Research.

After I wrote that last blog post and I knew I would be going back to Haiti in the summer, I found myself tasked with determining what exactly I meant by returning to “work at Respire in a social work capacity.” I began talking to some of my professors about what that could look like and the answer that emerged was research. Yes, research. The very same thing that I whined about all through undergrad working in the psych lab. The reason I thought I could never put myself through a Ph.D. program. The bane of my existence while taking various required research courses… And so that is what I have been doing this semester (when I haven’t been studying or dealing with various client crises of course).

Let me explain a little bit about this process. There is this board at all major research institutions (and maybe some minor ones as well…) called the Institutional Review Board (IRB). You have to write a big formal proposal in which you talk about your study, do a lot of background research on it, talk about you’re target participants and all the ways you could potentially cause them psychological harm and how you're going to fix that, etc. You also must draft complicated consent forms and procedures, design a research instrument, and think about how you’re going to handle your data. Then when you think you’ve covered every single base and angle that could possibly exist, you submit your proposal to the IRB. And then you wait, and a month later or so, they say, “Yes, you can do this research after you make a million revisions to your proposal,” or “No, you can’t do the research even though you spent forever working to get to this point.” I am scared to death of the IRB.

So I was like, “Research! Alright, let’s do this!” And then I realized, I do not know what in the world I am doing. No clue. So immediately from the get-go I was forced into this spot of surrender. I knew I couldn’t do it; it would take a miracle. I would pray about it and be like, “Ha, ok God, I don’t know what I’m doing… its all you man.” The first time I met with Dr. F, the (widely published) professor who, for some completely unknown reason, agreed to sponsor my research she looked at me like, “What are you even doing in my office?” She asked me a thousand questions that I couldn’t answer. And the second time I went back thinking I was slightly more prepared, she tore up the ideas I brought to the table.

Finally spring break happened and I had a solid block of time to dive into this proposal. I spent everyday in the library for hours researching and refining my plans. Megan and I had spent a lot of time talking about it and I knew the project would center around collecting data on restavek children. A restavek is an “unpaid child servant living and working away from home.” Parents who can’t take care of a child send them to live with other families as a domestic servant in hopes that the child will have her basic needs met and the chance to go to school. Often these hopes are not realized and the child simply becomes a slave living in a distance relative or stranger’s home, doing all of the household work. A majority of the students in the school are restavek children, getting an education for the first time because they don’t have to worry about school fees or paying for a uniform.

I decided that I would conduct an exploratory study of the student population to learn more about common characteristics and experiences of children in the school. The goals of the study being: improve service provision to the children to enhance their educational and life outcomes, guide future program development, and get hard data on this population for advocacy purposes. I developed a structured interview to conduct individually with students at the school containing questions aimed at uncovering barriers and difficulties associated with the restavek experience.

The week after spring break, I nervously awaited meeting with Dr. F again. Anxiously, I went back into her office with all of the work I had done over the break. I expected her once again to tear it apart, just like the IRB would do. But instead, I was greeted with words like, “This is really good,” and, “Wow, you worked really hard on this.”
I felt like someone rolled a rock off of my chest. They were some of the best words I ever heard. If Dr. F thought this was good, maybe the IRB would think it was good too! This MIGHT actually work…

Everything continued along smashingly. I still sometimes thought I was completely crazy for taking this on, but I guess crazy is just how I've always operated. I made my final edits to all of my documents this past Sunday and met with Dr. F again today to final-finalize it before the deadline tomorrow, April 6 – aka what I have considered to be D-Day for several months now; and I was sittin’ pretty. I even got tickets to the Hornets v. Spurs game tomorrow night and had a great trip planned to celebrate finally turning in this stinkin’ thing.

But when I walked into Dr. F’s office, she immediately starting talking fast in a tone similar to the one she used at our first meeting and I knew something was wrong. It’s very weird that this all developed in the last week after I’ve worked on this proposal for an entire semester… but to make a long story short, it came to our attention that UT’s study abroad office has Haiti listed as a "category 3 restricted region" because traveling there is “extremely dangerous,” and heavily restricted by the university. And I have to get some kind of approval that will be tough to get because if I die or something, the school doesn’t want to deal with people saying, “Why did you even let students go there and do research in the first place?? Fools.” Which I get, but seriously, all of the dangerous/bad things happening to American citizens in Haiti probably happen to American citizens on a more regular basis in New Orleans… Anyway, after my denial turned to spouting clever ideas about how to get around whatever approval I needed, Dr. F was like, “Look, we can’t turn this in tomorrow. What do you want to do?” I was reeling. I was trying not to cry, and I wanted to vomit… and I told her as much. She kind of looked like she wanted to cry too but managed to laugh at my honesty. She then offered to run upstairs and ask the head of the social work research center her opinion on the matter. “Ok, back in 15!” she said as she ran out the door.

