Dear Mr. Cameron, I must regretfully inform you

Found here.
And let me tell you he makes some awesome faces. 

Dear Mr. David Cameron,

I normally do not do things like this. I normally have my opinions about another country's politics, but I usually keep them to myself, or for a good debate at the pub. I mean, America has got enough to worry about that I might actually be able to influence, right? (I am sure you would agree). 

But I felt this passionately and regretful about this, that I must write you this letter. 

You see, Mr. Cameron, sir - your government's policies on migration suck.

Now, one might think that I am writing you to complain about your treatment of refugees, or even worse, your treatment of asylum-seekers; how you detain individuals who are claiming asylum treating them just as bad, if not worse than a criminal, guilty as charged. You might think I am writing to request the Home Office to reinstate its funding to essential refugee and asylum-seeker organisations, like the excellent Refugee Council, who are having to stop essential programming because you are cutting the budget. 

While I feel passionate about this topic (and trust me, I do), this is not the subject of my letter today. 

I will first start with a story. A story of regret. You see, in 2009, I moved from the US, a country that if I have anything to do with it, will never be my home again, to the UK to study. I came to complete a Master's degree at one of your well-known universities, and boy was I excited about it! And getting a UK visa to study there - easy as pie! All I had to do was prove I was accepted at the university and that I could pay for it. Yep! Easy. 

While I was there, I got to experience the weird and wonderful world of UK politics, watching you get elected and form a crazy coalition government with your liberal-democrat colleague, Mr. Clegg. 

Upon graduation, I had spent all the money I had arrived with (as one does), and was headed off to Haiti to live and work and try and put my education into practice. At the time, I considered applying for the visa that I was eligible for - the Post-Study Work Visa, but unfortunately, you had recently put stronger restrictions on it, and I could not afford it at the time. "No worries!" I thought! I will apply at a later date, when I could prove I had the funds in the bank for it. I mean it would have been nice to have that option of moving back to a place that became my home, right?

Well, life happened. I was in Haiti for 6 months, and then was unemployed for 5 months. And I mean, when you are unemployed, you kinda need all the money you have. Its not like the US government wanted to support me anymore, after I had been living out of the country for so many years. 

I could not afford the visa, and the timeframe for my eligibility relapsed and all of a sudden I was stuck. 

I am stuck. 

Mr. Cameron, since you have come into government, you have put all these restrictions on immigration, and now it is virtually impossible for me to ever move back to the UK. 

Let's look at the different options the UK has for visas:

We will start at the bottom:  - UK ancestry
Yes, Mr. Cameron, I have UK ancestry. My last name is Huddleston, for crying out loud. How more English can you get!?! The problem - my ancestors emigrated over 400 years ago, not 2 generations ago. Oh, and the US is not a part of the commonwealth. 

- Tier 4: A student visa
Well, I could actually try to get this again. Obviously, it would require me to go back to school in the UK. But, wait! You have restricted the number of visas that you will allow, so one doesn't even need to just be accepted and able to pay anymore! 

And even so, what's the point? I would not be able to stay after - you are no longer accepting applications for the Post-Study Work Visa(ok, that one is Tier 1)! What, you don't want to keep the people your country educated there anymore?

 - Tier 3: Temporary visa
Ok, I could possibly apply for a temporary visa as a charity worker. But that would mean I would not be able to be paid. Ummm. How would I live? Plus, I have student loans from this amazing education your country gave me that need to be paid!

And with the others - yet again - not a part of the Commonwealth, a diplomat, an athlete, or creative enough to get paid for it. 

 - Tier 2: Sponsored visa (aka Skilled workers)
Hey, here is another opportunity, right? I mean, all I have to do is get a company to hire me, right? WRONG! Sponsored visas are expensive for both the employer and employee and plus, the organisation must prove that the non-EU citizen has some sort of skillset or experience that is necessary to that particular role that cannot be found anywhere else in the entire European Union! Uh. Thanks. 

Ok ok, there is still a small chance here - but come on. It's difficult and slim. 

