Hey Everyone,
I was asked to write a little something about my experience for Peace Corps, and this is what came of it; even if youre not a PCV, my real point is that there are opportunities for everyone to volunteer and work on the relief effort, if they find a reliable, responsible organization to do it through.
My Experience:
Over the course of the nine days I worked at the Buen Samaritano Hospital (Good Samaritan Hospital) which was providing medical care for Haitian earthquake victims, the other PCVs and I that were sent were assigned or took on a wide variety of jobs. Throughout the day any one of us could be found translating, registering volunteers, handing out food, organizing a patient tracking system, reporting to Public Health officials, finding the appropriate medical staff for the day, providing social services to families, and advocating for the patients. There were between two and six PCVs at the hospital every day and we all had more than enough work (most of us were working 18-20 hour days).
We were told by several administrators at the hospital that they couldn’t have done their job without the support of Peace Corps; we seemed to become the go-tos for patients, doctors and administrators when they had a question and didn’t know where to go. In the end, the PCVs became the link between volunteers and patients; Americans and Haitians; doctors and administration. I believe that being a Peace Corps volunteer in this country prepared us especially for this kind of work, and has made us valuable to the organizations that came into the country to provide relief.
Though many of us volunteers are used to the slow pace of Dominican country life, we were all prepared to work long hours at the hospital. Perhaps this is simply a characteristic of Peace Corps volunteers in general who are always willing to help, especially when their help is so solicited and necessary. Living in the Dominican countryside or pueblo has taught us the importance of being flexible and how to deal with the frustrating stops and gos of the Dominican administrative system at all levels. In a disaster relief area, this flexibility is necessary; no one knows what will happen the next day, who might show up, what patient might take a turn for the worse, or what organization might decide to help or not help. In the end, you must be ready for everything and change your plans and job description from one minute to the next; something that PCVs are accustomed to doing.
PCVs also come into situations like this with the flexibility in living standards that we have found necessary in our day to day lives here in country. While the lack of reliable water or comfortable beds may have discouraged some volunteers from working at the hospital, us volunteers were willing to sleep anywhere (frequently on couches) and were thrilled if there was water coming out of the shower spout! The daily meal of rice and beans didn’t phase us, and we never once thought about the money we were losing because we were giving up precious time to volunteer (we’ve committed to two years of no earnings!)
The last and most important reason that PCVs are so integral to relief efforts in their own countries or neighboring countries is their vast knowledge and experience of local culture and customs. The people at Buen Samaritano Hospital were working very hard to provide quality patient care, treat the volunteer doctors and nurses well, and make sure the hospital was running smoothly. At the same time, they were still accountable to Dominican officials and had to interact frequently with Dominicans. Unfortunately, there were very few administrators who spoke Spanish, and fewer who had lived in the country for as long as we volunteers had. For this reason, we volunteers often became the go-betweens between the American administration and the Dominicans who were working with us. We helped negotiate the meals being provided by the Dominican Civil Defense, as well as talk to and translate for public health officials and communicate with the military guards that the government was providing for us. Understanding the Dominican culture and language helped us communicate with the host country in a way that most of the administration could not.
Living on the same island as Haitians and interacting frequently with migrants in the DR also gave us valuable insight into the Haitian culture and allowed us to communicate and empathize with the patients. While there were few volunteers who spoke Dominican Spanish, there were even fewer who spoke Kreyol. With that in mind, even the little knowledge of Kreyol that we volunteers had helped us communicate with the patients and their families. It was Peace Corps volunteers and a few translators who were often the first volunteers in the hospital to learn of problems amongst the patients and families and help them look for solutions, trying to fill the void where social services should have existed in a normal hospital.
