A day in the life…

I’m back, and my apologies for the lag in blog postings… I guess I got sucked into actually living my life rather than writing it all down!

Life in Haiti carries on. The excitement from the first few weeks (manifestations, crazy weather, sickness, etc.) has all calmed down and I’ve settled into a bit of a regular pattern which is both good and bad. I awake most weekdays around 5:30 am thanks to the early Haitian sunrise and then quickly roll over and fall back asleep, reawakening about 6 more times before actually rolling out of bed around 7:30. A quick bucket bath and then it’s off to work at Fonkoze around 8:30. It’s a nice 10 minute stroll down the street from my house and I enjoy seeing the bustling street in the morning. It’s filled with everything from women selling freshly cut mango and pineapple to men shining shoes and hundreds of high school and college students heading to class. It seems like I must live in an education district because about every fifth building identifies itself as a school although I’ve yet to quite get a grasp on the Haitian education system. I usually get a few calls of “blan” (white person) as I walk by and a friendly head nod seems to satisfy most of them.

Work at Fonkoze has been both challenging and rewarding. Rewarding in the fact that I get to see the inner-working of one of the most impactful NGO’s in Haiti. Fonkoze currently has about 55,000 women microloan clients and 150,000 people use their savings services. Beyond that, there’s a plethora of other programs they offer from cheap money transfers (U.S. remittances from family members practically sustain Haiti) to literacy, business, and sexual health education. Fonkoze promises their clients that after being a responsible member for 5 years, the organization will guarantee they never go hungry, they never are homeless, their children receive an education, they will know how to read and write, they will have accumulating assets, and they will be able to face any obstacle that arises! WOW, THAT’S AS POWERFUL MISSION STATEMENT AS I’VE EVER SEEN! Fonkoze truly does so much and is so innovative in their operations. It’s exciting to see it happening all around me. It’s also challenging, however, as I’m working more with the microinsurance side of the organization. Right now, we are partnering with a local insurance company to develop catastrophic insurance coverage (hurricanes, floods, earthquakes, etc.) for the loan clients. We also have a life insurance policy, of sorts, for each loan client. I spend a majority of my time working with this company and many of the tasks they’ve given me are slightly beyond my level of expertise. While I do have an undergrad degree in Actuarial Science, I’ve never spent any time working in the field (which is heavily learned through job experience). Thus, when I’m told to calculate the probability of a hurricane hitting a certain region of Haiti in 2010, I’m sure my boss can see the glazed-over stare that says “WHERE DO I BEGIN?”. It’s a cross between frustration of not knowing the insurance business well enough and of fearfully producing a product that is insufficient to protect Fonkoze in the future. Luckily, though, I intersperse this work with other tasks that deal with improving Fonkoze’s operations from redesigning reporting systems to auditing some past Hurricane relief programs which I’ve really enjoyed. In the future, I hope to get to interact more with the clients around the country, as well as to work in diverse divisions of the organization that perform tasks from planning to implementation to evaluation.

Around 4:30 I usually head home, make a quick change of clothes, and then head to the market to grab some food. I’ve begun buying more from the street vendors as my Kreyol has improved, but I still get a lot of the basics at the little supermarket near my house. I’ve never been a very fruitful cook, so sustenance requires a lot of PB&J, Macaroni and Cheese, Spaghetti, and Scrambled Eggs. Thank God that Fonkoze feeds me a huge Haitian lunch at work. That way I get my nutrients and cultural food experience at least once a day before I can settle in for Americanized, easy cooking. We do have our friend Yves cook for us a few times a week to get some more Haitian tastes in. Though there are only 2-4 of us that live here, Yves always seems to cook for approximately 10—resulting in heaping plates and uncomfortable shoving of starchy vegetables and rice and beans down our throats. Last night's meal consisted of each person receiving one whole banana, one whole plantain, a yam, a potato, a sweet potato, some cooked melon-looking thing, and chicken. Cover it with sauce and supposedly you have a meal. I made it through about 1/3 before I gave up feeling like I had just hit the Chinese buffet line one too many times.

