32 days.

Hello world! It's good to be back on the blog and looking forward to round two of the W&M Haiti Compact alternative break.

Our new partnership with Sonje Ayiti is exciting and not a little bit intimidating. When we got our work plan from their director, Gabrielle Vincent, we got the confirmation of what we learned when we met this May: this is one powerhouse woman running a real get-down-to-business organization. And so we're getting down to business ourselves. I've been getting resources together for business plan writing, and look forward to bringing at least three ideas to our meeting this week. I'm also excited to hear more about what the group working on education is simmering these days.

I've been thinking a lot about international service lately, thanks to a recent book club read of The Crisis Caravan: What's Wrong with Humanitarian Aid, by Linda Polman. Polman focuses on the harm done in the process of providing (mostly crisis-related) aid, and I must say that my stomach dropped several times as I made my way through the book. It is not pretty, how (mostly) well-intentioned NGOs have ended up supporting dictatorships, financing war and stepping on each other in a race to give (or fix?) without bothering to coordinate with local leaders or each other, or find out what's actually needed.

I must admit that the more I get into this stuff (that is, the meaningful and challenging world of working with alternative breaks like it's my job), the more complex I see it all is. We know that our trip to Haiti is not going to make a huge impact that changes the course of Haiti forever: we are a group of nine energetic, compassionate and well-educated people. But we are just nine people, and preparing to work in a cross-cultural situation, in a country where our own country has meddled off and on for a hundred years, for a very short term.

Unlike the organizations discussed in The Crisis Caravan, we aren't feeling the pressures of crisis responders, and as part of the national Haiti Compact, we've been intentional about our work in Haiti: long-term, in partnership with Haitian-led organizations, capacity-building and will not displace local labor.

And so, we will make an impact, thanks to our partnerships with those in Haiti who know their communities and let us participate with them in the good things they do. For the women who are part of RAFAVAL, our business and marketing ideas will help them make progress with their sales. For the children attending the one-tent school, our assistance will give tools to their teachers who can help them learn. And we know that we will be impacted for the better, too - as will those who hear what we experience and can join us as advocates for Haiti.

One huge lesson I've been reminded of by The Crisis Caravan: even with the best of intentions, failing to work with those who know what's best for the community, or to abide by values and practices that recognize power differentials, can result in disastrous consequences.

But I suspect that among the many things we learn (or are reminded of) on our trip, we will know that even though our kinship with those in Haiti is a complex relationship, we are indeed sisters and brothers. I'm excited to go back.