Let's be revolutionaries

Read today - a letter from Che Guevara to his children:

Dear Hildita, Aleidita, Camilo, Celia, And Ernesto,

If you ever have to read this letter, it will be because I am no longer with you. You practically will not remember me, and the smaller ones will not remember me at all.
 
Your father has been a man who acted on his beliefs and has certainly been loyal to his convictions.

Grow up as good revolutionaries. Study hard so that you can master technology, which allows us to master nature. Remember that the revolution is what is important, and each one of us, alone is worth nothing.

Above all, always be capable of feeling deeply any injustice committed against anyone, anywhere in the world. This is the most beautiful quality in a revolutionary.

Until forever, my children. I still hope to see you.

A great big kiss and a big hug from, Papa

***

Let's be revolutionaries, can we?  

It doesn't mean we have to start coup d'etats or take over as dictators.  

But by being revolutionary, we will never stop learning, never stop growing, always be committed to trying to understand what is happening in the world we live and work in, but more than learning, growing and understanding, we must take action - be action people, committed to put forth every effort to change what needs to be changed.  

There is no complacency in the life of a revolutionary, rather there is the knowledge that the road to change is hard, that change is not always possible, that change will be difficult, will take time and one step forward may often be accompanied by two steps backward. But in order to actually achieve change, to revolt against the injustices in the world, we must at least try.

And we must never give up.  

We must stay loyal to our convictions. It is only then, that we may see real change happen. Change taking place from the involvement of our hands. Our hands joined together with those committed to the same cause.  

So, let's be revolutionaries. Yes, I like that idea.

Motorcycle Diaries

Showing Dignity

So today I went out to interview some street boys who have taken part in one of our programmes. We went to one of the slums, one I had been to before, one that I knew for being quite... Rough, to say the least. 

I love days like these. They get me our of the office and into our programmes and into life in Kenya. I get to learn what life is like for people living in poverty here. 

Last week, I went out and got to speak to a very passionate teacher and a shy but dedicated girl. And it was awesome! I loved the learning, even though much of what I was told was shocking, saddening and more. 

Now, when one goes out to collect stories, there is a proper protocol to go through, specifically that the individual is the owner of their own information. And that they are human and not worthy of being exploited, no matter what their situation in life. 

We show dignity. Because if you were in their situation, you would not want to be pitied, or feel like someone is using you or taking advantage of you. 

It all goes back to the golden rule. Treat others as you want to be treated. 

And it's usually not super hard to treat people with dignity. I am there to listen. You tell me whatever you want! If you are uncomfortable, that's fine too. 

But today was hard. There was this boy, you see. A teenager. Drugged up on something or other. Huffing, coke, MJ, it's all present in the slums. 

As soon as I stepped out if the car, this boy was by my side. Wanted to be cool with the mzungu you see. He was touching my camera, talking to me, trying to touch me. I just tried to work around him because I could tell he was on drugs. As I was interviewing another teenager, he was standing right there too, I could tell he was waiting his turn. 

But when it became apparent to him that I was not going to interview him, he started becoming unmanageable. Fuck you's were thrown around, as was the finger; it took much of the group to keep him busy while I continued my interview. And many times it just was not possible. To keep him busy. 

I tried to promise 'Next time.' And then he started asking for money. He deserved to be paid if I was going to make money off his story, his photo (I'm not... I didn't even take a photo). 

He was causing a stir all around. This slum is a tough one. I was beginning to be worried for my safety. One never knows when threats to throw rocks are true. 

And from then on, it was hard to focus. It was hard to be open. It was hard to continue with the interview, to give the young boy the attention he deserved. I lost it. I lost the desire to give dignity. I just wanted to get out of there, to run. This young boy telling me his story did not deserve that.

But how can you show dignity when a drugged up teenager is causing a ruckus, and forcing everyone to pay attention to him? To both him and to the others around him?

I tried, to be sure. I can only put myself in his shoes and imagine what he has gone through. No home, no money, hungry all the time, no education. Limited options (such as trolling through the dump site to find scrap metal to sell). The feeling of having no future. 

His boldness only egged on the others and I left the football pitch after finishing the interview, having to be squeezed into the car for my own protection, with street boys surrounding me asking for money, shouting they were hungry, asking for help. 

