Veni, vidi, vici...

Approximately 4yrs ago I was rearing the end of my extra-ordinary high school education at QCS. At my commencement ceremony I was honored with the privilege of sharing a few words to bid the class of 2006 fair well. If I only knew how fast the years would fly by.  And tonight as I looked through my life's accouterments : approximately 2 1/2 tattered suitcases, two medium-sized plastic bins, and a miniature pile of bits of this and  pieces of that, that I've collected within the past 7-8 years.

As I scanned through my belongings,surprisingly cached in the folds of a journal I had assembled long ago  I was greeted by these very words I had shared on May 10,2006. (Fortunately I had  neatly hand-written this speech on wide ruled paper )  . It  began like this:

"      Board members, faculty,staff, parents, honored guests, and class mates. When I was asked to say something today, I immediately got  nervous, (still nervous now) Everyone around me was willing to help and give me advice, but at the same time I felt that what I eventually would say ,wouldn't live up to the  expectations that so many had for me and that frightened me. 

      

And when I started thinking about it, I realized in that in the following year I will be placed in a position where I ultimately  have the power to do whatever I want, no parents,no real control, no supervision- I will be tested in ways I've never even imagined. My perseverance, my determination, my adaptability, my beliefs- All that I hold close to my heart will be examined.

      

Am I worried? afraid? nervous? ( ofcourse)  My stomach turns just as I think of it. But,should I be worried? What am I ultimately afraid of? I think I am afraid of myself, afraid of believing in myself. I had heard this poem by Marianne Williamson about a year ago, It came to my mind as I thought of this. Here it is:

'Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others'

 Fear and I got pretty close.. But as I read this poem and my family and friends reminded me of who I am in God, my identity as His image on earth. (I guess you could say )I felt empowered but at the same reinforced that I am on a journey of self-discovery.

When I began this school year , I honestly didn't know what to expect. Our class of over 21 was down to 12 people, and later on 10, the situation outside of these walls was progressively getting worse- Haiti had repeatedly discouraged me. It got harder and harder to see the sunshine through the rain 

Thank God, I had the opportunity of visiting more of my country this year. (Seguin, Il a vache etc) After Seguin I saw that God still moves in Haiti. Yes, the people of the land were blindly mistreating it, but amidst of all the destruction and deforestation- I saw beauty beyond compare. I saw a little bit of what my country used to be and what it can be.

We the class of 2006 are like Haiti in some ways We have been tested and tried, at times the situations that encompass us tried to drown us. But we are still beautiful. We've come to shine unconsciously- Through out this school year- I've really noticed that. The kids of our school really look up to us. For reasons I'm still learning to comprehend.

And now the class of 2006:

I'm sure we are all looking forward to the next steps of our lives, but I now fear has tried to blind our vision, and we shouldn't let it because God has not given us a spirit of fear but of strength and sound mind. We mus continue inspire, continue to liberate others...

But all I can say for now is  Veni, Vidi, Vici... WE CAME, WE SAW , WE CONQUERED!

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...  

Shine on me...

A teacher facilitates the education of individuals, nurtures, inspires, propels growth and challenges their pupils. At times I marvel at how I have been graced with so many amazing endorsers of knowledge. My life is continually filled with those enraptured by the wonders of this world and sometimes I can't help but wonder why me...

Ever since before I can remember I've been captivated by the world around me and have been hungry for the knowledge found in the very crevices of this universe, from the sweet whispers of wind, to the honest laughter of children, to the glorious warmth of the sun, to the perplexities of this world yet once accepted are beautifully simple, to the wisdom imparted by all who have surround me, and by those who have come before me.

Oddly enough, the first memory I recall which pioneered my insatiable appetite for understanding was 18 years ago. It was my first day of pre-kindergarten, the day my parents abandoned me. It is a cloudy memory but one thing I do recall with clarity is my parent’s bright confident smiles as they left me standing at what had appeared to me as giant steps that led to my classroom. Tears welled up into my eyes as I wailed for my mummy and pappy. But their reassuring smiles only got wider as their silhouettes got smaller and smaller while fading into the distance. I literally cried for understanding. Their reassuring smiles left me confused. How could my parents, my protectors, leave me here all alone with strangers and let alone be smiling?

Little did I know for the next 14 years I would call this obscure lieu my second home, it would become my sanctuary of knowledge, and an asylum for my fears. Little did I know these strangers I had feared would later be called my friends, this place would birth many friendships… 

I now know the secret behind their smiles. Twenty two years ago my parents welcomed me into this world and vowed to love me. 18 years ago as they waved their goodbyes, as they watched their second child traumatized by the fear of the unknown. They smiled with the hope and assurance that this was just the beginning, this day not only marked the commencement of my formal education but one in my quest for knowledge.They were entrusting with the tools to shine, and  to one day look back and smile.