I went out into the room outside her office and plopped into a chair while the fate of my 50+ hours of work, blood, sweat, tears, anxiety, my very heart, was decided. I began praying my go-to prayer in Haiti when I see things I can't handle – Oh God… Oh God… Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God. Then I heard my practice professor’s voice across the hall. I ran across the hall to her office because clearly, I couldn’t just sit alone while this was all happening. I tried to catch my breath and tell her what happened while fighting the tears with all my might. It could all be over in a matter of minutes. All that time and energy lost. But that didn’t hurt nearly as bad as possibility of losing the data that could be collected. The data that could be used for so much good. I also told my practice professor that I wanted to vomit and she offered to get me a bucket, ha.

A very LONG 15 minutes later, I walked back over to Dr. F’s office. She turned around in her important looking swivel desk chair in slow motion, like the bad guys in movies. And she was smiling? The social work research center lady said something along the lines of, “Yea maybe this could work… try for May submission.” So Dr. F was very excited that the study wasn’t dead in the water. I, on the other hand, continued to feel nauseous. To make another long story short, in spite of my high hopes, hard work, and quality research proposal, I will not be turning it in tomorrow. I will miss the April IRB deadline. Instead, during April – aka the month-long term paper and exam extravaganza – I will be fighting the terrifically large and scary bureaucracy that is UT in and effort to convince the right (and probably inaccessible) people that I need to do this and they should clear me to go. Mission: impossible.

After Dr. F and I wrapped up this disaster of a meeting during which I feel like the whole damn sky fell on my head, I walked out to my car. I got inside, plunked my head on the steering wheel, and bawled like a baby. I wept with complete abandon for the first time since I had surgery done on my leg in our bedroom in Gressier without any anesthesia… the very picture of pathetic and defeated. Ugh.

I went to a seder supper tonight and great deal of the symbolism had to do with contrasting slavery and freedom. I felt God telling me that I have to keep fighting slavery, have to keep fighting for freedom. And so I will. I guess I told this whole story (thanks, if you're still reading it) to just say, I need your help. The odds are completely against me, but I guess they were from the start. I never had any illusions about being able to pull this project off by myself… I just want to humbly ask you to pray for some kind of miracle to happen, for this research to happen. For me to have faith in the face of rejection, should it not happen. And for freedom. Freedom for the trafficked and those held by the chains of oppression, freedom for people enslaved to money or drugs or an idea of beauty, freedom for the restavek children in Haiti.

Heartbroken Yet Hopeful

(I read the following reflection from a man working in Haiti during the 2010 earthquake in a newsletter update from the Methodist church on their Haiti Response Plan.)
"An event of this sort raises some of the most difficult theological questions. Why certain things happen. In certain places. To certain people. Why some live, and why some don't. Each of us around the table weighed in with our own particular perspective and understanding of the experience but in the end Jim summed up his thoughts: "Those of us who lived have a responsibility to do something with our lives."

Now that I have seen what I have seen firsthand and been alongside the suffering of people in Haiti, I cannot ignore it. I cannot be unmoved. I can't go around pretending that things like the clothes I wear, the size of my apartment, or what people think of me is important when I know people that don't have the luxury of these worries; and indeed have far worse things to worry about. I have a responsibility.

A day doesn't go by that I don't wish I was back there. My heart is so full for the children at the new school, all the children that don't get to go to school yet, the restaveks, my friends that have dedicated themselves to the difficult work there, all of the people I've seen and know enduring long, hard suffering. Today my heart is just a little heavier on the 2nd anniversary of the devastating earthquake that killed 220,000 people and left innumerable people without homes. Any sort of recovery has been slow - and that's a very euphemistic way of putting it. Today I am heartbroken for these people, today I am heartbroken that I am not there.