Sometimes, life throws a person into our lives to make us think. About how we show dignity to others. It's easy to do when the person is calm, kind, and interested. But when they are difficult, drugged up, threatening you or asking for money... what do you do? What is the best?

I only hope I responded in a good way. But let's just say I will ponder this boy for a while and how I approach others like him.

Posterity

Yep, that's my name right there in the middle of the page. Proud moment. 

Article can be found here:
http://www.trust.org/alertnet/blogs/kenya-election-diary/victory-without-victims-building-peace-in-kenyas-nakuru-valley/

and here:
http://www.goal.ie/NewsDetails/241

Mornings in Hibernation

We have been in 'hibernation' ...

** Side note - 

Someone asked me this week what is the difference between hibernation and lockdown. 
My best response was that when we are in lockdown serious s*** is going on outside - we have to stay inside to be safe. Hibernation is more to do with monitoring the situation from a known location to see what happens. 
Anyway, I think that's the difference. 

Now. Back to today's main programming.

We have been in 'hibernation' now pretty much all week. Yesterday we went into the office. Wednesday, we were allowed to leave the premises. Which I did just because I could. 

But since it has now been almost 7 days straight of being home (counting the weekend), I have gotten myself into a pretty nice habit. 

Mornings. 

my 'office' 

In the mornings, I stay in my pjs for as long as I can. I wake up early while it is still cool, get myself a yummy Kenyan coffee, open my computer and read the news. And start working. Emails and writing and such. 

And eventually, say around 11am, I will get myself together, get dressed, get some food and move to my desk. And continue working. 

This is going to be a difficult habit to give up when we head back into the office. 

Degrees of Separation

They say that there are an average of 6 degrees of separation between any individual on the planet. 

Via

In fact, in looking for a photo, I discovered that social scientist Stanley Milgram (of the infamous Obedience to Authority experiment) tested this theory as well, in what he called the small world theory. He found that between any individual and some other random individual, there is an average of 5 people in between. Hence, the 6 degrees of separation. 

In the NGO world though, even though it is a world that spans the globe, it is much smaller. 

Some might argue it is too small. 

***

A few weeks ago a logistician friend of mine in Ireland had to conduct a logs induction for 2 people he had never met before - never even heard of. A man and a woman who were being deployed to 2 separate countries shortly after that. Indeed, the man and the woman being inducted had not met, nor heard of each other either. 

So the scene is set - 3 complete strangers sitting in a room together talking about logistics.

Now, this friend of mine is very chatty, so of course he started talking with these 2 about their past experience, where they had been, where they are going, what they will do there... 

And it is in this process that he discovers that they all have one thing in common. 

ME. 

(ok, and my old housemate in Haiti too - so 2 things in common)

Yes, sitting in that room were 3 people who had never met nor had any knowledge of the other peoples' existence, yet all 3 of them were acquainted (professionally or otherwise) to me. 

6 degrees of separation? 

Try 2...

(oh, and apparently they all had a great laugh about it then, and then my loggie friend and I had a great laugh about it afterwards)

And that's not the first time that has happened...nor will it be the last...

Shameless Self-Promotion

I don't really like to post what organisation I am working for here in this space. For a few reasons. 

1) All the opinions here are my own and I don't want them to be responsible for them coming back the organisation I work for. 

2) If you know the organisation I work for, you can easily find me. And that's kinda creepy. VERY creepy actually. 

3) Well, mostly just those 2 reasons. 

BUUUTTTTT.... There always comes a time to break the rules. Especially when self-promotion is involved. 

So - go read the blog I wrote for my current organisation about the Kenya elections. Much more exciting than the blog I wrote yesterday about being in lockdown. 

It's here: http://www.goal.ie/NewsDetails/223

Cool. 

Big Brother

Today is election day in Kenya. A day where Kenyan citizens go to the polls and cast their ballots for their chosen presidential candidates (amongst others).

Today is also day 1 of me not being able to go out of doors. 

Lock-down. 

My organisation has placed expats under lock-down more on a just-in-case basis. Just-in-case something happens like last time (post-election violence), just-in-case we need to be gotten a hold of, just-so-we-know-where-you-are. 

It's not a bad plan really - because nothing is likely to happen, at least not today or tomorrow, and hey who wouldn't normally welcome a free day to stay home?

