I have to thank my wonderful friend, Sara, for giving me inspiration for the title of this post. She defined what I am experiencing. If ever email you receive from me, you will receive this quote:
“Life Begins at the End of your Comfort Zone” - Neale Donald Walsch
I thought I understood this. In many ways I feel that I've lived much of my life on the edge of my comfort zone. This past Valentine's Day I celebrated V-Day by attending protest events against violence against women organized by Eve Ensler. The first thing I did was attend a yoga class in Chapel Hill with a theme centered around the edges of your life. I remember when I meditated during that incredible class that I attended alone - on that edge of my comfort zone. I felt in some ways that I was not living what I was "preaching." A few months after that, over dinner with my friend Sandy, who is such an incredible gift in my life, our conversation led to this same discussion. We both ended up sitting in silence, wondering why we weren't more open to things that were around us, that had been explained well to us, that were possibly affecting our lives. We were discussing the possibilities that life gives to us - and how we are able to choose what to embrace, and perhaps more importantly, what not to. It was during that discussion that the epiphany that Zaiya and I should come to Haiti with Marc emerged. Up to that point, I had not realized how closed my mind was to certain aspects of Marc's need to return to Haiti.
I am about to share some very intimate and personal photographs and thoughts about my experience here, so I respectfully ask that you stop reading now if you are not prepared for that. If you planned on just visiting this for a photo gallery, please do not. This is not meant to be a photo gallery of Haiti - my intention is not to show disturbing photos to invoke pity in any way. These photos are meant to provide a background to my thoughts and my experiences here. For some reason I say this because I feel protective of Haiti now... meaning I understand on a new level why Marc has always been so protective of his country. I remember sitting on the couch after the earthquake and watching helicopters deliver food by air. Regardless of intentions, I remember it dropping down and watching people fight for it. It is one of the few times I have seen Marc cry in my life. He kept repeating, "Why are they making these people into savages? This is not how Haitian people are - this is humiliating and embarrassing and horrible how they are being treated." I understood on some level - but as those visions go through my mind after having been here for over a week, immersed in the country as few could be - I understand it now. There is an insane amount of love here. We could all learn from the smiling faces that exist here in conditions that you cannot imagine. And we threw food from helicopters to "help" them. I've experienced the earth shaking here (no joke) and it is real. I've heard people say that Haiti could be better if its people would "help themselves." I've heard all kinds of comments made about the Haitian people. The end of my comfort zone and the beginning of my life is here and now. I have never seen people work harder, gracefully struggle, or generously serve in my life. My grandmother, Minkie, once explained to me that I had no idea what it was to suffer. I understand her now and felt her spirit here so strong the other night during a special ceremony that I sobbed as I felt her embracing me. I know that she knows I understand what she was explaining now. I miss her handwriting and her wisdom and would do anything to speak with her now. But, I digress. Let me continue my thoughts on Haiti...
11.20.13 Wednesday:
Below is the bar that our "Toutou," our Uncle owns. Of course when they told us about the bar our uncle owns, we imagined a bar... and here it is. It is a bar, where patrons come and purchase drinks and sit and watch soccer games and celebrate life together. The small, old tv in the corner plays soccer matches and when we arrived, the bar was hopping. Everyone was gathered around watching the match and having the time of their lives! It was an awesome scene. Zaiya is here after everyone cleared out, watching a movie on the portable DVD player we borrowed from Auntie Kristen. It seems silly, but this modern convenience has come in handy so much. It has helped him escape the heat and commotion that he is not necessarily used to. It's a part of life here to hear all kinds of sounds... it is mostly the sound of the generators that are most distracting. If the electricity cuts off, as it often does, the generators are the only way to maintain power.
This is very close to the garage and right by where we stayed. Of course, Zaiya found another stage and got down to business posing for his pre-show pics. I believe this time he performed an original song about how he was in Haiti. As usual it was adorable.
