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.

Fool Me Twice, Shame on Me

The past 3 weeks or so have been a roller coaster, to say the least. As I commented here, before Isaac came, I was exhausted. There had been a lot happening in life, I was getting tired, emotional, and was quite close to burnout, I expect. But Isaac rejuvenated me enough to get me here to today. 

And today, I am exhausted again. Impatient, short with people, curt, and just need to sleep. 

But you look at my past 3 weeks, though, you would understand. 

3 weeks ago, we had our security measures increased dramatically due to an increase in international female kidnappings. Now, our curfew is at 10:30pm, we have drivers all the time, cannot walk by ourselves anywhere, and have to text and discuss our movements down to the nth degree. When I am in Leogane, where I don't really know anyone, after the office closes, my only option is to stay in the house. Seemingly under house arrest. Oh, and this is only for women...and ANYONE who knows me would know how I feel about that.

Oh, and around that time, a great majority of our management staff were out of the country, which means there was an increased workload on us all around. 

2 weeks ago, we had a tropical storm hit Haiti, during which I was stuck in the house in Leogane. The storm caused damage in our operational areas, which means that I was out on the field doing assessments and planning a response. 

1 week ago, I initiated a more in-depth assessment, while also trying to finalise evaluations, donor reporting, finishing up reports that others never finished, manage consultants, and work with the rest of my colleagues to make the right decisions around our response. While it was great and exciting, it was exhausting. By Sunday, I was beat and needed a day at the beach to recover. 

And then this weekend happened. I had left most of my stuff in Leogane, because I knew I was going to be back there, come Monday, for the week. And I knew I would not need much over the weekend. So, hey, why not make life easier and only bring the essential items back with me (thankfully,  my passport and ipod were on that list)? 

And then the house was broken into on Friday night, any room which was open (mine included) was gone through and things were taken. Including my bag of clothes. With probably about 3/4 of the clothes I wear regularly here, underwear included. I didn't know about this until this morning, when I got to Leogane, walked into my room and the bag was gone. No hope of finding anything. Well, my trainers were recovered in the banana plantation out back. Woo. Thanks, thieves. 

So, I am back to being exhausted, frustrated yet slightly emotionless. I am ready for a break. Haiti can get to you, sometimes - as I wrote here - it can provide you with some interesting adventures. My friend today told me, well, at least you have a story... 

Yes. Haiti has provided me with stories. More stories than I could probably ever share. 

But they are not always the best stories. They are stories that are tiring, frustrating, where you just want to escape. 

Am I a fool for staying? Or maybe I just need an escape for a short while.

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 ...

Sur la Terrain

Harvest in the Lowlands

To have a day like today, this is why I do the work I do. Adventure, experience, getting to see local culture, and gaining a better understanding of the needs of the communities we work in - this...this is what keeps me coming back. 

We went out today to do a rapid needs assessment in the communities we work in, looking at what happened during Tropical Storm Isaac. We had been receiving lots of information by phone yesterday, from our 'operations base,' also known as our kitchen table. And the information we were getting was showing that there was a great impact. But we wouldn't know for sure until we went out and verified it. 

We knew that need to verify would come soon, and come quickly, so I was prepped and ready to go with all the tools, the processes, the people we would use. All were aware it could happen at a moment's notice - the green light to go. So this morning when I was just chatting to friends on Skype, taking my time to get the day started, and I got the green light - well...we sprung into action. Our area coordinator had been at a meeting with other NGOs and the local governmental response body (the DPC) to see what needed to happen in our commune. So, when they said we need more information, we said, let's go. 

Within 45 minutes, we had the teams here, drivers here, vehicles waiting, questionnaires printed, areas assigned, and process to use communicated. I led a team going to the lowlands area of the Leogane commune, that which was accessible. 

Many of the communities we work in are only able to be accessed by driving (or walking) up the river, and with the amount of water that dumped on Haiti this weekend, some rivers are still impassable. The route taken by our driver today required the use of our sturdy Land Cruiser to manage the mud, crevices, rocks, and river traversing that was necessary to reach the two communities. 

Since I don't speak Creole, I was in charge of photographing (woo!), taking GPS coordinates and making observations in the area. The other 2 on my team went to houses to ask questions about what happened during the storm and what the need was. 

***

On a side note, I had free reign to walk around the communities, chatting with people, traipsing through mud, wandering through fields, petting goats, waving 'Bonswa' to children. Oh my. Just, maybe the best. I loved my job today.