Yeah, except it's that same-old, same-old rule...when someone says you can't do something, what do you want to do, but do it?

And now the stir crazy-ness steps in. My housemate and I feel like we are in an episode of Big Brother, with nothing to entertain us (really there is - tv, internet, Skype, exercise...), nothing to do (ok, we are working from home), and the only option is random bursts of energy (on my part by jumping up and down) or random acts (on his part - throwing an empty coke bottle in the air). 

And then of course there is wine. And it is after 5pm here. So I have chosen wine. 

Big brother ain't got nothing on me yet. But let's see what tomorrow brings...

I didn't know what photo to put here.
And then I found this cute one of me in my Dad's old shirt that says Go Climb a Glacier.
And climbing a glacier sounds awesome right now.
Compared to sitting on the couch. So there's the logic.

Gonna Take Me a Lot to Drag Me Away From You

I don't remember the last time I wrote here. It's been a while, I know. And there have been a lot of changes. Well, not lots. But some really big ones.

More specifically, I have moved. 

From here:

This would be Haiti (on an awesome hike from Furcy to Jacmel)

To here:

From - the baby elephant orphanage in Nairobi, Kenya

Via almost 2 months spent here:

the Emerald Isle of Eire (aka Ireland)

So, yeah... that kept me kinda busy. So sorry for not writing in ages. I'll catch up over the next little while to share what happened in these locations and why Kenya is the place to be at the moment. 

(ok ok, just a little taster...

Job ended in Haiti, no option or desire to renew;

Had a free place to stay in Ireland for December;

Went back for January and orientation with the new job

in Kenya. Where I now live)

Details to come...

And bonus points to whoever first gets where the title of this post came from.

Where Few 'Blan' Have Passed

Traversing the mountaintops

I could hear their voices in front of me before I could see their faces, as I marched down the small hilltop path:

'Bonswa!'
'Bonswa!'
'Kouman ou ye?'
'Pa pi mal!'

Greeting each other in the common way. My Haitian team continued walking, and the group returned to their normal chit-chat. 

I emerged from the tall grass alongside their front garden, only to be greeted with a large hoot and holler and laughter from the family members. 

Apparently, blans (white people) don't pass here often. 

I greeted them, as one should to be polite in Haiti, smiling to myself, while they joked down the path to my colleagues about the blan traipsing down the mountain. 

***

Yesterday, I went back out to the mountains to conduct another assessment on the situation left by TS Isaac, this time on the damage sustained to houses in the rural, mountainous villages my organisation works in. 

I ended up going on a 5-6 hour hike down the mountain. 

We were headed to that little peak on the left side of the photo.
and then just continued.
Sometimes its easier to just keep going forward.

***

We were dropped off at the top of the mountain, just where it crests and begins its descent down to the south coast of Haiti. We had every intention to take the car as far as it could go, which as it turned out, was maybe 2 minutes down the road leading to our targeted community. 

In previous days, we had been hearing lots of information from our governmental partners, from various team members, from key community partners about the amount of damage in the rural mountains and hillsides. We had heard of houses destroyed, crops damaged beyond repair, loss of livelihoods, animals killed, rivers flooded. The damage sounded massive and like it needed a dramatic, quick response. 

But, for a multitude of reasons, we didn't trust it - not that we don't trust our staff, but that we don't trust that we share the same definitions of what a word means. And in order to plan and implement a response, we first need to know exactly what the needs are. 

Assessment team - in action.

And, to be honest, part of that involves an unbiased, undramatic point-of-view, supplied by myself, and 2 other colleagues.  

Ok. We also wanted to just get out of the office and see for ourselves - our adventuresome streaks were kicking in. 

But really, it was just to make sure we understood what the situation was. 

So, when I found myself dragging along behind my team, huffing and puffing, stopping every few yards to observe (aka, catch my breath), as my self-assigned job was (non-Creole speaker here...), I did actually take the time to take in the full situation. 

We had heard that many homes were destroyed, many families were now homeless, some again. 

But I found this was not so. I had set the mandate that we were only to conduct our assessment at houses that were completely destroyed (to perchance end up targeting the person for emergency shelter), but after 5 hours of walking, we ended up with 3 questionnaires filled out. Only one was completely destroyed, in the terms of having to tear down the house and rebuild. The rest were missing roofing sheets, or their tin roofs had bent back. Terrible & damaged, yes. Destroyed, no. 