 And lastly - 
 - Tier 1: Highly Skilled (also called High-Value)
So, I was educated by the UK (with a Masters degree no less), the work I do usually requires someone with a certain level of education, experience, skillsets, and technical knowledge. One would likely describe me as someone who is highly-skilled. Except the UK government. Because according to the UK government, in order to be considered highly-skilled, one must: - earn over £150,000 and want to invest it in the UK, - be an entrepreneur and have enough money to open and manage a business, or - be a leader in sciences or arts. Pretty much, you have to have a lot of money. Which I don't have (charity worker with student loans here). 

Now, Mr. Cameron, I understand that you want to keep British jobs for the British. But I hope you see my problem here. I have invested time and money in your country, have been educated by it, and consider it more my home than where I was raised. But you won't let me come and live there! 

So, Mr. Cameron, I must regretfully inform you: Your immigration policies SUCK!

I only hope that the next government (Mr. Milliband?) will have an opinion different to yours, because I am assuming that the next 3 years will only have more restrictions. 

Yours respectfully,
Angela

To settle? Or not to settle? That is the question.

When I was 20, I went through a bit of a...redefinition of who I was, is probably the best way to say it. I was in a relationship with my first serious boyfriend, and it was time. You know, that time that every relationship comes to - the time where you ask yourself, is this it? Is this the one? Is this forever? 

Me as a 20 year old on my first big adventure abroad!

As I asked myself these question, as I even talked with him about these questions, I realised I was undecided. (A great question to ask your significant other... "Will you wait for me?" NOT!). I loved my relationship with him; I loved that we got along so well; I loved that he was so secure. I, however, was not. I was in the middle of realising who I was, who I wanted to be, what I wanted to do. And in that, I became very uncertain in what our relationship would provide to my life! I talked with it about him, I talked about it with others, I thought about it always. And I loved who I was becoming, what I was discovering! But it was completely outside of who I was in that relationship.

In the end, he broke up with me. He was protecting himself from getting hurt by me, or so he says. But it was for the best. I continued on my path to who I am today - a path that has included traveling to many different places, living in many different places, meeting so many people, and just enjoying my single-dom (even in the relationships I have had since then). 

After that relationship though, I realised something - and this is how I told myself this realisation...

If I would have stayed with him, I would have had a good life. I would have been happy. I would have been settled. But I would not have done everything that I have been able to do since then. I would likely have started holding a grudge against him for making me choose the simple life. I would have felt like I...settled. 

And I made a pact to myself - I would never settle again. I would never allow myself to choose a man over the next adventure, the next thing. And I don't think I have! I have been constantly striving towards greatness. (Not reaching it yet, obviously). 

But I recently came across something, while working on a document here at work. I thesaurused (is that a word? haha!) the word 'to settle.' And this is what I came up with:

- resolve, reconcile, clear up, straighten out, mend, patch up

- stay, inhabit, put down roots, set up house, establish yourself, colonise, stay on, remain

- land, perch, alight, roost, come to rest

- become peaceful, become calm, settle down, calm down, relax

- sink, drop, descend, fall, go to the bottom, lie

 And I realised. All this time, these many years, I have been looking at the word 'to settle' in a very close-minded way. I thought when people settled, they sank, they fell to the bottom, they stayed. I thought that if I settled, I would just drop. My roots would sink down and I would never move again. 

But look at what else 'to settle' means - to resolve, to become peaceful, to come to rest. I realised that in that moment as a 20-year old when I came into my own as a woman, I was doing just that - I was resolving who I was with who I would be. I came to rest in my full being. I was finally at peace with who I am - a curious, world travelling, woman who does everything in her own individual way, with a passionate heart, a strong tongue and a stubborn mind.

I was working so hard to not settle, that somewhere along the way, I settled.

Set Fire to the Rain

And the rains came down

Today is World Water Day. A day dedicated by the international community to focus on water - lack of access, usage, and how much we need it to live.

Interestingly enough, rainy season has started here in Haiti. For someone, like myself, who grew up in consistantly sunny weather (Oh, southern California!), this season is a favourite. I get to experience rain, cool(ish) weather, thunderstorms and all the glories of living in a tropical climate that experiences torrential rain.