Nights are usually pretty low key. After it gets dark around 6:30pm, we can’t get around as easily. Streets tend to be without lights, so we generally stay inside or head to the local restaurant/bar across the street. They serve some mean fast food there which always reminds me of home. Top it off with a few Haitian beers—Prestige—and it makes for a great night with friends. Thanks to a friend, I’ve found the Haitian equivalent of Facebook online so at night I’ve been chatting with people on there. People seem to like to talk to an American and it gives me a no-pressure opportunity to practice my Kreyol and slang. We also watch a little Haitian TV, which has quite hilariously been usurped by Michael Jackson concerts in the last few days. Good lord, I think I’ve heard enough Billie Jean to last at least 10 years. It was pretty exciting getting to watch the live soccer matches last week when USA beat Spain and then unfortunately lost to Brazil in the finals. Soccer is a big sport here and I’m anticipating the upcoming Haiti-USA match on July 11 even though it’s in Massachusetts. I’m also taking drum lessons from a friend so he comes over a few times a week to hangout and play the drums (more about my new drum band in a future post!!!)Other than that, we occasionally go to concerts, drum circles, and small parties. The Haitian rap is pretty sweet, seemingly pulling a lot of style from American hip-hop, although who knows, it may be the other way around. I’ve also really enjoyed just hanging out with my roommates and Haitian friends here at home and around town. It’s nice to be living with people again after a year of a one-bedroom apartment in NJ.

The day wraps up between 10pm-midnight as I snuggle up with my computer under my mosquito-netted bed. The bloody little creatures are quite possibly the biggest annoyance of Haiti. They manage to buzz 24/7, and despite bug spray, you can’t avoid the bites. Thankfully, my net keeps most of them out at night. As I’m on my computer, I usually get to talk to a few friends from home on Skype or Facebook while I’m online. These conversations thankfully keep me going as I’m reminded of all the great people I get to come back to in a year. The day ends as I close my eyes, reflect on the time I’m spending here, and drift asleep to the buzz of the electric generators, the swaying of the palm trees, and the surprising calm of Port-au-Prince nights.

I’ll take Potpourri for $500, Alex

Rather than pick some theme or big event that happened lately, I thought I’d just relay a couple of short stories in today’s blog post…

When I’m working at Fonkoze, I have a cubicle that I share with two other older guys and there are about 20 or so people that work in my general open area. Usually there’s a radio playing music in the room with a wide variety of songs from Latin beats to soft rock straight from Delilah. I’ve found over the days that either these radio stations use a set playlist that repeats daily or they just happen to play Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” every single day! Anyways, yesterday as Shania Twain’s “From this moment” was playing in the office, I thought I noticed a different feel to the room. Perhaps a buzz. By verse two it was clear this song was a favorite as the 60 year old (approximately) man next to me was distinctly humming along. And then it gets to the climax of the song. The next thing I realize, the whole office is singing like they’re in the shower or something. “FROOOOOM. THIISSSSSSSSSS. MOOOOOMENT.” Not a care in the world. I was laughing hysterically (in my head of course) at the irony of country music popularity in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. They may not all speak English, but they sure know their 90’s hits.

I passed my first American restaurant today on the road today—Domino’s Pizza. I was out at a meeting up in the mountains where there are more wealthy foreigners living when the blue and red sign commanded my sight. Now I’m not a fan of Domino’s in the states thanks to its pizza’s precarious similarity to cardboard, but after rice and beans everyday, I might just have to splurge and have a slice down here in Haiti. We’ll see how long I can hold out.

On a similar note, the reason the meeting was up in the wealthy section of town is because all USAID and UN contractors are not allowed to come into Central Port-au-Prince (where I live and work) because it’s too “unsafe”. Meh, if you can’t handle a few protests and tear gas, then I’m not sure you’re meant to work in development.