On our way to the city where Marc grew up, we pass a bridge that overlooks what used to be a flowing stream of clean water that people would travel to in order to obtain enough water to clean and wash clothes and to bathe their families. It is now more of a plane of large puddles and brown, dirty water. In this water, I have seen pigs bathing, people bathing, goats drinking, and people washing their clothes.
We arrived at Marc's hometown and were immediately greeted with an incredibly warm welcome. So many of Marc's cousins that he has not seen in over 10 years were just thrilled to see him. It was, of course, like no time had passed - but at the same time so much time and so many changes had happened. There was an incredible amount of catching up to do. Here are a few pics of Marc's reunion with his cousins and uncles:
Thursday, 11.21.13
Today, I experienced my first "Toilette" which means that you wash essential areas of your body over buckets of cold water using what is essentially recycled Betty Crocker butter containers for a cup. Lourdi walked me through it... so never mind the bonding that took place there! We were getting ready to go out for a night on the town where Marc grew up - we were staying with his Aunt who we had visited the night before. In the area we were in there was one working toilet, but you had to call and ask if you could use it, and there was always a line and it wasn't always working. Forget showering... over the course of the evening, Zaiya accidentally fell in the water that sits in these streets after trying to jump over - he made it over but then stepped back right into the small river that it creates. It was just his feet - but everyone panicked. "Be careful, lady," a stranger said to me. My cousins and uncles all jumped up and cleaned his feet (mind you not under a running sink or bathtub, but with their bare hands with their personal buckets of clean water.) Now I know why. It is apparently full of human waste and is just about the most dirty water you can imagine. And it just sits there as if it's been invited to stay.
We left for the club around 10:45pm. It was hilarious. We considered ourselves VIP when we were served our drinks with a plate of crushed ice (crushed by hand from large blocks of ice that are sold throughout the country) beside our bottle and cups. The club was called "club 24" and was essentially a tin room with a makeshift stage and the smallest bar you can imagine. People lined the streets to enter, but because we were with Marc's uncle, we got in right away. It was totally dead and took awhile for us to figure out seating arrangements. Eventually, more people came and we started soaking in the Raggae music they were playing. We danced and bonded and had the most amazing fun with family members I'd never met and Lourdi hadn't seen in over 10 years. It was quite fabulous! In the middle of our ride home, the SUV we were driving broke down. I thought for a minute we were going to be stranded on this one way dirt road and wasn't quite sure what would happen. A quick 10 minutes later, the car had started again and we were on our way, just in time for someone to have come behind us and start honking for us to get out of their way! People are wonderfully self-sufficient in this way throughout Haiti. From what I observed, everyone is a mechanic, an electrician, a plumber and an artist. Just pick one - there is not one person who doesn't have a skill that we don't have an 800 number for here in the U.S.
I have been reflecting so much on my life here - so much about what I have and what I have felt for most of my life that I need in order to live, live well, and at times survive. I knew my perspective would change in Haiti - I had no idea the extent to which this would happen, however. Let me just describe in detail our sleeping arrangements for the night. Darline and her daughter are sleeping on a makeshift mattress on the floor - their mother, Marc's Aunt, is sleeping in the single bed across from us. Lourdi and are are to sleep in the double bed right beside them. This is a one. room. house. The walls are literally peeling apart.
I want to post pictures of the room where we stayed - but these are my family members and there are some things I just don't feel comfortable sharing. So, I will share the picture of the ceiling and the entrance way. The first time Marc brought me into his Aunt's house, he explained that when the garage business his Uncle had was thriving before the earthquake, they owned nearly all the rooms along this building. Now, they were confined to one room with an entryway and side area to act as a shower, bathroom, and kitchen. He told me to look up at the ceiling, and remarked how beautiful the solid wood was. I thought it was strange, until I woke up there the next morning and thought, "He's right, it is beautiful." As I laid there, I remembered Marc's aunt mopping the floor the previous evening as we were getting ready. She was mopping the concrete floor that would not be considered "finished" by anyone's definition. So, why put so much care and beauty on the ceiling? It is too dusty, wet and unstable to put wood on the floor. Plus, it is a remarkably comforting thing to wake up to.
