engage in some embarrassing baby talk. They have a dog named Bubby out in front of their door. He’s a bit forlorn looking, but of course I can’t help but pet him and engage in some more embarrassing baby talk with the family pet. Next thing you know, they’ve invited us into their home and are showing us wedding albums and all sorts of family photos. We are obviously having a blast.

As it begins to get dark, I tell them that we better get going. The man and precious little girl walk us out. There’s another dog at their gate which the man points out who is also a pet. I assume its friendly like Bubby and reach down to pet it. As I do so, the man grabs my hand just as the vicious thing tries to bite my hand off! I have a mini heart attack and thank him profusely for saving my hand. We’re now best friends for life. (Sorry mom, promise I don’t pet strange dogs in third world countries like, ever.) Hannah and I walk back down the hill so grateful for getting to meet and hang out with this loving family; a solid, happy family in the midst of so many broken ones. What a blessing.

When we get home, Tachi (my Haitian best friend/house mom for those who may just be tuning in) asks if I want to go down to the corner store and meet up with Bernard and his brother to hang out. I, of course, do. So Tachi and I set off along with another friend, Wesley, who is staying with us for a few weeks.  We get to the place, which is on the national highway, and grab a couple of Prestige. Bernard’s brother, Benoit, comes up and just after I greet him, we hear a sound… like something skidding over gravel. We both look over just in time to see a motorcycle sliding at a high speed on its side down the highway.

I lose my breath.

A figure tumbles along the pavement then does some sort of tuck and roll, lands on his feet, and stumbles off to the side of the road. I sharply inhale. Try to process what I just saw. Then I exclaim to Benoit, “Its ok! He got up.” Benoit replies to me, “But the other one didn’t…” And then I see him, crumpled up in the road. My head spins. I ask Benoit, “What do we do?? Is there anything we can do?” You can’t just dial 911 in Haiti and wait for the EMS to show up, there is no such thing. A crowd gathers around the man and I walk over to him as well. I figure that if he has any wounds that need attention, I can run up the road to our clinic and get supplies to clean them up at the very least. I get to a gap in the crowd with Benoit on my heels. I stand over the man, lying there on the road. Is he dead? No, he’s still breathing. I don’t see any visible wounds, but he’s completely dazed, not moving, and bleeding from the mouth, which gives me an ominous feeling. I don’t know what to do. I walk back across the road.

I walk up to Tachi just as Megan calls her and asks for me; I take the phone. I hear a note of panic in her voice as she asks me to come back to the intern house as soon as I can. A man that two of our interns met a couple of days ago as he was reportedly on the way to hang himself has come to the house. He’s acting in a very peculiar manner. He’s complaining of voices, demons telling him what to do. I tell her about the accident we just witnessed. Knowing there’s nothing I can do here, I tell her we’ll be on our way home immediately. We turn to go, and as we walk back down the highway, I throw up muddled prayers from a heart in shock – for what I’m walking away from and what I’m walking into. I feel tears shoot into my eyes and I want to lose it right there on the road. But in another instance, they’re gone. I turn back towards the accident and see a vehicle owned by a non-profit loading the man into their car. They speed off towards Leogane, presumably to the Doctors Without Boarders clinic there where you can get medical attention at this hour. Hallelujah. God picks me up and prepares me for what is next…

I get back to the house and join the rest of the team. We spend the night praying over this man. We are completely humbled before the Lord, not knowing what else to do but seek him and his Spirit. For where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (2 Cor 3:17). The spiritual oppression of this man was so tangible, but so was the power of the name of Jesus, driving back the darkness. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s a soul-rattling battle. But one that we know Christ has already won. This isn’t a one night only thing. We will continue to walk with this man, along with the church here in Gressier, through his trials, struggles, addictions – in love and community.

Sunday is a wonderful Sabbath following the chaos of Saturday. Megan and I go up the mountain and spend the morning in prayer, scripture, and fruitful discussion. Its cloudy and grey out. I don’t sweat the ENTIRE day and take a fat nap in the afternoon. Rainy days in Haiti are the cats meow. I’ve had my hair down for almost a full 28 hours or something like that – unheard of.

Today I had the most productive day I’ve had yet since arriving here. I had another great meeting with Bernard and Wadley who will be my hands and feet for the study that will be conducted in October when the students start school again. They are intelligent, attentive, and best of all enthusiastic about this research. I am praising God for them – after months of hitting just about every wall possible with this project, somebody is making this process a little easier on me. And I am thankful for the way things worked out. I would be dying right now if I had gotten here and hit the ground running with this study, racing to finish it before this Wednesday when school gets out. It hurts my head to think about. So I won’t. God is sovereign. He knew. Amen.