But today I also have hope. Although I have seen immense destruction and suffering, I have also seen perseverance, renewal, and even joy rise up from the rubble left behind by this earthquake. I have seen the Lord at work in this place and because of his presence and undeniable love for his people, we can have hope beyond hope even in the most hopeless of places. Ephesians 3:20 talks about a God who is able to do "immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power at work within us." And I believe that because I've seen him do it. A year ago nobody at Respire Haiti (i.e. only Megan at the time) knew there was going to be a beautiful school built on top of Bellvue mountain that would educate over 300 children (and counting), the majority of whom are restaveks that have never had to opportunity to attend school before. Nobody could've even imagined that would happen. And nobody would have believed it would happen in, oh, just about 7 months. That's God's power at work within us and it is accomplishing more than we ever dreamed.

To have been a part of this is WAY beyond anything I could've asked for or imagined and certainly much better. I may not be down there now, but I am in school getting my Masters in Social Work here in Austin. The things that I'm learning in school are building my skill set to be able to do even more and I'm planning to return to Haiti this summer to work at Respire in a social work capacity.

I would love for you to be a part of my journey! And need you. Please pray for me as I work to set this trip up, please pray for the mission of Respire and for the people of Haiti. And... I'll be needing a bit of money to make this happen, so if you are interested in helping financially, please email me at kdavis822@gmail.com. Thank you for all of your continued love and support, nothing I do is possible without it!

CNN article on Haiti two years after the earthquake: http://www.cnn.com/2012/01/12/world/americas/haiti-two-years-later/index.html?hpt=hp_bn2
Check out www.respirehaiti.org to learn more about Respire Haiti!

Well, That Was Fast..

On Tuesday, my last day in Haiti, I wake up a bit early and can hear the sound of a school bus waiting outside of our gate. It has come to pick up the team that has been staying with us for the past week. We go and say our goodbyes and they’re off to the airport. I have a bowl of oatmeal and my morning cup of tea and find myself feeling surprisingly energized and ready to go. So earlier than we’ve left the house all week Megan, Josh, Trevor, and I go up to the school to do a little painting in the classroom that Megs and me started on yesterday.

The scaffolding guys built some pretty rockstar scaffolding for us to climb around on. And as we’re painting the walls a nice cream/egg shelly color (and kind of making a huge mess, oops), it starts to hit me that I’m leaving tomorrow. Ugh. This happened too fast, I just got here. I whine a little bit about it out loud and Josh says, “Oh no, you can’t get the future sads.” But I totally have the future sads. They make me get upset and I yell at Megan for something unimportant, like the way she’s painting. She yells back at me about getting the underside of the crown molding or whatever. Hmph.

I scuttle around touching up different places on the walls kind of dancing to whatever music we have playing through the jam box, not looking where I’m going. When all of a sudden… SMACK! I kick the living beetle juice out of this janky plank of wood that’s lying on the ground. I can tell I’ve done some major damage and immediately start screaming and jumping around before running out of the room hootin’ and hollerin’. I’m bleeding and all the workers start coming to see what’s going on. I yell at them to go away and then am herded back in the room so Megan can assess the damage in peace. Turns out I lodged this giant splinter, nay, stick, in my fourth toe. Megan holds down my other toes while Josh tries to pull it out, but it won’t come. I hold onto Bernard and yell lots of jibberish to avoid uttering excessive profanities. Finally after much anguish it gets dislodged. Megan says to me, “That’s why Kyle says ‘you have to wear closed toed shoes on the job site!’ Don’t tell him, ha.” What kind of trip to Haiti would it be though if I didn’t injure myself or have to have some kind of impromptu surgery? I am such a winner.

Not too long after, the paint job is just about finished up and Megan and me start off for home so I can take some IB profen. We walk down the mountain via the scenic route and soon happen upon this sad little goat bahhing pathetically. He has managed to wrap the rope tied on his neck around a sapling several times putting him on a very short leash. Immediately we set to work trying to free the poor guy. We try pushing his rear in the direction we want him to go, enticing him with leaves, yelling at him in Creole, etc., but he’s pretty dumb. Eventually, I have pick him up and toss him around the tree a few times while Megan hangs back for fear that he’s going to stab her with his horns. But soon we free him! Yay! We figure its some of the most important work we’ve done in Haiti, ha.

