Well March has been a month of traveling and splitting my time between Peace Corps activities and activities in my community. I had two especially fun trips this month that were very different but definitely both highlights of my time here so far:
1. Medical Mission!
In the beginning of March I went to work as a translator for a medical mission that came to a hospital near me to do plastic surgeries (the reconstructive kind, no implants or face lifts!) Peace Corps gets requests from various groups who come down here to do different surgeries for volunteers to serve as translators. The medical mission lasted six days; the first day we did intakes and the doctors assessed all the people who came, scheduling them if they were good candidates for surgery. Lots of the surgeries were scheduled for children who had cleft lips and palates, and most of the rest of the surgeries were for people who had bad scars from things such as fires and acid fights. Acid fights? Yup, we saw a lot of women who had gotten in fights and had acid thrown on them. These burns were especially deforming and many of the women who came in with them said they could not get jobs because nobody would hire someone who was deformed like that.
The rest of the week we were translating for the doctors as they were getting patients ready for surgery, coming out of surgery, and translating for family members and patients as they left the hospital. We also did quite a lot of translating between the doctors and the administration of the hospital we were working at. It was neat to be able to watch the surgeries and watch the entire process and also connect with patients and their families.
I also had a personally fulfilling experience that was kind of a follow up to when I worked in the hospital in Jimani after the earthquake. The day of consultations the doctors told me that a Haitian woman who had been an earthquake victim had been brought in. Since I speak a little Kreyol, they asked me to try to translate for this lady. We learned she had been brought in from another hospital across the country because she needed a skin graft on her leg and they couldn’t do it at the other hospital. We also learned she had been at that hospital ever since a couple days after the earthquake—almost two months! The doctors agreed to do her surgery the next day. So the next day I helped prepare her for surgery and explain what the doctors were going to do. She was very scared about the surgery, but everything went fine and she was allowed to stay in the hospital for as long as she needed to recoup. Given the conditions of a public hospital here in the DR and the fact that the women was alone, the doctors that I was working with were very concerned for her health (family members must stay with patients the whole time because the hospital does not provide caretakers to give them their food, take them to the bathroom, etc…) The doctors asked me if I could find someone to take care of this women while she was in the hospital, so I made a couple calls and a girl from my town and a Catholic missionary who lives in my town and used to live in Haiti came down to help. The girl ended up staying with the women almost the entire time she was in the hospital near us (two weeks), and the missionaries began to make preparations to take the woman back to Haiti.
This past weekend, the woman was brought back to Haiti by the missionaries, where I am told she had a tearful reunion with her family, who thought she was dead. After being in Jimani and having very little time to help patients individually and provide them some kind of social services, I was glad to have the opportunity during this medical mission to really help an individual who was affected by the earthquake.
2. Volleyball trip!
Of course, every time I go on a trip with my kids we have a great time. Two weeks ago, I arranged to take my volleyball team to a pueblo where another volunteer lives to have a mini tournament and stay overnight. I brought six girls, ages 12-15, and another team of six also came. We woke up early to take motorcycles out of my site. When we arrived to the bridge that we usually cross, it was being worked on, so we all had to load into a small rowboat and be rowed across the river to the other side where another motorcycle took us to the bus stop. As we were traveling on the bus, my girls were glued to the windows, peering out. One girl asked what every single town along the way was called. I realized that most of the girls had never been up this far north and had never seen these towns and cities. We arrived and played volleyball, ate, went to the river, and played more volleyball.
That night the girls ate together and then each one went with a girl from the pueblo to sleep in her house. The other girls on the other teams were mostly older than my girls, and at first I was worried that they wouldn’t integrate well. But by the end of the night when they were being sent off to their houses for the, they were all very comfortable, and I was not worried that they would be uncomfortable sleeping in a strange house.
The next morning my girls were the first players up and over at my friends’ house ready for breakfast. Three of them had been put in the same house and said they were treated so well: “The mother prepared our bathing water for us, gave us the biggest bed, and they even had a mosquito net!” It’s so easy to please these girls! All of the girls had positive experiences, and what they really loved was getting to know the neighborhood.
By the time the tournament was over, my girls had beat one team twice and lost to another team twice, but they certainly fought, considering they were the youngest ones there! I realized though that the most valuable experience for them was seeing a new town, seeing how people lived and worked there, and realizing that they too can get out of their town and progress.
We treated the girls to ice cream on the way home (some girls had never eaten at the chain that we went to) and then took another road back so we wouldn’t have to cross the river in the boat again. The girls arrived happy and incredibly tired, and of course all they have been asking me since is when we will go on another trip!
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
February 2nd, 2009: Just a little insight....
Hey Everyone,
I was asked to write a little something about my experience for Peace Corps, and this is what came of it; even if youre not a PCV, my real point is that there are opportunities for everyone to volunteer and work on the relief effort, if they find a reliable, responsible organization to do it through.
My Experience:
Over the course of the nine days I worked at the Buen Samaritano Hospital (Good Samaritan Hospital) which was providing medical care for Haitian earthquake victims, the other PCVs and I that were sent were assigned or took on a wide variety of jobs. Throughout the day any one of us could be found translating, registering volunteers, handing out food, organizing a patient tracking system, reporting to Public Health officials, finding the appropriate medical staff for the day, providing social services to families, and advocating for the patients. There were between two and six PCVs at the hospital every day and we all had more than enough work (most of us were working 18-20 hour days).
