Raising Hands and Lifting Hearts

The maternity center has a 16 year old neighbour, and client, who was
pregnant and due on June 6th, a week before I left. Initially, when I’d see her on the street, I would kindly ask why she hadn’t returned for her
prenatal. She would give me an excuse and then tell me that she’d
come the next morning, but she never did. Soon I became mother-like,
shaking my finger, telling her she had to come this time, no excuses. She would laugh and agree, but she never came. Finally, she came to see me at the maternity center in the last week before I left for Canada. She said she didn’t come to be checked, but I convinced her to have a simple prenatal exam anyways.

She told me that she had grown up in the Dominican Repulbic and had actually only come to Haiti last August to see where her Haitian born mom was from. During her visit, she got pregnant. She said she planned to go back home to the Dominican after she had her baby and that she was going to give me her baby. I can understand her desire to go home, and I know that taking her baby with her would be next to impossible. I agreed to take her baby on strict conditions: She has to solely breastfeed her baby for three months and when she gives me her baby, she has to leave it at my doorstep. I said that I wouldn’t actually take her baby out of her arms. I don’t have my own children, but I know enough about maternal love to know that once she holds and breastfeeds her baby it will be unlikely that she could actually give her baby away after three months. I informed her that I would be leaving not long after her due date, and as her due date came and went I playfully demanded that she go into labor before I left. She didn’t. So when I ended up having to be in Canada longer than expected I knew that she would have had her baby while I was gone and I worried that she might not be breastfeeding. If she wasn’t breastfeeding she probably wasn’t bonding as much with her baby as she
should be, and if she wasn’t bonding with her baby it was more likely
that she would actually leave it at my doorstep in just a few months
time. When I got home, she was one of the first people I went to
see, but she acted childish and played hide-and-seek for the first hour. I gave up, but eventually she came to see me. She said her labor had started on the 19th and she didn’t tell anyone. Three days later she finally told someone she was in labor and went to the hospital late on June 22. Now, four weeks later we were sitting together in the maternity center and I asked her if she was breastfeeding. She said she did sometimes, sometimes she gave her newborn mashed up food. I reminded her of out negotiation – I wasn’t willing to take her baby if she wasn’t 100% breastfeeding for the first few months. She looked at me as if I was crazy. She said she was NOT giving her baby away. “What if I never have another child. This could be my only baby. I’m not going to give it away”. That was a relief to hear. I knew when I made the agreement with her I was taking a chance; there was always that possibility that she was actually going to abandon her baby at my doorstep. I was ready to take that baby in if that were the case; but now that it’s not the case, I’m very happy to support Natalie as much as needed to help her raise her own baby.

In June I went back to Canada to rest and recover from 9 long months
of work here in Haiti. My two week trip turned into a month due to
some illnesses that needed to be treated before my return to Haiti.

I arrived home (Haitian home) to find that my cleaning lady had done a
wonderful job of cleaning up my house. She had somehow managed to get rid of all my clutter – which I later found packed away in bags and
boxes. She had also taken out all my dishes and kitchen supplies to
wash them and to kill the cockroaches living in the shelves.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t remember where everything had been, so
again, everything was packed away in boxes and buckets. It was so bad
I couldn’t even find a pot to boil water with, nevermind the cup, spoon, and the tea.

On the brighter side, this has forced me to go through my own clutter
(again) and throw more out, give more away, and create new ways of
storing things.

And on the bitter-sweet side, we have been killing cockroaches like
it’s going out of style. And today we began the battle with the
surprising number of mice who had found refuge in my house while I was
away. Today we killed three and are still on the hunt for at least
one more. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but I’ve changed from saying
“I” to saying “we”. I’m actually taking too much credit by using “we”
because I personally haven’t had anything to do with the mice. My
friend Gayly has taken two dead mice out of the traps and killed the third with just his foot. I stood and cheered (screamed) from a
chair.

Over at the maternity center it hasn’t been as eventful. Everything
pretty much had to come to a stop while I was away, and I found it
quiet and just as I had left it. I have some pregnant mothers to call and reschedule rendezvous with, some new moms to go visit, and tomorrow I have an appointment with a two year old and his mom who will enter our malnutrition program.