This is not the same for many Haitians though. For them, the rain means an additional trouble when trying to traverse and live their lives. The streets turn into rivers; floods happen not only in rivers, but also in fields, downtown, and with it comes the garbage, landslides and rock slides. Because of the floods and lack of drainage, any improper sanitation facilities (i.e. toilets), leak all of their lovely goodness out into the streets, increasing the chance to contract cholera or some other water-bourne disease.

With Haiti's current transition from responding to the earthquake, to longer-term development, this poses an issue...how do we respond to the annual 'emergency' of the rainy season. This comes every year; every year we have a spike in water-bourne disases; every year we remember that sanitation, sewage and drainage here is lacking. But also, every year we remember how difficult it is to build up the sort of infrastructure that will prevent this kind of damage from happening again.

As the saying goes, 'Rome wasn't built in a day'. Neither was Haiti. But until 'building back better' actually leads to something improved (which it will - it has to, or else what am I here for), I will have to temper my love of the rain with the affect and difficulties it brings to everyone else.

A Little Schmooze

Field-based Assessment

Recently, I have been thinking a lot about the interesting dicotomy aid work has in regards to professional / social life differences. While all aid workers have their own motivations for doing the work they do, I would bet that one of those reasons is because of their desire to give back to those who have less than we do. 

So, we spend all our work days talking about how to develop, how to respond, working with beneficiaries, spending days out in camps and 'in the field' collecting information, managing the teams that are building infrastructure and conducting trainings to bring a benefit to the communities, and more. We have our days when we are dirty; we have our days when we are sitting under a mango tree having a community meeting; we have our days when we are frustrated with those who don't work directly in this sector because of their lack of understanding; we have our days filled with meetings about strategy and future. 

But that's just during work hours. 

Outside of work, it is possible to live quite a nice, particularly here in Port-au-Prince. We have the restaurants, the pools, the parties. But particularly, we have the people we socialise with.

While here in Haiti, I have socialised with businesspeople, owners, restauranteurs, entrepreneurs, heads of organisations, UN liaisons, and even at one point, the entourage of the President's son. In other words, the influencers on society.

Pool Day Sunday

In life, it is common that getting things done is all about who you know. That is no less true here, and in many cases, is that much more relevant. I received a text today saying that if anything happens while out at our field bases, give this person a call because he knows the head of MINUSTAH (the UN peacekeeping force). Because of my housemate's links at the gym, we have gotten into multiple places for free, gotten invited to parties, and found out about the best new things to do. Because of my manager's network, we stay abreast of the political situation and we get some insider knowledge, or at least additional context, around what is going to be happening. 

What I find fascinating about living the life of an expat is that the people we are here to help, are not necessarily the ones that we get to know. (Before anyone freaks out, we do get to know them too. It's just in a much different context). We get to know the people at the top of the social strata. We get to know the 'somebodies'.

I don't know how I feel about this; I don't know if I would change it. But I can say that I could never have said that about life back home.


It's just...odd. And a part of expat life, I suppose.

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?

Catch Phrase

President Martelly, aka Sweet Mickey, just can't miss Carnival!

Last time I was in Haiti, my catch phrase, or in this case catch word, for Haiti was 'ridiculous.' Everything that happened was so out of this world, unlogical, changing, it was ridiculous. 

Well, Haiti hasn't changed. That is to say it hasn't changed to become unchanging and logical. But my catch phrase has changed. 

Now, whenever anything happens, my response to it is 'This is Haiti.'*

So, when there are 2 earthquakes in one week, and people in PaP freak out and sleep on the streets?

This is Haiti. 

When there are speculations about political unrest?

This is Haiti.

When 2 senators resign over the dual-citizenship debacle?**

This is Haiti.

When the president decides on Wednesday that for the first time in however long, Haiti will move to Daylight Savings, the following Sunday 

This is Haiti.

When work is let out early and NGOs go on lockdown, because the president has to speak - and his speech ends up being just him showing his 8 passports?

This is Haiti. 


When field based instutional donors move the deadline for their funding proposals forward a month and a half!?


This is Haiti.

When you are never sure if human rights are being abused or protected?

This is Haiti. 

When the woman doesn't have the cell phone you want to purchase in stock, and says that she will have it this week, but wants you to pay for it before you receive it and come back to pick it up later in the week (yeah, right, like I would do that!)?  