We were told by several administrators at the hospital that they couldn’t have done their job without the support of Peace Corps; we seemed to become the go-tos for patients, doctors and administrators when they had a question and didn’t know where to go. In the end, the PCVs became the link between volunteers and patients; Americans and Haitians; doctors and administration. I believe that being a Peace Corps volunteer in this country prepared us especially for this kind of work, and has made us valuable to the organizations that came into the country to provide relief.
Though many of us volunteers are used to the slow pace of Dominican country life, we were all prepared to work long hours at the hospital. Perhaps this is simply a characteristic of Peace Corps volunteers in general who are always willing to help, especially when their help is so solicited and necessary. Living in the Dominican countryside or pueblo has taught us the importance of being flexible and how to deal with the frustrating stops and gos of the Dominican administrative system at all levels. In a disaster relief area, this flexibility is necessary; no one knows what will happen the next day, who might show up, what patient might take a turn for the worse, or what organization might decide to help or not help. In the end, you must be ready for everything and change your plans and job description from one minute to the next; something that PCVs are accustomed to doing.
PCVs also come into situations like this with the flexibility in living standards that we have found necessary in our day to day lives here in country. While the lack of reliable water or comfortable beds may have discouraged some volunteers from working at the hospital, us volunteers were willing to sleep anywhere (frequently on couches) and were thrilled if there was water coming out of the shower spout! The daily meal of rice and beans didn’t phase us, and we never once thought about the money we were losing because we were giving up precious time to volunteer (we’ve committed to two years of no earnings!)
The last and most important reason that PCVs are so integral to relief efforts in their own countries or neighboring countries is their vast knowledge and experience of local culture and customs. The people at Buen Samaritano Hospital were working very hard to provide quality patient care, treat the volunteer doctors and nurses well, and make sure the hospital was running smoothly. At the same time, they were still accountable to Dominican officials and had to interact frequently with Dominicans. Unfortunately, there were very few administrators who spoke Spanish, and fewer who had lived in the country for as long as we volunteers had. For this reason, we volunteers often became the go-betweens between the American administration and the Dominicans who were working with us. We helped negotiate the meals being provided by the Dominican Civil Defense, as well as talk to and translate for public health officials and communicate with the military guards that the government was providing for us. Understanding the Dominican culture and language helped us communicate with the host country in a way that most of the administration could not.
Living on the same island as Haitians and interacting frequently with migrants in the DR also gave us valuable insight into the Haitian culture and allowed us to communicate and empathize with the patients. While there were few volunteers who spoke Dominican Spanish, there were even fewer who spoke Kreyol. With that in mind, even the little knowledge of Kreyol that we volunteers had helped us communicate with the patients and their families. It was Peace Corps volunteers and a few translators who were often the first volunteers in the hospital to learn of problems amongst the patients and families and help them look for solutions, trying to fill the void where social services should have existed in a normal hospital.
I am in no way saying that the work of one volunteer at the hospital was more or less valuable than another; no PCV who was at the hospital could perform surgery, serve as an ICU nurse, or had extensive knowledge of hospital administration. What is important to recognize is that in a disaster such as the Haitian earthquake, different kinds of knowledge and experience (especially cultural) is needed to help the relief effort. I believe that at the Buen Samaritano Hospital and in the various relief efforts across the island, Peace Corps volunteers fit a certain integral niche.
I was asked to write a little something about my experience for Peace Corps, and this is what came of it; even if youre not a PCV, my real point is that there are opportunities for everyone to volunteer and work on the relief effort, if they find a reliable, responsible organization to do it through.
My Experience:
Over the course of the nine days I worked at the Buen Samaritano Hospital (Good Samaritan Hospital) which was providing medical care for Haitian earthquake victims, the other PCVs and I that were sent were assigned or took on a wide variety of jobs. Throughout the day any one of us could be found translating, registering volunteers, handing out food, organizing a patient tracking system, reporting to Public Health officials, finding the appropriate medical staff for the day, providing social services to families, and advocating for the patients. There were between two and six PCVs at the hospital every day and we all had more than enough work (most of us were working 18-20 hour days).
We were told by several administrators at the hospital that they couldn’t have done their job without the support of Peace Corps; we seemed to become the go-tos for patients, doctors and administrators when they had a question and didn’t know where to go. In the end, the PCVs became the link between volunteers and patients; Americans and Haitians; doctors and administration. I believe that being a Peace Corps volunteer in this country prepared us especially for this kind of work, and has made us valuable to the organizations that came into the country to provide relief.
Though many of us volunteers are used to the slow pace of Dominican country life, we were all prepared to work long hours at the hospital. Perhaps this is simply a characteristic of Peace Corps volunteers in general who are always willing to help, especially when their help is so solicited and necessary. Living in the Dominican countryside or pueblo has taught us the importance of being flexible and how to deal with the frustrating stops and gos of the Dominican administrative system at all levels. In a disaster relief area, this flexibility is necessary; no one knows what will happen the next day, who might show up, what patient might take a turn for the worse, or what organization might decide to help or not help. In the end, you must be ready for everything and change your plans and job description from one minute to the next; something that PCVs are accustomed to doing.
PCVs also come into situations like this with the flexibility in living standards that we have found necessary in our day to day lives here in country. While the lack of reliable water or comfortable beds may have discouraged some volunteers from working at the hospital, us volunteers were willing to sleep anywhere (frequently on couches) and were thrilled if there was water coming out of the shower spout! The daily meal of rice and beans didn’t phase us, and we never once thought about the money we were losing because we were giving up precious time to volunteer (we’ve committed to two years of no earnings!)
