This morning I'm in Port au Prince with Reuben, recovering from yesterday's meeting and this morning's diarrhea. Considering my opinion of bureaucracy, there isn't really much difference between the two from where I'm sitting.
The past few weeks have been a flurry of activity, and I've written about 80 pages of journal entry. Those pages will become part of my book/thesis when I get back. ?Next week, marks a trip to Mexico, however. I'm looking forward to it. Time with the hub, and family. :)
***
One of the worst problems I've encountered in research here so far is my ability to adapt. In most cases, falling into native patterns and custims quickly is considered a good thing. Not from an anthropological standpoint, however. I need to learn to walk the line between observation and participation while remaining objective to the events going on around me. Not an easy task by a long shot.
***
Apologies to those of you who read this post on a regular basis. I had originally intended on putting more information up, complete with stories, pictures, and descriptions of life here. With limited internet access and electricity, that's relatively impossible. I do however, promise to provide a draft of the final book the chimpito and the mantis.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Still not connected...
Hi there. It's a bit frustrating not to have reliable communication here. I miss my friends and family so much, but especially my dearest husband.
Right now, here in Fondwa, we are coming into the start of sweet potato season. The market day was today and the streets were packed with people selling everything a small village might need. Usually there are several vendors with the same wares for the same prices, so it is tough to choose. The one exception would be in the butcher's alley. To walk there is an experience. The faces of an older generation peer out from behind butcher's knives, raising and falling in a rythm to a song I haven't learned yet. They peer with hope at each passing person, slapping the occaisional leg of beef or goat, slicing the pickled beef rind, and tossing scraps and skin onto the ground where the area dogs come to fight over each piece. Hides are unceremoniously discarded on the ground, and covered over with banana leaf. The leather isn't much good here, without the proper chemiclas to process it. A little further down the same alley, nervous livestock linger, hoping that they won't be next, while uneasily grazing on the local vegetation. A line of donkeys that has brought goods to market is tied to a nearby fence relaxing. The red clay soil is stained with their passing, and around the corner a great white scar is carved into the hillside, where chalky limestone, also called white sand, is being excavated for building material. This sand is part of the reason so many buildings collapsed, but without education, the people don't know better. Desperation has led to repetition, as the need for dry housing sets in with the approaching hurricane season.
On other notes, Eugene Lim is arriving to teach with us for the month, and one of my fellow volunteers has rushed off to collect him in Port-au-Prince. It will be interesting to hear what advice he can provide the university. Hopefully he can handle the conditions. Its a bit rough out here, and a drastic transition from Columbia's gorgeous campus. After all, out here all we have is a slightly damaged cinderblock building with three classrooms, an office, and two dormer rooms for the students. The windows are 4x6 holes in the wall, and have no glass. Occaisionally we hang a USAID tarp over them when the wind is too strong or it is raining. In front, we have a schizophrenic old woman who paces back and forth, sits on the gravestones that border the front of the campus, chat with the dead, and sorts rubble into small piles organized by her fancy. Its as though she were trying to rebuild her world in a way that makes sense, following the earthquake. It's an interesting place, but a far cry from NYC.
Right now, here in Fondwa, we are coming into the start of sweet potato season. The market day was today and the streets were packed with people selling everything a small village might need. Usually there are several vendors with the same wares for the same prices, so it is tough to choose. The one exception would be in the butcher's alley. To walk there is an experience. The faces of an older generation peer out from behind butcher's knives, raising and falling in a rythm to a song I haven't learned yet. They peer with hope at each passing person, slapping the occaisional leg of beef or goat, slicing the pickled beef rind, and tossing scraps and skin onto the ground where the area dogs come to fight over each piece. Hides are unceremoniously discarded on the ground, and covered over with banana leaf. The leather isn't much good here, without the proper chemiclas to process it. A little further down the same alley, nervous livestock linger, hoping that they won't be next, while uneasily grazing on the local vegetation. A line of donkeys that has brought goods to market is tied to a nearby fence relaxing. The red clay soil is stained with their passing, and around the corner a great white scar is carved into the hillside, where chalky limestone, also called white sand, is being excavated for building material. This sand is part of the reason so many buildings collapsed, but without education, the people don't know better. Desperation has led to repetition, as the need for dry housing sets in with the approaching hurricane season.