That is a pleasant thing to find, actually - that the storm was not too bad. 

We also found that people were living their lives as best they could to recover. To the man whose house was completely destroyed, I asked, what will he do to repair the house. He responded that he will just buy wood somewhere and rebuild. Matter-of-fact. That's just what you do. 

Back to work on the fields

Another family were so thankful to have a white person stop by their house, that one of the women kept hitting me and saying thank you for coming, and that they are so blessed by it, and that of course I will do something for them (non-Creole speaker, yes. Creole-understander, yes). 

We are so thankful that the damage to houses was not as bad as expected. The damage to crops, however, was. 

Damage to banana plantations, squash and bean plants

In the free moments I have, when not hiking over the mountains and fording through rivers, I am now sending our staff out to get their cars stuck in rivers, walking for hours upon end to conduct another more detailed assessment to look at what types of livelihoods were affected and the potential increase in food insecurity. 

Aren't I nice?

But based on this, we will now know what the true damage was, and how we can best respond. 

And that is just the beginning ...

I love my job

I love my job. 

Out for a wander through the community

I love that I love my job. 

I love that I am an aid professional. 

I love that even though I am an aid professional, I still have so much to learn. 

I love that there is always something new to learn.

I love that every day is different. 

I love that I spend some days in the office with a fan directed at my face using my creative juices to write reports to donors.

I love that I spend some days organising logistics to collect data for assessments.

I love that one day recently, the highlight of my day was negotiating to hire moto taxi drivers for the 5 days, for the above mentioned transportation. And succeeding - for the price and time we wanted. 

I love that some days, I work on budgets and with numbers and that it all makes my head go a little wacko (oh, numbers...). 

Crazy Rural Roads

I love that some days, I climb mountains and traverse horrendous mountain roads to prep communities for a donor / VIP visit. 

I love that I am passionate about monitoring and evaluating projects, constantly learning from mistakes, striving to create and implement the best projects.

I love that I get to consult with communities about what their needs are, and how we can work together to meet them. 

I love that I get to network with other INGOs  and local NGO partners to share information, build capacity, and provide assistance and advice. It feels like we are all in this together.

I love that I get to rub shoulders with people from the UN, EU, US government, and more. Ok, it makes me feel a little important (oh, it would for you too!). 

I love that adventure, travel, and new experiences are a constant part of the job. 

I love that by the time my passport expires, I will have (hopefully) been to 30 countries, and have needed additional pages, and filled all of them completely.  

I love that I can get frustrated, scared, feel inadequate, feel like I conquered the world, and feel extremely content and proud - all within a single 18 hour work day. 

I love that when I was looking for new jobs and actually got to the point to consider applying for work outside of the INGO sector that I actually had no idea what else I could do. 

***

I love my job. 

I love that I love my job. 

6 months...

I just returned from the supermarket, doing our weekly shop with my housemate. We unexpectedly ran into 4 people we / I know. Apparently, the supermarket is a cool place to be.

A few months ago, flying out of Haiti, I randomly ran into 3 colleagues who were flying out at the same time (not same flight though). Apparently, the airport is a cool place to be. 

Last night, I stayed in, but I found out that two sets of friends, who, as far as I know, don't know each other were doing the same 'going out' route. Apparently, all the cool people do the same thing on a Friday night. (And the boring ones stay home. boring = me.)

***

I have heard it said that it takes 6 months of living in a new place for one to really feel settled. As in, for one to feel like they have developed a routine, relationships, habits, and a comfortability with life.

A few weeks ago passed my 6 month mark with my current organisation (which means I have in fact lived in Haiti for over a year) and I am noticing that this fact is true. Six months in, Haiti is my home and I love it in all its craziness and in all its social stability. 

But this also means I have 6 months left. I know I won't stay past my contract (don't worry, I know I won't leave early either!), and I am excited to start considering what is next. 

As much as I love my life here 6 months on, when you start looking at it from the 6 months left side, it starts to get difficult. 

Meeting new people is hard with the knowledge that you will have to leave soon.  

Making quality friendships is hard because you may never see people again. 