Team of 19 people is coming in tomorrow. Hold onto your hats folks!

First Field Trip

Today was a very exciting day for Respire Haiti Christian School – the students went on their very first FIELD TRIP! It made me think back to when I was a kid in school, some of the most memorable days I had were field trips. And its so important for kids to get out and see their world. My mom shared some horrific story with me the other day about impoverished kids in north Baton Rouge, a place that is plagued with poverty and violence. A group working with youth there asked a group of about 40 kids or so to raise their hand if they have ever seen the Mississippi River (> 5 miles away). About 5 kids raised their hands. Five. That horrified me and made so much sense at the same time. You can’t be aware of what else there is, of what possibilities are out there, unless you go see! So needless to say, I was SO excited for this little trip.

So this morning the buses are supposed to pick us up at 10 am. They of course don’t show until 10:45 since we’re way on island time here. But by 11 we have 131 kids, 4 teachers, the director of discipline, the assistant principal, the principal and several white people chaperones piled onto two buses. Destination: the National Museum of Haiti in Port au Prince. I get on a normal looking old school bus then look over back up the mountain and realize the other bus is one of those party bus extended tap-tap things, hah. I am a bit jealous. Especially after I hear that something is wrong with this bus and we will have to stop in Carrefour and switch to a different bus… Hm, it seems quite possible this bus might explode in between here and there. Before we leave, the school disciplinarian (who wears these great Men in Black shades) leads the kids in a song and prayer. That makes me feel a little bit better about the defective bus trip. I keep praying for it not to explode anyway after this prayer is finished…

And off we go! Occasionally the other bus passes us and I hear loud dance music playing and see kids laughing and waving out the window at us – they’re totally having a party on the extended tap-tap party bus. Still a little jealous. Somewhere in Mariani we have to pull over and buy water for the driver to pour under the hood of the bus, presumably to keep it from exploding. One of the kids asks Megan where we are and when she replies, “Mariani,” the kid exclaims, “Oooh! Miami!” A little further down the road we get into Carrefour and shuffle all the kids out of the potentially explosive bus onto a white and blue school bus. We take off again at a much faster clip and end up in PAP in no time. Unfortunately, in the new bus I get stuck sitting in a seat directly behind the back wheel; and soon the incredibly bad roads mixed with the incredibly bad stench of Haiti and motor oil has me feeling a bit queasy. I apologize to the kid I’m sitting with and run up towards the front of the bus and squish into a seat with some girls who are probably wondering what they did to deserve having me come sit almost on top of them. But everyone is a good sport, I don’t barf, and we make it to the museum all in one piece!

Bernard and I in front of the entrance to the museum.

Once we get there, Megan goes in to pay for everyone and I potter about the street with some of the other adults. We’re on Champ de Mars: the big street with the palace, this funky monument that looks like a space ship, and other various government buildings. Great place for sight seeing. Its after noon and I figure now is a good time for some lunch so I pull out my granola bar. Many of the kids brought lunch from home as well and happily share their spaghetti, chicken, fired plantains, picklies, etc. with one another. I try to ask a kid if he’ll share one of his fried potatoes with me, and this creeps him out. So instead I walk over to Alex and bum some plantains off him that he just bought from a street vendor.

Finally the museum is ready for us! We commence the arduous task of making the kids line up two-by-two, Noah style!, in an attempt at a buddy system. We have everyone good to go and lined up outside the door waiting for another group to exit when the OCD museum security guard comes over and tells us to line up our pairs in height order. And he means EXACT height order. So we scramble the kids around and have everyone looking sharp in an ascending line. Then! Drum role please… We ENTER.

I run to the front of the line and lead them in because I’m probably more excited than half of them. The museum is actually much nicer than I expect inside with marble floors, nice lighting, and, get this, air conditioning. Several kids are very confused as to why its so cold in here and keep asking the chaperones. The OCD security guard catches up with us inside and literally grabs each child to line them up exactly as he sees fit. And after taking several minutes to do so, we are met by our lovely tour guide. She obviously speaks Creole to the kids and all of the plaques are in French, so I really don’t know what’s going on. I follow Bernard around and try to get him to summarize everything she is saying for me. Once I learn that the giant thing we’re standing in front of is actually the tomb of Toussaint L’overture and Jean Jacque Dessalines, I am SO excited! Apparently Haiti went over to France and had to ask for Toussaint’s bones back… and France was like, “Uh, sure. You can have him.” So now you can see his tomb at Haiti’s museum. COOL.

