Images of Haiti

singing

July 19- we are crocheting in the women’s group today.  Everyone is very focused.  In the background, I can hear the children singing in the next room.  They are loud, very loud and joyful.  They pound on the desk in rhythm with their chanting. Sometimes the women get annoyed with all this noise.  But I live to listen to their singing, no matter how loud it gets.

can i touch your hair?

July 19- "Madame, can I touch your hair?"

Bon Appetite!!!!!!!!

July 18- I received my meal of the day at 3:25PM today: rice, beans and an unidentifiable meat (probably goat).  As I was about to take my first bite, an ant crawled out from under the pile of rice.  Bon Appetite!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Englisg Lessons

July 17- “Goo mooring, Madame, hell a you?”  So ends my first week of English lessons in the women’s group.  I have been trying in vain to learn creole and nothing is sticking in my brain.  At best, I have learned one phrase and i am not getting that right.  “Hot, Hot” is either show-shoe or so-so or shoe-shoe.  And no matter which one I use, I am wrong and not understood.  So I think it will be easier on all of us if they learn English.  So each morning, I greet them individually with “good morning, Madame, how are you. They return the greeting and laugh with delight that they now speak English.

spray bottle

July 17 - To relieve just a moment of this heat, I travel with a spray bottle filled with cool water.  It’s caught the attention of the women. So around 11, each morning, I roam the room and offer a quick spray.  Some of the women want me to spray them on the back of their necks.  Some want it on the crown of their head.  Others tighten their eyes and take is square in the face.  Though it is only a moment of relief, it feels great as we share this universal need to be comforted.

They laugh because i have a white woman with me

July 16 Jeams takes me home every day on the back of his motorcycle. As we stop for traffic, other men call to him.  They look at me and laugh at him.  “What are they saying?” I ask.  “They laugh because I have a white woman with me.  They say I am lucky, I will get lots of money from you”.  I laugh too.

Good Enough

July 16- the women, in our women’s group, are not really interested in my interests in promoting women and making the world a better, safer world for all women.  They are just hungry to have a place to congregate, make knotted bracelets, sit, sing and talk, and maybe, for now, that is good enough.

up on the roof

July 15- I have befriended the young girls in the neighborhood. We meet at night, on the rooftop. One of them has a phone and a few downloaded music videos. I sit on a pail and they cluster around me, their boney elbows resting on my shoulders. They insist I watch their 1" screen filled with Haitian pop stars. Sometimes they dance for me and sometimes I attempt to dance for them. This brings a lot of laughter and rightfully so. When the bugs become too much, I excuse myself and go back to my room. Tonight, I am bringing my MP3 player. Madonna will be joining us.

the benefit of the heat

July 12- One good thing about all this heat, it is taking away my appetite.  It is just too damn hot to eat.

speaking English

July 12- I meet a man who spoke to me in plain English. He offered an apology for his poor English skills. I spoke no Creole and offered no apology.

The Old Lady

July 8-

The Old Lady

Her house is across the street from the Salvation Army compound, where we hold our camp. I noticed her the first day. She sits at the doorway by herself. I assume her family is working because I don’t see anyone attend to her. She is led...early, bone thin and feeble. I take her picture to add to my collection of sights that hold my interest.
On the third day, I walk pass her house. She is lying on the cement floor, her head protruding out of the doorway. The hot sun is beating down on her face. She waves to me, gesturing me to come over to her. So Lynn and I go over and it is the first time I can see how terribly destitute she is. There is a bed against the far wall. A small table and chair sit right by the door. There is a small pot next to her which must be her toilet. However, it appears as if she is not using it. Blood and fecal matter stain the floor. There is nothing else in this small, one room house.

She points to a chair which is low to the ground. Lynn and I attempt to lift her. Although she is probably no more than 75lbs, she is dead weight and it is a struggle to drag her two feet to the chair. The situation is more difficult because we don’t have a firm grip on her. She is so dirty that I can’t bring myself to grasp her tight enough.

Our gatekeeper, Lucien, sees us so he comes over to translate. She is 86 (my mother's age). She complains of pain. She is alone. She tells us that she is hungry. "Everyone in her family is dead, Madame", Lucien tells us. The neighbors apparently feed her from time to time. But I can’t understand how they can do this because they do not appear to have enough food for themselves.

I look at her long, broken toenails. Someone should attend to them. She should be bathed. Her skin abrasions should be looked at by a doctor. Her clothing should be burned. Someone should hug her. But I don’t to any of this because I do not have the strength of character to do this. I am ashamed of myself but not enough to do something.

We go back to the compound and ask Nadiv, the doctor, to look at her after he finishes the clinic.

