I awoke as I did every morning. The call to prayer erupted at 5:30 a.m and was so loud that I could have sworn the church had set it's amplifiers right next to my pillow. As I rolled over and looked beside me, Tyson was still sleeping like a log. Whenever the pastor paused, I'd inhale a deep breath, praying that it was over, but even during his brief pauses the silence was always broken by a choir of chickens, goats, dogs, or babies crying. I would finally pull myself out of bed and make my way through the dark narrow hallways to our small bathroom. The wooden door that has never been able to shut creeks loudly. Our toilet bowl is full of shit and flies. The toilet seat is broken and stained brown. No running water means no flushing. I head over to our sink that is hanging out of the wall and turn the tap just hoping that maybe a drop would come out. But that was wishful thinking. I would grab a pail from our cement slab that was meant for showering and head over to our water basin to the left of the house. It was small, holding only enough water to last us a few days. Many times we went without, but this morning I was fortunate enough to be able to fill my bucket. I carried it back into the dark musty bathroom and placed it on the floor. I grabbed the cup and filled it from the bucket. As I lifted my arms above my head preparing to release the cup of water onto my hot sticky body, I shivered. I knew what to expect as I poured the ice cold water onto my head. The hardest part about bucket showers was never knowing if the shampoo was actually out of your hair or not. It became a fun guessing game. After my shower, I grabbed a t-shirt to dry off. One thing I had forgot to pack when I stuffed my entire existence into two suitcases- was a towel. I quickly dried myself off and dug through my suitcase trying to find something to wear for the day. I didn't need a mirror to see how awful I looked in my faded soccer shorts and dirty tank top. I then grabbed my tooth brush and my sachet of water and headed over towards the water basin. I stood beneath a palm tree and beautiful fruit trees that the hummingbirds and geckos loved to swarm. I bit the corner of my water sachet to make an opening for the water to flow over the head of my toothbrush. I leaned forward and began brushing my teeth.
As most mornings, breakfast consisted of an oatmeal like substance. It actually tasted more like cake batter. We would each take a bowl and a piece of bread and mix them both together and sit on the floor and enjoy our meal. We only had three plastic chairs in the entire house.
After breakfast the kids prepared for school. They kissed me goodbye as they headed out the door and I patiently awaited their return in the afternoon. Some kids went to school in the morning, and some only went in the afternoons. Which meant there was always a few kids hanging around the house to keep me entertained.
My phone was dead as well as my computer. We had not had electricity for over a week now. I don't really remember what occupied my days when the kids were at school. I am guess quick trips to the market? Naps? The ongoing challenge of who could climb the hightest up the palm tree or seeing how many spiders and cock roaches we could blow up with our BB guns? Who knows... Dinner was cooked on a small cast iron stove (grill?) at the back of the house. When dinner was finished being cooked we would bring in the big pots of rice and beans and place them on our dirty kitchen floor. We would place just enough plates on the floor beside them and dish them out. The smallest kids would get their plates first. We didn't have enough cups in the house for each kid to have their own, so they often shared a glass of water. Night came early in Haiti, it was usually pitch black by 6:30 pm. The kids would run around avoiding bed time at all costs then when we finally won- they would decide tp hang out in their room talking and giggling until they finally fell asleep. All ten kids plus the nanny slept in the same room. Some slept on the floor. The room was tiny- smaller than mmost rooms back home. The heat was intolerable and bed bugs infested the sheets and clothing. After I had kissed the kids goodnight I would then challenge volunteers or staff to a game of dominios. Every night it seemed as if a fight broke out over who would get to use the only two flash lights in the house. However, some nights, when the batteries died, we would spend the night without any sort of lighting at all.
SMACK ! A cockroach would land on my face. I would awake at all hours of the night- either from Tyson waking up and wanting a bottle or from the infestation of bed bugs biting at my skin, cockroaches landing on my body, or the squeaks of mice and rats chewing the corners of my suitcases.
Living in Haiti, in these conditions, for almost nine months, I felt at turns dizzy, exhausted, depressed, and sometimes down right insane. I had adapted and accepted the living conditions quickly. But my body did not, leaving my sick for days on end. I never once felt sorry for myself for the way that I was living though. A part of me kind of enjoyed it actually, it was like a really long camping trip. However, a low level rage had slowly begun to build inside of me. I had witnessed people's burnouts first hand- I watched other foreigners turn bitter and cynical. I didn't want that. Really, all I wanted was some clean running water to be able to shower in. To get that sticky and dirty feeling off of my skin. My sanity relied on few things there- water and electricity being the primary ones. But even these seemed as if they were too much to ask for.