It was a good and restful time home in Canada, but now it’s good to
finally be back home in Haiti. Back to the community, back to the
struggle, back to the sun and the beach, and back to Olive Tree
Projects.

(Gayly has been making fun of me for getting so jumpy when I
SEE the mice, because they aren’t even doing anything to me. BUT

THEN.. JUST NOW.. since writing this update, I was sitting, leaning up
against the wall and a mouse came running around the corner and was
headed straight for me!.. I threw the computer, screamed and ran,
Gayly killed it with his bare foot and never in my life have I been
so disgusted and happy at the same time.)

It’s been over a year now since I met Boubout. I recall those days,
sitting with her on the street, trying so hard to make her trust me.
I gave up, thinking it was hopeless. I didn’t think she would ever
open up to me or allow me to be a part of her life.

She continues to sit on the side of the street, but her children who
she had so carefully protected no longer sit next to her. She has
given one away to the Sisters of Charity and the other one she leaves
at home with the neighbours.

In the last several months I’ve made a point of stopping to say hi
while I drive by her. I say hi, ask how she’s doing, and remind her
that she is welcome to come over to my house any time she wants. All
she has to do is say when.

And then one morning last week I saw her as she was leaving her house.
I waved and she waved back in a way that meant “stop I want to talk to
you”. I stopped. She asked for a ride to her spot on the street. I
happily opened the truck door for her, since she didn’t know how, and
she climbed in with her plastic bags filled with an assortment of who
knows what.

We talked about her daughters. I reminded her that I really wanted
her to keep her daughters with her instead of giving them away and I
reminded her that I was willing to help her with them. Before she
left she told me she needed me to give her a ride somewhere sometime.
She wanted to go see the ‘white doctors’ for a check up and needed me
to take her.

I couldn’t believe it. She got in my truck. People, no matter their
state of mind, don’t get into vehicles with people they don’t trust.
And not only that, she asked me for a favor! She trusts me.

In March, I said that my next goal, after this maternity
center, was to start a program for malnourished
children. I knew that I was busy starting a maternity center and
didn’t have the capacity to also start a malnutrition program at the
same time. However, Grace Deukmedjian was here in Haiti and looking
for a place to start a malnutrition program. She had some previous
experience with a program called Medika Mamba (medicated peanut
butter) so she came to implement the program in our facility.

On Friday, April 30th we had our first malnourished baby come in.
Grace, and the two girls she’s training, assessed the baby that was skin and bones and sent her directly to the hospital for further medical
care before we could start treating the malnutrition.

They came back the next week after spending some time in the hospital. The rashes on her skin were healing, and she was looking livelier. She came in, held tight in a snuggly on her dad’s chest.

Leon’s face gleamed with the pride of a new father. We estimated his
daughter, Lia, to be close to 6 months. She’s Leon’s first child.
She’s been his since March 11, the day he found her crying, abandoned,
malnourished, and hanging upside down from the branch of a tree.

We’ve seen them a few times now. Each week they come in, we spend time talking with Leon – encouraging him and educating him.
Lia comes back bigger each time. I think we could accurately call her ‘chubby’ now.

The first time I tried to write this entry it ended up being just a bunch of words that unsuccessfully expressed my appreciation for everyone who has contributed to the maternity centre — the maternity centre that is on the verge of being completely set-up and properly functioning! I’m not sure my appreciation can be expressed in words, but I can tell you that because of the support and assistance of everyone back home, this community on the outskirts of Jacmel is taking ownership of a building and a project that will one day allow each woman to have a healthy pregnancy and delivery.

Lately I’ve noticed how many people in our community know me. I’ve noticed how many children are calling my name as I walk by. I’ve noticed how my neighbours jump out of their seats at the opportunity to lend me a hand. I’ve noticed that our community is eagerly anticipating the official and grand opening of their maternity center.

But I’ve felt lately that I am such a small factor in the success of Olive Tree Projects. We couldn’t be doing what we’re doing without the financial support we’ve received.