"What does she need?" he asks me.

"Morphine", I tell him. “She needs to be put out of her misery. This woman needs to go home to her maker”.  He laughs and dismisses my response.

Nadiv does go over to see her and he is much more optimistic about her situation.

"She is alright, a little skinny but old people get skinny. She doesn't have any tremors and she doesn't smell too bad." He thinks she is just very old, weak and lonely. "But she's not too bad." We bring her rice which she devours. We also give her some bananas we took from the hotel. We leave her with another bowl of rice.

I go over the next day to bring her more rice. I see that yesterday's bowl is filled with bread.  I immediately become suspicious that someone took her rice and left her with stall bread. I hope this didn't happen and I know there is no way to safeguard her from this despicable possibility.   Her situation is hopeless.

I look around her room and I am filled with despair.  I feel helpless.   I can only commit to feed her every day for the reminder of my time in Haiti. But I hope and pray that she dies under my watch so that she might have a moment before her death of feeling loved and cared for. And so that i can walk away from Haiti and her without feeling as if I abandoned her.

"OK, when you leave"

Ok, when you leave

Many of the women only know one phrase in English.  They tug on my arm and point to something of mine.  “Ok, when you leave.”  Then they point to themselves.  They want my heat, my purse, my blouses, my eyeglasses, my water bottle, my water sprayer.  Someone actually pulled on my bra strap.  My $8 Wal-Mart slip on sneakers are a very hot commodity.  I wonder what the USA customers officer would say if I did come back sans everything that has been coveted.

Bringing the kids to camp

Bringing the kids to camp


We pay a man to pick kids up from a tent city and bring them to our camp. He has a beat up old van.  The front wind shield is shattered in a few places.  There are no seats, just some benches that he has jerry-rigged to the floor of the vehicle.  I went with him one his first run to pick up the kids.  Sitting in the front seat, I had 5 kids on my lap; their boney rear ends pierced my thighs.  We transported 33 kids in that run.

Cool drinking water

Cool drinking water is sold in plastic pooches, about six ounces, just enough to quench a thirst.  The pooches produce so little litter compared to a plastic bottle.  Regardless, these empty pooches are discarded everywhere.  Litter is a problem.

Precious

Precious

As we enter the gates of the Salvation Army compound, she is there, swinging around on of the poles. She is in her own world. But as Lynn steps out of the truck, she stops and squeals with delight. She limps over, barefoot on the hot stones.  They embrace and Lynn tells me this little girl has been here for the last four years. She looks to be about 14.  There are some mental disabilities.  She is a mute.  She is missing her front tooth.  She walks with a pronounced limp.  She has a limp left hand that is useless.  It is a dead weight.  She drools.  She is dusty but not filthy.  She is an orphan under her sisters’ care.  I can only assume that men have taken advantage of her.  She is so vulnerable.

She has no boundaries.  She stands next to me and slips her hand around my waist.  She rests her head on my shoulder.  Her wiry hair brushes my cheek.  I don’t like this contact.  It is too hot and she is too dirty for my comfort.  I try to squeeze away from her but she tightens her grip.  So I am left with no other recourse but to use some force to free myself.

“It’s too hot", I announce to everyone in ear shot.  I try to justify my behavior.

“She’s pitiful, isn’t she?”  I tell Lynn.

“I’ve seen her grow up.  I think she is precious.”  With that, in the blazing sun, Lynn gives her a full body hug and Pitiful squeals with delight.  I walk away, ashamed of my callousness.

For the next week, Pitiful is at my side.  I can’t get rid of her. She waits for me in the morning.  She joins me at the women’s group.  She sits next to me on the bench and rests her head on my lap.  When one of the translators barks at her to get off, she slithers down, next to me and leans on my legs.  I can’t get rid of her.

Sometimes when she is resting against my leg, she takes her one good hand and rubs my ankles.  Her dirty, dry hand feels like an exfoliate rag.  She looks up at me and I squirt her with my water spray bottle.  She giggles with delight. Sometimes she extends her hand to me.  She wants me to squirt her and again.  I do and she giggles with delight.

If I sit on any bench other than the one at the head of the classroom, she limps over and grabs my arm.  With determination, she leads me back to the seat she thinks is rightfully mine and mine only.

She rolls on the floor at times, oblivious to her surroundings.  Then she crawls back to me.  The women ignore her.  Sometimes they bark at her.  But mostly she lives in her own little world.

I discover that she loves to cut things with scissors.  So I find scraps of paper and scissors and instruct her to cut.  This occupies her time for a while.  Then she wants me to inspect her cuttings.

