Umoja: Ansanm nou kapab!

“It’s not like it used to be,” we hear our friend say, “my father tells me that 25 years ago people cared for each other in Port Au Prince.  There was a sense of community.  And now, everyone fends for himself.”  He tells us this with nostalgia and with a desire to recover that which was lost.  Our friend is the coordinator of the exciting work we are involved with: working with church leaders to come together and care for their community through a process called Umoja.

“Umoja, which means ‘togetherness’ in the Swahili language of East Africa, is an exciting and transformational church and community initiative. It helps church leaders and their congregations work together with the local community to bring about positive change for the whole community.” Tearfund website

Recently, we had the privilege to be part of the first Umoja workshop in a community near Port Au Prince.  Going through the crowded streets of Carrefour, looking carefully to not miss the turn to Bertain, the dirt road became narrower, we crossed the river and went up and up on a bumpy road wide enough for only one lane.  At the end of this road is the church, where the workshop took place.  As we stood at the door we could see the hills full of houses and a ravine dividing the two hills and the turquoise blue sea in the distance.  We can close our eyes and feel like we are back at the door taking in the view and all the life of the place.

View from the church in Carrefour Bertain

Inside the building, any breeze that came through the open windows was a refreshing relief from the heat.  It was hot, not only from the weather, but also from the intense discussions that went on throughout the week.  Jokingly at first, the pastors came up with a slogan for the workshop.  One person would yell “Umoja!” and the others would follow “Ansanm nou kapab!” which in Creole means “together we can!”  By day four, it had deepened into the minds of the whole group that yes, together they can bring change little by little to their community.
We were not only observers, but were able to participate.  Nate prepared one of the sessions trying hard to use his limited knowledge of Creole and with the help of our fearless, multilingual leader.  We organized games and activities to energize the group.  It was great fun to see the church leaders get into a game of “dog, cat, rooster” (our full-body, Haitian-adapted version of “rock, paper, scissors”).  On the last day we finished strong with a celebration and were pleasantly surprised by their outpouring of gratefulness.  They had prepared a fruit basket, books, a framed plaque and even a hand-made Umoja flag!

Receiving a plaque and fruit basket from participants on the last day

It was so encouraging, not just because of their gratitude, but because it showed they can do great things together to care for one another.  This was a step towards the church awakening to its role as a catalyst for community change.  We pray God will give them strength to carry out the things they have purposed in their hearts: to pass the vision to their community and see it become an attractive place to live and raise a family.

Ayiti Cheri: Perceptions

Ayiti Cheri means “My Dear Haiti.” We’d like to share with you about some of the things we’ve experienced in this country that is becoming dear to us and tell you how we perceive these experiences: two foreigners in a beautiful land with beautiful people, but with many struggles as well. This is the first of a series of stories about our life in Haiti.

Questions of conscience

One thing is to talk about disparities between the rich and the poor, but another thing is to see them both living in such close proximity. Imagine eating at an expensive restaurant while you watch a video about starving children. Would you be able to enjoy your meal? What kind of things would come to your mind? Think about it.

One day we were celebrating a friend’s birthday at a nice restaurant in a wealthy neighborhood in Port Au Prince. We were very happy to share that special time with friends and we enjoyed ourselves. The menu has its prices in US Dollars and if you want to pay with the local currency, they’ll charge a higher exchange rate… How interesting, do they think we are rich?! Well, maybe we are rich here: we have access to private transportation, we eat more than one meal per day, we drink water that does not make us sick, and we are blan (white, foreigner), which puts us in that category by default anyways. But as we stepped out of the restaurant, right in front of us, there was a sight that brought uneasy feelings: the park was filled with tents and people living in them. Then the questions came:

“Is it right for us to spend money at a place like that when there are so many people living in such circumstances? But, we ourselves can’t take care of all who are in need. Maybe it is okay to enjoy ourselves like that sometimes. What kind of people are we that we feel okay spending in the same way, as long as there is no sight like that in front of us? How interesting is human nature, that we prefer to separate ourselves from that kind of sight, so we can feel okay about living our lives comfortably.” These were all thoughts that came to mind and things we had to “debrief” with each other. Questions of conscience. And they keep coming.

They keep coming as we finish having lunch during field trips and old ladies come begging for money touching their bellies and saying “I am hungry, give me some money,” as we drive through the busy streets of Pòtoprens and little kids offer to wipe the car if we give them some money, as we drive with teams of Americans and people yell in English “Give me one Dollah!” when they see us pass by. We struggle saying NO to people because it is easier to give them a coin and feel good about ourselves. But we say NO. We decided we won’t give money to people asking or begging for it because if we do, it’s almost like making a contract with them that says “I will give you money, if you get out of my way.” We feel we don’t treat people with dignity when we hand out money or things without knowing their names, their family or whether our “help” is really what they need to have a life with dignity: to come out of poverty, to take care of their families, to leave a legacy to their grandchildren, and to see others and themselves in a healthy way in order to interact with each other honorably and respectfully.

And you know what? We wrote this yesterday, but today instead of saying NO, we said apre (later) to the kid outside the bakery. We brought a snack out in case he was still there, and he was. And as we were leaving we saw him share the little snack with a younger child. As you see, each day is a new day, and we can’t base our actions on strict dogma. We will keep asking God to guide our interactions to act wisely, and to help us wrestle with the big questions about life, development, poverty and true riches.

How we got to Haiti the long way around

“Where are you from?  Where did you use to live?  What drew you to Haiti?” are frequent questions we get, but we lack simple ‘conversation-friendly’ answers because we are a cross-cultural couple and lived out of suitcases for more than a year.  It seems the answers are getting more and more interesting the longer we are together.

Where are you from?

Nate: “Well, I am originally from Massachusetts”
Cecilia: “And I am from Ecuador, but we used to live in Ithaca, NY until about a year ago”
Nate: “Then we travelled to many places for a full year”
Cecilia: “We did not intend that, it just happened that way”

On a mountain with Port Au Prince in the background

Interesting… So how did you end up in Haiti?

Mural Painting

 While at Dulce Refugio, we worked with the kids and leaders to paint a mural on one of the walls of the new building.  It was a blast!

Ecuador update: Looking back, looking forward

This is a brief recount of where we’ve been and what we are doing now in Quito, Ecuador.

Nate, Cecilia, and some of our work-mates at the church, Dulce Refugio

Port Au Prince: SUPPLIES!

In October 2010, we went to Haiti with Mercy Ships as part of a short term medical team.  We went to work in a clinic that is part of a larger organization called Mission of Hope. Since the earthquake, this ministry has been instrumental in distribution of food and medical supplies, and in providing healthcare to the Haitian people around Port-Au-Prince.
On our 2 week trip we learned more than we could have imagined.  Please enjoy the following short account of just one aspect of the work we did there.