A tiny act can have profound effects

A study was conducted amongst the students in one of my research classes in the commencement of this semester.  This study investigated common traits undergraduates students yearned for in a professor? Conclusively, when the results were analyzed the overriding traits which stood out were: enthusiasm, genuinely passionate about their work or concentration of study, engaging, creative, challenging, and when the professor realizes they are teaching to individual not just students.  Sam Richards epitomizes what students long for in a professor.

The first time I met Sam Richards was in 100 Thomas in a class of about 5 to 6 hundred students. I had heard great things from other students which pried me to take the Soc 119 course, but as I walked into the biggest classroom on campus (let’s be honest) I had my doubts. How can one little guy captivate the attention of a boisterous assembly of 600 students for an hour and 15 minutes?   The ambience was set with music playing in the background and students trickled into 100 Thomas. Well 2:30 hit and it was time to listen to this mysterious man I had heard so much about. Astonishingly, it was the quickest hour and 15 minutes I had had yet in college, and yearned for more each and every day. Sam, spoke about things I never even knew I had the permission to speak about, he pushed me in ways that were foreign to me until the time I had taken soc 119 course.

Due to all this fascination and self-exploration I felt it was is essential to go to this professor’s office hours and thank him personally. So I did.  Just once, for a brief 20 minutes I got to speak this man, he shared and was ironically genuinely interested in who I was. In a class of 600 students you think a professor would disregard one moment a Haitian student named Chrivi came to visit him, especially given the number of students which bombard his office within his office hours. But that would be average.  To describe Dr. Richards as average would be hysterical, and I am certain all who have met or taken his class would agree. That summer, a whole semester after the completion of the Soc 119 course, I received an email from my mysterious professor with interests of visiting my home in Haiti! I knew this man was cool, but I didn’t know he was crazy. Given that fact I had only briefly met with him once almost six months ago, I was shocked he even remembered me and then traveling to what media describes as one of ‘poorest country in the western hemisphere’ and  putting his life at risk due to the insecurities and riots which had been going on at that time was unbelievable.  He later explained our conversation had evoked his curiosity and he wanted to visit, so he did! I must admit felt pretty special having a professor come visit my home thousands and thousands of miles away from the comforts of State College PA.

Since that day, my relationship with Dr. Richards has only continued to grow.   I was a TA for Soc 119 that following fall and am currently a facilitator on the Race Relation’s project where I have the privilege of disposing the keys of opportunity, challenge and fascination Dr. Richards bestowed upon me. He has served as a mentor, a man of wisdom, sincerity , diligence and dignity.  I am honored to have such a wonderful friend. He is my family.

It don't have to change...

Once upon a time I was introduced to a wonderful woman. Her smile alone could light up the world. Her heart was pure, and her love was true. She shared her life, her experiences, her passions, she gave her all.

I'm not sure about you, but there are a few songs out there that transcend time and take me back. They take me back to the day I met Ms Broecker. I'm sure it was a Wednesday or Friday afternoon about 7 yrs ago, while she sat in, in one of our basketball practices after school. Coach introduced her to us as the PR liasion at school and she went on to tell us all about her basketball career at Taylor University.We were so honored to meet someone who had played college ball given, that could be us one day. She was probably one of the tallest women I had ever seen. 

Little did I know, that through out the next 3 yrs this lady would not only serve as PR liaison  at school but also become a team mate, an adviser,a counselor, friend, and my heroine. And whenever I needed some one her arms were always open. I would go on to spend hours in her office learning, sharing  and growing. 

There is one song by John Legend 'It don't have to change' that always takes me back to those simpler days and reminds me of whats important, of what is beautiful. She introduced this song to us (the student council) as we planned the first prom QCS had ever seen .And when ever I hear it, it awakens her memory and reminds me it doesn't have to change.

 

To be great is to be misunderstood

It's funny how I have decided to start writing this blog.I have always felt I have tons to express, way to much at times. But, the what if s keep pouring in...  What if what I express isn't efficiently understood, what if others bash me, what if they don't like it, what if, what if, the list goes and on... 

How long will I keep the 'what ifs', the 'others', the 'menial things' from embracing or expressing myself. Yes "there is a time for everything and season for every activity under heaven"  but how long will I let my fear of the unknown dictate my journey of self-mastery. Emerson once said To be great is to be misunderstood. Yes, there will be many who turn away, somewho claim I have not yet lived, there will be some who call my writings ludicrous and some will simply not understand but I can't live for their thoughts, their ways I must live for my own. "To believe your own thought, believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men- that is genius.... In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts- they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty " Emerson

And as I have promised in the past, I will once again recommit to trust myself and accept the place the divine providence has found for me. Yes to some, this is the road less traveled. It is always easier to conform, but as one conforms we are basically committing suicide. Ever since I was very little I have believed I am destined for greatness. As Emerson once wrote: to be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.

 

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?