The last and most important reason that PCVs are so integral to relief efforts in their own countries or neighboring countries is their vast knowledge and experience of local culture and customs. The people at Buen Samaritano Hospital were working very hard to provide quality patient care, treat the volunteer doctors and nurses well, and make sure the hospital was running smoothly. At the same time, they were still accountable to Dominican officials and had to interact frequently with Dominicans. Unfortunately, there were very few administrators who spoke Spanish, and fewer who had lived in the country for as long as we volunteers had. For this reason, we volunteers often became the go-betweens between the American administration and the Dominicans who were working with us. We helped negotiate the meals being provided by the Dominican Civil Defense, as well as talk to and translate for public health officials and communicate with the military guards that the government was providing for us. Understanding the Dominican culture and language helped us communicate with the host country in a way that most of the administration could not.
Living on the same island as Haitians and interacting frequently with migrants in the DR also gave us valuable insight into the Haitian culture and allowed us to communicate and empathize with the patients. While there were few volunteers who spoke Dominican Spanish, there were even fewer who spoke Kreyol. With that in mind, even the little knowledge of Kreyol that we volunteers had helped us communicate with the patients and their families. It was Peace Corps volunteers and a few translators who were often the first volunteers in the hospital to learn of problems amongst the patients and families and help them look for solutions, trying to fill the void where social services should have existed in a normal hospital.
I am in no way saying that the work of one volunteer at the hospital was more or less valuable than another; no PCV who was at the hospital could perform surgery, serve as an ICU nurse, or had extensive knowledge of hospital administration. What is important to recognize is that in a disaster such as the Haitian earthquake, different kinds of knowledge and experience (especially cultural) is needed to help the relief effort. I believe that at the Buen Samaritano Hospital and in the various relief efforts across the island, Peace Corps volunteers fit a certain integral niche.
January 27th, 2009: Jimani Hospital
Beginning a week after the earthquake in Haiti, Peace Corps DR sent a team of Peace Corps volunteers who had nursing skills or spoke Kreyol to a hospital in Jimani. This hospital was not originally a large hospital, however due to the large amount of Haitians who were coming over the border seeking medical care, it was opened to treat them. The first team stayed for a week, helping out where they could in the wards and trying to organize all the volunteers who were coming from the States to help.
The volunteers worked long hours for a week and Peace Corps then asked another group to go out there to take over them. On Monday I arrived here in Jimani and began to help with two other volunteers. We are filling in for the volunteers who had been working on the administrative/volunteer part of the hospital. After hearing stories from them, it seems as if we came in as things were finally beginning to get organized, because at the beginning things were absolute chaos; partly because entire families were coming over the border with their loved ones and had to set up camp at the hospital, and partly because there were no records or organization of the volunteers who were coming in and out to help and how long they could stay.
Starting today things have begun to get really organized; a logistical team has been brought in to organize the entire hospital better, and we’re expected to help them in whatever way we can.
Let’s start at the beginning: I found out on Friday night that Peace Corps was looking for a team to go out to the border, and I immediately contacted my boss to let her know I was interested. I rushed around finishing things in my site, and on Monday morning I got on a bus from the capital going to Jimani. Almost the entire bus (Except for the driver, two Dominicans, and three Americans) were Haitians headed across the border. We squeezed in 5 per row (no aisle) and set off on the five and a half hour drive. Even though most people were headed back to Haiti to assess the damage of the earthquake on their hometowns and houses, they were a very chipper bunch, chatting away in Kreyol amongst each other almost the entire time (I tried to keep up but couldn’t do it). We made one bathroom stop about an hour into the trip, and then an hour before the end of the trip we stopped. I thought it was going to be a bathroom break, and it was, except it was completely out in the open. All the men jumped out and immediately began peeing outside the bus, and several women did the same thing. I was tempted, but couldn’t bring myself to do it! After we got on the bus, one woman began feeling sick. Several men started fanning her and trying to feed her, and in the process she decided she was too hot, so she simply took off her shirt and sat there for a good half an hour until she felt better! Nobody seemed uncomfortable with it in any way shape or form, which made me not worry about it either!
We arrived in Jimani and met up with the volunteers who had been there the previous week. They showed us a little around the town and then we went up the hospital to get a little orientation. The town itself seemed a little sleepy, but once we got to the hospital it was bustling with people. The hospital itself is two large buildings, one of which is really a hospital, and the other or which was set up originally as an orphanage but is currently four different wards to treat the patients. In addition, patients are in being treated in a chapel and under a large circus tent. Many of the patients that are supposed to be located in the orphanage decided to set up tents outside because they were afraid of another earthquake (there continue to be tremors).
That night around 6 I headed up to the hospital with the Peace Corps volunteer I was to be replacing to shadow her and figure out everything that was going on in the hospital. We did a lot of just running around, coordinating between the main office and the wards, some translation, and lots of registration of incoming volunteers. The patients here have been very grateful for the care they are getting, but there are some very injured people. There have been up to 300 patients in the hospital (although the numbers are becoming smaller as they get transferred to other hospitals or released) and many of those patients have bone fractures, or have had limbs amputated (250). I haven’t had much time to talk to patients because we’ve been running around doing admin stuff or pulled away for translation, however the tragedy can be seen everywhere; people fled Port-au-Prince for medical care, but now they are in the hospital with nothing, often because all their personal items were buried in the rubble, and they have no where to go back to. People have been very generous in donating money to the Red Cross and other medical organizations, which is an immediate need, however the cold facts are that this is a tragedy with lasting effects, and Haitians are going to need support in reconstructing their city, their schools, and finding homes for the displaced families.