On other notes, Eugene Lim is arriving to teach with us for the month, and one of my fellow volunteers has rushed off to collect him in Port-au-Prince. It will be interesting to hear what advice he can provide the university. Hopefully he can handle the conditions. Its a bit rough out here, and a drastic transition from Columbia's gorgeous campus. After all, out here all we have is a slightly damaged cinderblock building with three classrooms, an office, and two dormer rooms for the students. The windows are 4x6 holes in the wall, and have no glass. Occaisionally we hang a USAID tarp over them when the wind is too strong or it is raining. In front, we have a schizophrenic old woman who paces back and forth, sits on the gravestones that border the front of the campus, chat with the dead, and sorts rubble into small piles organized by her fancy. Its as though she were trying to rebuild her world in a way that makes sense, following the earthquake. It's an interesting place, but a far cry from NYC.
Still not connected...
Hi there. It's a bit frustrating not to have reliable communication here. I miss my friends and family so much, but especially my dearest husband.
Right now, here in Fondwa, we are coming into the start of sweet potato season. The market day was today and the streets were packed with people selling everything a small village might need. Usually there are several vendors with the same wares for the same prices, so it is tough to choose. The one exception would be in the butcher's alley. To walk there is an experience. The faces of an older generation peer out from behind butcher's knives, raising and falling in a rythm to a song I haven't learned yet. They peer with hope at each passing person, slapping the occaisional leg of beef or goat, slicing the pickled beef rind, and tossing scraps and skin onto the ground where the area dogs come to fight over each piece. Hides are unceremoniously discarded on the ground, and covered over with banana leaf. The leather isn't much good here, without the proper chemiclas to process it. A little further down the same alley, nervous livestock linger, hoping that they won't be next, while uneasily grazing on the local vegetation. A line of donkeys that has brought goods to market is tied to a nearby fence relaxing. The red clay soil is stained with their passing, and around the corner a great white scar is carved into the hillside, where chalky limestone, also called white sand, is being excavated for building material. This sand is part of the reason so many buildings collapsed, but without education, the people don't know better. Desperation has led to repetition, as the need for dry housing sets in with the approaching hurricane season.
On other notes, Eugene Lim is arriving to teach with us for the month, and one of my fellow volunteers has rushed off to collect him in Port-au-Prince. It will be interesting to hear what advice he can provide the university. Hopefully he can handle the conditions. Its a bit rough out here, and a drastic transition from Columbia's gorgeous campus. After all, out here all we have is a slightly damaged cinderblock building with three classrooms, an office, and two dormer rooms for the students. The windows are 4x6 holes in the wall, and have no glass. Occaisionally we hang a USAID tarp over them when the wind is too strong or it is raining. In front, we have a schizophrenic old woman who paces back and forth, sits on the gravestones that border the front of the campus, chat with the dead, and sorts rubble into small piles organized by her fancy. Its as though she were trying to rebuild her world in a way that makes sense, following the earthquake. It's an interesting place, but a far cry from NYC.
Right now, here in Fondwa, we are coming into the start of sweet potato season. The market day was today and the streets were packed with people selling everything a small village might need. Usually there are several vendors with the same wares for the same prices, so it is tough to choose. The one exception would be in the butcher's alley. To walk there is an experience. The faces of an older generation peer out from behind butcher's knives, raising and falling in a rythm to a song I haven't learned yet. They peer with hope at each passing person, slapping the occaisional leg of beef or goat, slicing the pickled beef rind, and tossing scraps and skin onto the ground where the area dogs come to fight over each piece. Hides are unceremoniously discarded on the ground, and covered over with banana leaf. The leather isn't much good here, without the proper chemiclas to process it. A little further down the same alley, nervous livestock linger, hoping that they won't be next, while uneasily grazing on the local vegetation. A line of donkeys that has brought goods to market is tied to a nearby fence relaxing. The red clay soil is stained with their passing, and around the corner a great white scar is carved into the hillside, where chalky limestone, also called white sand, is being excavated for building material. This sand is part of the reason so many buildings collapsed, but without education, the people don't know better. Desperation has led to repetition, as the need for dry housing sets in with the approaching hurricane season.