The work here never seems to lessen, only to get bigger and more intense. There has never been a day when my to do list has been completed. As Haiti moves from emergency response to development, the process needs to be integrated and it is hard having development professionals come into a post-emergency response, where there might be issues with systems set up, lack of institutional knowledge, or a whole range of things. Anyway, that is off the point and food for another post. In other words - there is still a lot to do. 

***

My first 6 months here were the most difficult time I have experienced. 

These past 6 months have been a challenge and a joy.

The next 6 months - who knows what they will bring. 

But for now, I know I am in the right place.  

Colour Focussed

I love being able to work and live all over the world. Because of it, I get to meet many interesting people, and am constantly learning about new cultures. Imagine: discussions about voodoo over lunch, getting to know - and understand! - the Ethiopian calendar, being a translator between a Canadian and a Brit (you guys really do talk differently, you know), being able to understand what the Indian head shake really means. 

These are all things I would never have known, had I not worked abroad! 

In my previous position here in Haiti, I loved the diversity of my department - in the expat team, there we 2 Zimbabweans, a Cameroonian, a Sierra Leonean, and a Sri Lankan. As well as plenty of Haitians who contributed to our madness. I felt like I was learning something new everyday - including a lot from them about our team's work! They were quite the intelligent, and funny, bunch! 

But one of the things that has arisen while working with many nationalities for an international organisation is the relationship between white and non-white staff - even white and non-white expat staff. 

When I was discussing my previous role and its responsibilities with my last manager, a Sri Lankan, he asked me how I felt about reporting to a non-white. I, slightly incredulous to be asked that question, thought for a second and responded, "Fine. Why, are some people not?"

He had to explain to me that actually many white people have trouble working and supporting someone who is not the same colour as they are. I could comprehend what he was saying at the time, and even see how it would work in reality, but at the same time, I was also shocked, dismayed and very embarrassed on behalf of my colour. I confirmed this statement with the rest of my team, who were also not white, with them verifying that most of them had, in fact, experienced this sort of difficult working relationship in the past. 

Sadly, my dismay quickly subsided when it became apparent to me that this is in fact true. You see, on my team, I was rightfully the lowest on the totem pole - at least among the expat portion -, in terms of experience and knowledge around the sector. I was also the only white person on the team. 

The office that our team functioned out of existed more as a corridor than an office - a corridor that held up to 20 people at one point or another. Constantly, throughout the day, I would observe as people would walk through the office, their eyes skimming past all the darker faces, focussing on mine alone. And then there were the multiple times when I was approached to answer a question about the team as a whole, whether it was to add input to a greater strategy, or to be introduced to a new staff. That was always a nice awkward moment of: "Well, I am not actually the best person to answer that - how about you talk to my manager?" or, "Oh, it is very nice to meet you. Let me introduce you to my manager as well; he will be your best point of contact here." 

I found this particularly frustrating. Not only did it put a lot of pressure on me, I was embarrassed to be the one white person; I was frustrated that people would automatically assume that I held the knowledge of the team, when I most decidedly did not. I think it might have annoyed my manager as well. 

What is the best response to this? I don't know. All I know is that in my experience, colours permeate our interactions more than we realise. And maybe as an expat in a developing country, I notice it more, because I am very much a minority here, and the expat staff force is actually quite diverse.

Have you had any experiences like this? How would you respond? If you are white, how would you feel if your manager was a black African, who spoke with an accent? Or what about someone who didn't speak much English at all?

Back in the Habit

Is it March already? Where does the time go? Seriously, I feel like so much and so little has happened in such a short amount of time!

But it is March - and at the moment, I am meant to be working. Writing that is. Well, you could say that I am writing now - but this is not what I am meant to be writing. I am meant to be working on a proposal for my organisation, which is quite large (guessing it will be about 50 pages) and due quite soon. At this point, I am 20 pages in. And most of that is just notes or the template! 

And this whole thing - it sounds familiar. Not very long ago, I was a masters student of human rights. And us human rights (human tights?) fannies worked hard and procrastinated harder. Many a late night was spent writing page after page the day before it was due, running from the library to the office to hand in the paper 2 seconds before it was due at 5pm (sometimes later!), freaking out about the printers being stupid, deciding what library to work in (the one with the windows, even though its really hot? the one that has lots of stairs? the one that has the best internet access? the one with NO internet access? or just a coffeeshop?). Oh, those were the days. 

