Be Strong. Show Courage. Breathe. Excel. Love. Lead..

Haiti. Most people cringe when I tell them I'm living here. I've even had people actually take a step back from me. Like they can get AIDS just by hearing the word. And like many people, I thought of Haiti as an impoverished, AIDS ridden, crime filled country. I've spent the past 6 months since my invitation learning what's true, what's not, and gained a whole new perspective on Haiti, it's people, and it's culture. I have learned that we are far more similar than different. This is inclusive of our problems no matter where I have traveled, it seems that there is always a power struggle between business interests, governments, and the poor. There are many things in Haiti that are difficult for me to understand like why people have cell phones and minutes to talk, yet they are begging for money on the streets to fill their bellies. Or why people buy fancy cars and nice clothes when they could be helping their people or even helping themselves. But I have now learned that in Haiti, pride is everything. Without pride, you have nothing. People would rather go hungry then to look as if they cannot afford the finer things in life. This is a sad truth and what I find the most challenging thing to comprehend.

Many have commented on how brave I am to go on this journey alone. But believe me, if you saw how many times I've cried with my pillow covering my face to muffle the sound, you'd know I am not. The people who live in this part of the world and face daily hardships are the ones who are brave. The people who gather food and water for their families despite the distance they have to walk and despite the exhaustion and the dangers that they face are brave. The men and women all over this world who stand up against unjust governments, corruption, and injustices are the brave ones. The woman who have come to me that have been raped, beaten, and left in the shadows, yet still stand tall with pride and strength are the brave ones. The children who have been living on the streets or that are restaveks yet still smile and hold your hand as you pass them on the streets are the brave ones. Although it rips the heart out of my chest, it is a humbling and inspiring experience to hear their stories and each day I am more and more amazed by people who happen to cross my path. I struggle with taking photographs some days. I want to capture their portraits, to share what I have seen with others. Few Canadians had seen this: Strong people. Survivors. Soldiers. Steadfast. I know that these people aren't perfect, and that it is foolish to cast someone as saintly simply because they have suffered. These people might also be trivial and jealous and mean and small. But the enormity of their achievement has outweighed their human faults. These people have suffered more than I could ever imagine, and they were willing to welcome me, to talk with me. After all the betrayal they have lived through, all of the corruption, all of the hardships, they were still willing to trust a stranger. I had seen it before in Ghana and especially in Haiti where courageous people found ways to live with compassion in the midst of the most tremendous hardships. Across the globe, even in the world's "worst" places, people have found ways to turn pain into wisdom and suffering into strength. They made their own actions, their very lives, into a memorial that honored the people they had lost. If people can live through a disaster and traumatic event like the earthquake and retain compassion, if they can take strength from pain, if they are able, still, to laugh, then certainly we can learn something from then. The world is full of stories of courage, too infrequently told. Many people risked their lives to run into falling buildings to save others and many cared for the injured or orphaned. There were people, for example, who offered shelters and food to neighbors and friends who had lost everything. I have heard many stories of courage, many versions of Paul Rusesabagina and Hotel Rwanda, where people cared for strangers and offered protection, comfort, and love during a catastrophic event. These stories are the stories that need to be heard.

Over the course of this year my dreams have changed. I have changed. Almost everyone is asking, "what's next?" After being so goal-oriented most of my life, it feels strange to say this, but I have absolutely no idea ... and I am perfectly OK with that. Instead of trying to prove myself to the world, this year has really been about what the world has to teach me. I am slowly learning that I can't pin all my hopes of happiness to one thing, whether that be a certain job, a boyfriend, or the number of highlighted hairs on my head. Regardless of what the future holds, my current recipe for fulfillment is to appreciate the gifts I have in my life right now and stay true to myself. This may sound crass, but I care a lot less about what other people think. I've always struggled with being sensitive and tried to develop thicker skin. My skin is no different now, it's just that what lies beneath is a lot stronger.

I often think of the many well-intentioned discussions I'd had in university classrooms, about cultural sensitivity and cultural awareness, and I could imagine some of my classmates rolling their eyes if they heard aid workers/volunteers pray, "Lord, please help these Haitians". But the fact is that none of those classroom conversations ever saved a life, while committed volunteers were weighing infants in slings every day and providing food to lactating mothers, while people were risking their lives to save those that have been neglected, enslaved, orphaned, and abused, we sat in a classroom expecting to learn all of the great lessons in life from a professor standing in front of us. Although we were taught about issues going on around our world such as the conflict in the middle east, the corruption and injustices with governmental systems, the drought in Kenya, the tsunami in Japan, the earthquake in Haiti- instead of witnessing these events or being present during these struggles and offering the aid that was so greatly needed, we sat in the classrooms merely listening to someone else read from a textbook about other peoples despairs and traumatic experiences while we went about our daily lives, over-consuming, and indulging in our luxurious privileges of North American life . I have always said that a lot of the international aid that I have witnessed is not always helpful as it could be, and some of it is even harmful. The world, however, would be a darker and colder place without it. Whatever the flaws, they are attempting to change lives and to become a part of this struggle rather than sitting back and listening to or reading others stories, nothing is more important than that. For what is thought without action?

I was not- as many were in Haiti- an academic researcher bedecked with degrees. I was not an anthropologist. I was not a social worker. I was not a nurse or a doctor. With only two years of studying criminology and sociology, and spending the past year volunteering under my nineteen year old belt, I was an expert at nothing. My inexperience, however, had a double edge. Although I was unaware of some of the basic facts of the relief efforts in Haiti- it provided the perfect opportunity to absorb the things around me and learn from others. This experience has offered me the best lessons in life as well as the best gifts. I cannot help but look at my children singing and dancing to Justin Bieber and smile. These children have experienced many hardships yet they are still able to smile, dance, play, and laugh.. and I realize how truly blessed I am to have all of these little hands tugging at my heart. Forget Jersey Shore, the Bachelorette, or the Kardashians. This IS reality.