If only our community could know about the Grade 9 class in Devon, Alberta put on a fundraiser for a class project; the individuals in Rocky Mountain House, Alberta who organized a day long fundraiser; the woman in Seoul, Korea who organized a benefit concert; the Devon United Church who put on a silent auction night and concert; Salem Manor in Leduc, AB, for their Valentines Day fundraiser; Zion United Church in Barhead who put on a spaghetti supper fundaiser; Waylen Transport who gathered the funds to transport the seacan; the men in San Diego who put together a golf tournament; Rabbit Hill Ski Resort in Alberta who donated their services for a fundraiser; the countless other individuals who gave significant amounts of money; and the countless other individuals that offered their time and services. Some of these people know me, but most used to be strangers, now friends, who have a heart for the people of Haiti.

It’s because of these contributions, all significant, that Olive Tree Projects can continue to work towards its goal of saving babies by saving moms. THANK YOU!!!

I wake up at 6:00 – 7:00am, simply because the heat from the sun is too hot. It feels like waking up to an instant sauna, sweating within seconds. I walk down from the roof and straight to the bathroom, which at this time of day has no light. Sometimes if a flashlight is near by we will use it. I do my business and flush the toilet with a bucket of water. Then wash my hands using a bar of soap and the buckets of water. If there are no buckets of water in the bathroom, we fill them from the 600-gallon water reservoir outside. This huge green tank fills with rainwater and water that is hauled, bucket by bucket, from down the street. During my two week stay with Sarah, the city supply of water ran once. The rest of the time we used what was in the water reservoir. One day I was curious and looked into the top of the container from the roof and saw a huge frog sitting inside. I told Sarah and the next morning we tried to fish the frog out. It was a huge event that, we soon realized, we are not very good at. The boys later caught three frogs and that same day we noticed tadpoles in the resevoir. We decided it was best to filter the tadpoles out of the water.

Every morning, after a quick bucket shower, I put on my first set of clothes, and we head to the maternity center to organize, clean, and set-up. It’s only a short walk down the street. The most important part of the trip is always looking both ways at least four times before crossing to not get hit by a motorbike and/or a vehicle. We spend about half of a day there and the other half is usually driving to and from Jacmel to meet people, buy supplies, or pick things up. Driving here is a huge deal. No traffic direction at all; everyone must drive defensively. The use of the horn is vital, making others aware of passing, turning, or approaching.

Electricity isn’t available until about 3:00pm on a good day, so some things cannot be done until the evening. There was one night of no electricity so we used flashlights and candles. Currently, Sarah’s house electricity is shared with her neighbour’s and she pays him monthly. Looking at the wiring hanging from the trees and attached to odd sticks, it looks as though no one is overly worried about getting shocked.

It is very hot and humid here all day long. For the most part we try to stay out of the sun. When the evening comes around we will have another bucket shower to clean off and put on our second set of clothes. In the evening we either go back to the maternity center or head to a hotel about 5-10 minutes away to use the internet.

When it’s time to go to bed we have all the windows open on the tent to allow any possible breeze in. One night it started to rain while we were sleeping. I woke up drenched and closed all the windows. It was raining so much that water began to dip through the roof of the tent. I was too tired to move. It had been a long day.

It’s taken some effort to get my old house transformed into a maternity center; we’ve torn out the floor and redone it; painted the floor with epoxy paint, the walls with acrylic; we’ve dug a cistern and installed the plumbing to get running water in the bathrooms; our furniture came in the container; individuals and groups who have come through Jacmel have donated the medical supplies. The program itself, however, seems to be coming together on it’s own.

While Bien Aime, the midwife that works with me, was away at an appointment in Port au Prince, I got a call at 11:30pm from a friend saying that his sister-in-law was in labor and wanted to know if it was time to go to the hospital. I went over to see her. Before I had a chance to check her blood pressure she was ready to push. She delivered a healthy baby girl. Everything went smoothly and I left for home before 3:00am. Before I left, they asked how much they owed. I told them they could pay whatever and whenever they wanted. The next day they gave me $25. I was so encouraged to see that they thought what I had done for them was worth $25. And I was relieved to see that it will be affordable for the average Haitian to pay $60 for full prenatal care, laboratory, vitamins, delivery, post partum care, and birth control.