I am in no way saying that the work of one volunteer at the hospital was more or less valuable than another; no PCV who was at the hospital could perform surgery, serve as an ICU nurse, or had extensive knowledge of hospital administration. What is important to recognize is that in a disaster such as the Haitian earthquake, different kinds of knowledge and experience (especially cultural) is needed to help the relief effort. I believe that at the Buen Samaritano Hospital and in the various relief efforts across the island, Peace Corps volunteers fit a certain integral niche.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
January 27th, 2010: Jimani Hospital
Beginning a week after the earthquake in Haiti, Peace Corps DR sent a team of Peace Corps volunteers who had nursing skills or spoke Kreyol to a hospital in Jimani. This hospital was not originally a large hospital, however due to the large amount of Haitians who were coming over the border seeking medical care, it was opened to treat them. The first team stayed for a week, helping out where they could in the wards and trying to organize all the volunteers who were coming from the States to help.
The volunteers worked long hours for a week and Peace Corps then asked another group to go out there to take over them. On Monday I arrived here in Jimani and began to help with two other volunteers. We are filling in for the volunteers who had been working on the administrative/volunteer part of the hospital. After hearing stories from them, it seems as if we came in as things were finally beginning to get organized, because at the beginning things were absolute chaos; partly because entire families were coming over the border with their loved ones and had to set up camp at the hospital, and partly because there were no records or organization of the volunteers who were coming in and out to help and how long they could stay.
Starting today things have begun to get really organized; a logistical team has been brought in to organize the entire hospital better, and we’re expected to help them in whatever way we can.
Let’s start at the beginning: I found out on Friday night that Peace Corps was looking for a team to go out to the border, and I immediately contacted my boss to let her know I was interested. I rushed around finishing things in my site, and on Monday morning I got on a bus from the capital going to Jimani. Almost the entire bus (Except for the driver, two Dominicans, and three Americans) were Haitians headed across the border. We squeezed in 5 per row (no aisle) and set off on the five and a half hour drive. Even though most people were headed back to Haiti to assess the damage of the earthquake on their hometowns and houses, they were a very chipper bunch, chatting away in Kreyol amongst each other almost the entire time (I tried to keep up but couldn’t do it). We made one bathroom stop about an hour into the trip, and then an hour before the end of the trip we stopped. I thought it was going to be a bathroom break, and it was, except it was completely out in the open. All the men jumped out and immediately began peeing outside the bus, and several women did the same thing. I was tempted, but couldn’t bring myself to do it! After we got on the bus, one woman began feeling sick. Several men started fanning her and trying to feed her, and in the process she decided she was too hot, so she simply took off her shirt and sat there for a good half an hour until she felt better! Nobody seemed uncomfortable with it in any way shape or form, which made me not worry about it either!
We arrived in Jimani and met up with the volunteers who had been there the previous week. They showed us a little around the town and then we went up the hospital to get a little orientation. The town itself seemed a little sleepy, but once we got to the hospital it was bustling with people. The hospital itself is two large buildings, one of which is really a hospital, and the other or which was set up originally as an orphanage but is currently four different wards to treat the patients. In addition, patients are in being treated in a chapel and under a large circus tent. Many of the patients that are supposed to be located in the orphanage decided to set up tents outside because they were afraid of another earthquake (there continue to be tremors).
That night around 6 I headed up to the hospital with the Peace Corps volunteer I was to be replacing to shadow her and figure out everything that was going on in the hospital. We did a lot of just running around, coordinating between the main office and the wards, some translation, and lots of registration of incoming volunteers. The patients here have been very grateful for the care they are getting, but there are some very injured people. There have been up to 300 patients in the hospital (although the numbers are becoming smaller as they get transferred to other hospitals or released) and many of those patients have bone fractures, or have had limbs amputated (250). I haven’t had much time to talk to patients because we’ve been running around doing admin stuff or pulled away for translation, however the tragedy can be seen everywhere; people fled Port-au-Prince for medical care, but now they are in the hospital with nothing, often because all their personal items were buried in the rubble, and they have no where to go back to. People have been very generous in donating money to the Red Cross and other medical organizations, which is an immediate need, however the cold facts are that this is a tragedy with lasting effects, and Haitians are going to need support in reconstructing their city, their schools, and finding homes for the displaced families.
The volunteers worked long hours for a week and Peace Corps then asked another group to go out there to take over them. On Monday I arrived here in Jimani and began to help with two other volunteers. We are filling in for the volunteers who had been working on the administrative/volunteer part of the hospital. After hearing stories from them, it seems as if we came in as things were finally beginning to get organized, because at the beginning things were absolute chaos; partly because entire families were coming over the border with their loved ones and had to set up camp at the hospital, and partly because there were no records or organization of the volunteers who were coming in and out to help and how long they could stay.