And finally, last Friday I found myself getting rather sick as the day progressed. I mean I felt like crap. By 2pm my body ached, my stomach hurt, and after leaving work, I discovered I had a fever that was approaching 102 degrees. I don’t get fevers everyday. In fact, I can’t even think of the last time I had a fever. This coupled with the fact that I’m a serious hypochondriac meant in my head that I obviously had malaria :). It had been over 10 days since I got here which is the incubation period. I have tons of mosquito bites which is how you get malaria. And the high fever…I was convinced. Anyways, after making a few calls, I found a semi-English speaking doctor who told me to go to a hospital to get tested. I had no idea where this hospital was, how I was going to ask for a malaria test in Kreyol, or how much it would cost. I set off by myself thinking I could do it, and after one wrong turn, I found the hospital. It was miraculously nice (clean and new) and very close to my house. I walked in, laid out my situation in my best Kreyol, paid $12 USD, got a needle in my arm, and got my test results in 30 minutes. It was the easiest hospital experience of my life!! No insurance bills! No long lines! No doctor’s referral! Clean and courteous! And I didn’t have malaria! Within an hour, I was home and already starting to feel better—mainly I think because I managed to do it all by myself in a foreign language. Not gonna lie… I felt pretty accomplished and the sickness was gone in a day. Now the biggest problem is going to be resisting my hypochondriac temptation to get fast, cheap medical tests done all the time while I’m here :)

That’s all I got for today folks! Got any good ideas to write about in the future? Any questions you want answered? Send ‘em my way (via the comment link below) and be on the look out for my reply! 

P.S. As I was writing this post, I got asked to go to a pizza place right around the corner from my house. I gave in. It was way better than Domino’s!

Raging Rues and Clean Kids

The old adage “When It Rains, It Pours” certainly is true in Haiti. I could be talking metaphorically about how when something bad happens (like world food prices spiking), it is much worse in Haiti (people starve to death). But, in this case, I’m talking literally. Lately when Mother Nature has decided to open her skies, she doesn’t just pull the drain plug—she dumps the whole bathtub on us. The last few days have seen some amazing downpours which have been both welcome and interesting.

They are welcome mainly due to the fact that it cools the 95 degree heat down for a little while—plus I just like to watch and play in the rain (yes, I know I’m 23 years old). Sunday night I was with some friends across town at a Haitian rap concert (Barikad Crew, in case you want to check the band out) when the deluge decided to unleash itself. I learned two things from that night: 1) Haitians avoid rain like the plague—hiding in houses, under overhangs, and cramming into restaurants and stores. 2) The only thing more interesting than a white guy walking down the street is two white guys running across town in a torrential downpour. With more than enough stares to last the rest of my time here, we finally arrived home about 20 minutes after the rain started—soaked, yet sufficiently satisfied to get in some good puddle-jumping.

But the rain is also interesting because it’s such a contrasting force of good and evil here in Haiti. Today, I was lucky enough when the rain started to be at the Insurance Company’s office on the other side of Port-au-Prince from Fonkoze and my house. I was waiting for my driver to pick me up when I saw the black clouds billowing over the mountains to the southeast, a sure sign that we were about to get slammed. After about thirty minutes of heavy rain, Roland finally arrived with the car and we set off for the usual short drive back to Fonkoze. I’d never gotten to drive through the streets during the storms and I was amazed at what I saw.

First, the massive amounts of water were incredible. To give you some background, most of Port-au-Prince lies at the base of the interior mountain ranges. On the other side of the city is the ocean. With that in mind, you might be able to grasp how all the water flows downhill engulfing many of the streets of the city. As I’ve mentioned in past posts, the stree ts are already filled with natural hazards like potholes and, well, super potholes. Add rushing water to this and you simply have craziness. While not all streets were completely flooded, many of the smaller roads we crawled up were gushing with torrents of trash-filled water often times covering the sidewalks and seeping into houses and stores. More than a few times our car was up to the bottom of the doors in water and we slowly eased our way between wading pedestrians still carrying merchandise on their heads and unknown asphalt drop offs below the muddy streams. All of this after about half an hour of downpours.

Now imagine last year when four major hurricanes hit Haiti—UNBELIEVEABLE! I can’t even comprehend how crazy things were in Port-au-Prince. And from many of the accounts I’ve heard, it is the rural areas which experience much greater devastation during storms as their mountainside foliage is all but completely deforested, causing mudslides and inundating entire villages with floodwater. Many parts of Haiti are essentially comparable to parts of New Orleans post-Katrina—minus the large number of recovery workers and aid dollars.