At home we have some leftover rice and beans for lunch and then the boys show back up. Since its my last day, we decide to take a little trip to the pretty beach in Grand Guave. That’s probably spelled wrong. Anyway, we all pile into the truck and fire up the jam box for an instant dance party. A little ways down the road, however, we run into some traffic. A crowd is gathered around the road gawking at something. We figure this is bad and cover the girl’s eyes. As we get closer, we see that its worse than any of us expected. There’s a body lying in the middle of the national highway with a fresh river of blood pouring from it and a couple of wrecked motorcycles nearby. The car falls silent as we deal each deal with the ugly side of Haiti in our own heads. The side of the highway holds several reminders of just how dangerous it is for motorists and pedestrians… Sometimes the bodies stay there for hours and hours before anybody comes to remove them.

Further down the road, we slowly start making attempts at conversation again to lift the heaviness. And soon we make it to the beach. It is simply magnificent, we are the only people there. Before I came down to Haiti, I bought several pairs of Christmas reindeer antlers and a Santa hat with the intention of making everyone take family Christmas photos. So before anyone can go get wet or sandy I make everyone pose on the beach. The pictures are PRECIOUS.

Then I go for a swim. As I float around in the gorgeous Caribbean on this warm December day, there is absolutely nowhere else in the world I would rather be. I feel perfectly peaceful, totally thankful. I never want to leave. We spend the rest of the afternoon recuperating from the week and having fun until the sun dips to the horizon making the sky look like cotton candy.

On the drive home, we sing along to NSYNC while the girls fall asleep in our laps and drool on us. At home we have another delicious meal of rice and beans. The internet has been out all week (along with the generator and our running water…) but Bernard brought us a Natcom internet stick and we can get online! We have a housewide skype call with Kyle because we all miss him tons and catch him up on everything going on up at the school. Then Bernard calls Josh and asks if we want to go hang out with him down the street… hm this could be fun.

Josh and I head out to this store that’s basically a shed on the side of the highway with a beer fridge, one or two lights, a very loud sound system blaring various rap songs, and a few folding chairs set up outside. As we walk across the street, Josh says, “Dude Kat, we’re like going out in Haiti.” I think to myself that we must be some pretty cool white folks J. We meet Bernard and his brother Benoit who pull up chairs for us and buy a round of Prestige for everyone. Mangy but cute animals come up and hang out with us. We spend the next few hours talking and laughing while obnoxious music blares out into the darkness.

Benoit keeps disappearing and coming back with go-boxes full of Haitian bbq, which is delicious, but also a bit suspicious in my eyes because I’m incredibly picky about only consuming boneless, skinless, white meat chicken. Haitians, however, eat the whole chicken. I mean the WHOLE thing. I’ve watched the girls gnaw on plenty of bones in my time and the guys I’m with tonight are doing the same thing. I try not to gag as I watch them. Soon Josh is like oh relax Kathryn, and starts munching on a bone. He claims that its delicious. I don’t believe him and turn up my nose. But soon everyone is picking on me and, after awhile, they convince me to try it… I am so disgusted writing this right now, but I actually bite into a bone and suck out some of the marrow. And… its not actually that bad… But I will never do it again. The adventure continues as nature calls and I have to run around back to use the Haitian restroom. I’ve had to do that a lot this week- its always pretty exciting. Then we finish our Prestige and its time to go home. The highway is emptier than I’ve ever seen it and the sky is absolutely brilliant, jam packed with more stars than any American would ever know existed.

At home I snuggiewuggles up to my bff in our bed and am just thankful, thankful, thankful. Thankful that Megan answered God’s call and has been living in Haiti just about a year now. Thankful that the first phase of a school for over 350 kids, the majority of whom are child slaves, is almost finished up on the mountain. Thankful that Megan has two beautiful girls sleeping in their beds across from us. Thankful that God brought together the people that he did to do his work here and that he pulled me into this big adventure that has surpassed my wildest dreams. And then, I drift off to sleep one more night in Haiti.

Homecoming

I’m back! And the blog clearly needs to be updated. I sat down yesterday and tried to start writing, but I waited too long and too much has already happened and I’ve been tripping over where to start. Suffice it to say that coming to Haiti has felt like nothing short of a glorious homecoming. From getting off the plane and walking into the airport that is collapsing around you to the warehouse where you pick up your baggage on the “luggage carousel” and into a beat up tap-tap to drive through the pure chaos that is Port au Prince. I love it here. It literally feels like I never left.

