Facebook reminded me. This month 8 years ago, I was leaving my 4-month stint in Sierra Leone, heading back to southern California. Honestly, it feels like it was WAY longer ago. That time was the end of my sojourn in Africa, but it felt like the start of many things. In Sierra Leone, I got to read and discuss challenging books on Christianity and poverty with awesome people; a year later I joined the MA program at Eastern University outside of Philly, where I got to - again - read, discuss books, and share life experiences with fascinating people; and now, I am two years into my term with MCC in Haiti, another opportunity that has allowed me to cross paths with thoughtful, service-oriented folks who come from all walks of life. I don't read as much while here, but life has provided great people with whom to process life and faith (Pub Church). So today I think of Sierra Leone, and my fellow sojourners there (some of whom are pictured below.)

These are the only pictures I could scrounge up from my laptop in Haiti, and my final blog entry from Freetown, dated June 12, 2008:

"It’s noisy outside"

It's noisy on the streets outside. But, then, it's always noisy on the streets of Freetown. Except for the cool, dark nights passing by the lonely cemetery in Murray Town. Or when you climb the windy hills and sit among the gray and green cotton trees in Wilberforce and Hill Cott. Old, clapboard houses and long stone walls splashed with bright, advertising colors.

But the noises aren't all bad. Mangoes for sale. Sheeptoe, guinea, red cherry. Oh my mouth is watering; I will miss that sweet, juicy taste available morning, noon and night. Cold water, peanut cakes, pineapple, biscuits. All fresh produce! Everything you need so easy to pick up on the side of the road, just picked from fields in the provinces.

The sound of hard-working individuals. Men balancing twenty foot boards on their heads, weaving in and out of taxi and pedestrian traffic, women toting baskets of coal, two, three, four... no, seven baskets high! So graceful as they take care not to fall through the cracks in the cement slab sidewalk, into the running sewage below.

The splatter of rain. It rained today. The sound muffles the blare of honking horns and vendors announcing their goods. Soft blankets of water left us scurrying for shelter: a wooden bench offered by a crew of firemen seeming anxious for distraction. They ushered us to the junction, securing a taxi with a "fine price" for our desired destination. So willing to help; always a kind smile on the streets here, in response to our attempted Krio greetings.

A walk through Kroo Bay leaves a trail of squealing kids, all crying "Aporto! Aporto!" the Temini word for white person. If not "Aporto!" then "white man! white man!" Won't be hearing that sound again for awhile...

I love this city. I love its character. It is a part of me now, and I will never forget this town, nor this beautiful continent.

Our last weeks were awesome. For our final week of tutoring we gathered all the kids in the staff house on Dillet Street and showed them 6 episodes of the BBC series "Planet Earth." The films are stunning and it was so fun to see the kids' eyes widen in amazement at the totally unbelievable animals and insects and landscapes. They often shouted "Eh!" in unison as they saw clips of how big and diverse and stunning this world is. It was so cool.

And then, last week, the Servant Team took our debriefing retreat "upcountry." We went to a National Park called Outamba-Kilimi, past Kamakwie village on the Guinea border. It took about 10 hours and 3 modes of transport to get us there. We were IN THE JUNGLE. With white monkeys on our campsite, hippopotami, big crazy bugs straight from outer-space, and yes, MAMBA snakes (we just saw one). But it was awesome. We got the real upcountry experience, had good time to reflect on our four months here, and came home with literally hundreds of bites on our legs. ;)

And last night, we said good-bye at Lighthouse. The kids gathered round and took pictures with us, prayed for us, and said "thank you" in various ways. It's so difficult saying good-bye. I didn't really know what to say, because I don't really know if I believe that I won't be seeing them again.

Now, I'm about to fly off! I must go, but I am so glad that my leaving won't mean I am cut off from Freetown. I have friends here now, and there's no way I can forget this place, because it has blessed me and, I hope, changed me!

An Advocacy Learning Tour

Last week, MCC Haiti hosted its third Advocacy Learning Tour in recent history. What is an Advocacy Learning Tour? It is an opportunity for representatives from MCC's advocacy offices (in Ottawa, New York, Washington DC) and the regional policy analyst to deepen their knowledge of Haitian culture and the political landscape.

This year, participants enjoyed the beauty of Haiti's countryside and met with local experts on issues ranging from food sovereignty, migration crises at the border, reforestation, and Haiti's ongoing electoral process. Here is a photographic tour of our week:

Downtown Port-au-Prince. Anna Vogt.

We took a brief tour of downtown Port-au-Prince on our first afternoon together. This was a perfect treat after we had spent a few hours learning about Haitian history and recent social movements in Haiti from the educator Nixon Boumba. The streets of Haiti are popping with color, as evidenced by the public bus above, and the downtown plaza of Champ Mars boasts several statues and monuments to Haiti's heroes. The towering grey structure above was built by former President Aristide to commemorate Haiti's bicentennial in 2004. Interestingly, the torch on top of the monument was never lit.

