On one hand, it is the least freedom that I’ve ever had. I live in a sort of a fishbowl. I am constantly surrounded by my kids (which I love), I have no privacy at all, people are always aware of what I’m doing, and I need to hold myself to better standards of propriety than at any other time in my life.
But at the same time, it is also the most freedom I've ever had. I can choose to work on whichever projects I decide to do, have time to stop and write a song, do whichever activities I wish to do with the kids and can go do them at whichever time I decide to. I can be a nurse, teacher, caregiver, handywoman- you name it- all at the same time.
Living here is such an isolating experience. It can be very lonely. I’m away from friends and family and the people that most would say, know me best. It’s hard to stay in touch through lack of free time, limited technology and high cost.
But I also have a new set of friends and family, composed of my beautiful children, staff, and other expats undergoing the same experiences and of people within the community that make me feel like I’m truly at home.
I've learned a new language and can speak it fluently.
But it’s also making me feel like my ability to speak good educated English is rapidly declining. I have to think about the concept of contradiction for a solid minute before I came up with the word.
This is the poorest I’ve ever been.
But compared to most here I'm still considered really rich.
I hate the corruption and how the government functions.
Yet I have to work with them and remain on their "good side".
I am so competent… I have skills and knowledge that people here don’t…just basic things we are taught even in elementary school impress the people here, but back home it would just be normal.
Yet at the same time, I feel totally incompetent. Particularly when I am trying to cook Haitian food or doing some of the things that are second nature to people here.. The list could go on and on and on.
In one way I’m totally independent. I live on my own with a bunch of children I am fully responsible for. But I am also fully dependent upon those around me– for help, for motivation, for friendship, for work and to just keep me sane.
This is the most time that I have ever spent working (literally 24/7)…being here means that I am always on the job, either in literally being at the house all day every day with my kids or doing projects in other villages. I have to keep in mind my role in the community and make sure that I present myself in a good light, both for the success of my work and for the sake of representing Canada and other "blans".
On the other side, this is also the least time that I spend working. Because to me, most of the time this doesn't feel like work.
A part of me is bitter and I have been burnt out feeling like Haiti has literally broken me in two.
But I also know it is the only thing that keeps me together most days. "It can break your heart into a million pieces, yet still be the reason it beats".
When I was getting ready to leave, some people told me that I was doing a great thing and sacrificing so much. There are definitely things that I gave up to came here and wish that I hadn’t had to.
But at the same time, this is one of the most selfish things that I have ever done. I’m doing this because I wanted to. While I’m (oh dear lord I hope) helping people in my community and giving a future to my children, I’m also helping myself. My work here has helped me to decide exactly what makes me happy and makes me feel whole. I left friends and family behind, demanding that they will still be there for me while I’m gone and when I get back. Really, more selfish than selfless.
I hate the idea of orphanages. I am frustrated that they exist. I am angry at parents for being so willing to give up their children.
Yet I'm running a children's home just for that. The circumstances that lead some parents to abandon their children is sometimes beyond the parents control. Rape, disease, extreme poverty, etc. I have witnessed some of the horrific things these parents have been faced with or what the mothers have gone through. I try my best to understand.
What I’m doing here is not “real life” AKA "what I am supposed to be doing" (according to some people). I was talking with a friend who has a full-time job in the US—in their book, that's "the real life situation". I’m so far removed from all of the things so staple to real Canadian/American 20-something life.
But this is maybe more real than my life could ever have been if I had stayed in Canada. I have delivered babies, stitched wounds, held babies dying of malnutrition and disease, brought babies back to health including some of my kids here, I've jumped off the top of waterfalls, went scuba diving, went paragliding (unfortunately that one didn't end as planned when the parachute didn't open), witnessed the evils mother nature has to offer, experienced many types of religion, dealt with corruption, violence, and crime, lived without basic "necessities", I have felt what it means to literally worry about how you would eat or provide food for your children the next day. Realities of simply living life are more present in my eyes—trying to figure out where water comes from so that there is enough to drink or wash laundry by hand. Learning how to conserve everything. Grinding peanuts to make peanut butter…maybe more real than the instant, plastic wrapped life that I could be living in Canada.
Maybe it’s all about balancing these contrasts, or maybe they aren’t even all that large. One way or another, life here continues to surprise me—sometimes by the foreign and sometimes by how very regular it is.
No comments:
Post a Comment