But I did leave. And while I was busy working at grad school a few things changed:

• · Son of God orphanage CLOSED!
• · We got a CAR!
• · Thorston moved
  out and so we now have the top floor of the house while groups are able to stay on the bottom floor.
• · We now have a stove and a fridge. Winning.
• · Megan adopted Michaelle’s sister, Jessica.
• · The first building of the school is so close to being completed!
• · I finished a quarter of grad school (!?!)

But even so, it feels like I never left. Coming back to all the people I love here is coming home. I could rage on and on about everybody here. Actually, I feel like that’s what I spend most of my time doing.

Anyway, so the past few days: I’ve been going up to the school construction site on the mountain with KTB (Kyle the Builder in case you forgot) a whole lot; not because I’m useful in any tangible way, but because everybody needs a cheerleader, right? So I’ve been trying to run around a lot and say hi to all the workers, tell them good job, and occasionally burst into a song and dance for their amusement.

Maybe that’s good for productivity or something. And I love doing it. I love seeing them smile, even if its just because they’re making fun of the crazy white girl. I’m more proud than I can say of Kyle, Bernard, and everyone who has been working hard at the site day in and day out. The school looks incredible and is going to make a huge difference in so many lives here in Gressier… it already has.

Unfortunately, KTB had to leave us yesterday. The night before we all stayed up talking and laughing late into the night until everyone fell asleep one by one – the boys first and then Megan did that thing where she is talking and then falls asleep mid sentence and starts twitching. I stayed awake for a while after filled with joy and thanking God that I was in that exact place and time with these people I love so much. That was also the first night I’ve been really cold here. I went to sleep with pants on and actually felt really snuggly under the covers – a first for me in Haiti.

But then the sun rose all too quickly and we were off to the airport for a very miserable goodbye. I was glad to have Josh to talk to the whole way home and I don’t remember much else about the day except for taking a very intense nap, being sad, and going to the chicken coop orphanage at LaColline with the team that got in a few days ago.

Since then, I’ve appointed myself the unofficial deputy builder replacement. I’m not Kyle, nor do I know what I’m doing, but I’ve got spunk darnit. So I’ve gone up to the mountain the past couple of days to see how things are coming along, sing songs, say hi to everyone, look important, etc. Yesterday I pottered around for a bit before measuring the cistern they’re digging by the future kindergarten wing. It was at 7 feet and needs to be at 9 by Saturday and I made sure to tell everyone that. They thought I was funny. I’m not sure anyone takes me very seriously… hmm. Anyway, I was super pumped that they finished the first classroom! Then today when I went up for roll call I was very pleased to see the cistern was at 8.5 feet and will totally be finished by tomorrow. The guy doing the floors stayed a whole hour extra to finish the second classroom, yay! I made sure to sing him lots of song and make the children I was playing with clap very loudly for him when it was finally finished. So, basically I’ve had a fabulous time being the unofficial deputy builder.

Other notables from the past week: right after getting here we went to the orphanage where the girls from Son of God are now living. I’m pleased to say they look SO much better! Big improvement. We took a day to go to the beach… they found a new beach while I was gone that is grrreat. We ate freshly caught lobster and you can actually see the bottom there. And having a car is the greatest thing of all time. Woot! More to come...

Home Again

Well, my Haitian summer has come to an end. I left a day early to avoid getting stuck due to Emily coming our way. That day was crazy. I woke up and packed furiously because a car was supposed to come at 9 to take me to the airport. Turns out the car didn't show up until close to noon. My flight wasn't until 4:15, but I was still panicking. I can't remember the last time I've been that nervous. I think it was nerves on top of just being upset; being so ready to just go because I knew I had to, but never wanting to leave.

Megan had to leave at 8 and we said a pretty quick goodbye so that our bleary eyes didn't turn into big tears. Well, mine turned into big tears after she and Michaelle walked out the door to take the new team to go work. Then Kyle had to leave to go up to the mountain and do builder things. Another awful goodbye. Tashi and Cullen stayed with me and kept me from going off the edge. The driver finally showed up and I breathed the most massive sigh of relief (although I have to admit I wasn't confident that the car wasn't going to break down or something). We made one more trip into PAP passing places I feel like I've been going by for years now.