Starting today things have begun to get really organized; a logistical team has been brought in to organize the entire hospital better, and we’re expected to help them in whatever way we can.
Let’s start at the beginning: I found out on Friday night that Peace Corps was looking for a team to go out to the border, and I immediately contacted my boss to let her know I was interested. I rushed around finishing things in my site, and on Monday morning I got on a bus from the capital going to Jimani. Almost the entire bus (Except for the driver, two Dominicans, and three Americans) were Haitians headed across the border. We squeezed in 5 per row (no aisle) and set off on the five and a half hour drive. Even though most people were headed back to Haiti to assess the damage of the earthquake on their hometowns and houses, they were a very chipper bunch, chatting away in Kreyol amongst each other almost the entire time (I tried to keep up but couldn’t do it). We made one bathroom stop about an hour into the trip, and then an hour before the end of the trip we stopped. I thought it was going to be a bathroom break, and it was, except it was completely out in the open. All the men jumped out and immediately began peeing outside the bus, and several women did the same thing. I was tempted, but couldn’t bring myself to do it! After we got on the bus, one woman began feeling sick. Several men started fanning her and trying to feed her, and in the process she decided she was too hot, so she simply took off her shirt and sat there for a good half an hour until she felt better! Nobody seemed uncomfortable with it in any way shape or form, which made me not worry about it either!
We arrived in Jimani and met up with the volunteers who had been there the previous week. They showed us a little around the town and then we went up the hospital to get a little orientation. The town itself seemed a little sleepy, but once we got to the hospital it was bustling with people. The hospital itself is two large buildings, one of which is really a hospital, and the other or which was set up originally as an orphanage but is currently four different wards to treat the patients. In addition, patients are in being treated in a chapel and under a large circus tent. Many of the patients that are supposed to be located in the orphanage decided to set up tents outside because they were afraid of another earthquake (there continue to be tremors).
That night around 6 I headed up to the hospital with the Peace Corps volunteer I was to be replacing to shadow her and figure out everything that was going on in the hospital. We did a lot of just running around, coordinating between the main office and the wards, some translation, and lots of registration of incoming volunteers. The patients here have been very grateful for the care they are getting, but there are some very injured people. There have been up to 300 patients in the hospital (although the numbers are becoming smaller as they get transferred to other hospitals or released) and many of those patients have bone fractures, or have had limbs amputated (250). I haven’t had much time to talk to patients because we’ve been running around doing admin stuff or pulled away for translation, however the tragedy can be seen everywhere; people fled Port-au-Prince for medical care, but now they are in the hospital with nothing, often because all their personal items were buried in the rubble, and they have no where to go back to. People have been very generous in donating money to the Red Cross and other medical organizations, which is an immediate need, however the cold facts are that this is a tragedy with lasting effects, and Haitians are going to need support in reconstructing their city, their schools, and finding homes for the displaced families.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Feb 3, 2010
Just an fyi friends, I have just gotten back from spending ten days in Jimani, where a hospital was set up to treat earthquake victims. It was the craziest, most exhausting, sad, interesting, eye-opening experience I've probably ever had. Haiti needs so much help, and will need help for quite some time. I promise I will update soon with some descriptions and stories, so keep checking in!
January 26th, 2010: DR Response to the Haitian Earthquake
The Haitian Earthquake.
It’s been two weeks now since the earthquake in Haiti, and though it is not in the headlines anymore, people here in the DR are still thinking about it. In my community, as soon as the earthquake happened everybody was glued to the television. Most people are second and third generation Dominican-Haitians, so though they know they have family in Haiti, they have lost contact with them. However everyone in my community was deeply saddened and concerned about the Haitian population. There are several people in my town that do have known family in Haiti, and they have still not been able to contact them to see if they are alright.