The volunteers worked long hours for a week and Peace Corps then asked another group to go out there to take over them. On Monday I arrived here in Jimani and began to help with two other volunteers. We are filling in for the volunteers who had been working on the administrative/volunteer part of the hospital. After hearing stories from them, it seems as if we came in as things were finally beginning to get organized, because at the beginning things were absolute chaos; partly because entire families were coming over the border with their loved ones and had to set up camp at the hospital, and partly because there were no records or organization of the volunteers who were coming in and out to help and how long they could stay.
Starting today things have begun to get really organized; a logistical team has been brought in to organize the entire hospital better, and we’re expected to help them in whatever way we can.
Let’s start at the beginning: I found out on Friday night that Peace Corps was looking for a team to go out to the border, and I immediately contacted my boss to let her know I was interested. I rushed around finishing things in my site, and on Monday morning I got on a bus from the capital going to Jimani. Almost the entire bus (Except for the driver, two Dominicans, and three Americans) were Haitians headed across the border. We squeezed in 5 per row (no aisle) and set off on the five and a half hour drive. Even though most people were headed back to Haiti to assess the damage of the earthquake on their hometowns and houses, they were a very chipper bunch, chatting away in Kreyol amongst each other almost the entire time (I tried to keep up but couldn’t do it). We made one bathroom stop about an hour into the trip, and then an hour before the end of the trip we stopped. I thought it was going to be a bathroom break, and it was, except it was completely out in the open. All the men jumped out and immediately began peeing outside the bus, and several women did the same thing. I was tempted, but couldn’t bring myself to do it! After we got on the bus, one woman began feeling sick. Several men started fanning her and trying to feed her, and in the process she decided she was too hot, so she simply took off her shirt and sat there for a good half an hour until she felt better! Nobody seemed uncomfortable with it in any way shape or form, which made me not worry about it either!
We arrived in Jimani and met up with the volunteers who had been there the previous week. They showed us a little around the town and then we went up the hospital to get a little orientation. The town itself seemed a little sleepy, but once we got to the hospital it was bustling with people. The hospital itself is two large buildings, one of which is really a hospital, and the other or which was set up originally as an orphanage but is currently four different wards to treat the patients. In addition, patients are in being treated in a chapel and under a large circus tent. Many of the patients that are supposed to be located in the orphanage decided to set up tents outside because they were afraid of another earthquake (there continue to be tremors).
That night around 6 I headed up to the hospital with the Peace Corps volunteer I was to be replacing to shadow her and figure out everything that was going on in the hospital. We did a lot of just running around, coordinating between the main office and the wards, some translation, and lots of registration of incoming volunteers. The patients here have been very grateful for the care they are getting, but there are some very injured people. There have been up to 300 patients in the hospital (although the numbers are becoming smaller as they get transferred to other hospitals or released) and many of those patients have bone fractures, or have had limbs amputated (250). I haven’t had much time to talk to patients because we’ve been running around doing admin stuff or pulled away for translation, however the tragedy can be seen everywhere; people fled Port-au-Prince for medical care, but now they are in the hospital with nothing, often because all their personal items were buried in the rubble, and they have no where to go back to. People have been very generous in donating money to the Red Cross and other medical organizations, which is an immediate need, however the cold facts are that this is a tragedy with lasting effects, and Haitians are going to need support in reconstructing their city, their schools, and finding homes for the displaced families.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010
Just an fyi friends, I have just gotten back from spending ten days in Jimani, where a hospital was set up to treat earthquake victims. It was the craziest, most exhausting, sad, interesting, eye-opening experience I've probably ever had. Haiti needs so much help, and will need help for quite some time. I promise I will update soon with some descriptions and stories, so keep checking in!
January 26th, 2009: DR Response to the Haitian Earthquake
The Haitian Earthquake.
It’s been two weeks now since the earthquake in Haiti, and though it is not in the headlines anymore, people here in the DR are still thinking about it. In my community, as soon as the earthquake happened everybody was glued to the television. Most people are second and third generation Dominican-Haitians, so though they know they have family in Haiti, they have lost contact with them. However everyone in my community was deeply saddened and concerned about the Haitian population. There are several people in my town that do have known family in Haiti, and they have still not been able to contact them to see if they are alright.
I expected the people in my community to feel solidarity with the Haitians affected by the earthquake due to their roots, but what most surprised me was the reaction of the Dominican population. It is not a secret that Dominicans frequently discriminate against Haitians that live here and live in Haiti. The president of this country has often talked about cracking down on Haitian immigrants, and frequently when I tell a Dominican that I live in a batey, they warn me of the dangers of living there because of the “Haitians that could rob and hurt you” or the just say “Ay mama” and shake their heads.
But ever since the earthquake happened I have noted a change in Dominican attitudes towards Haitians. First of all, due to the short distance between our capital and the Haitian capital, Dominicans were some of the first search and rescue and relief teams that arrived in Port-au-Prince. People from all over the country have also arranged donation drives to send materials and money through the Red Cross to Haiti. Three small villages (including my own) made an effort to collect money and goods to send to the border, and the DR did a “tele marathon fundraiser” a week before the one in the States was broadcast. I have also just noticed Dominicans being friendlier to Haitians in general. This is a tragedy that hit a country that has already been through so much pain and suffering, and I think the Dominicans here have recognized that and have changed their mindsets to help their “brethren” (which is what they are now being called).
It’s been two weeks now since the earthquake in Haiti, and though it is not in the headlines anymore, people here in the DR are still thinking about it. In my community, as soon as the earthquake happened everybody was glued to the television. Most people are second and third generation Dominican-Haitians, so though they know they have family in Haiti, they have lost contact with them. However everyone in my community was deeply saddened and concerned about the Haitian population. There are several people in my town that do have known family in Haiti, and they have still not been able to contact them to see if they are alright.
