When love is in bloom

A fine line..

There is a fine line between the haves and have nots of this world.  I have not been one to elaborate on the injustices of this world because quite simply... as clear as it may appear to those who examine it from the fringes of society as complex as it is for them who struggle with the consequences of decisions resulted from these fine lines.

Yesterday morning along the path way from my home I was barricaded by a crowd of flustered individuals. As I hesitantly crept forward I noticed a body lying still on the hard stone pebbled road way. He appeared to be somewhere in his early twenties. His head was facing my direction and eyes were closed almost as if he were prepared whisper a secret to any prepared to listen. His arms were sprawled on each end but under his left side fresh blood gushed from his chest. He was finely dressed, almost as if dressed for church or some other celebratory occasion. About 10 feet to his left  lay a younger body. The neighbors claim it was his younger brother, dressed in matching attire with an gray ivy cap.

 I stood stunned.  It was not the first time I had viewed dead bodies before, but as I left for work it quite honestly was the last thing I intended to confront. Some members of the crowd screamed in despair. Other stood in anger, obviously troubled by the acts which had recently taken place. Varied tales were recounted- robbers had attacked them with knowledge of their visit to the bank, they were member of  gangs who lived not to far away from the area, shots were fired etc..  It all seemed like a blur.

I began to wonder how this news would be broken to these young men's family?. What dire reality could have motivated an individual to take their lives? To literally play God.  A scary reality, an unsettling reality- but a reality we live with everyday.

And yes, simply - regardless of what tale was true, we all know these stories to well. The media has left us desensitized . This was a story of a have and a have not.  Regardless of how little, how much more these two brothers actually had. The perpetrators decided it would be there final day. They had something someone envied. As I stared at the older brother's body, his lithe body gently closed eye lids, and perked lips ready to whisper a secret to any who would listen.
 ..

I am excellent.

"I am excellent."

Those were the sincere words exclaimed by a young vibrant 13 year old girl named Adjanie. As she walked in the room you could immediately feel her warmth, her radiant smile shared a story of triumph and hope. 

Our meeting was unexpected. Adjanie wasn't on our agenda for that matinee at the hospital, but after our interview with her everything seemed achievable.

She was open and honest about her experience with HIV.  She knew all the details of her stay at the inpatient ward at Grace Children's Hospital. "I was hospitalized at Grace through out two periods of time, the first period was from June,11th 2009 to September 3rd 2009- a total of 3 months and 17 days... " With the poise of a lady way beyond her years, Adjanie shared with us her story. 

Her thin frame and scarred skin brought to life her sleepless nights, and fatigued body. She had recently experienced a poor reaction to the medication- she had been vomiting for days, felt feverish, her wounds were fresh- her weakened immune system was at a delicate state..  But while yes, her eyes glistened as she spoke- all we could do was sit in awe of this little girl as she recounted her journey with what I always believed to be one of the most horrific illnesses known to man.

Never did she complain, never did she seek pity, never did she speak aimlessly. She spoke confidently, "I live in Delmas 75 with my family ,  I recently came from school- it was wonderful..."  Her words were clear, not muffled- from what I could see she had found her voice. While each day was a constant struggle,s triumph. "... I  was ill , but now I am all better"  She spoke about her hopes for other children facing the same realities she's had to, and prayed  that they had access to the quality health care she had at Grace.

My eyes welled up with tears- when we came toward the end of our session with Adjanie , and asked her how she was.. She boldly stated " I am excellent..."

How could someone, suffering from an incurable virus be excellent? how could someone who was recently hospitalized speak with such sincerity and joy? 

‎"an'n al fe La Difference"

 Left alone with my thoughts..I start to question my decision for being here. Why am I here? What do I want?  It is important to remind yourself of your dreams, your vision because it keeps you focused and centered.
  Yes they were differing factors which led me to sit where I am today but ultimately I know that right now I need to be here.

Many won't understand my decision, but in my heart I know this is as true as it gets.

I am in Haiti ultimately because Haiti lives in me.

My aspiration are great but as I have spoken  to other patrons their dreams  are just as big . I know I am not alone.

Haiti has shone before, and it will shine again.

 Am I ready? Do I have all the tools I need to make the impact I want to make? Maybe  the right question isn't if I am ready but more so, how badly do I want it?

What exactly do I have in mind?
A people unified for a better Haiti through working together to create natural goods, to preserve Haiti's natural infrastructure, stronger focus on education, people working together to market themselves effectively, more sustainable jobs,
.

We shall overcome...

On January 12, 2011...I had the privilege and honor of marching in solidarity with my fellow brothers and sisters to remember our dear Ayeiti Cheri. As many know, about a year ago this nation was struck by a massive earthquake.  An earthquake which brought the world to its knees. An earthquake which killed over 300,000 people, left over a million people homeless, and the world speechless. People all over the world sent out their love in every way they knew in hopes of helping this extraordinary country heal.