That is the evil side of rain.

On the other side, rain highlights the vibrancy and uniqueness of Haitian life. Although I mentioned above that many Haitians avoid the rain by finding the nearest shelter, today I saw just how important rain is to the people. As quick as the buckets of water started pouring from the sky, buckets were literally being placed under water runoff pipes—collecting as much of the precious liquid as possible. I even saw one girl who couldn’t have been more than 10 years old with her bucket balancing on her head while standing under the gushing overflow of a rooftop gutter. This water is then used to drink, to cook, to wash, to bathe, to flush toilets—to survive, basically.

Besides allowing Haitians to harness as much free water as possible, a rain storm means shower time! From children to teenagers, people were crowding under gutter pipes getting all soaped up and clean for the next day of classes. Trust me, water pressure is a luxury here. I get sick of having to scoop Tupperware containers of water from a bucket over my head each day to get clean, but at least I have a semi-bathtub in which to do it. If it weren’t for rain—and the subsequent rooftop runoff—showers are probably a pain in the neck for many Haitians. With a rainstorm, it’s like the cumbersome task of bathing meets the excitement of a waterpark. I almost wanted to get out there and slather on some Zest Body Wash.

So, alas, you can see how rain is both precious and dangerous at the same time—not to mention somewhat frustrating when you get home and your second floor room is filled with water from a leaky balcony door (but that’s another story that you don’t need to hear). Hopefully the pictures I posted above illustrate a little of my tale, but I think they’re largely insufficient. I guess pictures usually are. Nevertheless, it should be both exciting and interesting as we move further into storm season. Hurricanes and tropical storms are surely on the not-too-distant horizon (as I’m sure my meteorology friends from Valpo can attest). While I’m kind of eagerly anticipating experiencing my first Caribbean storm, I just hope that this year the weather spares the destruction of years past and that the the Haitian people can continue their colorful culture uninterrupted.

Zanmi Ayisyen

When I first arrived in Haiti a few weeks ago, I had settled in my house for just a few hours before it overwhelmingly seemed that the rest of Haiti was settling into my house as well. I was tired from my flights that began at 6am and had just experienced the initial shock of driving through the streets of Port-au-Prince. All I wanted to do was unpack and relax for the night. As I shifted my stuff from suitcase to closet, however, I heard the beating of a drum and the chatter of unrecognizable conversation downstairs. Before I knew it there were about 5 or 6 Haitians hanging out in the living room with my roommate. To give some background, my roommate Ben had already been here for a month before I arrived, and having spent a year living in “Little Haiti” in Miami, he speaks fluent Kreyol. Not surprisingly this has given him the ability to get to know a lot of people down here and foster a lot of friendships with Haitians around our age. I was excited to meet new people and we spent the night trying to parse out sentences of mixed languages. It was the cultural interaction I had been yearning for since my months in Namibia—and it was so fun!

The thrill of fresh faces, however, wore off rather quickly after a few days or so as I failed to understand about 95% of the words coming out of their mouths. “I don’t speak Kreyol!”, I was thinking as they continued to talk to me despite my obvious blank stares in response, “Doesn’t anyone here speak English?”.  It was all too much. These Haitians (or at least 1 or 2 at a time) were over at our house every night. By some sixth sense, they magically appeared about 10 minutes after we got home from work—whether we arrived at 3:30 or 6:00pm. Could I just get some privacy in my own house? Could I just have a conversation completely in English without having to stutter over words and sentences lost in translation?  Could I at least understand the jokes that everyone else in the room was laughing at?

Many of you probably got an earful (or an email-ful) describing the overwhelming nature of my first few days here. I was frustrated with a lot of things, almost all of which had nothing to do with my new Haitian friends. It was the Kreyol…the heat…the safety…the job. But I also think I placed some blame on the visitors to my house. I wish I had seen in the first few days, like I do now, just how important these people would become! These locals have become my lifeline to survival in Haiti, my means of learning a new language, my understanding of a culture,  and what looks to be my great friends for the coming year.