The museum tells the story of Haiti’s history. The exhibit following the tomb is of all sorts of artifacts from the Indians that inhabited Hispaniola before the Spanish showed up and wrecked everything. Speaking of Spaniards, the next exhibit was about Christopher Columbus, and get this yo, they had the ACTUAL anchor from the SANTA MARIA in the museum!! I flip out! THE Santa Maria, as in the Nina, the Pinta, and Santa Maria. (The Nina was always my favorite as a child because I thought it had the prettiest name). Next was an exhibit on the slave ships that brought over Africans to harvest sugar cane. Then came exhibits on the revolution. They had Petion’s (as in Petionville) drum on display, which I think is super cool but then learn it was his voodoo drum to summon spirits with. This creeps me out a little bit. They say the revolutionaries made a deal with the devil to gain Haiti’s independence. The country was founded on slavery and voodoo and you can still see the ugly scars of these things today – violence, cruelty, darkness, death, spiritual bondage. The nation’s dark history helps to make so much sense of its current situation. I am given so much to think about at the museum and learn a lot! And I have to say, the kids are so, so well behaved on this trip. We were all extremely proud of them!!

After our tour wraps up, we head back out to the street. Bernard, one of the interns Amanda, and I walk over to the palace to take some pictures while we wait for the other group to finish their tour. The palace is such an eerie reminder of the total destruction of the earthquake touching every part of this place from the bottom to the very top.

Once everyone is back on the street, we pile back into the buses. I make a beeline for the very front seat determined not to get carsick this time. I settle into my seat and before you know it, am totally passed out with my mouth open. Probably caught some flies and ate a lot of dust…  I wake up somewhere on the edge of PAP going into Carrefour to the sound of our driver obnoxiously blaring the horn which sounds like some big rig honking. We’ve gotten into some sort of traffic jam, big surprise (not). I look down and realize the bus horn sounds when he mashes these two bare-ended wires together that shoot sparks out when they touch. I stare at him doing this for awhile, totally entertained by the way people rig things up on cars here and the fact that he’s probably shocking himself every time he honks at someone. Oh Haiti.

We get home sometime later all in one piece, and by the grace of God, with no missing children! Woohoo! Respire Haiti Christian School’s first field trip was a smashing success indeed. 

Readjust

There comes a moment in every day when I think to myself, “MUST shower NOW or will not make it.”  That moment came early today. And after my luke-warm, trickle-when-necessary shower had taken off the caked on layers of dirt and sweat, I sat in front of two fans and let them cool/dry me off (because we finally got power after the sun set).  It was marvelous and I now feel ready to write.

Things have been going pretty smashingly here. I am really enjoying my time with Megan and the girls. Yesterday was some holiday. Megan kept saying it was Father’s Day, but Bernard said later is was God’s Day. Maybe it was God the Father’s Day or something… anyway the workers were off and school was out.  So after the AWESOME 147 Million Orphans team left yesterday (sadly), we declared a day of rest. What that ended up equaling was a huge dance party kicked off by a thriller lesson (since I just learned the dance on the cruise last week) followed by the creation of several excellent dance videos, including us doing The Wobble. That night, Megan and I enjoyed a YouTube binge that turned into us watching several episodes of TLC’s My Strange Addiction, featuring people addicted to eating nail polish, baby powder, and eating tape… Makes our life feel more normal I guess ha.

When I got in bed that night, I realized what the hardest thing has been for me to readjust to: sleeping in Haiti. Its 5 million degrees and the power was off so I had no fan; imagine trying to sleep in a puddle of your sweat. Then there are all the ridiculous neighborhood noises. Last night was real heavy on animal sounds: dogs howling everywhere, huge frogs, the family of pigs next door occasionally grunting obnoxiously, and after midnight the dumb/confused roosters start making horrific crowing sounds. There are some chickens that live in our garden and they sometimes wander into our backyard. So in the morning I heard COCKADOODLEDERRAhererrr in stereophonic sound. Really, it’s a nasty screech that doesn’t end well. Oh and a bug had gotten under my mosquito net and would occasionally buzz around my ear until I would start smacking the side of my head in hopes of killing it… I don’t think I got it. Then in the morning, the blinding, burning sun never fails to wake me, and cause me to reach for the nearest pillow, sheet, towel, etc. to put on my face to try and block it out. Sadly, I lost my cute little face mask from last year.  Oh well TIH, I adjusted last year and I will this year too. You just stop hearing it eventually and are so tired it doesn’t matter anyway. Otherwise I feel like I'm adjusting just fine. 