Today marks one year.  

And yet less than 10 % of the aid pledged has been provided.

Over 50%  of the original 19 million cubic meters of rubble remains uncleared,

Over a million are internally displaced,

Camps run ramp-id through out the country, over 40% of these camps lack access to clean water and over 30% of these camps have no toilet. These camps potentially serves as incubators for cholera , HIV, and sexual violence.

Unemployment has quadrupled, over 80% of the people remain unemployed.

Change needs to happen now! 

Today, we marched for the basic human rights our dear brethren.

Today we believed " That a people united, will never be defeated"

Today we believed " We shall overcome"

Today we stood and remembered those who once helped us become the people we are today,

Today we let the world know that these conditions are unacceptable, today is only the beginning.

Today.

Today I celebrate a nation,
            I celebrate a nation who has forever changed the world
                                 a bold  nation, a free nation!
Today I celebrate passion, creativity and will
            I celebrate  resilience,
                            and  liberty,
Today I celebrate a revolution,
                                     a revolution of men and women whom despite their circumstances
live life relentlessy
Today I celebrate those who came before me,
                            those who left unexpectedly,
             
I celebrate Haiti

Today I am choosing to follow the examples of those who strived for better,
            I am choosing  to tell the story of their triumph
            I am choosing to listen.

Letters to my Grandma ...

=

 And that is the mystery that is my grandmother...Born on the dawn of the war that was to end all wars on November 11, 1938.

When ever my grandmother comes to mind, a tinge of guilt follows. Simply put, I wish we were buds. Ever since before I can remember I've always associated my grandma with food. Through out my childhood we would customarily go to my grandmother's home after school and 95% of the time  our brief conversation would revolve around food. Usually inquiring if I was hungry, not necessarily considering if I was or not because before I knew it the maid,  Yollete, would serve hot plates of food for my siblings and I. So we grew accustomed to nodding our heads as she made sure our stomachs were filled to the brim. But upon consideration , I'm guessing she has  probably however detected that the gift of a simple plate of food has always brought joy and contentment in her world where one hot meal a day is rare and few between. But other then our conservative exchanges, she spoke very little of herself and has remained a mystery.

I have always been intrigued by my grandmother. I have been blessed with the good fortune of carrying her name the 'Victorious one.' From what my mother tells me, my grandmother was born into a very wealthy in the small commune of Maniche but never was granted the gift of a scholastic education.  It was said that in the area where she had resided as a child if she bore an education  she could have possibly been murdered; my great grandmother, her mother: Mme Julienne, weighed her odds and her preference was in favor of having her only child alive.Especially given the fact that her other two sons had been brutally murdered for contending to acquire an education. Who could blame her?

As I continued to extract tantalizing bits of information from my mother of this mysterious woman I came up with a glorious idea! How could I further my understanding of this matron who intimately mothered 10 children, a renown seamstress, managed a myriad of succesfull (magazines) businesses in Maniche, Les Cayes and Port-au-Prince, acquired  various plots of land  all over the country, etc...
Maybe, just ask her myself.

I know this task will not be easy, especially given the limited exchanges we've had in the past.  But delving into such intimate conversations will be valuable.

To begin my journey I have written her a letter...

Dear Grandma,

I primarily wanted to let you know how much I admire you.I'm not sure how I lucked out and got a grandma as extraordinary as you, you are the epitome of a  woman, strong, elegant, wise,etc..

From what your children have recounted:

You are an amazing wife, and loving mother: trustworthy, rare, and kind. You were also a disciplined,enterprising, and one of the most hardworking women they all have ever known.

 If God permits: I would love to learn more about you, your experiences,your trials & your hopes and dreams, ...

I love you.

Your grand-daughter,

Victoria

Lakay..

 Inhale the sweet aroma of fresh sugarcane chiseled with the machete, 
Savor the vibrancy
of  their smile,

 Overhear the 
crackling fortune of grilled corn...

Engage the explosion of the flavors and fragrances brewed in a demitasse de café, and
  
Contemplate the majesty

of the towering mountains which serves as a guardian to the millions that live 
in its 
shadows.

Close your eyes and see le drapeau Haitien ;
its effervescent blue and red.

Indigenous to the Taino,a haven for linguistic anthropology, 
it has harbored refuge for the 1st successful slave revolt in history,
la Perle des Antilles,

home to me.

 

Our mothership...

The term' mother-ship' dates back to the nineteenth century when smaller, faster ships would kill whales for meat and oil ; the term has also achieved prominence in the realm of science fiction where it is applied to spaceships serving as the heart of the fleet , at least according to Wikipedia. Through out history it has adopted various meanings, but when ever I hear the word, the one which always rings true is our 1996 Red Isuzu Trooper.