These new Haitian friends, despite the conversational barrier, quickly took me under their wing. They showed me around the markets and helped me barter for food. They spent the time to speak slowly so that I could begin to learn the language. They explained the history and people of Haiti, growing a vital background knowledge required for my success here.  One of them, a musician named Godson, even calmed down would-be muggers, forming a human shield between me and two teens trying to get the cell phone out of my pocket. Yves, another friend, cooks us dinner every-so-often with his delicious Haitian recipes. The craziest part for me, though, is just how much I think we understand each other despite my shaky Kreyol and their piecemeal English.

All of this goes to show just how important relationships are in forming a better, more true understanding of the world around us. It’s easy to travel or live somewhere while separating ourselves from other people. We get comfortable in our bubble. But it’s amazing what you stand to gain (and to give) when we branch out and form relationships. Whether it be making friends in a foreign country or simply bonding with other cultures and races in the United States, it’s always a little awkward at first. Neither party quite grasps the intentions of the other. But with some time (or maybe more quickly than we think), we always find we have more in common than we thought. We destroy stereotypes. And more than anything, we simply enjoy each other’s company.

I look forward to the next year with my new Haitian friends. We’ve already begun to debate politics and religion and music and so many other topics that I similarly discuss with my American friends. Excitingly, Godson is teaching me drum lessons throughout the year, with the hope that I’ll eventually play in his band for a few shows. My Kreyol is improving quickly. And now when I walk downstairs in the afternoon to hear the chatter of the living room, I smile knowing that my struggling through the words is synonymous with progress and a greater connection with the country where I’m living.

Comfort in Uncomfortable Places

After a few road bumps during my first week here, I feel like I am finally beginning to settle in and get rather comfortable here. This weekend I had a little more free time to explore Port-au-Prince. After unsuccessfully trying to walk down to the ocean (thanks to private property on the waterfront and no roads), I walked around what looked like it was at one point the central business district of the city. Although I don’t think Port-au-Prince was ever a thriving developed city or a center of trade, you could tell that tourism did use to exist here. The dilapidated buildings near the waterfront still housed broken signs of airline companies who once flew people in and out of Haiti. The architecture was also notably different from the area where I live about a 20 minute walk away. At one corner, a building about seven stories tall shockingly still exists despite surely being battered by hurricanes throughout the years. It is rumored that one of only two banks with an ATM in Haiti was located there—unfortunately it was closed because it was Sunday. Streets were packed with cars on blocks for repairs and what seemed like a more bustling marketplace as compared to my street where people mainly just sell food on the street. Even more than usual, we were met with stares and hollers indicating just how few non-Haitians make their way down to that part of the city.

The current lack of tourism is, to me, again one of the sad externalities of both Haiti’s troubled history and the West’s quick judgment on safety. Cruise ships once landed on the shores of Haiti and hotels housed visitors seeking the beauty of the palm trees and mountains. Today, one cruise ship occasionally docks at a private beach on the north side of the country. Not only is this beach heavily guarded and completely separated from Haitian people or culture, but Royal Caribbean Cruise Line doesn’t even tell cruisers that the beach is in Haiti—simply identifying it as Labadee (the beach’s name).

Now I’m certainly not arguing that cruises or tourists are all good for a country. They bring with them some degree of exploitation of locals whether it be through low wages the tourist companies pay or the general Americanization of a great Caribbean culture. But at the same time, tourism can be a huge source of income—something of which Haiti has almost none. The economy here is largely driven by remittances from the Haitian Diaspora in the United States rather than any huge export or service industry. Tourism in Haiti, like many other Caribbean countries, can ultimately help increase the capacity of the government through tax revenue, thus allowing them to provide better services to the citizens.

As I mentioned above, a large explanation for this lack of visitors can be attributed to Haiti’s past. Grave instability of the government has led to a plethora of problems from dictatorships to coup d’états. Similarly natural disasters, deforestation, and poverty have spawned incidents like the food riots of 2008 which garner international media attention, rightly scaring away tourists. Outside of these incidents, however, seems to be a large rush to judgment on the part of Westerners—from the media to the US government to individuals—that Haiti is permeated by despair and danger.