I taught my first adult English class of the year with Bernard today. A lot of my old students were there and it was GREAT to see them. The classes have become a lot more structured now and are pay-to-attend (very small fee) and the students are doing really well.  There are two sections; one for beginners and one for more advanced, which is marvelous. The two official teachers arrived late for the lessons today because JimmyNet was slow making copies (I think I may have mentioned before that JimmyNet is an internet café that has no internet. But Jimmy does have copy machines and printers and such. Well update: he moved to a new location now so I think mayyybe he has internet! I will have to inspect this soon.) So I knew that I needed to come up with something to entertain the students. Instead of making the crowded room play Simon Says as I normally would do, I had one of the interns, Joel dance for them. Joel is a hilarious and top-notch dancer and taught one of the brave student volunteers how to two-step, much to everyone’s delight. Then the lesson happened and it was great because I was able to do a little reverse learning of Creole. The students took a test that Bernard made up at the end of class. I looked over them and they did really well J My favorite question was the last one that instructed, “Talk about yourself. Use five lines.” I think my favorite response was something about “I’m 2 sisters. I’m 4 uncles…” But no really, most everyone did well! I’m excited to be working with these great students again in the beautiful new school. Man, it beats the heck outta trying to teach in that one room church building, aka people oven. I’ll try to post pictures as soon as I can!

Back on the Island

Helloooo from Haiti, or bon swa rather. Not too terribly much has gone on yet but I figured I’d get the ball rolling so you (mostly Grandma :) would know I got here safe and sound on Monday after a pleasantly uneventful trip. The miracles were starting early - it was the first time all of my flights have been on time in years. I just got back from a cruise to Central America the day before and while I planned for this cruise to be a time of rest and relaxation, in true Kathryn-form, I just had a lot of fun and didn’t sleep much. So I had this incredible sore throat for the trip.

In the Miami airport, I met up with two other girls who will be interning at Respire for the summer, Sam and Hannah. They probably thought I was quite strange because of the frog-man voice I get when I have a sore throat coupled with the fact that I was rapidly spooning miso soup into my mouth at 9 in the morning to soothe it. I’m such a star at first impressions.

We land in PAP and go through the janky airport to the board the bus that takes you to the shed where the luggage carousel is (but I did see construction work going on for the first time in the main building that had to be abandoned after the earthquake!). After I walk through customs, I immediately hear someone calling my name. I look over and there is our bodyguard from last summer working security at the airport! I am very excited to see a friend straight away. Megan and Josh are waiting for us in the truck and we get all the luggage inside unmolested by the dozens of guys outside the airport trying to carry your bags for you thanks to another friend of ours. And off we go to Gressier.

Maybe its just because I am feeling tired or sick, but I realize after we’re past Carrefour that I’m no longer glued to the window like I was my first trip. Haiti really is starting to feel so normal to me. It is SO nice to see everyone at the house again and the girls have grown up so much even in six months. They listen better, get along better, play more and whine less. And, get this, Michaelle can SPEAK ENGLISH! And Jessica can to a small extent as well. It’s a whole new world of being a quasi-auntie that I am loving!

When I get to the house there is a huge team there and tons of new interns. Oh and we now rent a house that backs up to our big white one and the two are connected by a beautiful garden path designed by our very own Kyle the Builder. I catch up with Bret, a friend from BR who is in with the team for a while, eat a delicious rice and bean dinner (commence the weight gain), and then take some Tylenol PM and knock out. And because I am sick and exhausted and feeling a bit overwhelmed by so many new people in my familiar environment, I sleep for about 13 hours. Kyle and Josh both fly out for the states while I’m snoozing; Josh returns in two weeks and Kyle will be gone until July. When I finally wake up for good the next afternoon, it is to tell the team goodbye and I no longer have a sore throat! Right as their school bus is pulling out, a short bus is pulling in. Another team is here.

The new team is only staying for two nights and its this group of five women from Tennessee representing an organization called 147 Million Orphans (147millionorphans.com). They are super cool and have been a great official first team to have – a bunch of loving, encouraging moms.

Me with the LOVELY ladies of 147 Million Orphans.

This afternoon, we go to an organization in a neighboring town today called My Life Speaks. They have a ton of cool things going on with the main focus of keeping families together. (Yay anti-orphanage approaches!) Their mom’s and babies program is in full swing while we’re there. A lot of moms from the village are in for a small medical clinic for their babies coupled with a health lesson, and some formula. Hannah puts a baby in my lap and I actually really take to this kid. I also have the song Miss New Booty stuck in my head, so I decide to call her Miss New Booty and proceed to rap to her. Hannah comes by later and says, “Most people sing lullabies to their babies…” Ha. Anyway, I’m excited to hear more about this organization in the future and to write a post about ALLLL the changes going on around here. Crazy! (as usual.)