This is the ceiling. The rest of the room is essentially concrete that is partially peeling on the walls. There are old toys and pictures of cousins and grandchildren that were once very familiar to me when we lived in Boston. There was room for one double bed and one single bed. In this room, our cousin, her daughter, and her aunt (Lourdi's great aunt) live together.
This is Lourdi in the entrance way to the room where we stayed. The Garage is to my left. Before the earthquake, the entrance to this small neighborhood of rooms/homes was much wider. Lourdi is standing directly over the flow of water that ends up on the street. Without that, there would be no place for disposal - and the fact that it has to be used for disposing toilet water and every other kind of water you can think of, is incredibly humbling.
These are the buckets we used for washing at Marc's Aunt's house. These buckets sit in the room right outside where the beds are. Behind them, a much larger bucket sits with a black plastic bag over it and then a large lid that protects it from the elements. This water is precious and sacred and never taken for granted. Whether it's a shower or a "toilette," you need that water.
There is something truly intimate about having someone pour water over your hands for you to wash them thoroughly. I'm finally comfortable doing it myself, but for days the simplest thing seemed very complex to me - like washing my hands. There is not one working sink in Marc's family's house. Marc said his mom recently paid someone to fix the plumbing, and they told her it was fixed and took the money, but we learned the hard way that all that happens when you turn the water on is that you create a flood in the bathroom that will very quickly overflow into the bedroom. In general, it is so hot here that you literally cannot imagine not washing yourself at LEAST twice a day - and if the water is warm you want to know why because all you want is cold water on your body - regardless of where it comes from. Water is stored in giant buckets here - and it just sits there - ready for hand washing, for flushing the toilet, for washing dishes. Every single thing you use the water with here is used with either a legitimate bucket, or mostly a re-used old food container - Butter container? Bucket for washing. Containers of "Maggie" which is a spice used to cook the incredible food here... bucket for washing, using the bathroom, and showering. A bucket that is then emptied onto the street, regardless of what it contains. Why? Because there is nowhere else for them to go. I've been collecting thoughts over the last four days. So I will date these as I've written them.
Monday, Nov 25th: Waiting to leave Jacmel
I am sitting on the most beautiful balcony with Zaiya as he plays a new game on my phone. Although now he is giving a concert to Shaine and making her take his picture as he sings and poses for the camera... so much life in this kid! Coffee has become a staple again mostly because I can't bother with finding my beloved green tea. The thoughts that have been flowing through my mind in the last 38 hours are swift, fleeting, and heavy. We celebrated Marc's 45th (yep!) birthday yesterday!! Over the course of the day, I literally hopped on a motorcycle taxi at the suggestion of my cousin, who we either call "Cousin" with a tremendously adorable French accent, or "T-Manno." He has been escorting Lourdi and I pretty much everywhere we need to go for the most part, and yesterday he took us into town to try and find a Western Union location that was legitimate. At first, we were told it was walking distance. Ten minutes (in the insane heat, and mind you I had no sunscreen because I was planning on being gone for approximately 20 minutes. 3 hours later I had found a level of relaxation I've never known. There is something about the trust in "strangers" here. I had my blue "princess dress" (as Zaiya calls it) on and I was instructed how to straddle the motorcycle in my dress with a specific technique so as not to be extremely uncomfortable! We literally realized it was going to take too long to walk so we flagged down three different motorbikes and T-Manno asked them to take us into town. They told me to hold on tight because there are so many holes in the streets and the ride would be bumpy. There are also amazing amounts of puddles in these holes - some as wide as the street. In the course of this near 3 hour adventure with Lourdi, I rode on three different motorcycles with three different drivers. All of them followed T-Manno's instructions and took very good care of us. I got only a small amount of mud on my legs, and the drivers all took such good care as to not make the ride harsh and that we felt secure. This amazed me. I'm not sure why - I think because of the fears that I'd had about kidnapping and mistrust of locals, etc. All things I'd heard but did not know. After spending two weeks with T-Manno, I know he would never let anything happen to us - but Lourdi and I reflected later how crazy it was that we literally each hopped on a different motorcycle and just trusted that the driver would follow his instructions. "They could've done anything and gone anywhere with us..." We thought - and in a way we felt guilty for feeling this way - but I'm sure you can understand! What I am essentially saying is that this is part of the reason I felt so at home in Haiti. The trust among people is intense and real. There is utter chaos, but in the midst of it there is a connectedness and a mutual understanding that each person needs the other. It's something that there really are no words for - I am just thankful that I got to experience it.