Before deciding to travel here, I read the US State Department’s website which recommends avoiding all travel to Haiti thanks to kidnapping, torture, and murder of Americans. It cites that fact that 26 Americans were kidnapped in Haiti last year. What it fails to tell you is that a majority of these victims were released safely. It also fails to take into context the nature of cities in general. P-au-P is a city of nearly 3 million people, which naturally finds crime in its sprawling city limits. In comparison, in 2008, over 1,000 people were kidnapped in Phoenix, Arizona, but we don’t hear of travel warnings there. Always erring on the side of extreme caution, travel websites also scare visitors away from Haiti despite the numerous smaller, very safe beachside towns which I’m sure would be ready to house a few visitors in order to put food on the table.

Yes, as you can tell through my previous posts, Haiti is certainly a place of grave poverty and above-average danger. The risks, however, can be mitigated through smart travel practices, and as thousands of Americans have discovered, you CAN live a safe life here. When we let fear overtake us, it simply makes the problems worse. I saw nearly the exact same thing when I spent the whole last year in Camden, NJ. Ranked every year as one of America’s most dangerous cities, the city does have a higher than average crime rate. But as I discovered, it also has thousands of caring, productive, good people—much more good than bad. I came into Camden with a fear of safety, but I left a year later with it feeling like home. Camden is so stigmatized and stereotyped by suburban whites that it makes development and poverty reduction nearly impossible. How can you “pull yourselves up by the bootstraps” when so many people are pushing back down on you? How can you grow a city like Camden or a country like Haiti when everyone else just wants to avoid it?

Until we step outside our comfort zone, we can’t see these places aren’t as bad as they are portrayed. I encourage you all to step outside of your preconceived notions and see a situation from the other side. It can make a huge difference in how you view the world—and I truly believe new viewpoints can create new realities.

Thinking in the Dark

As a kid, I used to love when the power would go out during a thunderstorm. You get to bust out the candles, play games, maybe even build a fort and pretend like you live in a different place and time. Who knew that that place was Haiti and that time was 2009. As I type tonight, I’m sitting in a completely dark house. Our electricity has been off for a few hours and finally our backup power inverter has run out. Thus, years later I again find myself lighting up the candles and settling in for a cozy night—albeit in a slightly different context.

Electricity, like many things in Haiti, is unreliable at best. It goes out on a daily basis with only those lucky enough to have backup generators (like my apartment) able to keep a somewhat more continuous stream. In the rural areas, it’s even worse with little or no electricity being more the norm. Besides this, the water supply is unsteady and polluted throughout the country. It can be frustrating at times to Westerners like myself when we are unable to fill the buckets we use to shower and flush the toilet at the apartment or when we must drink bottled water instead of tap. But this pales in comparison to the millions of Haitians that must resort to bathing in sewage canals, rivers, and lakes everyday because they have no access to water whatsoever. They drink water filled with parasites, e-coli, and schistosomiasis that can many times lead to sickness. You might think it would be different in a city of 3 million like Port-au-Prince, but shockingly its hardly distinct from the more rural areas of the country. The infrastructure of this “developing” country hardly permits one to recognize the country as developing. Instead, it seems that as the days go on, the inadequate services are simply crumbling more. Roads throughout Port-au-Prince are in disrepair with sinkholes and cracks forcing cars and pedestrians to proceed precariously with numerous accidents. Though I’ve not verified it in person, online articles inform me that country even lacks a single sewage treatment facility creating horrible health sanitation problems. The country is desperately in need of improvement, but the government is incapable and the outlook is bleak.

All of this is not to sadden you about the condition of Haiti or to worry you of my living conditions—because honestly the worst I’ve dealt with is walking through dirty roads and sitting in the heat without a fan. What I really hope you readers in the United States gain is an idea of the gross disparities of the world in which we live. While we (myself included) drive fancy cars, install swimming pools, and take 30 minute long showers, others around the world are struggling to walk hours to work for pennies on the dollar, bathing in rivers, and stealing simply to stay alive. It’s one thing though to say “we have it so good” or “we are so blessed”; it’s another thing to try to do something about it. Throwing money at charities does little more than make us feel good about ourselves, Similarly, volunteering for organizations in the short-term like I am doing in Haiti does little more than trying to put a band-aid over a gaping wound.