I expected the people in my community to feel solidarity with the Haitians affected by the earthquake due to their roots, but what most surprised me was the reaction of the Dominican population. It is not a secret that Dominicans frequently discriminate against Haitians that live here and live in Haiti. The president of this country has often talked about cracking down on Haitian immigrants, and frequently when I tell a Dominican that I live in a batey, they warn me of the dangers of living there because of the “Haitians that could rob and hurt you” or the just say “Ay mama” and shake their heads.
But ever since the earthquake happened I have noted a change in Dominican attitudes towards Haitians. First of all, due to the short distance between our capital and the Haitian capital, Dominicans were some of the first search and rescue and relief teams that arrived in Port-au-Prince. People from all over the country have also arranged donation drives to send materials and money through the Red Cross to Haiti. Three small villages (including my own) made an effort to collect money and goods to send to the border, and the DR did a “tele marathon fundraiser” a week before the one in the States was broadcast. I have also just noticed Dominicans being friendlier to Haitians in general. This is a tragedy that hit a country that has already been through so much pain and suffering, and I think the Dominicans here have recognized that and have changed their mindsets to help their “brethren” (which is what they are now being called).
December, 2009: Birth Certificates
Hello everyone, here is an article I wrote for our local Peace Corps DR publication. I think I’ve mentioned that getting birth certificates can be difficult for people of Haitian descent, here’s one example:
Our Future, And Theirs….
I first got to know Eliza when we (a Canadian nun and I) tried to convince her to join our young mother’s group. We were pointed to her house while interviewing all the young mothers in the batey. She was sitting on the porch with her baby; her three year old running around naked. I knew she also had a seven year old because he came to my house often to dance reggaeton and gaga to my neighbor’s radio. We posed the usual questions, asking her how many kids she had (3), their ages (1 year, 3 years, 7 years), whether they had their documents (no), whether she had her documents (no), and what her birthday was (she was born in 1986). Whoa, what? 1986? I was born that year.
She was my age, already had three children and had blazed through two “husbands”. Despite our age, we have no similarities in life. We thanked her for the information, invited her to come to our meetings, and went to the next house. She didn’t show up to the meetings for the first couple months; I only got little tidbits of information about her from her son, who spent his days at my house when his mother “se fue,” whatever that meant.
When the young mother’s group was finally able to organize an 8th grade adult class to be offered in our town, more women began to show up for our meetings at the prospect of something new and exciting. Eliza began to come, and proved to be responsible, respectful and animated about the class we were going to offer. She participated during the meetings, listened to others, and seemed excited for the class. The only problem is she doesn’t have her acta de nacimiento (birth certificate), since her mother is from Haiti and does not have documents. I encouraged her to enroll in the class anyway and promised we’d work on getting the documents before the end of the year so that she could take the mandatory national exam. She has been a much more reliable student than most; she goes to class every week, attends the weekly meetings I hold for the women, and shows up on time every Thursday when we all come together and work on homework. She’s smart, and her oldest boy is also one of the smartest ones in his class. When I see her participating, it is obvious she wants the best for herself and her children; she hasn’t given up like some other mothers her age that I see around.
Eliza was born in the Dominican Republic, barely speaks Kreyol, and has never been to Haiti. A couple weeks ago I invited a migration lawyer to come talk to the group about documentation and the new laws that the Dominican congress had recently passed. He discussed the new law that is soon to be enacted which allows those who can prove they have lived in this country more than ten years to become residents.
“But of course” he stipulates “that means you have to accept the fact that the government first and foremost recognizes you as Haitian”
“But I’m not Haitian, I was born here, I am not going to accept being Haitian.”
Eliza’s reasons for not accepting Haitian citizenship are not clear; maybe she simply feels Dominican, possibly she fears being labeled as Haitian, or perhaps she herself has negative feelings toward Haitians. Whatever it is, she told the lawyer clearly that she would not accept that proposal, and went on to ask him what he thought about trying to get someone else other than her parents to declare her. He strongly discourages it because of the problems with documentation it can bring later on in life. Even though many people have done it here in my town, everybody knows that currently the fiscalias are making it harder and harder for anyone who appears Haitian or has a last name that is not “Dominican” to get their documents.
After the lawyer explained the choice she had: acknowledge that the government labeled her as Haitian and get proper documents, or fight the label but stay sin documentos, Eliza looked as if she was going to cry. She left for a while and came back later with her backpack, ready to do her homework after the meeting. The lawyer kept talking, but she was not listening any more. It seemed as if any hope was lost.
I like to think that we as volunteers all still feel very young. We still have hopes and dreams and we know that we have possibilities ahead of us: jobs, grad school, marriage, adventures. For Eliza, who is my age, without documents she is already old. She has very few opportunities to change the trajectory of her life if she cannot study, work a legal job, or send her children to high school. Her life will involve surviving in this batey raising her children, with the odd job in a “casa de familia” or in Bávaro taking her away from the community for a while. But she will always return, because it is here where she can survive best without documents, with the support of her family and friends. Her only hope is that she might be able to find someone else to declare her children, or that the Dominican laws may someday change.