And here I am drinking a Guiness on the way back from town in Jacmel on the taxi motorcycle! AMAZING!!!
Jacmel was as beautiful as everyone told me it was. We stayed at a beautiful hotel for two nights for Marc's birthday. We brought our cousins and Shaine's dad and brother also joined.
T-Manno in the red shirt, Darline in the blue tank, T-Frank in the blue jacket (Shaine's brother) and Shaine holding onto Zaiya looking through the *very* wide guard rails!
The view from the balcony!
The view from the beach - we walked down that hill that may not look like much, but going back up I thought I might pass out - anyway - that is the hotel we stayed in on top of that hill! The boats are owned by fishermen who go out at night to collect fish for a living.
We watched these people launch their boat in the water right before sunset. I couldn't believe how beautiful it was.
I'd say Marc had a pretty good birthday!!
Marc's mom sitting in the water at the beach. She loved it!!
Zaiya in the ocean at Jacmel. I just love this pic!
Another view from the Balcony at the hotel.
We visited a nearby "tourist" beach and finally got to let Z get into the ocean at sunset. He had a blast! So did I, obviously, taking his picture!
This may go down in history as one of my favorite pictures of myself! It was just the perfect day on all counts - I couldn't have been happier or more relaxed!
This is by beach right where the fishermen stored their boats. I love this picture because you can see how this tree literally uprooted and has just stayed there - for who knows how long. But, it's beautiful.
Thanksgiving Day, Nov 28th
I am quite sure I will never be the same after these experiences. I feel spoiled... I feel guilty... but I also feel so incredibly thankful in a way that I cannot describe to you. Below are images I've taken throughout the last two weeks, mostly on my phone (a few I recovered from the Nikon before our laptop apparently stopped charging and we still haven't figured out why!) There are some sad scenes here, but I'm including them because they are a very important part of the Haiti experience.
This is actually Thanksgiving Day... it is not necessarily a holiday in Haiti, but we had a huge feast and celebrated the tradition. This picture was taken on our way to get water. This young boy was standing and watching people gather around a group (or organization? we weren't sure) that was handing out free food. As soon as I took my camera out, everyone tried to hide their faces, which obviously made me put it away pretty quickly. It is a strange thing to take a picture of, but this boy with his backpack on watching them intrigued me. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking. As I mentioned before, Haiti creates beautiful children - this boy is no exception.
Art is very rich in Haiti. It is not uncommon to find walls like this lined with paintings for sale. Of course, this was one of my favorite things about it. The paintings are painted on clothe that has obviously been treated appropriately to weather all kinds of storms that may threaten the paint. Fabric isn't the only thing that is painted...
This is a broken down bus most likely used as a taxi. You can actually see a man underneath it trying to fix it. Yes, that is trash on the street. There are parts of Port-au-Prince that are in fact drenched in it. It is heartbreaking and extremely hard to take in.
Behind this pile of waste are houses that people live in.
This isn't a great pic, but this is the front of a daycare/school. There are pictures of Disney Characters painted across the concrete entrance.
These are truck taxis, they are all decorated extravagantly - this one is actually far less decorated than most but I like that the driver was looking at me. They are all painted by hand and most of them say something to the effect of "Merci Jesus" on the front. This one says, "God is my light and my savior."
