On January 21, 2013 we welcomed our
first child in to the Be Like Brit Orphanage here in Grand Goâve, Haiti. This date was significant in that it just so
happens to be Brit’s birthday. Believe
me when I say that the timing was serendipitous. We had considered trying to bring a child in
on that day for obvious reasons, but decided that we would wait for it to
happen naturally – to not confine ourselves to a boxed window of time for the
sake of symbolism. So, when it just so
happened that Kervins came to us on January 21, 2013, it’s clear that fate
played a hand.
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| Kervins on his first day of school! |
As the program director, one of my
duties is to search for children who might be eligible for our program here at
Be Like Brit. In a place like Haiti,
when word gets out that the new orphanage on the hill is ready to bring
children inside its protective walls, the response is overwhelming. For the first week or so, women brought
children in by the dozens, some with heart-wrenching stories of abandonment,
desertion, unemployment, starvation, and of course, death. Others, though, seemed eerily happy at the
prospect of bringing their child to our doorstep; they may not have as dire a
need as some of the other women, but rather regarded the opportunity to come to
Be Like Brit as what we might recognize in the West as the equivalent of
admission into a prestigious boarding school or elite club.
Overwhelmed by the response, and
quite frankly a bit taken aback by how freely women would offer up their
children to us, seemingly without emotion or consideration, I decided to shift
my approach. Instead of asking women to
come to us, I made up my mind to reach out to the community myself. Alongside my Haitian sidekick Rosenie, we
took to the roads and mountains in our area in search of children we had heard
needed to be helped.
I’m no stranger to community
outreach work. I’ve conducted research
in some of the poorest areas of New Orleans with chronically homeless, mentally
ill, HIV-positive, and substance dependent individuals. I’ve witnessed what I thought were tough
conditions.
A decade ago or so I worked in
international business in China, Vietnam, Malaysia, and the Philippines. I’ve certainly seen some of the world’s worst
slums; some of the most vulnerable and exploited people in factories and on
assembly lines working 15 hours a day for pennies and housed en masse in tenuous dormitory housing.
Most recently I spent three months
in Rwanda working with an orphanage there, and was exposed to the harsh
realities of life in East Africa in a post-Genocidal society still reeling from
civil war and the unraveling of the social fabric of the country.
I figured I’d be prepared for
whatever I might find in the hills and mountains of Haiti. I was wrong.
While I don’t mean to bring my
readers “down” – the reality, the truth – is that the conditions in which the
Haitian people live in are among the worst in the world. Time and again, as we would round a corner
and come upon the next “house” where we knew orphaned children were living, my
level of tolerance would be breached, like the levees in New Orleans, and the flood
of emotion and visceral reaction to what I found before me was exceeded time
and again.
So, one by one, I interviewed these
families. I interviewed the children
through the use of an interpreter. I
tried to get some insights into their life, though in all honesty, one doesn’t
really need an interview guide and assessment tool to figure out if this
particular family or group needs help.
It’s obvious in the smell that invades all five of your senses. It’s in the sights that make your stomach
turn and your eyes wince. It’s in the tears
that well up in your eyes when you bid a one room house of 10 a “Bonswa” and a
“Mesi” while you climb back into your ATV and record notes on people who can’t
even sign their own name in order to give away their children.
The decision on whether to bring them
to Be Like Brit or not is never one taken lightly. It’s never easy. I never feel great about taking a child or
children from the only home and family they know. Moreover, it’s never easy on the
children. The first night with each of
our new children is almost invariably a long one. Tears, confusion, lost little eyes looking
for something, anything
familiar.
But then there’s the second day,
and the third day. And watching these
children transform from naked, hungry, and neglected to clothed, fed, loved,
smiling, playful, happy children – even in as little amount of time as a week
or two is why I am here in Haiti doing what I am doing.
And then there’s this morning: After an emotional week for all of us,
especially the children who find themselves here, waking up early, dressing
well for church, eating breakfast, laughing and smiling all along the way –
this is when I feel good about my decision.
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| After a few takes, almost everyone is smiling for the camera! |
Don’t get me wrong. I recognize that there is an adjustment
period for everyone involved. For those
who arrive new, they must get used to their new environment. From the taken for granted things in our
everyday lives like turning on a sink to brush your teeth, or sitting on a
toilet and flushing it away, to flipping on a light switch when it’s dark – all
of this is new and amazing to them. For
those who are already here, the status quo gets shifted, and our obligations as
caregivers and providers grow exponentially in negotiating that delicate
balance of making everyone feel safe, loved, worthy.
I loved my work in Rwanda. I got to spend three months with 100
children. They were an established,
existing organization. I didn’t have to
hear their stories, meet their families or be witness to their squalor. Starting from scratch, every detail on every child
makes its way through me. In that way, I
feel very blessed and very fortunate. I
will know each of their names, each of their families, each of their histories. I will know them. Because of this, I have been able to forge
the greatest of relationships with each of the children that Be Like Brit now
cares for.
Being a part of this process is
unlike anything I had imagined. Even
when it’s hard – and we all knew it would be hard – it is the most precious and
wonderful way to spend a day, a week, and now – a month!
First there was one, and now we are
seven. Our work is important, our work
is good. And our work depends on the
continued support of readers like you.
Thank you for helping realize Brit’s dream, and through that, letting me
live mine.
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| All smiles! |
Thanks for reading,
Jonathan