It's strange for me to state the the living conditions were also depressingly lonely since I was constantly surrounded by my kids... but I had felt lonelier than ever during these months. I also experienced the feeling of unsatisfaction with myself. The work that I and my friends were doing in Haiti was not ending the country's real problems: the ongoing murders, displacements, slavery, kidnappings, rape, and disease. All that I was doing was providing a shelter for a few of the hundreds of thousands of kids that were homeless and needing to be fed and loved. I was handing out medicine, clothes, food, to the villagers in the mountains and volunteering whatever extra time I had at other orphanages, hospitals, or medical clinics. But it just never seemed like I was doing enough. Ever. The need is just so great in Haiti.
It was now 2012 and the Haitian earthquake had already killed over 316,000 people and displaced over 1.5 million people. People were forced off of their lands, their homes lay in ruins, their belongings either destroyed or stolen, and the government was backing gangs who were firing guns throughout the streets. It was chaos. Although things had improved between 2010-2012.. chaos still erupted country wide. And I began to get a taste of the chaotic lifestyle. It became engraved in my bones.. now .. I find it hard to function without the chaos and constant go go go.
By now I have heard it all- "You're like Mother Teresa" or my favourite- "You're just like Angelina Jolie".. "The world needs more people like you". I am a humanitarian. I have worked in some of the worst areas in Haiti. I have held and fed starving babies whose bones were so brittle that I thought they were going to disintegrate in my arms. I have organized food, clothing, and medical distributions. I have comforted children who had been raped, abused, and rescued from slavery. I have taken those children into my home. I have road on the back of motos heading into the slums of Haiti (the most dangerous and poorest place in the Western Hemisphere) in search of a missing boy. I have exposed myself to cholera, TB, HIV, and many other diseases and circumstances trying to save lives of those who were in need. I have wrote up endless reports, done numerous funderaisers, and have hosted volunteers to share with them a taste of the Haitian culture. But I am not a famous actress, I am no hero, and I am most definitely not a saint. I can't really blame people for these assumptions, as I was once in their shoes admiring the lives of aid workers around the world. But then you realize that they are just human beings doing what they believe in their hearts to be right and following a calling of their own. Most of us humanitarians would agree that the countries in which we visit have always given more to us than what we could ever possibly give to them.
The summer of 2010 was the summer that I decided to jump on a plane and volunteer in Ghana, Africa- completely alone. It was my first time really traveling by myself, and my first encounter with such foreign conditions. I hopped onto to buses filled with people where the doors were hanging off and chickens were biting at my ankles. I got bites all over my body from strange insects. I suffered from constant diarrhea. I bartered in markets in a language that I could not speak or understand. But during this trip, something clicked. I was for the first time experiencing inequality close up. For the first time I felt the sting of being branded as an outsider, someone who was considered inferior- this experience led me to begin to realize how people from other countries must feel when they visit or immigrate to North America. This realization was the turning point from childhood to adulthood for me, it happened while I was just sitting on the airplane heading to Ghana. I began to embrace a different and intriguing way of life as I began venturing out to towns where there was no running water and where treatable diseases were left untreated. I saw something out there far bigger than my own Chatham-Kent existence, and I wanted to be part of it. I returned home determined that I would pursue this work. However, at that time I am not exactly sure that I fully understood what I was getting into. Even now it is hard for me to distill my thoughts and feelings into one piece of writing. Whatever my intentions were, subconscious or not, they led me to the conclusion that my life back home could wait. I was young and free and I wanted to find something meaningful to do with my life. I wanted adventure, chaos, and I wanted to help people. I wanted to continue to feel passionate about what I was doing.