I truly believe it takes a change in the way our world works. It means rejecting gaudy materialism and pleasures that rape the developing world of its natural resources like forests, diamonds, and oil. It means divesting from companies that financially reinforce dictatorships and genocidal leaders like those in Sudan. It means reinventing American innovation rather than complaining that jobs are being shipped overseas. It means paying a little more for food that isn’t subsidized by wealthy nations which crowd out developing economies from the world market. It means pushing the government to give foreign aid that doesn’t come with political stipulations. It means recreating our ideas on crime and poverty to see that its not caused by laziness, or race, or backward societies. It means recognizing that many US corporations exploit developing nations, their resources, and their people for the gain of US citizens. It means not paying a CEO or a sports star $50 million when they aren’t worth half of it. It means fighting drug companies that keep prices of AIDS drugs high even though it only costs a few pennies to produce it. It means the United States giving more aid to the developing world (WE CURRENTLY GIVE LESS THAN 0.2% OF OUR GROSS NATIONAL INCOME!)

But alas, both you and I know that this is highly unlikely to change. I’m willing to do some work in developing countries—but am I ready to stop shopping at Wal-Mart because it sells products that are made in sweatshops? Am I willing to not buy gas at any of the major gas stations because they use oil which was improperly drilled thus destroying villages in Nigeria? Am I willing to reject capitalism even though it is partly responsible for such disparity? Probably not. I am too comfortable.

I was one of the lucky to be born into a gender, a race, and a country that is advantaged from the start. I can claim “hard work” for my achievements, but my efforts are dwarfed by peasants in Haiti who wake at daylight to try to find their next meal for their children. It’s hard to stomach this subject. The idea of change is radical. The whole thing sucks…but it’s real. I’m so grateful for the free time to contemplate such tough ideas while I’m here. I try to fight off the thoughts of the reality that I could jet out of this country on the next plane in order to experience the comforts of home again. I try to convince myself that my work here is impactful and sustainable. It’s a daily struggle in my mind trying to balance my life with a life that seeks to make a real difference. At the end of the day, though, I ultimately have a feeling I’ll end up like most people, abandoning the full sacrifice needed for true change. Because no matter how fun it seems for a short time, we all eventually want to blow out the candle and simply turn our lights back on.

Work @ Fonkoze

Work at Fonkoze is both interesting and very confusing. When I was hired for the job, I was very informally told that I would be working to help Fonkoze develop some sort of catastrophic insurance plan for hurricanes through coordination with a Haitian insurance company called AIC. I was also supposed to be working on Fonkoze’s life insurance program for its loan clients. In reality, I had very little idea what my role would be before I got here. Since I’ve been here, however, it doesn’t seem like my role has gotten any clearer.

Fonkoze, like many non-profits in the developing world, moves at a snail’s pace in terms of communication and getting things done. I spent practically the whole first day trying to determine who my boss is (which is still not fully clear) and where I should sit in the three-story office building. After three days, I still don’t have internet access at the office and the cell phone they gave me does not work. I’ve come to the conclusion that most likely I will be my own boss and just have to build off the very vague ideas the organization gave me before I came. I’m basically going to do a lot of independent research via the internet to try to gather data on catastrophic insurance and develop some sort of model for Fonkoze. We’ll see if they like the end product! I’ve always been someone who enjoys structure, especially in jobs, but I’m sure this newfound independence will be hugely beneficial to my future work.

In my last blog post, I promised some interesting stories about tear gas—and I’ve received quite a few messages from people concerned. It probably was a bad idea of me to not give all the details right off the bat. Anyways, as many of you might know, Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere and is very politically unstable. There have been a number of coups over the last decades and their first democratically elected President is currently in exile (sadly thanks in part to the powerful interests of the United States). Needless to say, politics is a hot issue down here and protests arise in the streets daily. Unfortunately the last two days have seen these protests move right in front of Fonkoze. Yesterday, I believe college students were protesting the Haitian minimum wage and the occupation of UN troops here in Port-au-Prince. The students began throwing rocks at UN troops who then fired tear gas into the crowd. It sounds bad, but don’t worry!!! Fonkoze is very secure with walls about 20 feet high around the entire complex and armed guards at the gates. We were not at risk from the protests, but the tear gas did waft into the offices so we just had to shut all doors and windows until it passed. It’s certainly unlike anything I’ve ever seen before and it can be a little uneasy if you think too much about it, but I’m cautious when I go outside and I have not felt threatened at all since I’ve been here. Moral of the story (especially to Mom): DON’T WORRY!