I expected the people in my community to feel solidarity with the Haitians affected by the earthquake due to their roots, but what most surprised me was the reaction of the Dominican population. It is not a secret that Dominicans frequently discriminate against Haitians that live here and live in Haiti. The president of this country has often talked about cracking down on Haitian immigrants, and frequently when I tell a Dominican that I live in a batey, they warn me of the dangers of living there because of the “Haitians that could rob and hurt you” or the just say “Ay mama” and shake their heads.
But ever since the earthquake happened I have noted a change in Dominican attitudes towards Haitians. First of all, due to the short distance between our capital and the Haitian capital, Dominicans were some of the first search and rescue and relief teams that arrived in Port-au-Prince. People from all over the country have also arranged donation drives to send materials and money through the Red Cross to Haiti. Three small villages (including my own) made an effort to collect money and goods to send to the border, and the DR did a “tele marathon fundraiser” a week before the one in the States was broadcast. I have also just noticed Dominicans being friendlier to Haitians in general. This is a tragedy that hit a country that has already been through so much pain and suffering, and I think the Dominicans here have recognized that and have changed their mindsets to help their “brethren” (which is what they are now being called).
It’s been two weeks now since the earthquake in Haiti, and though it is not in the headlines anymore, people here in the DR are still thinking about it. In my community, as soon as the earthquake happened everybody was glued to the television. Most people are second and third generation Dominican-Haitians, so though they know they have family in Haiti, they have lost contact with them. However everyone in my community was deeply saddened and concerned about the Haitian population. There are several people in my town that do have known family in Haiti, and they have still not been able to contact them to see if they are alright.
I expected the people in my community to feel solidarity with the Haitians affected by the earthquake due to their roots, but what most surprised me was the reaction of the Dominican population. It is not a secret that Dominicans frequently discriminate against Haitians that live here and live in Haiti. The president of this country has often talked about cracking down on Haitian immigrants, and frequently when I tell a Dominican that I live in a batey, they warn me of the dangers of living there because of the “Haitians that could rob and hurt you” or the just say “Ay mama” and shake their heads.
But ever since the earthquake happened I have noted a change in Dominican attitudes towards Haitians. First of all, due to the short distance between our capital and the Haitian capital, Dominicans were some of the first search and rescue and relief teams that arrived in Port-au-Prince. People from all over the country have also arranged donation drives to send materials and money through the Red Cross to Haiti. Three small villages (including my own) made an effort to collect money and goods to send to the border, and the DR did a “tele marathon fundraiser” a week before the one in the States was broadcast. I have also just noticed Dominicans being friendlier to Haitians in general. This is a tragedy that hit a country that has already been through so much pain and suffering, and I think the Dominicans here have recognized that and have changed their mindsets to help their “brethren” (which is what they are now being called).
December, 2009: Birth Certificates
Hello everyone, here is an article I wrote for our local Peace Corps DR publication. I think I’ve mentioned that getting birth certificates can be difficult for people of Haitian descent, here’s one example:
Our Future, And Theirs….
I first got to know Eliza when we (a Canadian nun and I) tried to convince her to join our young mother’s group. We were pointed to her house while interviewing all the young mothers in the batey. She was sitting on the porch with her baby; her three year old running around naked. I knew she also had a seven year old because he came to my house often to dance reggaeton and gaga to my neighbor’s radio. We posed the usual questions, asking her how many kids she had (3), their ages (1 year, 3 years, 7 years), whether they had their documents (no), whether she had her documents (no), and what her birthday was (she was born in 1986). Whoa, what? 1986? I was born that year.
She was my age, already had three children and had blazed through two “husbands”. Despite our age, we have no similarities in life. We thanked her for the information, invited her to come to our meetings, and went to the next house. She didn’t show up to the meetings for the first couple months; I only got little tidbits of information about her from her son, who spent his days at my house when his mother “se fue,” whatever that meant.