These past few years have been the most challenging but rewarding years of my life. I wouldn't trade them for the world. They have made me into who I am today. When I first began my journey, I was naive beyond belief. It wasn't until this past year, after a series of unpleasant events, that I realized that I am not as indestructible as I once believed I was. I exhausted myself, I became burnt out, I lost my sanity at times. I grew up a lot as well. My kids have given me a new meaning of life. They have shown me what true unconditional love means. I am blessed like no other. I cannot even put into words how much my kids, friends, and others who's paths happened to cross mine during my travels have inspired me, motivated me, and pushed me to continue to keep fighting for my passion and for what I believe in. I owe everything to them. I am so grateful for my community and for their on going support- we would not have an orphanage if it wasn't for your ongoing donations. Although I have returned home to Canada, Haiti is still forever in my heart and I will continue to visit, fundraise, and of course support my children. However, I have decided that I am going to dedicate these next two years to finishing my degree at the University of Windsor in Criminology and Sociology and to get my health back in check as it has taken a hard beating lately. It has been one of the absolute hardest decisions that I have ever had to make, but I do believe that by continuing my education and having a degree in hand (as well as a strong immune system), I will be able to give that much more to the ones I love overseas. I will be able to sustain a career where I will not only be able to support myself- but also my kids in Haiti. This is crucial. With a degree in hand I will be able to work in Canada- but also I will be able to find a decent paying jobs in Haiti so I can be closer to my babies if need be. I am not exactly sure how I am going to be able to stay in one place for awhile.. it is going to take all of my energy... I have been so used to the chaos, the go go go.. Comfort scares me. Complacency scares me. Security scares me- how ironic? .. But I do know that no matter what- finishing my education and strengthening my health will be worth it. I have great staff in Haiti that are currently caring for my kids and I am hoping to continue to have volunteers going to visit to do check ups for me when I am unable to do it myself. I know that this decision will be hard for some of my supporters to comprehend.. trust me, its hard for me to comprehend as well.. but it is what I currently need to do. We still need all the help we can get with the orphanage and would truly appreciate your support. If anyone wishes to donate, sponsor a child, or volunteer please contact me via email emily@himeforhelp.org or visit our website www.himeforhelp.org
Thank you for reading and sharing !
Ke Kontan

Sunday, 5 January 2014
Tuesday, 3 December 2013
Dear Philippines ...
Dear Philippines,
Where do I begin ? I am currently laying on a mat beneath the stars with my best friend listening to the dogs bark, the roosters crow, and the Mosquitos buzzing around my head. It's hard for me to sleep tonight. After driving through your tattered streets and witnessing the devastation before me - fallen trees, ruined homes, ruined lives, broken dreams, and a mass amount of people looking up to the skies and calling out for answers- my heart slowly sinks. It sinks because I can see the pain in your eyes. I can feel it when you look at me, when you tell me your stories, when you show me what is left of your past and what was supposed to be your futures. I came here without plans and without answers. I came here not knowing how to help .. & to some degree I still don't. What I can say is that you are remarkably resilient. The love and strength you have is inspiring. EVERY single person that I have encountered despite the hurt & losses that they are facing, has been unbelievably kind, gentle, humble, and hopeful. Tomorrow we are headed to yet another island that has been ripped apart. And I already know that it is going to be just as heart wrenching as the others, but your faith and your positive spirits will bring light into the darkness once again. "We are roofless, We are homeless, but we are not hopeless" .. Bangon Philippines !!!!!!! (Raise again Philippines)

If you wish to support the cause we are in desperate need or medical supplies as well as tarps and temporary shelters. Please donate on our website www.himeforhelp.org or through my paypal account emily@himeforhelp.org
Where do I begin ? I am currently laying on a mat beneath the stars with my best friend listening to the dogs bark, the roosters crow, and the Mosquitos buzzing around my head. It's hard for me to sleep tonight. After driving through your tattered streets and witnessing the devastation before me - fallen trees, ruined homes, ruined lives, broken dreams, and a mass amount of people looking up to the skies and calling out for answers- my heart slowly sinks. It sinks because I can see the pain in your eyes. I can feel it when you look at me, when you tell me your stories, when you show me what is left of your past and what was supposed to be your futures. I came here without plans and without answers. I came here not knowing how to help .. & to some degree I still don't. What I can say is that you are remarkably resilient. The love and strength you have is inspiring. EVERY single person that I have encountered despite the hurt & losses that they are facing, has been unbelievably kind, gentle, humble, and hopeful. Tomorrow we are headed to yet another island that has been ripped apart. And I already know that it is going to be just as heart wrenching as the others, but your faith and your positive spirits will bring light into the darkness once again. "We are roofless, We are homeless, but we are not hopeless" .. Bangon Philippines !!!!!!! (Raise again Philippines)

If you wish to support the cause we are in desperate need or medical supplies as well as tarps and temporary shelters. Please donate on our website www.himeforhelp.org or through my paypal account emily@himeforhelp.org
Sunday, 1 December 2013
Time to Go...