Growing up in Haiti has had it share of excitement but to candidly gloss over the great tumultuous adventures we experienced in our 'mother ship' would be to- put it simply- ridiculous. This vehicle was like no other. From what I can recall, our father purchased it used, or more so was given the car as a compensation of sorts from one of the people who were indebted to him. She grew old with us and just as a loving mother is to her child she constantly shared her wisdom, even when they aren't to keen on receiving it  . 

The first time I laid eyes on our 'beauty' was in front of my grandparent's home. The evening we met her, she looked marvelous and sparkly . The windows had been sealed shut and cleaned to perfection, the shiny new paint job she had just incurred made her look just like new- if she had gone down the runway that night she would have definitely stolen the show. My siblings and I were super excited. 

So our adventures began.  Quickly after we were acquainted  with our beautiful 'new' vehicle, we heard news of her past.  She was recently involved a catastrophic accident,( yep, just like the movies) where she almost lost her life. But gratefully the doctors/mechanics had fixed her up and she was just like new or so we thought. First lesson I learned from our mother-ship: looks can be deceiving.

Shortly after our relationship had begun with our Isuzu trooper, we realized that the AC only blew out warm smoke-filled dust. Well given the J-L family weren't what  most  would describe as particularly fussy individuals we opted for the next best thing. We decided, why not just put the windows down. But they were sealed shut. The second lesson I learned from our mother-ship: The world will never cease to surprise you.

Well,we eventually got the windows down after lots of twisting, pulling and straight-up man power and the breeze that flowed through was oh soo sweet. Just as the that feeling you get right after you've taken your first bite of  heaven baked deliciousness.We were once again super proud of our mother ship. Well at least for about  5 minutes until we tried to roll them back up again realizing  that this was not an option. So yes of course that same evening as we traveled back home it poured. By the time we got home our uniforms were drenched.The third lesson I learned from our mother ship: Always be prepared 

So the following weeks we had developed a habit of keeping a couple of umbrellas in the car in case it rained and traveling with a number of towels. The umbrella served us well and protected us from the rain while in the car, while the towels kept our uniforms dry from all the rain water which had now found a home and seeped in our recently new plush seats.Yes, in years the interior sealing would also give way until we were literally left with her shell.But we thoroughly appreciated her none the less, she did transport us from one location to another for many many years- all filled with great memories that I will one day hopefully share with you-  

While our mothership's was always quick to share to a new life lesson. The final lesson I learned from her: was to know when to say goodbye...  

Moving on...

What does it actually mean to move on?
What steps are we to take to move forward?
Is it a state of mind? Is it outwardly visible to those who take part of ours surroundings?

I was in Haiti this spring break and through out that time I felt unraveled in contradictions.

The streets were busy with merchants, selling fresh water and cola or fruits and vegetables. The taptaps were filled to the brim, transporting dozens of people from one location to another. Everything and was moving along…

Upon entrance into the country my chauffeur Sergo, came to get me and his warm smile enthusiasm, kind words of how much he had been looking forward to seeing me reminded me of why and how dearly I love my country, and the people of my country .

We quickly got into conversation, I was curious about how he had been doing and he was eager to share. Sergo recounted how January 12th had transformed his life, what he had lived, how what he had saw torments him everyday. His life, had been that of a movie witnessing thousands of people lives flash before his eyes. (An unimaginable reality to grasp)
He told me how shortly after witnessing a 5 story apartment crumble into rubble right before his very eyes, one of his neighbors came along and exclaimed that My grandfather house is underground, Sergo’s home had collapsed the earthquake had brought it down and my grandmother was still inside.

I’m not sure about me, but how do you think you might respond in this situation?

Sergo told me, it took him what seemed hours but actually minutes to take in that his home had also been brought to its knees and the remarkable lady, my grandma whom had accepted him with open arms was also buried under the rubble.
This was unacceptable! And he immediately ran to back his house and tried to see what
He could do. And quickly noticed that she, My grandma was alive! He told me in the midst of such immense sorrow, hearing her whisper: Help me.. Was the most comforting thing he had ever heard…
And what I loved about this story is that Sergo never gave up until the job was complete. After 2 long days of isolating where she was and after hammering away for 5+ hours eventually pulling her out from her neck because he was the only one who could fit in the hole without causing more damage to my grandmother. Sergo rescued my grandmother. He is a hero.

The funny thing about this story, is that this was one of the dozens of remarkably heroic stories I heard while home last week. And I am proud to say I am from a country of heroes. Heroes with no awards, no acclamation This is the story of thousands of people living in uncertainty, turmoil and distress.

What does it actually mean to move on for the people of Haiti?
Maybe it small efforts like these, where we gather together to celebrate a people, embrace their stories, embrace our essence. Maybe it’s people like you?