When the young mother’s group was finally able to organize an 8th grade adult class to be offered in our town, more women began to show up for our meetings at the prospect of something new and exciting. Eliza began to come, and proved to be responsible, respectful and animated about the class we were going to offer. She participated during the meetings, listened to others, and seemed excited for the class. The only problem is she doesn’t have her acta de nacimiento (birth certificate), since her mother is from Haiti and does not have documents. I encouraged her to enroll in the class anyway and promised we’d work on getting the documents before the end of the year so that she could take the mandatory national exam. She has been a much more reliable student than most; she goes to class every week, attends the weekly meetings I hold for the women, and shows up on time every Thursday when we all come together and work on homework. She’s smart, and her oldest boy is also one of the smartest ones in his class. When I see her participating, it is obvious she wants the best for herself and her children; she hasn’t given up like some other mothers her age that I see around.
Eliza was born in the Dominican Republic, barely speaks Kreyol, and has never been to Haiti. A couple weeks ago I invited a migration lawyer to come talk to the group about documentation and the new laws that the Dominican congress had recently passed. He discussed the new law that is soon to be enacted which allows those who can prove they have lived in this country more than ten years to become residents.
“But of course” he stipulates “that means you have to accept the fact that the government first and foremost recognizes you as Haitian”
“But I’m not Haitian, I was born here, I am not going to accept being Haitian.”
Eliza’s reasons for not accepting Haitian citizenship are not clear; maybe she simply feels Dominican, possibly she fears being labeled as Haitian, or perhaps she herself has negative feelings toward Haitians. Whatever it is, she told the lawyer clearly that she would not accept that proposal, and went on to ask him what he thought about trying to get someone else other than her parents to declare her. He strongly discourages it because of the problems with documentation it can bring later on in life. Even though many people have done it here in my town, everybody knows that currently the fiscalias are making it harder and harder for anyone who appears Haitian or has a last name that is not “Dominican” to get their documents.
After the lawyer explained the choice she had: acknowledge that the government labeled her as Haitian and get proper documents, or fight the label but stay sin documentos, Eliza looked as if she was going to cry. She left for a while and came back later with her backpack, ready to do her homework after the meeting. The lawyer kept talking, but she was not listening any more. It seemed as if any hope was lost.
I like to think that we as volunteers all still feel very young. We still have hopes and dreams and we know that we have possibilities ahead of us: jobs, grad school, marriage, adventures. For Eliza, who is my age, without documents she is already old. She has very few opportunities to change the trajectory of her life if she cannot study, work a legal job, or send her children to high school. Her life will involve surviving in this batey raising her children, with the odd job in a “casa de familia” or in Bávaro taking her away from the community for a while. But she will always return, because it is here where she can survive best without documents, with the support of her family and friends. Her only hope is that she might be able to find someone else to declare her children, or that the Dominican laws may someday change.
Dominican laws about documentation are changing slowly, but many do not trust that they will stick, and still others doubt that any of these changes will be implemented. As Peace Corps volunteers we can work on documentation projects, bring people to the fiscal, encourage them to find their documents, etc… But there are some people, like Eliza, whose cases are currently hopeless. When the new Peace Corps director came to visit a fellow volunteer asked him what kind of opportunities are available to RPCVs to stay involved and help the country they served from home. Here is an opportunity. The Dominican government is not going to listen to our pleas for fair residency laws from here, not to mention that we are not supposed to get involved in in-country politics. Nor does the political system here embrace advocacy, letter writing and canvassing nearly as much (if at all) as it does in the United States. But once we return, we have the potential to lobby our politicians and international organizations to pressure the Dominican government into changing the citizenship laws that so blatantly discriminate against Haitian descendents. It is one way to continue helping Eliza and the countless others who we have met here and are struggling due to these discriminatory laws.
For more information on efforts to change the laws, please refer to:
www.mudha.org
Our Future, And Theirs….
I first got to know Eliza when we (a Canadian nun and I) tried to convince her to join our young mother’s group. We were pointed to her house while interviewing all the young mothers in the batey. She was sitting on the porch with her baby; her three year old running around naked. I knew she also had a seven year old because he came to my house often to dance reggaeton and gaga to my neighbor’s radio. We posed the usual questions, asking her how many kids she had (3), their ages (1 year, 3 years, 7 years), whether they had their documents (no), whether she had her documents (no), and what her birthday was (she was born in 1986). Whoa, what? 1986? I was born that year.