Well, this is my last night in the Philippines for now ... & I am sad beyond belief .. Not only because I will miss these beautiful people, spending my days with babies in my arms and singing with the children, setting up makeshift medical clinics, traveling to remote islands where no aid group had yet reached, distributing food, shoes, and toys, and being inspired and moved by the strength, kindness, and love of the Filipinos.. But also because I once again had to hug my best friend goodbye as she heads home to Ireland. I'm going to miss our deep chats about life, our beliefs, and what we call living- as well as reminiscing on memories from Haiti that we don't often share with others. I will miss your annoying pokes in the face while I'm trying to sleep, your weird faces, singing and dancing with you - even when we don't know the words to the songs, you always saying "wee" and calling me funny names, and I'll definitely miss laughing at you when you fall in quicksand. Life's just not the same when you aren't around sista. I will also miss big Ronnie aka "Papa Bear" and his non stop shenanigans and jokes. I will miss singing our new duet with you - was a pleasure writing with ya. I'll miss your big tough appearance but your soft gentle heart - I saw it shine through many times on this trip. and I will also miss the flowery pink socks inside your army boots . Make it home safe soldiers & hope to see your arses in canada soon. Love to ya both xx

Thursday, 28 November 2013
Goodbyes are Never Easy ..
Tonight as I sit beneath the stars with my head torch shinning off these pages I feel a deep sadness that is oh so familiar. It's the type of sadness that many of us humanitarians often feel. It's the type of sadness that is inevitable and unavoidable. It's the sadness of having to say goodbye. We experience this sadness as we leave home and kiss our family and friends goodbye but it's also the sadness when you have to leave a place where you know your work is not yet finished. It is the hurt of saying goodbye to the children and adults that you quickly fell in love with. The ones that captured your heart and gave you a joy you can't quite explain. It's the sadness of leaving an island, or better yet a country that has inspired you and that has taught you so much. Not just about a culture or the kindness and resilient-ness of people, but even more so about yourself. The Philippines has turned away a bitterness that I had felt after Haiti and it has reminded me why I became a humanitarian. It was not a choice- but it is something deeply engraved in my genetic code- it's in my blood. It has it's negatives and positives and sometimes it exposes you to things that are hard to bare but I have come to realize that I am at my absolute fullest - whole hearted- my richest and my happiest when I am helping others, when I am surrounded by "real" life and when I am working in chaos with nothing but a backpack on my back. This is my REALITY. This is what I call LIVING. Living is laying beneath the stars and reminiscing and counting your blessings. It's walking through swamps, sinking in quicksand, being covered in dirt, being eaten alive by Mosquitos, ants, & plenty of other little buggers. Its screaming at the top your lungs when you notice a tarantula chillin beside your bed. It's hearing children laugh as they play beneath the rubble. It's when kids come skipping along and take your hand and beg you to sing to them again as it takes their minds off the current circumstances. It's singing "baby" by Justin Bieber over & over & over again until you actually begin to loathe the song. It's riding around in a little tricycle where a small Filipino boy has to peddle and haul your fat arse around. It's eating army ration packs, suffering from diarrhea without a working toilet and yes- sometimes even without toilet paper. It's when a big NGO looks at you and shakes your hand and thanks you for coming completely on your own and saving a woman (& reaching others) that they were unable to get to. It's when a big tough Irish army man has to borrow your flowery pink socks because we have run out of clean clothes. It's setting up a mobile medical clinic in a small village where over 40 homes have been wiped out and that no aid group has visited and tons of people come out of the wood works and line up in front us to receive treatment. It's handing a child a bag of candy or a pair of shoes and seeing their beautiful faces light up like the 4th of July. It's holding a hand or looking a 75 year old man in the eyes as he explains how he has now lost everything that he has ever worked for because Mother Nature decided to be cruel. It's sharing the pain that they are feeling and although we cannot give them much, we can at least give them a shoulder to lean on. It's exchanging languages and cultural beliefs. It's feeling comfortable with being uncomfortable. Living is caring, loving, learning and reaching out to those in need and reassuring them that they are loved, they are needed, and that we do care. No credentials are needed to do this work- just a beating heart that contains compassion. My days are quickly coming to an end here in the Philippines (only 3 days left) but I will not forget the people that have touched my heart and the lessons that I have learned. And I most definitely will be back !!