This is Haiti.

When you get to watch a lightning storm in the distance? 

This is Haiti. 

And oh what an adventurous place it is. :)  

* This has a story - I was out to dinner with colleagues at a nice, local restaurant, when we were approached by the owner asking if we would mind being filmed for a Haiti Ministry of Tourism video they were filming. As a part of this, the videographer would like to have one person look into the video and say, 'This is Haiti' Well, that person ended up being me. Keep watching their website to see if I show up on there! (I haven't yet). 


** There is a current debate about the President as to whether he is Haitian or not. Constitutionally, he must hold only a Haitian passport, as Haiti does not recognise dual citizenship. If he has 2, his presidency will become null and void. The president only commented this week on it, when another group of senators signed. Previously other ministers have resigned and the Prime Minister was pretty much forced out. We will see what becomes of it. Only time will tell. 

*** This is also the Catch Phrase of the Ministry of Tourism. But they mean it in a good way:

 

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?

Intimidated by the French

When I was 14, I decided to take the road-less-traveled (in SoCal, anyway) by choosing to study French instead of Spanish for my high school language requirements. And I chose to stick with it for 4 years, plus some...well, it continues to this day. However, learning French in a Spanish/English/Spanglish speaking area meant that I found it difficult to speak the language, difficult to become fluent, difficult to just not forget! But, 14 years after I started learning the language, I still have the goal of speaking French like a native. 

Which is easier said than done - in either language! Through all the classes, through all the attempts, though, nothing was better for my comfortability than moving to Haiti - a country that speaks French (well...at least some of the population does). Last time I was here, my impatient nature translated into me not wanting to wait for the translator to translate my English into French when out in the field asking questions to our health clinic staff. So, I just started speaking! And speak I do!

With Haitians that is. For Haitians, French is their second language as well, so it is actually quite easy for me to converse with them, making mistakes, speaking like a 4-year old, and all. And they love it when I try to speak with them in French. 

***

Short story - while shopping for paracetamol, conversing in French, Haitian man at the pharmacy asks if I am European. I say, No, I am American. He is shocked! But Americans don't speak French! Well, I do! And then he loves it. And starts speaking way too fast for my liking. But hey, he loved it.

***

Dad, Mom and Me in Paris. I attempted to translate for them. 

But then, I go to an EU meeting, for a grant we are potentially interested in applying for. Which is all in French - this I can handle. I can understand the whole meeting; I know what questions I need to have answered. But - I don't ask. 

You see, European French is much different than Haitian French. It's intimidating. Because I speak French like a 4-year old, because I am afraid to be judged, because my French is decidedly sub-par, I don't speak. 


Even though, coming to Haiti has been the best thing for my French so far, there is still a lot of way for me to go.


I wish that there was just a switch for me to flick that would make me fluent. 

Particularly because it would be very beneficial for work here. Actually, in my case, French is more beneficial than Kreole. 

French tutor? French immersion course? Oui, s'il vous plait. Et vite, s'il vous plait.

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

 

A Part of Life

Things in Haiti are...a little different. And for someone who grew up in the suburbs of Los Angeles with a clean freak of a mother, I find it interesting that these, below, are really just a part of life now.

• Waking up to find that the flat is out of water. Usually discovered as one is flushing the toilet. Well, looks like a shower is not happening...
• Oh, the office has rats! Well. Perhaps we should think about getting a cat.
• Need draino, stat! I want a shower not a foot-bath!
• Mice running beneath your feet at the mountain office? Meh. As long as they are not crawling up my leg.
• And cockroaches as long as my pinkie? Well, I suppose now is as good a time as ever to get used to them.
• Rice and beans for lunch. 5th time this week. 
• 28 degrees C is definitely cardigan and scarf weather! 
• Dirty feet? Yep. Still. Do I ever have clean feet?
• Aw, dang! The microwave doesn't work. Guess I just have to wait to eat until we move off the battery inverter...
• Is that gunshots or fireworks? I'll just tell myself it's fireworks. It makes me feel better

But no matter how strange it is, I love life here.

To end, here is a photo of my room. I kinda like it. It's cozy. There is a closet to the left of the bed, and a table to the right of the fan. And that's it!