Dominican laws about documentation are changing slowly, but many do not trust that they will stick, and still others doubt that any of these changes will be implemented. As Peace Corps volunteers we can work on documentation projects, bring people to the fiscal, encourage them to find their documents, etc… But there are some people, like Eliza, whose cases are currently hopeless. When the new Peace Corps director came to visit a fellow volunteer asked him what kind of opportunities are available to RPCVs to stay involved and help the country they served from home. Here is an opportunity. The Dominican government is not going to listen to our pleas for fair residency laws from here, not to mention that we are not supposed to get involved in in-country politics. Nor does the political system here embrace advocacy, letter writing and canvassing nearly as much (if at all) as it does in the United States. But once we return, we have the potential to lobby our politicians and international organizations to pressure the Dominican government into changing the citizenship laws that so blatantly discriminate against Haitian descendents. It is one way to continue helping Eliza and the countless others who we have met here and are struggling due to these discriminatory laws.
For more information on efforts to change the laws, please refer to:
www.mudha.org
Our Future, And Theirs….
I first got to know Eliza when we (a Canadian nun and I) tried to convince her to join our young mother’s group. We were pointed to her house while interviewing all the young mothers in the batey. She was sitting on the porch with her baby; her three year old running around naked. I knew she also had a seven year old because he came to my house often to dance reggaeton and gaga to my neighbor’s radio. We posed the usual questions, asking her how many kids she had (3), their ages (1 year, 3 years, 7 years), whether they had their documents (no), whether she had her documents (no), and what her birthday was (she was born in 1986). Whoa, what? 1986? I was born that year.
She was my age, already had three children and had blazed through two “husbands”. Despite our age, we have no similarities in life. We thanked her for the information, invited her to come to our meetings, and went to the next house. She didn’t show up to the meetings for the first couple months; I only got little tidbits of information about her from her son, who spent his days at my house when his mother “se fue,” whatever that meant.
When the young mother’s group was finally able to organize an 8th grade adult class to be offered in our town, more women began to show up for our meetings at the prospect of something new and exciting. Eliza began to come, and proved to be responsible, respectful and animated about the class we were going to offer. She participated during the meetings, listened to others, and seemed excited for the class. The only problem is she doesn’t have her acta de nacimiento (birth certificate), since her mother is from Haiti and does not have documents. I encouraged her to enroll in the class anyway and promised we’d work on getting the documents before the end of the year so that she could take the mandatory national exam. She has been a much more reliable student than most; she goes to class every week, attends the weekly meetings I hold for the women, and shows up on time every Thursday when we all come together and work on homework. She’s smart, and her oldest boy is also one of the smartest ones in his class. When I see her participating, it is obvious she wants the best for herself and her children; she hasn’t given up like some other mothers her age that I see around.
Eliza was born in the Dominican Republic, barely speaks Kreyol, and has never been to Haiti. A couple weeks ago I invited a migration lawyer to come talk to the group about documentation and the new laws that the Dominican congress had recently passed. He discussed the new law that is soon to be enacted which allows those who can prove they have lived in this country more than ten years to become residents.
“But of course” he stipulates “that means you have to accept the fact that the government first and foremost recognizes you as Haitian”
“But I’m not Haitian, I was born here, I am not going to accept being Haitian.”
Eliza’s reasons for not accepting Haitian citizenship are not clear; maybe she simply feels Dominican, possibly she fears being labeled as Haitian, or perhaps she herself has negative feelings toward Haitians. Whatever it is, she told the lawyer clearly that she would not accept that proposal, and went on to ask him what he thought about trying to get someone else other than her parents to declare her. He strongly discourages it because of the problems with documentation it can bring later on in life. Even though many people have done it here in my town, everybody knows that currently the fiscalias are making it harder and harder for anyone who appears Haitian or has a last name that is not “Dominican” to get their documents.
After the lawyer explained the choice she had: acknowledge that the government labeled her as Haitian and get proper documents, or fight the label but stay sin documentos, Eliza looked as if she was going to cry. She left for a while and came back later with her backpack, ready to do her homework after the meeting. The lawyer kept talking, but she was not listening any more. It seemed as if any hope was lost.
I like to think that we as volunteers all still feel very young. We still have hopes and dreams and we know that we have possibilities ahead of us: jobs, grad school, marriage, adventures. For Eliza, who is my age, without documents she is already old. She has very few opportunities to change the trajectory of her life if she cannot study, work a legal job, or send her children to high school. Her life will involve surviving in this batey raising her children, with the odd job in a “casa de familia” or in Bávaro taking her away from the community for a while. But she will always return, because it is here where she can survive best without documents, with the support of her family and friends. Her only hope is that she might be able to find someone else to declare her children, or that the Dominican laws may someday change.
Dominican laws about documentation are changing slowly, but many do not trust that they will stick, and still others doubt that any of these changes will be implemented. As Peace Corps volunteers we can work on documentation projects, bring people to the fiscal, encourage them to find their documents, etc… But there are some people, like Eliza, whose cases are currently hopeless. When the new Peace Corps director came to visit a fellow volunteer asked him what kind of opportunities are available to RPCVs to stay involved and help the country they served from home. Here is an opportunity. The Dominican government is not going to listen to our pleas for fair residency laws from here, not to mention that we are not supposed to get involved in in-country politics. Nor does the political system here embrace advocacy, letter writing and canvassing nearly as much (if at all) as it does in the United States. But once we return, we have the potential to lobby our politicians and international organizations to pressure the Dominican government into changing the citizenship laws that so blatantly discriminate against Haitian descendents. It is one way to continue helping Eliza and the countless others who we have met here and are struggling due to these discriminatory laws.
For more information on efforts to change the laws, please refer to:
www.mudha.org
Thursday, November 12, 2009
November 7th, 2009: I think I might be insane---Another trip!