Wednesday, 27 November 2013
Meant to be Here
Today we saved a woman from loosing her leg & potentially her life. Her lacerations were deep. Infection was spreading. It has been 2 weeks that she has been laying in bed like this in a remote village after a steel pole fell on her during the typhoon. We were able to get an ambulance to pick her up and bring her to a medical clinic that the Spanish have set up on the island. Out of everything I have witnessed and done this trip - this justified me coming here. This is when I can sit back and say "I know I was meant to be here".

Tuesday, 26 November 2013
Bantayan Island
Finally made it to Banyatan island - most destruction I've seen yet. We are currently working in a small village where over 40 homes have been completely wiped out. As I sit here and try to put myself into their shoes my eyes fill with tears. I can't. I can't imagine loosing not only my home but everything I've ever worked for, all of my personal belongings... Everything. But yet again these people continue to amaze me with their strength and their resilience. Every day they are working in the streets cleaning the rubble and rebuilding their homes. Recently I had the common statement "why don't you help the people in your own backyard" and nothing infuriates me more. They ARE in my own backyard. Just because my backyard may extend longer than yours - and just because they may be in the farthest corner of my backyard does not mean that I don't help them. If you look down on our world from outer space what do you see ? You see land and bodies of water. What you do NOT see is fences, border lines, & political bullshit. This world is my backyard. These people are my people. This is my responsibility. I will love and care for them as if they are my friends, my family, because that's my duty as a human being. WE ARE ONE !!!!!

Friday, 15 November 2013
Yearning ...
Oh Haiti, how I yearn for you ...
I miss the days full of chaos, dirty diapers, snotty noses, and scraped knees. I miss waking up in the morning to babies crawling over me and the glow of the morning sun in my window. I miss the sound of kids playing and cheering as the boys run across the yard trying to score on their opponents. I miss the beauty of the mountains and the surrounding oceans. I miss sitting on the roof thinking about my life and realizing how truly blessed I am. I miss Haiti.
I yearn to be back in the country that is complicated, frustrating, dangerous, and absolutely bonkers. I yearn to be back where motos go zipping by me and people are hanging off the backs of taptaps. Where people are dancing and singing in the streets and yes - sometimes even burning tires. Where the smell of food, sewage, and garbage fill my nostrils. I yearn to be home. I yearn to be with my babies. I yearn to be with my friends. I miss the feeling of worthiness - that I am doing something with my time that is worthwhile. I feel as if I am rotting here. Day to day its the same old thing. I miss the adventures, the craziness, the unfathomable circumstances that appear on my doorstep. I miss the hugs, the kisses, the smiles, the neighbourhood kids screaming my name as I drive by or running up beside me as I walk down the street to hold my hand. I miss it all. Time to go back ? ... My heart is thinking so.
I miss the days full of chaos, dirty diapers, snotty noses, and scraped knees. I miss waking up in the morning to babies crawling over me and the glow of the morning sun in my window. I miss the sound of kids playing and cheering as the boys run across the yard trying to score on their opponents. I miss the beauty of the mountains and the surrounding oceans. I miss sitting on the roof thinking about my life and realizing how truly blessed I am. I miss Haiti.
I yearn to be back in the country that is complicated, frustrating, dangerous, and absolutely bonkers. I yearn to be back where motos go zipping by me and people are hanging off the backs of taptaps. Where people are dancing and singing in the streets and yes - sometimes even burning tires. Where the smell of food, sewage, and garbage fill my nostrils. I yearn to be home. I yearn to be with my babies. I yearn to be with my friends. I miss the feeling of worthiness - that I am doing something with my time that is worthwhile. I feel as if I am rotting here. Day to day its the same old thing. I miss the adventures, the craziness, the unfathomable circumstances that appear on my doorstep. I miss the hugs, the kisses, the smiles, the neighbourhood kids screaming my name as I drive by or running up beside me as I walk down the street to hold my hand. I miss it all. Time to go back ? ... My heart is thinking so.
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