I made it through airport security pretty quickly and then went and sat and wrote in my journal and played sudoku puzzles for 2 hours before learning that my flight had been delayed. I then spent 2 more hours doing much the same thing. It was just hard to think about what was going on. It was hard to have my heart hit the floor over and over again when I did think about what was going on.

On the flight I had air conditioning, a beef quesadilla, salad, warm cookie, a toilet that you could flush toilet paper down, and tv. I was very freaked out and annoyed to step out of the PAP airport and be launched, not the least bit gently, headlong into the first world. And the last few days, much the same as our quick trip earlier in the month, have just been weird. But different because I don't have Megan here to process with me and just sad because I don't know when I'm going to get back to Haiti. I feel like I'm living half there and half here. Sometimes being here is effortless because this is what I've grown up with and done my whole life. Other times I can't believe the things that I'm seeing or doing because its so far from the reality that the vast majority of the people in this world will ever experience.

A few days ago I was sitting by a pool in a fancy lounge chair sipping an ice cold glass of water at my grandma's house. And I couldn't help but wonder what sort of cosmic lottery I won to be here. How did I end up being born in America to two parents who love me and have always been able to take care of my needs? Its inexplicable. It hurts my head to think about.

When people ask me, "How was your summer?" or "How was Haiti?" I struggle to answer the question now just as much as I did a week into my time there when new groups would come through and ask about it. Haiti is beautiful. Haiti is horrific. The people are exceptionally kind and giving, full of love, and above all have an uncrushable spirit. The natural beauty of the island is simply magnificent. Yet while there I encountered some of the most blatant evil and most pronounced poverty and suffering I've seen yet. The natural beauty is often hard to detect amongst the piles of trash and deforested land. But through the best and the worst of Haiti, I fell in love with Haiti. God showed me so much about myself and even more about himself. He showed me what it means to trust him when everything on the line. In Psalm 146 we are warned not to put our trust in mere men but to look for our help from the Lord who

"Upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The Lord sets the prisoners free, the Lord gives sight to the blind, the Lord lifts up those who are bowed down, the Lord loves the righteous. The Lord watches over the alien and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the plans of the wicked" (Psalm 146:5-10)

And I saw him demonstrate his power and his heart to do each and every one of these things for the sake of his children and for his glory. So many things about this summer were exceedingly trying and difficult. Its a lot easier to put your trust in people and in things that you can see; living in America has allowed me to do that for most of my life. But what does that get you ultimately? The way of the Lord is far better. And I am so glad that God brought me to Haiti this summer. It is such a blessing to have been a part of what he's doing there through Respire and Megan, and through the people he has assembled there to defend the defenseless and speak for those that have no voice.

My heart misses them everyday. My heart misses Haiti everyday. But God has reassured me that just because I'm not physically there anymore, doesn't mean that I am no longer part of the fight. As long as I am on this earth my fight will be to bring God's kingdom to this broken world.

A HUGE thank you to everyone who supported us this summer with prayers, love, and encouragement. Please keep praying for Respire Haiti and the people of Gressier. For more stories and more info, check out Megan's site: www.blessedwithaburden.wordpress.com!! You can stay updated, sponsor a kid in our school, or donate to the building fund so that 300 kids will have a nice, new school to attend that they need so desperately.

I move to Austin tomorrow and start grad school at the University of Texas in the coming weeks studying social work. I'll start working with an agency right away and have a case load this semester. Pretty crazy, right? Where I will work is a surprise for another week, but I can't wait to see what God has for me there. Lot's of looooove and you'll be hearing from me soon!

Search for The Sandwich

A few hours ago when we were up on the mountain earlier this afternoon for the feeding we got stuck in an epic downpour + wind storm. I made sure to run around and yell “Siklone! Siklone!” which is Creole for hurricane, just so everyone would be aware. By the time I trudged home in the mud and street rivers I was soaked through. It was the first time I’ve actually been cold in Haiti. Now I’m curled up in a sweater and leggings with a cup of tea. It feels amazing; definitely optimal writing conditions.

School construction is rolling right along and Kyle the Builder, or KTB if you will, is hard at work on his computer day in and day out making complicated doodles of plans with his fancy architecture software. KTB actually let me help with some surveying of the land the other day. I got the hold the “dumb” end of the measuring tape and even write down some measurements! Anyway, KTB has decided that for the roof of the school they will use a material that we like to call The Sandwich. Its corrugated tin with a thin layer of insulation foam and then another sheet of corrugated tin. Very high tech; only used at the elite schools of Haiti. So we’ve had a pretty tough time finding it.