***

At the first community we went to, I wandered, and we talked to 4 households and the local government representative. We found that overall, the damage had not been too bad in the community. There were trees felled, houses that were slightly damaged, and quite a few goats that got stressed and died (ok, there is a small part of me that finds that hilarious, but goats are a huge source of income in these communities, so the humour I find is just really really inappropriate. Bad thoughts, Ang), and there was a lot of mud. Local gardens were affected, but not many, and there were not really any that were completely destroyed. 

A good find. A relatively good outcome for the community. There will be affects, but walking around showed that the community was living life as normal - sitting on porches, braiding hair, gardening, taking care of animals, managing shops, and chatting with each other. 

We continued up the river to the next community. However, to get there, we had to drive up the river as far as the car would go safely, and then we continued the rest on foot. We removed our shoes, my team rolled up their jeans (damn skinny jeans and not being roll-up-able!), and we traversed the muddy, rocky water, joking about what a nice beach we were visiting! 

While this community was not devastated either, it still spoke the remnants of a massive storm. With all the rain, the river had swollen, taking down plantations and gardens, ruining harvests, and creating new cavernous water-ways on paths. Mud was present; more animals had died; and we heard of 5 houses that had been demolished by the wind. 

While my team questioned houses, I was shown around by various members of the community, all pointing out where the damage was. It was evident that this community would bear the brunt of the storm for much longer than the first. 

But still, the communities continued life as normal. Haitians are notoriously resilient, letting things like this storm come and go and just accepting that it is a part of life. Whether this is a good or bad thing, I cannot say, and that is another topic for another day. 

Life continues as normal - including Football!!!

The walk back up the river caused lots of laughter in the communities I think. It's definitely not every day that they see a 'blan' walking up a river in wet jeans and bare feet. I earned the term 'ou capable' (expressing shock at my ability to hike through mosquito-infested jungles, and traipse up a river in bare feet) by my team. 

The meeting upon my return to the office found that many of the other communities visited experienced the same sort of issues. We are so thankful that it is not worse than this. No deaths were reported; most houses survived. 

I woke up this morning bored at the thought of being stuck in the house another day. Instead, I am heading to bed with more mosquito bites than when the day started, dirty feet, sweaty skin, and a smile on my face. 

Isaac, thank you for not being as mean as you could have been, and for giving me a bit of adventure in the meantime. 

And we wait...

Isaac over Puerto Rico - headed our way!

Until Tuesday, I was feeling exhausted. So tired, I could not sleep but it was all I wanted to do. It was hard to motivate myself; I was on edge; I wore my 'grumpy pants' way more times than I liked. 

Life was difficult and more than once, I thought, I just need to get out of here. My planned trip to the DR could not come soon enough. I want to walk around, sit at a restaurant, be by myself, shop, eat at Taco Bell, and just be more normal. And don't even get me started on all the dreams I was having about being in Europe. I was in the stages of burn-out. 

And then Tuesday afternoon came. I received an email in the middle of the day from my Dad, entitled 'Isaac', asking if my organisation would evacuate me. You see, Isaac was on his way. IS on his way still. At the time, he was a tropical storm, forecast to move right over Haiti, hitting hurricane strength around the time he breached the Port-au-Prince mountains. 

And we sprung into action. I began thinking about our response; our area coordinator planned our preparedness activities. We put our staff into place. Some were to fill up vehicles with gas; others were to board up windows or move items into more secure locations. 

We watched the movements, made decisions on an almost hourly basis as to what else needed to be done. Conversations were had with our HQ, we planned our money, our phone credit, packed our quick run bags, monitored the news again, made sure our staff were safe and knew how to respond. We know that we need to keep our slotted windows open 2 inches so they don't break. We bought food (ice cream and beer included!) and we have candles for when the electricity goes out. 

In response, we have organised teams who will phone and head out into the field to do assessments, to see what the impact is in the area we are working on. I am working on the questionnaire, our methodology, and making sure that we are getting the proper information about the needs in the communities here. I prepped our teams on the process, I am making sure they have the questions, they have the information. We are linking with the local government to make sure we are reaching all the communities in the area - we are taking the lead in much of the initial response. 

Our staff were enthusiastically available to come off annual leave to help, to stay later at the office to make sure we have everyone's contact information, no complaining about the chance to work on Sunday to respond. 

As we left the office, we pushed our desks together away from the wall. Tarps cover important documents that there is a chance for water to reach. Our staff know that the office is closed tomorrow in prep, and what we will do to respond. 

And now we wait. Wait for him to make up his mind as to what he will do. Wait for him to strike or not. Wait to see what happens. 

But Isaac woke me up. I am still exhausted, yes. But he brought my adrenaline back - enough to finish these next few weeks before my short holiday. 

Isaac, bring on what you will. We are ready. 

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.