I’ll leave the stories of my Haitian friends (and how they practically live in my house) for another day. I’m learning more and more Kreyol everyday and I’m enjoying the new experiences here. The mountains and ocean are beautiful. I’ve been healthy since I’ve gotten here and the food is delicious! Couldn’t ask for much more! Keep me in your thoughts and prayers.

Bonswa!

Hello from Haiti. I’ve now only been here for a little over 24 hours, but there’s definitely been a lot of experiences packed into my first day.

After getting in a few hours late from Miami, I was met at the airport in Potoprens (Port-Au-Prince in English) by a man holding a sign. He spoke no English, but he was definitely a welcomed sight after wading through a crowd of aggressive hawkers trying to help me with my bags and force my stuff into their taxis. We quickly took off into the crowded streets headed for downtown where I’m living for the next year. I thought the streets of New York were crazy, but Port-Au-Prince definitely has them topped—no lanes, thousands of people walking amidst traffic, potholes the size of kiddie pools, and gaps of about 3 inches between humans on the sidewalk and vehicles (while driving at 50 mph).  Nevertheless, the drivers are obviously used to it and I made it to my house which is luckily very close to the center of city. The Presidential Palace (Haiti’s White House equivalent) is about 3 blocks away along with a semi-nice plaza. It’s also about a 5 minute walk down the road to my office at Fonkoze. Despite being in the core of the city, Port-Au-Prince has nothing like any downtown I’ve ever been to before. There are no big buildings. The streets are filled with poor people selling small items and the cleanliness is at a level of 1 on a scale of 1-10. Massive piles of exposed garbage create roadblocks along sidewalks and businesses are rarely more than a shack. Unlike other developing countries I’ve been to (Namibia, Zambia, etc), there are almost no formal commercial business (no fast food, no banks, very few grocery stores). It seems everything is run by individuals struggling to make a dollar (or Haitian Gourde).

In terms of my housing, its relatively nice compared to the area in which it’s located. By nice, I mean it has electricity (and a backup generator) and running water. I’m sharing it with two other roommates (Ben and James) who are also interning with Fonkoze and are college students from BYU and Villanova. They’re great and luckily Ben speaks fluent Kreyol which is so necessary here. Almost no one speaks English and without his help and some Haitian friends I would have never been able to negotiate for bread or open up a bank account. Overall the house I’m staying in is good for what I need and can afford.

It seems like there will be a lot of daily challenges here in Haiti—more than I’ve ever experienced when traveling before. The biggest is obviously the language barrier. I sure wish I knew Kreyol, or at least some French to get by. Fonkoze has also not provided a lot of support in terms of adjusting, but what can I expect….I AM an adult! :) The heat is also quite, well, hot. Temperatures are around 95 degrees during the day with nighttime lows around 80, which ensures I always will have a sweaty glow here. Luckily I have an AC unit in my room which should be good until the first electric bill comes. ATM’s do not exist in Haiti making the money situation quite annoying and mosquitoes are everywhere (you cannot avoid the bites). The poverty is also just so extreme. I’ve never seen anything like it—and can’t really find the words to describe it. But as I’ve learned throughout life, that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. And I certainly think I’ll get more adjusted to some of these challenges as the days go on.

I’ll write more about my work at Fonkoze in a few days when I have a better grasp on it. Stay tuned for stories in later posts about how my office got tear gassed on my first day and how I realistically live with about 5 other Haitians in my house. On that anticipatory note, I’ll leave you for tonight. I’m definitely enjoying my time overall. Thanks for all your messages and support. It means a lot to me!

Tyler