The End is Never the End: Case in Point.

I'm in the process of cleaning up/out my apartment today as I will be moving out for the summer next week. So I'm bopping around my room to some tunes going through the agonizing process of deciding which pieces of my precious junk should be thrown out and which should actually be kept, when I hear my phone ring. I run to grab it and see some 512 number I don't recognize. This always scares me a little because an unknown 512 number always means business. I answer it in my business voice and its some guy from the IRB asking me questions about my proposal. Oh crud, I haven't brought myself to call Dr. F yet and figure out what we're going to do with the proposal now that the travel request has been denied. Guess I'll just fake like this thing is still happening... so I talk to him for a bit. When I hang up with him I notice I have a missed call and voicemail from Dr. F.

I call voicemail and the lady greets me and tells me I have, "one unheard message. Message one..." As I listen I try not to wet my pants. I cannot believe what I'm hearing! Dr. F tells me I need to try and appeal the IOC decision (and I'm like, yea right)... and that this thing can still happen, call her ASAP. (OMG)

So I take two deep breaths and call her. She has been talking to IRB folks and my proposal can and WILL still be reviewed on Monday. Without the university's permission to travel, I can't go and do the research as we had initially planned methodologically, BUT, it is still eligible to get conditionally approved. And Dr. F has come up w/some ways to potentially tweak the methodology that would still get us the data, I just wouldn't physically be there collecting it. For instance, I could interview kids over Skype, or set up a survey online and have people on site help administer it to the kids after I'm gone.

There are still too many variables up in the air to say what is going to happen, but I do know this: ITS STILL ALIVE!! And to be able to say that after all that has happened has removed every last bit of doubt and anger that has plagued me since receiving the denial letter last week. Someway, somehow, something is going to come of this. Who knows what, but something will. And it will be good.

I am filled with joy to be celebrating the little resurrection of this project! It is an abundantly beautiful truth that the end is NEVER the end when you serve a risen Lord. All glory to him who is faithful! I know there will probably be plenty more frustration and setbacks (ha, especially if the last few months have been any indication), but he is faithful. Faithful faithful faithful faithful! WOO just wanna sing it, dance it out with me yall!

So to review: I will be "appealing" the IOC's denial of my travel proposal (more like inventing an appeal process since no one has ever done it before). My research proposal will be reviewed by the IRB on Monday (I will probably be given several changes to make and then be granted full approval in June*), and I leave Austin that day. I fly to Haiti June 4. THANK YOU for your continued support and prayers on all of these things, they are why this thing is still going.

*you know, hopefully. again, who knows...

The End is Never the End

I do not want to write this blog. It’s hard to talk about failure, efforts that come up short, things that don’t work out. After a long, hard semester, my proposed research in Haiti is one of those things. A few days ago I got an email from the International Oversight Committee with a very generic letter attached to it denying my request to travel there as an affiliate of the university because they have designated it a “category 1 (most extreme risk) restricted region.” Other category 1 restricted regions include Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, North Korea, the Gaza Strip, Somalia, Sudan, and Yemen… (One of these things is not like the other one?)

I, after all of this, was not about to take no for an answer. But after talking to all of the people I know who could potentially help me, I think its actually done this time. There is no appeals process. The IOC board members are very high up in the system. I was able to get the contact info for the board chair after barging into someone’s office yesterday unannounced, but I’m not feeling optimistic about it. I can’t meet with her, I was only invited to “write” her if I have any questions. The bureaucracy doesn’t know me, it doesn’t care.

So that means I will not be able to conduct research on the students at Respire Haiti Christian School, research targeted at helping the most vulnerable students and restaveks. I will not get data that will help us identify barriers to their education and subsequently develop programs and policies to mitigate those barriers. I will not get data that can be used to get grants, educate more people on the restavek problem, or advocate for these students.

Man, what can I say? I did all I could do. I’m trying not to have regrets about all the work that was done or harbor bitter feelings about it because I know that won’t do me any good. But now I’m feeling so directionless; like my purpose has been taken from me and replaced with a hazy confusion.

I am still going to Haiti. I will fly out June 4. Not sure what I will be doing there but I’m clinging to the belief that it will be something useful. Because I do yet have a purpose that cannot be taken from me: to fight against oppression, slavery, and injustice. What that looks like now though has become a whole lot less clear.

Praying for grace. Praying for guidance.  

Thank you for the continued love and support, it has kept me going. It will keep me going and great things are to be accomplished yet in the name of Jesus for justice for these people. After all, the end is never the end in Christ.