She was my age, already had three children and had blazed through two “husbands”. Despite our age, we have no similarities in life. We thanked her for the information, invited her to come to our meetings, and went to the next house. She didn’t show up to the meetings for the first couple months; I only got little tidbits of information about her from her son, who spent his days at my house when his mother “se fue,” whatever that meant.
When the young mother’s group was finally able to organize an 8th grade adult class to be offered in our town, more women began to show up for our meetings at the prospect of something new and exciting. Eliza began to come, and proved to be responsible, respectful and animated about the class we were going to offer. She participated during the meetings, listened to others, and seemed excited for the class. The only problem is she doesn’t have her acta de nacimiento (birth certificate), since her mother is from Haiti and does not have documents. I encouraged her to enroll in the class anyway and promised we’d work on getting the documents before the end of the year so that she could take the mandatory national exam. She has been a much more reliable student than most; she goes to class every week, attends the weekly meetings I hold for the women, and shows up on time every Thursday when we all come together and work on homework. She’s smart, and her oldest boy is also one of the smartest ones in his class. When I see her participating, it is obvious she wants the best for herself and her children; she hasn’t given up like some other mothers her age that I see around.
Eliza was born in the Dominican Republic, barely speaks Kreyol, and has never been to Haiti. A couple weeks ago I invited a migration lawyer to come talk to the group about documentation and the new laws that the Dominican congress had recently passed. He discussed the new law that is soon to be enacted which allows those who can prove they have lived in this country more than ten years to become residents.
“But of course” he stipulates “that means you have to accept the fact that the government first and foremost recognizes you as Haitian”
“But I’m not Haitian, I was born here, I am not going to accept being Haitian.”
Eliza’s reasons for not accepting Haitian citizenship are not clear; maybe she simply feels Dominican, possibly she fears being labeled as Haitian, or perhaps she herself has negative feelings toward Haitians. Whatever it is, she told the lawyer clearly that she would not accept that proposal, and went on to ask him what he thought about trying to get someone else other than her parents to declare her. He strongly discourages it because of the problems with documentation it can bring later on in life. Even though many people have done it here in my town, everybody knows that currently the fiscalias are making it harder and harder for anyone who appears Haitian or has a last name that is not “Dominican” to get their documents.
After the lawyer explained the choice she had: acknowledge that the government labeled her as Haitian and get proper documents, or fight the label but stay sin documentos, Eliza looked as if she was going to cry. She left for a while and came back later with her backpack, ready to do her homework after the meeting. The lawyer kept talking, but she was not listening any more. It seemed as if any hope was lost.
I like to think that we as volunteers all still feel very young. We still have hopes and dreams and we know that we have possibilities ahead of us: jobs, grad school, marriage, adventures. For Eliza, who is my age, without documents she is already old. She has very few opportunities to change the trajectory of her life if she cannot study, work a legal job, or send her children to high school. Her life will involve surviving in this batey raising her children, with the odd job in a “casa de familia” or in Bávaro taking her away from the community for a while. But she will always return, because it is here where she can survive best without documents, with the support of her family and friends. Her only hope is that she might be able to find someone else to declare her children, or that the Dominican laws may someday change.
Dominican laws about documentation are changing slowly, but many do not trust that they will stick, and still others doubt that any of these changes will be implemented. As Peace Corps volunteers we can work on documentation projects, bring people to the fiscal, encourage them to find their documents, etc… But there are some people, like Eliza, whose cases are currently hopeless. When the new Peace Corps director came to visit a fellow volunteer asked him what kind of opportunities are available to RPCVs to stay involved and help the country they served from home. Here is an opportunity. The Dominican government is not going to listen to our pleas for fair residency laws from here, not to mention that we are not supposed to get involved in in-country politics. Nor does the political system here embrace advocacy, letter writing and canvassing nearly as much (if at all) as it does in the United States. But once we return, we have the potential to lobby our politicians and international organizations to pressure the Dominican government into changing the citizenship laws that so blatantly discriminate against Haitian descendents. It is one way to continue helping Eliza and the countless others who we have met here and are struggling due to these discriminatory laws.
For more information on efforts to change the laws, please refer to:
www.mudha.org
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