On Friday, we think we know someone who possesses the rare and precious Sandwich in Port au Prince. As luck would have it, Megan has just made a new friend who has a van and is nice enough to take our whole crew into town. So he, Megan and a large friend of ours pile into the front seat, next row is Michaelle and I, then Kyle and Bernard, followed by Arland who is sitting next to our contact for The Sandwich, and in the backseat is Hallie and Cullen who are our new brother and sister arrivals from Baton Rouge. Hallie goes to Tulane! Cullen goes to LSU… We all pile in and buckle down for the journey into the city.

I am very pleased to learn that the place we are going to find the sandwich is next to Epi D’or, this bakery that is supposedly amazing (and rumored to have pizza) that I’ve been wanting very much to go to. When we get into town and the Delmas neighborhood, we pass Epi D’or in all its glory. I can smell the fresh baked bread from inside the van, and oh my mouth waters. We turn right past it and go down this road into a residential area, which confuses everyone, but our Sandwich contact assures us that this is the way to The Sandwich depot, and directs us onto a street with really big/beautiful houses and right into a dead end. Hm. Well its been a long drive so we all just get out of the car. Our Sandwich contact walks off down the street and to the gate of one of the big/beautiful houses at which he knocks. Woah, The Sandwich must really be special to be hidden on this dead end street inside someone’s palace. Someone answers the gate and the contact slips inside flanked by KTB and me who is dying to see The Sandwich. Kyle walks over to the stack of tin sitting under a basketball goal on the drive in front of the house to inspect the material. He doesn’t look pleased as he peels off a layer of something stuck to the outside of the corrugated tin. Alas, this is not The Sandwich but simply cheaply insulated corrugated tin. Foiled again!

Soooo great, we drove 2 hours into PAP for this. Oh but wait, Epi D’or is right around the corner! Everyone piles back into the van and we make the short drive over. We go into Epi D’or and I feel like I’m stepping into Disneyland. Its like nothing I’ve seen in Haiti. Its big and air conditioned and filled with happy Haitians eating fast food, baked delights, ice cream, and other goodies. There’s large plastic animals that look horribly goofy standing there to greet you and even a water feature! WOW. Megan heads to the counter to order us a pizza and I take Michaelle to the bathroom. We go in the same stall and she asks me if its ok to flush the toilet paper. I see that the toilets are American Standard brand, which I see all over the States, and figure why the heck not. So we laugh watching the paper get sucked down really fast when we flush the powerful American Standard toilet. Next its on to wash our hands, which Michaelle forgets to do initally. But then she gets the chance to use her first automatic soap dispenser followed by an automatic hand dryer! At first she’s a little scared of the hand dryer but when she sees that it isn’t harming me and its actually quite fun to use, she steps up and has a good ol’ time. It was the most fun I’ve probably ever had in a public restroom.

We go back to the table and try the pizza. It is SO good. Or maybe its average and I haven’t had pizza in two months, but I think its pretty darn amazing. We give a piece to Arland, his first slice of pizza ever. We tried to get him one earlier in the week when we went to MacEpi (wow, that’s a whole ‘nother story) but they didn’t have any so we got him a cheeseburger instead. It was a big week for Arland, who decided that he likes cheeseburgers better than pizza. After pizza we walk over and get some ice cream. It is so cold and absolutely delightful. I can’t believe this Epi D’or place! But after awhile, I sit there and realize how big of a weirdo I am for getting THAT excited about pizza ice cream and a Disneyland-esque eatery. Its so out of place in Haiti. I feel like a dumb white person. We saw a bunch of other dumb white people in matching t-shirts there, go figure.

On the way home we get stuck in a massive traffic jam. For the first hour or so I curl up on one of the seats and fall asleep, ending up on Kyle’s lap. The next hour we play Mancala on KTB’s phone; I beat him pretty handily. Once the car starts moving again I feel sick looking at the screen and have to quit. Just about that time this car full of gangster looking guys pulls up next to the van and yells, “Yo, where the party at?” I laugh and reply that the party is right here. Then they start handing us their CD’s through the window, apparently they are the Project Boyz. (Do they even have projects in Haiti?) I talk to one of them who’s name is Shiney. I ask him if his name is Shiney because his watch is so blingin’. One of the Project Boyz then hands me a poster, and I hand it back and ask if they’ll autograph it for me. They say of course, but don’t have a pen so I rifle around for a pen as our cars are getting away from each other. But they pull back up alongside us and have managed to find a pen themselves and pass me a complete autographed Project Boyz poster. I’m so proud of my new piece of memorabilia! Megan and I have done such a great job of networking with Haiti’s hip-hop community over the last few months. Haha.