As you will remember if you have been reading my blog, about a month ago we hosted a group of Escojo health promotors in our community to have an over night event. Well this weekend, it was our turn to go visit them in their community! Since we have limited funding for these events, the kids each had to come up with 150 pesos (about four dollars) to be able to come on the trip. I didn’t think a lot of kids would be able to find that much money, and by the time the deadline (Monday) rolled around, only about ten kids out of 19 had turned in their money. However, after that several other kids came and gave me the money for the trip. I couldn’t say no because I knew they had worked hard to come up with that money, but the problem was that by Thursday night, the night before the trip, I had a group of 16 kids—yes that’s right, sixteen teenagers between the ages of thirteen and nineteen—that were ready to get up at 545 in the morning to travel. Now let me just say that usually when we do trips or camps there is a 1:3 or 1:4 ratio of volunteers to kids—at this event it was going to be about 1:15. Needless to say, I was a little bit nervous about how the kids would behave and whether they would take advantage of the lack of adult supervision!
Because transportation is so expensive here, I began looking for ways to reduce the travel costs of a group that large, and luckily a friend of mine was able to help us out a bit. At 545 in the morning all seventeen of us piled in the back of a pickup truck and slowly made our bumpy way to the nearest town. There, I left five kids to pile in the car of a friend of my friend who works in the capital and offered to take the kids to the capital and drop them off at the bus stop of the next bus that we would be taking. Then I put another five kids in the back of a group of nuns' truck that was also on its way to the capital (I had to have a discussion with my kids before they got in about respecting nuns), and the other seven of us got on a public bus. Amazingly, we all ended up in the same spot and from there took another bus to a stop where the volunteer of the other group was waiting for us with another pick up truck to haul us all up the mountain to her community.
We arrived at the conference center where we were going to stay and were greeted by the other Escojo group. We had lunch, did some ice breakers, and headed to the beach. My kids, if they’re lucky, usually get to go to the beach once a year with the Canadians who bring them during one of their trips, so for them going to the beach was a huge treat! After that we got back and, to my surprise, the kids still wanted to swim in the pool. They swam and then bathed and set up the tents that they were going to sleep in (also the first time they had ever slept in tents)
That night we did workshops on leadership and discrimination, and then spent the rest of the night playing music and dominoes and just sitting around doing the typical Dominican “Compartir” (sharing). The kids were so excited to be somewhere other than their houses for the night that they couldn’t fall asleep early, despite the fact that they had been up since four and five am. It had begun to rain, and some of us had moved our mattresses into an outdoor meeting space that was more waterproof than the tents. All of my girls decided that they wanted to sleep there, and so I slept outside with my girls, which was great because it gave us a chance to have a mini sleepover and plenty of girl talk. Before going to sleep, however, I had to do several checks of the tents and other sleeping areas to make sure there was no “boy-girl” mixing. As far as I could tell, the kids were pretty respectful of the rules (I had to explain to my boys earlier that no, they could not just give a couple girls they had met kisses because we all knew that kisses led to other things that could have negative consequences).
We all woke up around 6 am with the sun; I personally woke up to the voices of my kids talking, and one even beating a drum (I promptly went over there and told him to be quiet, since others were still trying to sleep). The kids hosting the event did a great job; they had to cook and wash the dishes and clean the entire center that had been lent to them for the event—I was so impressed that they were being so responsible. I was especially impressed when they got up earlier than their volunteer to prepare breakfast for all thirty of us!
Before departing, my kids presented a great drama on the consequences of alcohol—I had not seen them rehearse it, but they got up there and performed wonderfully and gave out a great message! We then did an activity to practice making presentation materials, and then reflected on the last twenty-four hours. As my kids loaded into the pickup truck to go back down the mountain, they took out their instruments and began playing the merengues they have composed about Escojo. They played all the way down to the highway, and as soon as we got on the next bus they began to play again, getting a little more wild (our harmonica player and dancer claimed he was too hot, and before I knew it he was dancing around on the bus without his shirt!) While we were on that bus, one of the men who worked on the bus began hitting on me, calling me “mami” and harassing me a bit, which is pretty normal in this country. But to my surprise, my kids began to protest, saying that we were all going to get off the bus if he continued being disrespectful. I was touched that they were protecting me like that, I guess they have learned that I hate that kind of behavior and felt like it was their job to put a stop to it!
We arrived in the capital and all piled onto another bus that would take us to our nearest town. When we arrived, it was raining, and we had to wait quite some time until the pick-up that was supposed to come and get us showed up. We finally piled into that vehicle (which I was afraid would break every time we went over any big bump) and began to make our way back to Las Pajas. It rained on us the entire way there, and we were all getting very damp in the back of the pickup. Despite the fact that Dominicans hate getting wet and claim that if you get wet you will get a cold afterwards, the kids didn’t seem to mind the rain at all; all they could do was talk about what had happened at the “intercambio”(exchange) and who was “enamorado” (in love) with who. All throughout the trip, my kids hardly complained at all about whatever little problem arose (be it having to wait for a bus, walking to the beach because the truck broke down, or being hungry because they had left too early to eat breakfast, and on the last day we left late and didn’t eat lunch). They were troopers, and it was obvious that they were just happy to be traveling and knowing other places.
After being in my community for a year, it was fun to do this event because I saw some changes in myself and my kids. For example, I am now able to control a group of 16 teenagers on a five hour trip involving four different vehicles! During the drama and the workshops my kids were able to make significant contributions to the conversation thanks to the topics we have discussed in the classes I teach them. They also took me seriously when I asked them not to hook up with any other kids during the two days we were doing the event. I hope that this also reflects the fact that my kids have learned to be respectful and follow rules when need be. I think I have grown just as much as they have during this year; I have learned a lot from them and hopefully gained their respect, which is important when working in communities
It was also fun to see the group that hosted us working; they have been a group for longer than we have (the volunteer in that site is about to leave country) and they were able to lead a lot of activities and do a lot of tasks without the help of the volunteer, which is something I aspire to for my group. Despite the fact that being in charge of such a large group of youth was a bit stressful, and I arrived at my home exhausted, it was a great experience for both me and my youth, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again if the opportunity arose.