The days spent cracking open books that haven't been opened for years. The days of leather satchels and wool coats and boots and London weather. The days of Hare Krishna in the common room, the days of treking big fattie (our massive human rights reader) around on the tube, the days of jacket potatoes. The days of drinks after hand-in at the local uni bar, chearing whenever someone new walked through the door.

This time around, my "uni experience" is much different. My internet access is so molasses slow that it can take up to 30 minutes to upload a photo (hence no photo here!), I have left the comforts of my home and bedroom (where I locked myself in my internet-free bedroom to work on the report and proceeded to...edit photos), to trek out to our field office for meetings all morning, researching all afternoon (on the molasses internet!) and writing in the evening. In each of these locations I am either (a) covered in sweat, (b) covered in dust, or (c) covered in mosquitos. 

Yep - times have changed. 

But habits don't...yet.

Now, once I get this done, who is up for drinks in the local?

Commémoration de Deux Années - un réponse

Two years ago today, a cataclysmic earthquake struck Haiti.

And today, the media is overwhelmed with articles about what has and has not been done since the earthquake struck. 

In response to the BBC's article entitled, "Haiti's tent cities signal long road to quake recovery" this is what I have to say.

Cemetary in the rural mountains outside of PaP. 
It dramatically increased in size post-earthquake.

As an aid worker based in Port-au-Prince, I have seen many of the disparities and struggles of the Haitian people over the last 2 years.

You are correct - there are still many people living in camps, and much work still needs to be done. There is still a massive lack of access to good water and sanitation, a problem in a time of cholera, unemployment is still rampant throughout the nation, stable homes are difficult to find.

But much has changed. Many people forget that 2010 was a difficult year for Haiti - more than just the earthquake at the beginning of the year. The rest of the year included a cholera epidemic, a hurricane, political violence, followed by difficulties in creating a functioning government.

Aid work does not happen overnight, particularly in a complex context such as this. Prior to the earthquake, Haiti was struggling to get to its feet. If the international community was looking to get Haiti back to its status quo prior to the earthquake, you might be able to see all the work that has been done in the last 2 years.

But the international community chose to 'Build Haiti Back Better.' This takes time; this takes money; this takes stability. Two years is not enough time to see this change; money promised has not been disbursed; 2010 was not even close to being stable.

I was not in Haiti for a few months towards the end of 2011. When I left, cholera was still a major concern, donors were taking their time in approving projects and delivering money, and Haiti still did not have a Prime Minister.

When I returned, however, I found a different Haiti. Construction is happening everywhere; new businesses are being developed; the government is proving to be stable, although, as with any government, there are still many concerns. Initiatives are in place to assist those living in camps to move to more permanent homes. Haiti even decorated for Christmas this year!

One cannot look at what has NOT been completed without looking at what has, with the eye that development takes time. The US did not become what it is today in 2 years - no, it took hundreds of years! Why do we expect change in Haiti to take place in a minutia of the time?

Haitians are very impassioned individuals; they are dedicated to their country and to building it back better, as is much of the international community. Instead of saying alarmist statements, such as walking into camps to see a man pointing a gun at another man's head, why can we not focus on the fact that those living in the camps are committed to moving their lives forward, to finding whatever work they can to earn enough to send their children to school.

Change is happening in Haiti. President Martelly was correct in saying that yes, we want to move fast, but we also want to do it right. Please do not expect quality to happen overnight.

For those that are interested, I enjoyed reading these articles below.  

The Guardian -

Haiti earthquake: two years on, and just half of promised aid has been delivered 

The Miami Herald -

Many question whether Haiti quake donations were put to best use

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/2012/01/09/2581629/many-question-whether-haiti-quake.html#storylink=cpy

 

With Just A Little Time

Five months ago, I left Haiti, after 6 months of rediculousity. Of course, I know that is not a word, but my word for Haiti, the entire time I was there was "rediculous." Because it was. Something new happened in Haiti every day. And I loved it... earthquakes, rains, cholera, hurricanes, political violence, corruption, ex-dictators returning to the country. We had it all. And had to adjust accordingly.

So it was no wonder that the media criticised all the UN agencies and NGOs here for being slow (as discussed by a fellow blogger here and here and many other places on his blog). How can you be quick when the situation changes every week, sometimes every day???

