Another day older, another year wiser

Image by me (St. Martin!). Quote by... someone?

Tomorrow, I turn another year older. Another year has past and in many ways, I cannot believe it. In other ways, I am so glad that it has. 

One year ago, I was reeling from being out of Haiti when I didn't want to be; I was in the throws of personal, professional and family issues and I just needed to escape and recuperate. One year ago, I ran to visit my best friend in Central California for a few days and stayed a few weeks. One year ago, life was difficult and in the deepest of the deep, I wondered whether I would ever recover. 

The only constant in life is that we are always learning, growing and changing, as the best philosophers say. One year ago, if you would have asked me what I learned during my first stint in Haiti, I would have bitterly responded that I learned to not trust people and I learned how I react when under extreme amounts of stress and that was about it. 

One year ago, I was angry, bitter, upset, a little depressed, confused, hurt, alone, emotional and just really, really struggling. 

Oh, how things change in a year. 

I describe 2011 as the most challenging year I have ever had (those who have read other parts of my blog will have noticed). But best part of the challenge was learning to not just sit and wallow in all those emotions. Instead, I felt them, and felt them fully! I gave each part the time it needed to work its way through my body, my mind and my heart. I went on lots of walks where I yelled at God; I shut myself in my room; I went on road trips where I could be alone; I took menial jobs just to keep my self and my mind busy; I went to the gym and learned what exercise does for my brain and my emotional state. But most of all learned how to work through the whole process, learned to recover, and, eventually, I sorted myself back to normal (well, mostly...). 

I learned that life is full of its ups and downs - you can't always control it. And in those moments you feel out of control, its ok! God gave us a vast scale of emotions, to feel them; they are there and they are valid and feel them, you should! So if you are grumpy, it's ok! If you are lonely, that's ok; if you are sad, that's ok; if you are anti-social, that's ok; iIf you are happy and bouncy, that's ok too! 

Life is too short to hold onto the past, to hold grudges to hold onto anger. Yes, feel your anger, but then let it go! Let it fly away with the wind! Only then will you realise, as I did, that letting go and letting yourself feel is the real path to freedom. 

One year later, I am entering my 29th year, living in Haiti, working in a job that I love (that challenges me everyday), adventuring regularly, loving great friends, making new ones, living with joy, with freedom and with spirit. 

As my tattoo says, "to everything, there is a season." My 28th year was a season. It was many seasons. But at this season, I am happy in the struggles, learnings, laughter, dances, late nights, stresses, hopes and dreams that my 29th year promises to bring. 

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.  

Alumnus

In the past month since I posted last, I have been working lots, travelling lots and have lots of blog posts started but not published. Need to get back onto them. In the meantime, I was asked by my MA university to write an article about my work in Haiti for the inaugural edition of their Alumni newsletter. What an honour! So for those who are interested, I publish it again below!

Link to the whole newsletter here. 

The day in January 2010 when the 7.0 earthquake struck Haiti will go down in history as one of the most catastrophic days in modern Haitian times. Over 200,000 people were killed, 2 million more displaced, and countless others affected.

I remember that day vividly. It was a Tuesday, and I had just returned home from the Senate house library where I was preparing for our lecture and seminar in Securing Human Rights the next day. I turned on my computer to relax a little before bed, and opened up the BBC news website. As the site loaded a breaking news headline popped up: “Haiti devastated by massive earthquake.” As soon as I saw that, my heart jumped and I knew. This was the last thing Haiti needed.

Prior to the earthquake, Haiti’s history is filled with coup d’états, hurricanes, dictators, occupations, and a constant stream of human rights violations. As the well-advertised statistic says, Haiti is the poorest nation in the Western hemisphere with over two-thirds of its population living on less than $2 per day. An earthquake of this scale, with the epicentre located only 25km away from its populous capital city, Port-au-Prince, had just set Haiti even further back on the development ladder.

As an American attempting to learn French, not Spanish, I had always had a particular interest in the nation, being one of the largest French-speaking nations in the Western hemisphere. With previous work experience working in the relief department of a large NGO, when the earthquake struck, I wanted to go. I read everything I could about the response; I blogged on the topic; I even communicated to my previous manager about what the chances were of me going. But as it was the middle of the year for the MA in Understanding and Securing Human Rights, I knew it was not the right time. Yet.  

I first arrived in Haiti on 10 December 2010, only a week after walking across the stage to receive my MA in Human Rights degree. At the time, Haiti was approaching the one year anniversary of the earthquake, a massive cholera epidemic had struck the country, the election process was in a stalemate marred by fraud and violence, and two of Haiti’s ex-presidents in exile had just returned to the country, which spurred questions on their return and what it would mean to the country. To put it succinctly, it was a mess. In the almost two-and-a-half years since the earthquake though, it is evident that the country has taken quite a few steps forward to “build back better,” now having a somewhat functioning government, IDP camps disappearing, a cholera epidemic that exists but is more manageable, and NGOs returning to long-term development projects. Complete recovery and stability, however, still yet remain elusive; the situation here can change overnight.  