This is one of the roads in fairly bad shape - there are roads that are made of concrete and are in fine shape - but most of them are dirt roads, and most look similar to this. These are DEEP puddles. Driving in Haiti has to be one of the most uncomfortable experiences in my life. This is partly because of the condition of the roads that forces people to perpetually navigate down one way roads that were previously two lane roads. And there are very few street lights or stop signs at all. And, mostly there are no seatbelts. Enough said...
This is most likely someone's place of business where they set up shop to sell small items during the day. I am not sure why it is abandoned here, but it is obviously maintained (yes I said obviously) and cared for. Believe it or not.
I love this image because of the contrast between the bed in the entranceway to this man's shop and surroundings. This is a bed made literally by hand - this type of craft is found all over the place. These beds and the furniture these craftsman produce are tremendous. I took most of the pictures from the car, including this one. As we drove by I could see him sanding down another piece of the bed to stain.
This is another truck taxi, painted and decorated. Notice the hands coming from the wheels, and the word "Love" painted in the window. The taxi drivers make their money taxiing people all over, and also making deliveries, as you can see the two sacks on top of this one.
My little Z man in the front "yard" of his grandparents' house in the pool. The first week we were there I refused to let this happen because I didn't want him playing in the water. Once I realized the water at the house was filtered and safe, I let him play in it. It was so hot, he was in heaven. First, he stood looking at the bucket and said, "Um, this is too small." It was a little embarrassing, but he didn't know any better - he's used to an actual pool. Once he realized he could have just as much fun and cool off just fine in this bucket - he had a BLAST, especially getting his sister wet!!!
These two had a blast together...
These are sandals that one of our cousins made for me. BY HAND! She sells them to make money and sent Lourdi and I home with a pair. Marc also got some, and his have the Haitian flag on them! So cool! We are forever thankful for the hospitality that our family showed to us while we were there.
I love these pictures. Zaiya and Marc had such a great time playing together this day. In general, it was an incredible bonding experience for our whole family. Here, Marc is playing "Falcon," Zaiya's favorite thing to play with the leaves on the ground. They are pretending to be "Evil Falcons" and fly all over! The gate you see them running towards is the end of the "yard" at Marc's parents' house.
I love this picture as well. Zaiya begged us to take him on a walk for days - and we finally got to take him and he was saying hi to EVERYONE! Marc said everyone was commenting, "Look at the little white boy!" Haha - we have had fun with that one. He is introducing himself to a bunch of kids down the street here - extending his hand and saying, "Hi." We spoke to their parents a bit as well - they were all fascinated with Zaiya's hair!
This is how our food was prepared - Marc's mother is an amazing cook and I miss the food there already! It is all so fresh and natural and the spices are all homemade. I never got sick of the food. In fact, I've been craving it since I got home!!
As I mentioned, there is little power in the house and it is inconsistent. The food is not cooked in a kitchen with an oven. They use coals and cooking tools like this to make all the food. There is an oven top outside the kitchen (literally on what we would call a porch) where they make coffee and keep food warm and covered, but for the most part the cooking is done like this, over coal.
Fried pork, fried plantains, homemade hot coleslaw, Haitian rice and beans... YUM.
Zaiya was VERY excited to meet a couple Haitian policemen. Shaine's dad is an officer and he escorted us to Jacmel and allowed us to travel freely - we are very grateful to him for making sure we had a great experience in Haiti. His friends stopped by the house before we left and they agreed to take a pic with Zaiya, which is pretty rare, apparently! (I learned this after trying to take pics in the airport and was scolded by one of them.)
The generator is what kept the power on (water running, lights shining, fans rolling) when the power cut off. It took Zaiya awhile to get used to the sound because it is very loud. Here, my father in law, his nephew, and his servant are all trying to get it running while my mother in law looks on. Before we left, they had a brand new generator that didn't break down nearly as much and wasn't quite as loud.