Well, as I said, 5 months ago I left Haiti. And when I left, it was still a mess. Cholera was rampant, we were coming into what was promised to be a banner of a hurricane season, there was no prime minister, and no one knew what would happen with MINUSTAH (UN peacekeeping service here), kidnappings were increasing.

But coming back now, I am impressed. I love walking / driving around the town to see all the changes. Because there are many. There is a fountain at Place St. Pierre (no water of course), and there is no longer a camp in the park (which also begs the question of what happened to all those people...). More businesses are open, construction is happening EVERYWHERE! But it seems to be organised construction! Not just people tearing at old buildings, or digging holes. Things are going up! Even the trees seem more bushy! Electricity is more stable; last night I was up the mountain and you could actually see the whole of Port-au-Prince valley's lights!

And let me get started about the streets! All the potholes I remember have been filled up and smoothed over, not just with dirt, but with actual asphalt too! Many of the roads are wider now too! Its actually a pleasure to drive (not that the driving rules have changed at all). But even traffic seems much less now!

As we are full and into the Christmas season now, there are Christmas lights hanging and trees in certain shops. I came home this evening to see our guards had decorated (including a horribly annoying Christmas song that is playing an unrecognisable tune in unrecognisable, squeaky notes...but hey, they tried).

Reading through the latest OCHA SitRep, the situation is less urgent and stressed (although there are still lots of people in tents who are threatened to be evicted), the cholera epidemic is calming down into a nice disease that will resurge every rainy season, there were no hurricanes this last season (although there were monsoonal rains), and hey, there is even excess food around (not that food prices reflect that)!

Of course, there is still lots of work to be done. Lots and lots, which is reflected in the amount of work I have to do. But these last 5 months were the most stable that Haiti has had in the last 2 years. And its amazing the difference a little stability can make. In some cases, it is unrecognisable.

Redefining Home

A few months ago, I wrote about my life in boxes and questioned where home was for me. My conclusion, somewhat, was that "my home has to be wherever I am."

I am retracting this conclusion for another...who says you only have to have one home? 

In that post, I examined the three options I felt I had to call home - LA, London, and Haiti. At the time, none felt like home - I think because I was looking at the "typical" definition of a home. According to my favourite dictionary.com, the first definition for home is "the usual residence of a person," which was how I was defining what home is. 

But if you look further down the list, home can also be defined as an idiom: "in a situation familiar to one; at ease." Now this definition is more relevant to the life of an expat, and the life of a traveler. We have many places that we are at ease; many locations in which we are familiar; loved ones in these homes that make it such.

In this case, then I have more than one place to call home, more than one situation with which I am familiar. Three at this point in life, although I am sure this number will increase. 

And it is with excitement and anticipation that I am able to share that I am leaving one home to return to the second via the third. 

In more clear terms, I am leaving Los Angeles to return to Haiti. I have been offered a position with a British organisation, and therefore will be returning to London for 2 weeks of orientation (27 Nov - 8 Dec), before heading to my beloved Port-au-Prince (9 Dec).

According to my dad, I live my life atypically - by this point, he expects nothing less. So then, it is only expected that my home is not according to the typical definition. To these "familiar situations" then, I will be glad to be welcomed home, not once but twice. 

LA, a la prochaine

Bon Retour, Haiti

The Waiting Game...

*I wrote this yesterday by hand while I was sitting around waiting for IT to finish working on my computer. For the entire day. I hate waiting. Patience is not my virtue...

I must admit... this week has been - as I told my manager the other day - well...boring. 


Which may sound weird coming from last week where I was raving about my work and expressing my frustrations about having to postpone again. 


Well, this week, the waiting has continued, and there are still no guarantees.


Granted, I have not been sitting around doing nothing... Oh no. The long hours have continued; the work has not ended. Rather, I am picking up small projects, doing what needs to be done, and at slower moments, reading documents that are good to learn from. 


But, the "waiting game" is really not very fun... you see - my job now within WV is as a DME Officer. My JD, while it includes a variety of tasks, focuses mostly on the organisation,  facilitation and follow-up of a baseline assessment. 


For those non-social scientists out there (Mom & Dad), a baseline assessment is...well...an assessment, or survey, that measures the current status of a problem - in this case, the knowledges, attitudes and practices around cholera - at the beginning of a programme / project in order to be able to measure the full impact of the project at the end of it.