I have lived in Haiti off-and-on since graduation, working mostly with a few humanitarian organisations with donors and reporting, and implementing assessments, and project monitoring and evaluation. While none of these positions have worked directly in the human rights field, the knowledge and skills I gained of human rights through the MA course has been very influential in the roles, as I am working to develop proposals, write reports, conduct assessments, and engage with donors, beneficiaries, and the UN and other NGOs here.

Working out in the field undeniably gives an interesting insight to the field of human rights and the work of NGOs. It is definitely difficult work! I appreciate how much the international community attempts to integrate human rights principles into the development of their projects and their organisational strategies, particularly the principles of impartiality, participation, accountability and advocacy. But just because we attempt it, doesn’t mean it’s easy, especially in an emergency response. Participation and advocacy take a long time, and it is hard to encourage duty-bearers to take responsibility if the government is non-functional! However, I have seen first hand how essential these principles are to respect and dignify the communities we are working with. For example, communities love being able to contribute to the design of their own shelters; the sense of pride is astounding when meeting with small business owners who have been able to bring their businesses back to life through partnering with our organisation!

However, the realities of the field, the realities of living in a developing country do bring to light how much further we have to go. How can we assure the effective implementation of a rights-based approach in an emergency response that needs to be implemented quickly? How do we hold a government accountable to their human rights obligations if it can barely function on its own? How can one change a societal perspective of power that leads to feelings of entitlement and selfishness?

Being field-based, I get to see the fruition of the work that we are doing, the projects we are designing and implementing, the impact we are making to the lives of those who are vulnerable and it is the best part of being out here. But I also see how much further we have to go. The work of human rights is a long, difficult, complicated process and I can only be thankful for the role I am allowed to play to uphold these important principles and the contribution I can make to give others the opportunity to live a life that is “free and equal in dignity and rights,” as the UDHR says. I know I will keep working and striving to reach this difficult and lofty goal.

Human Rights in Haiti Resources:

·          Haiti’s Human Rights international treaty adherence: http://www.adh-geneva.ch/RULAC/international_treaties.php?id_state=84

·          International Disaster Response Law in Haiti, IFRC: www.ifrc.org/PageFiles/87274/MAA0000410ar.pdf

·          Measuring the way forward in Haiti: Grounding disaster relief in the legal framework of human rights, Amanda M. Klasing, P. Scott Moses, and Margaret L. Satterthwaite:

·          http://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/resources/Full_report_158.pdf

·          Indicators in Crisis: Rights-based Humanitarian Indicators in Post-Earthquake Haiti, Margaret L. Satterthwaite, http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1833530

There's GOLD In Them Thar Hills!

Up in Northern Haiti, around the mountains where gold was found!

So, in order to remain the informed resident of Haiti that I am (:P), I subscribe to the Miami Herald news, getting email updates about Haiti and the Caribbean in my inbox each day. Sometimes the articles are just informational; sometimes they are interesting; sometimes they are sad.

Today, however, I was presented with some quotes that just... well...

This is Haiti. 

On the discovery of gold in the country! No, not pirate gold (like I hoped!) but an estimate of $20 billion worth in the Northeast:

"If the mining companies are honest and if Haiti has a good government, then here is a way for this country to move forward," said Bureau of Mines Director Dieuseul Anglade.

So. Let's look at the likelihood of this. 

IF the mining companies are honest...in one of the most corrupt nations in the world... 

* Haiti is considered to be the 9th most corrupt nation on the planet, according to Transparency International. 

Hmm.

AND! IF Haiti has a good government...well, considering it's current government has been functional only 4 out of the last 12 months... 

Yeah. I don't have high hopes for this. Bring on the "environmental contamination, displaced communities and mountaintops torn asunder"!!! Sigh. Ok, really I hope it turns out better than that. Really really hope so. This could actually be a great opportunity for the country. 

Next up - it's been 1 year since President Martelly was sworn in. And here is what Martelly has to say about the last year: 

Still known to many by his stage name "Sweet Micky," Martelly said governing was easier than he had thought and he has no regrets from the first year.

So...Martelly thinks governing is easy!?! And no regrets? His first year was perfect? Well, I guess it was pretty perfect (if you completely ignore the fact that he didn't have a Prime Minister for the first 5 months, the first one quit on him, 10 senators' mandates have just expired and there is no election set, and an armed militia is now wandering the streets...)

But. He still is miiiighty popular!

“This is the first time we have a government that cares about the people,” Pierre said. “Martelly is moving with the people, helping them find housing. A lot of children who were not in school are there today because of the free education. I would be happy if he were re-elected for another five years and then he can become president for life.’’