This is a picture of a working large truck taxi. I just love the artwork. You can also see another daycare here. Pretty much any service that a business performs, will have hand painted signs on the actual buildings. There's no mass production of advertising posters here. You can also see how well the road is here - it was fairly rare to see those yellow lines.
The countryside in Haiti. Boys walking home from school - it is very common to see boys and girls walking and holding hands or having their arms around one another. I remember Marc telling me about this - it is sad how taboo it would be here, but there it's just a sense a brotherhood. We are deep in the mountains on this road and these boys have very far to walk - may as well make it comfy!
This one is a little blurry, but again, taken with my phone, you can see the dirt road and the small family manning this booth selling food and fruit in the mountains.
More houses, and the beautiful countryside - contrasting with the standing water that forever seems to stay.
This is a small town in the mountains where I assume shops used to thrive. It looks very abandoned now - you can tell because the ground isn't swept. Even if it is a dirt floor you have to sweep, I've never seen more brooms in my life. Haitians are serious about sweeping! I hope that this place gets occupied soon because these buildings are actually a very good place for shops. It could be that they have been considered unsafe to return to since the earthquake.
The streets of Haiti - every day was this gorgeous.
Haitian countryside and construction.
You'll have to excuse my thumbprint here - but I snapped this of some kids walking home from school in the countryside from the window of the car. The roads were a bit rough so I was holding onto my phone outside the window for dear life!
This is a small example of the markets that line the streets.
We passed this house and I couldn't help but to grab a picture of it. I couldn't tell if it was new construction or old, or what the building actually is, but it was beautiful and stood out amongst the smaller houses it surrounded on the hillside.
The Haitian countryside. Again, excuse my thumb in the upper left, I think it barely distracts from this gorgeous view.
Today:
I realize this is about the longest post in history - but there are so many pictures to share and so much to say about this wonderful country. My life will officially go back to what I know as "normal" for here tomorrow very, very early. I am finding it very hard to adjust back to life here. I went to Whole Foods to get some food from their hot bar on my way in to work yesterday and was totally overwhelmed looking at all the food that would be thrown away and remembering all the people that I saw who could desperately use it all. It has been strange even to take a hot shower since we got back. Our house seems strangely big and convenient, and our entire lives incredibly abundant. I can't wait to return to Haiti. I'd honestly go back tomorrow if I could. It was the best decision I have ever made to throw caution to the wind and see where my husband came from. It brought our family closer, it helped us understand our purpose on so many levels. There are few words that can truly sum up the experience we shared, and especially my experience as a first-time visitor to such a remarkable piece of our earth.
I know this is just the beginning of our journey in Haiti. I truly felt at home there in a way I never expected I would. Throughout my time there, especially the second week in my peace and rest and happiness, the lyrics to the wonderful song "Feels Like Home" by Randy Newman kept repeating in my mind. I'm sure everyone knows the song... but I'll end this blog with a few of the lyrics because nothing can really say better how I feel inside when I think of Haiti now.
Feels like home to me, feels like home to me,
Feels like I'm on my way back where I come from.
Feels like home to me, feels like home to me,
Feels like I'm on my way back where I belong.
A window breaks down a long dark street,
And a siren wails over my head.
But I'm all right, 'cause I have you here with me.
And I can almost see through the dark there's light.
If you knew how much this moment means to me,
And how long I've waited for your touch.
If you knew how happy you are making me --
I've never thought I'd love anyone so much.
Feels like home to me, feels like home to me,
Feels like I'm on my way back where I come from.
Feels like home to me, feels like home to me,
Feels like I'm on my way back where I belong.
Feels like I'm on my way back where I belong.
-Randy Newman, "Feels Like Home" lyrics
To those of you who contributed to our trip, you will never know how thankful we are. We love you and cherish your friendship and your support. Haiti - we miss you and we love you and we will see you soon! Thank you for bringing us beyond the edges of our comfort zones - we'll never go back.
