Returning from Ayiti

It’s been almost a month since our plane touched down onto the runway on a cold, rainy night at Dulles after eleven rich days in Ayiti. I have found myself returning to many of the moments we spent there – some funny, some tragic, some challenging, some centering – and have been grateful, above all, for the trip.

I usually compile a list of lessons learned after each alternative break I do, so I have something to say when people ask that inevitable question: “How was your trip!???” Here’s what I’ve found myself telling people this time around:

International aid is even more complex than I thought… and I thought it was pretty complex before. After reading The Crisis Caravan by Linda Polman this Fall, I was sort of braced to see the work of some international NGOs with a skeptical (and perhaps even judgmental) eye. Nothing about our trip changed that: we saw many instances of well-intentioned help fall flat, either because the aid was not community-based, or was not comprehensive enough to really meet need.

We sought to do our best by our friends in Limonade, Cima and Port-au-Prince, and we found that the only way we could do so was through building capacity, strengthening relationships, and sharing knowledge with each other. And that led to good things; but I realize too how much more there is to be done. The work we did with RAFAVAL, a vibrant group of women who are using everything they have to make their business and school succeed, was gratifying. Still, it struck me again and again that while the tasks we had were challenging, their independence, livelihoods and their children’s futures were all dependent on their tasks ahead, and what they were able to make happen.

Speaking of relationships: this was my fourth trip to Ayiti; my third in the past 19 months. And it felt, finally, like a visit to friends rather than an adventure in a new place. So many hugs! So many “how’ve you been!?”s. Visiting people whom I’d met before not only proved to both of us that this commitment is for real; it also allowed me to get to know them, their families, their community, better. And that is a gift and will only make our partnership stronger and more productive in the future.

Speaking of the future: others on this blog have mentioned our conversation with the ICC Director in Ayiti, Wesley Romulus. One of the things I’ve known since my first full-time volunteer gig in Philadelphia – and then learned hard-core while volunteering long-term in South Africa – is that you have to be steeped in the community before presuming to address any community needs. But this can be frustrating for us hurry-hurry-go-go North American types. I have often had to remind myself and students that community work is a process, with a heavy emphasis on developing relationships, but Mr. Romulus said it so beautifully. He said something like this: “Imagine you are preparing a beautiful banquet for your friends. Would you consider the time you spend at the grocery store a waste? Of course not! Well, the time you spend here, getting to know people and what we are like, is your time at the grocery store.” Well said.

And, speaking of getting to know people: the Ayitian worldview has been so important for me to learn about and soak in a bit. Coming back was like whiplash – not in the culture shock sense where taking in disparity is so hard to do – but in remembering how much of my life I spend interacting with people through this nutso medium of the interwebs. Screen time and the urgency of emails sometimes feels like the bane of my existence, and after 11 luscious days where internet access was infrequent and urgency was focused on things other than timeframe, I have struggled to adjust. I long for a shift in our culture where getting to know people, sharing time face to face and a trust in the process can come more to the forefront.

As a side note, our conversation with our friend and cultural interpreter, Djaloki, has continued to blow my mind. I’ve been digging into Celtic, Buddhist and other kinds of spirituality and worldviews lately, and it is so stunningly simple, how connected they all are to the Ayitian lens and Vodou ways of being in the world.

Next up for the W&M Haiti Compact is to continue our work, strengthening our partnerships and preparing for our next trip. For now, though, I am also content to continue letting Ayiti remain with me. As I drove into work this morning, the sun was just brimming over the horizon: this mammoth, glowing red sun, slowly becoming smaller and more yellow as it rose in the sky. It brought me right back to our last night in Port-au-Prince, when we watched the moon rise from the roof of our guest house: mammoth, deep orange, and slowly becoming smaller and more yellow as it rose. Even with the 1350 mile distance between us, a part of me is still there on that roof, in that room with the women of RAFAVAL, in the church in the tent camp. And just as truly, Ayiti walks with me here.

(photos of the moon never do it full justice. trust me: it was awesome.)