On other notes, Eugene Lim is arriving to teach with us for the month, and one of my fellow volunteers has rushed off to collect him in Port-au-Prince. It will be interesting to hear what advice he can provide the university. Hopefully he can handle the conditions. Its a bit rough out here, and a drastic transition from Columbia's gorgeous campus. After all, out here all we have is a slightly damaged cinderblock building with three classrooms, an office, and two dormer rooms for the students. The windows are 4x6 holes in the wall, and have no glass. Occaisionally we hang a USAID tarp over them when the wind is too strong or it is raining. In front, we have a schizophrenic old woman who paces back and forth, sits on the gravestones that border the front of the campus, chat with the dead, and sorts rubble into small piles organized by her fancy. Its as though she were trying to rebuild her world in a way that makes sense, following the earthquake. It's an interesting place, but a far cry from NYC.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Poaching
So here I am in Tom Gato, poaching Moyiz's internet again on Rohan's computer. Luckily we have electricity this time, so the computer won't die during the middle of an email home. Today is market day, and I woke at 4 am to the sounds of merchant women bringing their wares to town, calls from my neighbors to friends on the road, a crowing rooster, and the sound of donkey, horse and mule hooves competing with the tap taps for space on the road. The tap taps honked noisily while the pack animals brayed, neighed, and left their manure along the path. Cheers to a beautiful day. :)
I miss home horribly, but the work here is worth it. Currently Moyiz and I are compiling a list of student activities, I'm conducting a study on local NGOs and cooperation with international NGOs and IGOs, and trying to run an entire university's administrative department...talk about a headache! It is fun, though, and I'm learning quite a bit.
Some of the places that I have passed in the past few days have been heartbreaking to witness, and the nonchalance with which the people here have learned to discuss the loss from the earthquake is both frightening and awe-inspiring. The Haitian people are truly amazing, and I am inspired every day to get up and work my hardest. Of course, when the heat of the day is so oppressive that you beg for rain, sometimes hard work is just walking the few kilometers across town needed to have a meeting...
I miss you all, and hope to talk with you soon!
Love,
me
I miss home horribly, but the work here is worth it. Currently Moyiz and I are compiling a list of student activities, I'm conducting a study on local NGOs and cooperation with international NGOs and IGOs, and trying to run an entire university's administrative department...talk about a headache! It is fun, though, and I'm learning quite a bit.
Some of the places that I have passed in the past few days have been heartbreaking to witness, and the nonchalance with which the people here have learned to discuss the loss from the earthquake is both frightening and awe-inspiring. The Haitian people are truly amazing, and I am inspired every day to get up and work my hardest. Of course, when the heat of the day is so oppressive that you beg for rain, sometimes hard work is just walking the few kilometers across town needed to have a meeting...
I miss you all, and hope to talk with you soon!
Love,
me
Monday, May 31, 2010
Hell or paradise, your call...
Well, here I am. There is quite a bit of work to do, and I'm happy to help, but also exhausted. I'm not sure if this is heaven (fresh mangoes, beaches, gorgeous mountains, and way too much food) or hell (missing my husband horribly, very little electricity, no running water, and having an entire university to rebuild) but I'm here. Had dream about a hurricane yesterday. Here's hoping it doesn't come true.
Once things stabilize a little bit I should have steady electricity and internet. I'll be writing more then. In the meantime, sit tight.
Cheers!
Once things stabilize a little bit I should have steady electricity and internet. I'll be writing more then. In the meantime, sit tight.
Cheers!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Countdown....
Time flew by this month. I'm off to Haiti in just a few days, with a brief stop in Philly and NYC first (we leave tonight for the east coast). Talk about rough- three months away from the husband. At the same time, the sooner I get to Haiti, the sooner my thesis is finished and the less traveling I will have to do.
Preparations left to be made include: everything. Call me a procrastinator, but the giant suitcase upstairs is nearly empty, I haven't printed any of the necessary papers, prepared cameras, cleaned, done laundry, or anything else for that matter, unless you count painting three random scenes and working my final retail shift. So where am I off to now? Oh, perhaps a hike...why is procrastination so tempting immediately preceding long and stressful journeys?
Preparations left to be made include: everything. Call me a procrastinator, but the giant suitcase upstairs is nearly empty, I haven't printed any of the necessary papers, prepared cameras, cleaned, done laundry, or anything else for that matter, unless you count painting three random scenes and working my final retail shift. So where am I off to now? Oh, perhaps a hike...why is procrastination so tempting immediately preceding long and stressful journeys?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Rotating breakfast...
So this morning my husband and I went to the Rotary club where I was invited to give a talk on Haiti. Hopefully I got through to a few people in the room. Either way, the experience was interesting, and the food was good. I left with a question in mind, though. Are organizations like the Rotary Club, Kiwanis, and the Lyons Club dying out? From this morning's meeting, my guess would be yes. There were almost no young people in the room, and the youngest member appeared to be near his early 50's. Then again, I've had no previous interaction with the Rotary club, so who knows... would be interesting to find out.
The sunrise was incredible, with a glow coming over the mesas in orange, gold, red, rose, and then finally sky blue. We live in an amazing place. :)
The sunrise was incredible, with a glow coming over the mesas in orange, gold, red, rose, and then finally sky blue. We live in an amazing place. :)
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