Beth, our nurse, comes to our group to give a talk on birthing.  Midway during her presentation, she turns to me and said, “She is in my way.”  Pitiful is resting quietly on Beth’s feet.

“Yea”, I tell her, “She is pitiful.  she won’t go away.  Just ignore her.”

But Beth is distracted by her.  So we find some paper and I wave scissors in front of pitiful and she crawls over to me.

Today, mid-morning, I notice that I haven’t seen her yet.  This is very usual.

“Has anyone seen her today?”  I ask the translators.

“Who?” one of them replies.

“Precious, I don’t see her.  I hope she is alright.”

With that, I spot her.  She is swinging on one of the poles, in her own little world.

Lost Again

Lost Again

I did it again. I left the cafe and made it to my street. Deep in thought, a small boy greets me "bon soar" I respond, so proud of myself for using the afternoon greeting, not the morning greeting.

He says something to me in Creole and I tell him, “I don’t understand a damn word you are saying, I only speak English.". He is now frantically pointing at a house. I look at the house but I can’t figure out what he wants me to see. I dismiss him and turn to move on.

But the laughter catches my attention. I look again and recognize everyone on the porch. This is my house. I think the Haitian must think I am an idiot and I think they may be right.

prayers and hymns

 

 

We start our women’s group each day with prayers and hymns.

The women bow their heads and pray in earnest. They face so

many challenges that I lose sight of their blessings. I wonder if

they think their prayers are being answered as they put their

children to bed, hungry.

Voodoo is Scary

Voodoo is Scary

Yevenor tells me his mother is blind. She is 44. I ask if he would 

like to bring her to the clinic to see our doctors. Maybe the doctors 

can offer some suggestions on what to do.

"No", he tells me, “she already see a doctor.  There is nothing she 

can do".

 I ask what caused her blindness.

"Someone put a spell on her", he says very matter of factly.

I want to know who.

"We think a family member; she had a good business and someone 

got jealous. So they put a spell on her. We don't know which one 

did this to her. Voodoo is scary".

Lost in Haiti

LOST

I wandered up to the internet cafe this afternoon, same as I have 

done the past two days. But, for some reason, on my way home, I 

got disoriented and lost. I retraced my steps and ended up in the 

same wrong place again. So I tried again and just couldn’t figure 

out what I was doing wrong.

Standing alone at an intersection, trying to figure out what to do 

next, I see two older women, barefoot, running down the rocky 

road. "Madame, Madame", they are shouting at me, clapping their 

hands like seals. I recognize them immediately. They are two 

women from my hood.

Word was out that I was lost and they had come to fetch me. I was 

so glad to see them. I think I am going to leave them my bras.

Bridget Kelly in Haiti

Bridget Kelly in Haiti
Jacmel. Haiti
Summer 2013 


In the winter of 2010, Nadiv and Lynn Shapira, from Wilmington, DE, made their way to Jacmel, Haiti to offer medical treatment to the many people who suffered injuries from the devastating earthquake.

Lynn was so moved by the devastation and the poverty that she started the Haiti family Initiative when she returned to the USA.

Now in its fourth year, HFI offers a yearly summer Wellness Program.  The people of Jacmel are offered free medical care, a women's empowerment group and a camp for the children.

The program is run by volunteers from the United States and around the world. These volunteers are supported by translators from the Foreign Language Institute, an English language school started by a group of young men, dedicated to helping Haiti.

This summer, I was asked to spend the entire five weeks in Jacmel, with the intent of mentoring the translators so that they may some day take over all of the responsibilities of running the children's camp and the women's group.

I am grateful to have had such a rich opportunity.

One meal a day

ONE MEAL A DAY

Haitian only eats one meal a day. When I asked Jeams what time of 

the day did his family eats their meal, he seemed puzzled.

 "When the food comes", he tells me. "When we find the food we 

eat. We don’t find the food, no."

Haiti Family Initiiate- an Introduction

Coveting All My Things

COVETING ALL MY THINGS

Many of the women only one phrases in English. They tug on my 

arm and point to something of mine, 

"OK, WHEN YOU LEAVE."

Then they shamelessly point to themselves.  They want my hat, my 

purse, my bloused, my eyeglasses, my water bottle, my water 

sprayer.  Someone actually pulled on my bra strap.  My $8 Wal-

Mart slips on sneakers are a very hot commodity. I have had several 

requests for them. 

I wonder that the USA Custom’s Official would say if I did come 

back sans everything that has been coveted.

Keeper of the Rice

KEEPER OF THE RICE 


 Little, dirty fingers slide in to the palm of my hands. They grab on to my belt loops. They hang on my purse straps. They cling to my legs. They know I am the keeper of the rice.