This man, who has no electricity, running water and who's 6 children are not in school, sure still loves him. He even wants Martelly to be President for Life!!!!

Well, we all know how well that goes (I'm talking to you, Papa Doc and Baby Doc.)

Sigh. Oh Haiti. 

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/2012/05/12/v-fullstory/2796979/haiti-marks-one-year-with-michel.html#storylink=cpy

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/2012/05/11/v-fullstory/2795142/prospectors-ready-to-tap-haitis.html#storylink=cpy

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/2012/05/12/v-fullstory/2796344/modest-gains-mark-haitian-leaders.html#storylink=cpy

The Evolution of an R&R

One of the perks about being an expat aid worker (aka one of the ways our employers attempt to keep us from going even more crazy than we already are) is the fact that every so often - 6 weeks, 2 months, 3 months, 4 months depending on the organisation - requires you to leave for R&R. Rest & Recuperation. 

For those of us who are single, without families and want to evade paying taxes back home by not being in the country, often this time is combined with annual leave and used to visit any myriad of the interesting random countries that surround us. And sometimes even the ones that really just are not convenient to get to at all. Because the world is our playground. 

---
By the way, it has been my experience that those who have families often use this time to engage in a little 'R&R&R,' as coined by my old colleagues. Rest, Recuperation, and Reproduction. Literally. 

---
And of course, one always wants the next country on the list, the next stamp in the passport and all that stuff that makes us feel somewhat well travelled or feeds our adventure appetite. 

Well, today I booked my next R&R. As in, the flights are purchased, I am researching accommodations and activities, but mostly I am flying by the seat of my pants (British or American - doesn't matter). 

But instead of just announcing where I am headed - which is pretty crazy, let me tell you - I need to tell you the process of how I got here. Because its a good, long story. 

It was agreed upon many many months ago that my next R&R would be scheduled for the first 2 weeks of June. I scheduled it far in advance to give myself plenty of time to decide where I wanted to go, to find a travel partner, and to organise. And so I set out to do so. 

The initial plan was Cuba (I mean what American does not want to try to sneak into Cuba through the back door!) and either Puerto Rico or Costa Rica. I hadn't decided. But I researched Cuba and found out all the ins and outs of how to travel to this country, while breaking US policies. And its actually quite simple (ask me by email if you want to know). 

However, I was still looking for a travel partner. After talking to people who had been, also after looking at the laws around being an American in Cuba, I decided that I need to go with someone who likes to go out and have a good time and is non-American. You know. Just in case. And I did also decide on Puerto Rico, because it was closer and offered some good options for scuba diving. 

Problem. Could not find someone to go with at that time. With my housemate planning to go in September, when I am next due for an R&R, and me not particularly feeling comfortable in a place I cannot speak the language or use the ATMs by myself, I decided to change to another couple of islands where I could understand the people. 

Guadeloupe. Found here.

Enter Guadeloupe. A country with a volcano, Jacques Cousteau's underground playground, beaches and apparently amazing French food. That speaks French. Done. Decided. Hmmm. What other country can I add to that? I know! Sint Maarten / Saint Martin! A French side that is filled with relaxing beaches and sophistication and a Dutch side filled with places to go out and city living. Deal. Sorted. 

But you know the Caribbean? Yeah, its not cheap. Not at all. There are not really a lot of cheap places to stay - well there are, but they are difficult to find - and there is little to no public transport especially on the smaller islands. 

So when I was looking at what the options were, it was looking quite expensive - car rentals, hotels, food, and still countries where there was the potential that I would do less relaxing of the mind and soul than more. 

I was still convinced. I talked with people who had been to both, started getting an idea of what to do, and how to do it. Then finally, I began the process to book tickets. 

Now this was where I got stuck. After much waffling about, and a few credit card mishaps, I ended up booking a return flight from Sint Maarten to PaP. And that was it.  Haha. Well, its a start!

A start to rethinking the whole process. And talk with some friends. And think. And review. And revise. And I did. So what did I end up booking today? 

Sint Maarten. Found here

PAP-CUR-AMS-SMX-PAP

In non-airport code language, that is Port-au-Prince to Curacao. Curacao to Amsterdam. Amsterdam to Sint Maarten. Sint Maarten to Port-au-Prince. 

Oh. Well that makes complete sense, right? 

Yeah, not really. Well, in anyway, I am thrilled about all of it. Getting some Caribbean beaches, some European flavor, some easy living, some relaxation, some relatively safe walking and some culture. All in 2 weeks. 

And hey, they have hostels in Holland. And I have friends to visit. Oh, it's gonna be a great time!

Don't worry though, Guadeloupe, Cuba, Puerto Rico and Costa Rica! I'll get to you! Eventually!

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.