The next weekend, Bien Aime had five women come in for prenatal care. Within a week later, five more came in.

On February 13, 2010, in Devon, Alberta, several people were working long hours to fill a sea container that would eventually be sent down to Haiti. The container had a picture of a sheep spray painted on one side and a smiley face on the other. Under the smiley face, the word “MAYHEM” was written in capital letters. I don’t think the author of this graffiti had any idea how prophetic it would be.

I had heard that my family and friends had worked hard to get “MAYHEM” filled, but it wasn’t until I saw pictures that I realized just how hard. It had been minus 30 the day they were loading it up. They were wearing boots and mitts and toques!

They collected, organized, and packed desks, hospital beds, mattresses, an autoclave, lumber, tools, bicycles, homemade baby blankets, and a five page list of other things that I didn’t know I needed until I had them

Days past, weeks past, and eventually months past and still there was no sight of “MAYHEM”. In that time it would have been impossible to count the number of times I said, “It’s in the container”, “I have one of those in the container” or, “When the container comes…”. I kept busy enough, but no substantial progress was going to be made until “MAYHEM” arrived.

Then finally, at long last, “MAYHEM” arrived on Haitian soil. And ten long days later, we got it through customs and off the dock. The only truck capable of moving a 20 ft. container was not capable of moving the weight of it full, so we had to take the array of donations out of the container, load them onto trucks, and pile them into the maternity center in an all-but-organized fashion.

The container itself was supposed to be dropped on a pad of gravel rocks on a piece of land that we’d rented. Unfortunately, “MAYHEM” only made it halfway onto the rocks. It now sits tilted, half on the rocks and half on the ground.

We did our best to withstand the heat and humidity during the long days of organizing, re-arranging, and setting up the maternity center. Now, instead of saying, “It’s in the container”, I’ve found myself saying “Let’s put it in the container”. “MAYHEM” – once a sea container in the cold town of Devon, Alberta bringing supplies to a maternity center, is now a storage room in Jacmel, Haiti, lopsided and under a mango tree.

I met an older woman a few weeks ago. She’s been working with women’s
health in Haiti for 30+ years. I explained what I’m doing and what
I’m still trying to do as far as the maternity center goes.

Her advice to me was this: “Go to them. Don’t wait for them to come to you.”

At first I protested because I very much feel that I don’t NEED to
give prenatal/delivery care.  I wanted to offer it only to those who
needed and wanted it.

But this wise woman’s response was, “The unborn baby is the one that
will suffer the most. So stop thinking about the women, because women
can be irresponsible and ungrateful.  If you want to save the baby,
you’ll have to impose your help upon the women.”

What this lady was teaching me is that we may be wanted in the
community and we may stay busy, but unless we see to it that EVERY
woman in a community delivers with a skilled birth attendant we can’t
say for sure that we are reducing maternal or infant mortality.

Some women will never seek out prenatal care. They may be ashamed, or
poor, or insecure and will never take the initiative to register for
prenatal care with us.

It would be impossible and impractical for our midwives to go door to
door asking for the pregnant women to identify themselves and then
convincing them to come get prenatal care with us. But what if we had
local women all over our greater community who understood the
importance of first trimester prenatal care? These women, these
volunteer representatives, could recognize early pregnancies and bring
their neighbours to us.

So last week our midwife, Bien Aime set up a meeting with several
women in our greater community. There’s a large mango tree with a
bench and chairs under it at the end of the road. It’s used as a
sort of community center. It’s where all the men hang out, play cards,
and watch traffic go by. We got permission from the men to use “their
spot”. When the women began to arrive some men left, some
pulled up more chairs for us, and some stayed to listen to what was
been discussed. Bien Aime led the meeting and I couldn’t have done it
any better. She spoke slowly, stopping regularly to ask if any body
had questions, or if there were any terms she had used that people
didn’t understand. We talked for over an hour. The women were interested,
asked surprising questions, and proved that there is a need for education.

We will hold monthly meetings with these women and continue to promote
them as our “volunteer moms”. They will be educated and then trained
to do home visits and to recognize warning signs of problems in pregnancy. These
women will be vital to our success. It will be Haitian women helping Haitian women.