Now, the reason I am playing the excruciating waiting game, maintenant, is because the project I will be establishing the baseline for is taking forever. FOR-EV-VER! (in classic Sandlot expressions). Literally, months. 


You see, the contract between us and the donor has to be signed before I can begin the assessment. Of course, we have to have the guarantee that the money will be there for the project we are establishing before we can actually begin activities. You can't pay for something without money, right?


And so, we wait. We wait for the IFI donor to look through our project plan and make sure all the documents are in order. We wait for the government agency partner to talk to the IFI to make sure what needs to be shared is shared. We wait for the other organisations we are working with to ensure that they are ready to move forward with the project as well. 


This raises one of the biggest frustrations any NGO worker has in responding to emergencies - everything boils down to the money; everything boils down to the grant. 


The grant is what defines the project; the donor is the one you have to report to because they want to know that their money is being used effectively; all activities have to fall specifically under the remit and within the specific time-period of the grant, otherwise you can't charge the activity against the available funds; you have to ensure that all the money is spent within the agreed upon time period, otherwise you have to give the money back and your relationship with the donor and potential for future partnerships will suffer. 


Geez. It sounds like the donor holds all the power here, doesn't it? Including, at this point, my schedule and feelings of being bored / feeling useful. 


I suspect that as I become more and more well-versed in grants, donors, projects and my job, I will be writing more and more about my frustrations with the system. Consider yourself warned. 

Expectations Fail.

Well, it has been 2 weeks since I re-arrived in country. And what a 2 weeks they have been. Sometimes I wish I could write a book about my experiences here, just as they are. No hiding, straight talking, maybe even venting a little. People would not believe it. Drama.


These last 2 weeks have just added to this desire. But I have to preface this statement - 


I love my new job. Seriously. This is the first time in years that I have really loved it. I am growing so much, it challenges me everyday, I learn something (s) new everyday. And I love the DME team. 


So after that caveat, let me tell you this - I am FRUSTRATED!!!


I am here to manage a baseline assessment. Pretty much what that means is that there is a new project coming for the cholera response and we want to know what the current situation is in order to measure how the project changes the situation at the end. By managing this, I have spent the last 2 weeks creating lots of documents, hiring enumerators (people conducting the survey on the ground), working with the budget, creating the plan, organising training, and in general making sure everything is in order for both the training AND the data collection.  


Yesterday, I made the informed decision to postpone the training. Again. For the 2nd time. This is the 3rd reschedule. And we do not know when we will start now. But because of this, we will have to call all the enumerators today to let them know, promising them that we want them, but we cannot tell them when they will work - and work is hard to come by here. I feel TERRIBLE about this. I do not like promising something and then having to go back on it, particularly when its affects people. I do not care about adjusting my schedule...yet again (ok, I am frustrated, but I will get over it). 


We went through such a process to hire these enumerators. First, we posted the job descriptions on university campuses here (students are always eager to work, have flexible schedules, and are a great investment). We received over 400 applicants. So, we had to go through them. We then had about 125 come this week for a test on their critical thinking skills. And let me tell you, that was a lot to organise. And then, we had to grade them. I felt like a teacher. 


Overall, we had about 50 out of 400 that we will want to work with on various assessments. Grading the papers, I was struck with an interesting fact about Haitian students. One thing we always joke about here is how slow Haiti is. We gave the students 30 minutes to finish the test - one which would have taken myself and my colleague about 15min to complete. I was shocked by the amount of people who were not able to complete even half of the test in 30 minutes. And I am saddened that out of 400, we were able to gather about 50 for our needs. 


I do not want to comment about the Haitian workforce. Work is hard to come by here and everyone wants a job. With these 50 individuals, I hope that I can help them on that path. 


So after grading the tests, we called all the people that we wanted to let them know to come on Monday for training. Now, we have to change because the contract is not signed and we cannot spend money before its there (an obviously good practice). The signing of the contract is completely out of my control, so now I just have to wait. And patience is not one of my virtues...yet...


At least this gives me opportunities to work on other things. But oh the frustrations of expectations not being lived up to - for myself and for all our enumerators!


In another note, last weekend, I drove up the mountain to spend a pleasant day with my friend and colleague, A. Here are some of the GORGEOUS photos (and lots of adorable puppies - maybe to become one of our own???).