Because transportation is so expensive here, I began looking for ways to reduce the travel costs of a group that large, and luckily a friend of mine was able to help us out a bit. At 545 in the morning all seventeen of us piled in the back of a pickup truck and slowly made our bumpy way to the nearest town. There, I left five kids to pile in the car of a friend of my friend who works in the capital and offered to take the kids to the capital and drop them off at the bus stop of the next bus that we would be taking. Then I put another five kids in the back of a group of nuns' truck that was also on its way to the capital (I had to have a discussion with my kids before they got in about respecting nuns), and the other seven of us got on a public bus. Amazingly, we all ended up in the same spot and from there took another bus to a stop where the volunteer of the other group was waiting for us with another pick up truck to haul us all up the mountain to her community.
We arrived at the conference center where we were going to stay and were greeted by the other Escojo group. We had lunch, did some ice breakers, and headed to the beach. My kids, if they’re lucky, usually get to go to the beach once a year with the Canadians who bring them during one of their trips, so for them going to the beach was a huge treat! After that we got back and, to my surprise, the kids still wanted to swim in the pool. They swam and then bathed and set up the tents that they were going to sleep in (also the first time they had ever slept in tents)
That night we did workshops on leadership and discrimination, and then spent the rest of the night playing music and dominoes and just sitting around doing the typical Dominican “Compartir” (sharing). The kids were so excited to be somewhere other than their houses for the night that they couldn’t fall asleep early, despite the fact that they had been up since four and five am. It had begun to rain, and some of us had moved our mattresses into an outdoor meeting space that was more waterproof than the tents. All of my girls decided that they wanted to sleep there, and so I slept outside with my girls, which was great because it gave us a chance to have a mini sleepover and plenty of girl talk. Before going to sleep, however, I had to do several checks of the tents and other sleeping areas to make sure there was no “boy-girl” mixing. As far as I could tell, the kids were pretty respectful of the rules (I had to explain to my boys earlier that no, they could not just give a couple girls they had met kisses because we all knew that kisses led to other things that could have negative consequences).
We all woke up around 6 am with the sun; I personally woke up to the voices of my kids talking, and one even beating a drum (I promptly went over there and told him to be quiet, since others were still trying to sleep). The kids hosting the event did a great job; they had to cook and wash the dishes and clean the entire center that had been lent to them for the event—I was so impressed that they were being so responsible. I was especially impressed when they got up earlier than their volunteer to prepare breakfast for all thirty of us!
Before departing, my kids presented a great drama on the consequences of alcohol—I had not seen them rehearse it, but they got up there and performed wonderfully and gave out a great message! We then did an activity to practice making presentation materials, and then reflected on the last twenty-four hours. As my kids loaded into the pickup truck to go back down the mountain, they took out their instruments and began playing the merengues they have composed about Escojo. They played all the way down to the highway, and as soon as we got on the next bus they began to play again, getting a little more wild (our harmonica player and dancer claimed he was too hot, and before I knew it he was dancing around on the bus without his shirt!) While we were on that bus, one of the men who worked on the bus began hitting on me, calling me “mami” and harassing me a bit, which is pretty normal in this country. But to my surprise, my kids began to protest, saying that we were all going to get off the bus if he continued being disrespectful. I was touched that they were protecting me like that, I guess they have learned that I hate that kind of behavior and felt like it was their job to put a stop to it!
We arrived in the capital and all piled onto another bus that would take us to our nearest town. When we arrived, it was raining, and we had to wait quite some time until the pick-up that was supposed to come and get us showed up. We finally piled into that vehicle (which I was afraid would break every time we went over any big bump) and began to make our way back to Las Pajas. It rained on us the entire way there, and we were all getting very damp in the back of the pickup. Despite the fact that Dominicans hate getting wet and claim that if you get wet you will get a cold afterwards, the kids didn’t seem to mind the rain at all; all they could do was talk about what had happened at the “intercambio”(exchange) and who was “enamorado” (in love) with who. All throughout the trip, my kids hardly complained at all about whatever little problem arose (be it having to wait for a bus, walking to the beach because the truck broke down, or being hungry because they had left too early to eat breakfast, and on the last day we left late and didn’t eat lunch). They were troopers, and it was obvious that they were just happy to be traveling and knowing other places.
After being in my community for a year, it was fun to do this event because I saw some changes in myself and my kids. For example, I am now able to control a group of 16 teenagers on a five hour trip involving four different vehicles! During the drama and the workshops my kids were able to make significant contributions to the conversation thanks to the topics we have discussed in the classes I teach them. They also took me seriously when I asked them not to hook up with any other kids during the two days we were doing the event. I hope that this also reflects the fact that my kids have learned to be respectful and follow rules when need be. I think I have grown just as much as they have during this year; I have learned a lot from them and hopefully gained their respect, which is important when working in communities
It was also fun to see the group that hosted us working; they have been a group for longer than we have (the volunteer in that site is about to leave country) and they were able to lead a lot of activities and do a lot of tasks without the help of the volunteer, which is something I aspire to for my group. Despite the fact that being in charge of such a large group of youth was a bit stressful, and I arrived at my home exhausted, it was a great experience for both me and my youth, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again if the opportunity arose.
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