A bit later I look back and see Arland starting out the window, seeming to be in his own little Arland world as usual. (If I haven’t mentioned this before, Arland is one of our translators and makes up half of team “Katland.” Very near and dear to my heart.) I ask him, “Arland, what are you thinking about? You always seem to be thinking about something.” He says back, “I don’t know, Kat, I think about lots of things.” Then he pauses and says, “I was thinking about how you are leaving next week and I won’t get to see you anymore.” I was so struck by that, I think my heart hit the seat.

And that’s how I feel about leaving, heart on the ground. I know I’ll be leaving a huge hunk of my heart here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so excited about grad school and moving to Austin and getting to learn a new town and school, but like I said in my last post, going back to America is going to be so weird. When we were out running the other day, Cullen asked me what do I miss a lot about home. And all I could really think of right then is my family and friends. Other than that, I’m happy with the way things are. Things are simple and beautiful here. I’ve gone through some very rough times, but I feel like that’s brought me closer to this place and these people. I’m upset because its going to be so hard to keep up with the people that I love here, most of them don’t have facebook or email accounts. I’ll have to work on that. Tomorrow we’re having a sort of going away party and inviting my good friends before another big group comes in on Monday. I am looking forward to it and so not at the same time.

Anyway, another little something worth mentioning. After we get home from PAP last night Kyle and Cullen pull out these cigar tins that say Royal Cuban and such on them that they bought at Deli Mart earlier in the week. Well they open up the tins and out come cigar shaped bottles of perfume. HAHAHAHA. Imagine the look on their faces! The End.

Little Update

Sorry I haven’t written in so long. Life has been a whirlwind. This is just going to be a brief update.

Let’s see, since I last wrote, I went on my first run since my health issues. I was running and REJOICING over the fact that my legs were working well and not hurting me. I forgot how amazing our secret beach is. Its so incredible to just go there and be alone with the beauty of the Caribbean and of this island. And to just decompress for 30 minutes out of the day. What a blessing.

We took Michaelle to a swimming pool for the first time. Thorsten has been telling us about this place in Gressier called Number One for so long and we’ve been trying to go. Last Sunday, Megan, Michaelle, and I piled into his truck and finally discovered the mysterious Number One. Its pretty nice, a giant swimming pool with actual lounge chairs. This was the first time Michaelle had ever seen a swimming pool - she flipped out. Before she would get in she was rattling off questions in Creole to Megan, “Is this part of the ocean? Why is the water so clear? Where are the rocks, where is the sand?” We reassured her that swimming pools are a great time and perfectly safe. When she was convinced and got in, she had a blast swimming. The uh, tricky, part of Number One is there are these two giant statues of naked women squatting by the pool… and they’re actually fountains. The place from which water sprays is between their spread legs. Awkward! Michaelle was freaked out by these giant women at first, as were Megan and I.

Anyway, that was a nice little vacation day before our week really ramped up again. Megan and I made an all day trip to Port au Prince on Tuesday. Megan went back on Wednesday, which was the same day the latest group came in. It’s a group of college students from a church in Baton Rouge. I’ve enjoyed having them around. Somehow a group of college students is a little more fun for me than a bunch of adults, go figure. The only problem is that they’re from LSU so Megan and I are constantly in battle with them about whose school is better. Clearly its Tulane.

Kyle the builder has come back as well, which is quite exciting. A lot of visible progress has been made on school construction!! Parts of the wall are going up right now. It has been so cool to see. I keep trying to get Kyle to let me be his junior surveyor, but I’m not sure he thinks I’m cool enough.

I leave in a little over a week. WEIRD. I don’t want to think about it. I didn’t know what I was getting into exactly before I came here. I had a vague idea but when’s the last time I really ever had to go without electricity, running water, Walmart, etc. Well when I go back to America I know exactly what its going to be like and its going to rock my world. And then I move. And then I start school. And then…. woah, right?