Douz Janvye

As I sit and reflect on the 2nd anniversary of the earthquake that affected Haiti, I have a myriad of emotions running through my head and my heart.  I remember exactly where I was and how I felt when I first learned that Haiti had experienced an earthquake.  I was at work, I believe it was a Tuesday and I was on Twitter, and I began to see tweets about an earthquake.  I was a bit surprised, because I had never heard about Haiti having earthquakes.  However I didn't think much of it, until I realized how strong the tremors were.  I don’t know much about the Richter Scale but I knew that the numbers that were being displayed for the quake in Haiti were extremely high.  I called  my then boyfriend and asked him if he had heard anything about a quake, because I was reading a lot of tweets saying Haiti was crumbling.  I was nervous and anxious but I wasn't too worried and waited to get a chance to purchase a phone card to call my mom and other family members.  As I waited for them to pick up the phone, it seemed like the longest time period ever.  My heart beat rapidly and sunk with every ring.  I lost count of how many times I tried to call that night.  When every major network flashed the images and video of the devastation I sat in shock, stunned at how quickly Haiti was turned upside down and shaken.  I kept thinking to myself, why?  Why is this happening, why us?  What have we done to deserve this?  It took three days before I was finally able to get ahold of my mom.  I don’t think I realized how much I loved my family until that moment when I heard her voice on the other end of the phone.  She answered in a soft voice that seemed lost, lost and so far away.  Farther than the ocean that separated us.  There was nothing I or anyone else could do to help.  Phone lines were destroyed, Western Union and all of the other transfer agents in Haiti were closed.  It wasn't until this past September, while I was in Haiti that I asked my mom where she was, how she felt and what she saw when the earth began to shake.  Hearing her describe the sight of buildings falling and the streets opening up under people as street vendors screamed and ran in droves to what they thought was safety hurt my heart.  I didn't realize it could be possible to be numb, tense and afraid all at the same time.  During those three days of not knowing whether my family was alive and well was one of the worst moments of my life. Douz Janvye se on jou m pap janm bliye.

Ki Sa Map Fe La

8/26/11 10:00am

Yesterday afternoon I was feeling very uninspired.  I realized that I am not someone who takes much initiative or who is innovative, at least not in a new role I’m not.  I don’t think I could be someone who runs a business.  I do better knowing what exactly I’m supposed to be doing, on a daily basis.  I don’t have a set schedule, and I’m kind of just around everyday unless there is something specific that I am doing with the girls or unless I’m in the maternity center.  This has led to me feeling like I’m not doing anything here and feeling useless/uninspired.  School is also not scheduled to start until October.  Um, what are these girls going to do for a month?  Up until yesterday, they were responsible for cooking the three daily meals.  Now that the cook is back, they won’t be doing that.  So I guess it’ll be a long month.  

Pa fwa mwen santi 'm aneve

Sometimes I find myself being Haiti's defender, particularly when in contact with Whites.  Regardless of how long they've been in the country, I still feel like I'm more of an insider than they are especially in regards to relating with the people.  I think it's because I'm Haitian by blood and birth.  That connects me to the land and the people more than a little blue booklet.   I know that we as people tend to prejudge and make a lot of generalizations, but for some reason that bothers me when those generalizations and prejudices are about Haitian culture, and her people.  It is especially difficult when these generalizations or stereotypes are coming from people who are currently living and working in Haiti.  It's weird being in my shoes, because although I'm very American in Haiti; I identify with Haitians when interacting with Whites.  Until I open my mouth they've already lumped me in with Haitians anyways; so why should I try to identify with them?

Akouchman

Yay, so I witnessed my first Haitian birth two weeks ago.  It was awesome and a little unexpected.  The mom to be has been seen at the maternity center before, and she actually had an appointment with us the previous week.  She was about 36 weeks I believe (a pregnancy can last up to 40wks give or take a couple of days).  I've never seen a natural birth before, and although I was present for my friend's birth she was sedated (epidural) so it wasn't the same experience.  Needless to say, births in Creole are very interesting.  The woman was singing and praying throughout her labor, if you have ever heard a Haitian prayer, then you know that we are very melodramatic people.  Apparently this is very common amongst Haitians.  I noticed several differences between an American hospital birth and the OTP maternity center.  As is typical in midwifery, the midwife (wives) is generally hands off as long as the labor is progressing well and the mother is ok; very rarely are interventions(forceps, epidural, pitocin) used and when the mother was fully dilated (cervix is open enough for the baby to pass through) she squatted and pushed the baby out as opposed to pushing on the bed.  Seeing the baby's head come out was my favorite part.  There's something so awesome, beautiful, primal and powerful about birth, but especially natural birth.  That's why I want to be a midwife, because it encourages and supports education, self awareness, and self confidence in women by women.  M son fanm tande m rele!