Meeting with CODDEMIR and Pedro of Centro Bono in Malpasse. Ted Oswald.

A Saturday trip took us to Haiti’s nearest border crossing with the Dominican Republic, Malpasse, where we met with two civil society groups who are engaged in monitoring the ongoing migration crisis between the two countries. CODDEMIR (left and fourth from right) partnered with MCC to distribute material aid to a camp along the border. Pedro Cano (center) of Centro Bono monitors Dominican migration policy and educates migrants on their fundamental rights. Over lunch, our group learned how we can effectively advocate for Dominicans and Haitian migrants who are suffering from unjust immigration policies.

Community tree nursery in Kristan. Anna Vogt.

No learning tour is complete without paying a visit to MCC’s countryside office in Dezam, where we have partnered with local communities for thirty years to implement a multi-faceted reforestation program. Our group was greeted with songs and then led to the outskirts of Dezam where we witnessed the success of one of many MCC-supported tree nurseries. The tree saplings above are just a handful of 35,000 saplings at this one nursery site. This month, nursery committee members will distribute all 35,000 trees in one morning, so that community members can replant them in their own gardens, improving their family’s income and food security for the future.

Buillon. Anna Vogt.

Every cross-cultural experience comes with new flavors and aromas. One highlight of a learning tour is the immersion in Haitian cuisine. Over the week we sampled Haitian meatballs, fried chicken with carrots and string beans, fresh fish, Haiti's famous squash soup, and pikliz. Fresh lime, papaya, grapefruit, and mango juices greeted us at lunchtimes. Above is the typical dinner dish buillon made by Lucilia, the cook at our Dezam office. Made with dumplings, potatoes, boiled plantains, optional beef, bell peppers and spices, it's a great way to unwind and top off a fulfilling day.

 

Kabay. Anna Vogt.

On a misty morning we hiked to the farming community of Kabay, where MCC has worked with 160 farmers to distribute seeds and develop personal gardens, bringing much needed life to this drought-affected area. Sixty-seven farmers came together for their regular meeting and for peanut seed distribution. We spent part of our week discussing the USDA’s recent decision to ship 500 metric tons of peanuts to Haiti for school feeding programs. National and international groups have since expressed concern about this shipment undermining Haiti's local peanut market. Seeing firsthand how this news unsettled the farmers in Kabay, who rely on peanuts as one of their most valuable crops, gave us fresh ideas on how we could advocate further on behalf of Haitian farmers.

Cheche Lavi - Seeking a Better Life in Haiti's Cities

Herby and Paul are Haitian migrants, but they have never crossed an international border. Their stories are ones of internal migration, the most common form worldwide. At a loss for opportunities in their hometowns, they left Haiti’s countryside to “cheche lavi” – seek a better life. Here are their stories. (Re-posted from MCC LACA blog.)

Paul Gregroire and Herby Sanon. Ted Oswald.

Herby Sanon is thriving in the Delmas 33 section of Port-au-Prince, Haiti’s bustling capital city. Yet it wasn’t always this way.

He was born in Saint-Louis de Sud, a small, seaside town in Haiti’s south. In his youth, his parents fished, farmed, and did domestic work to support Herby and his six siblings. His family’s resourcefulness afforded the opportunity to get a foundational education, but he ran into a ceiling: to fulfill his dreams of advancing to university, he had no choice but to move elsewhere.

Pooling together their meager resources, Herby’s parents wagered on sending their second-to-last son to school three hours away where an aunt agreed to house him. At the age of 19, Herby left for the ever-expanding metropolis of Port-au-Prince.

The beginning of Herby’s story is like millions of others, both in Haiti and around the world. Over the past few decades, decreasing agricultural production, unfavorable trade policies, poor quality education, and extreme poverty have created a rural exodus from the countryside into Haiti’s cities – Port-au-Prince being a chief destination.

In 1970, a mere 20 percent of Haiti’s population lived in cities, rising to 60 percent in 2013. In the period from 1982 to 2010, Port-au-Prince’s metropolitan area swelled from 800,000 people to 2.8 million – over one-quarter of the country’s 10.6 million population.

Rapid urbanization is not unique to Haiti, nor to the Latin American and Caribbean context. As of 2014, 54 percent of the world’s population lived in urban areas, up from 30 percent in 1950. North America, Latin America and the Caribbean are among the most urbanized regions in the world, with 82 and 80 percent living in cities, respectively.(source: UN World Urbanization Prospects Report)

An aerial view of Port-au-Prince. Over half of the city’s population has migrated from elsewhere in the country. U.S. Navy photo by Senior Chief Mass Communication Specialist Spike Call [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Port-au-Prince, like many large cities in the Global South, is ill-prepared for this kind of growth. Municipal infrastructure is non-existent in some neighborhoods. Port-au-Prince also lacks space. It is bound by the ocean and a mountain chain limiting the land available for expansion. Newcomers inevitably stay with family or seek low-rent houses built in areas prone natural disasters. This type of unregulated growth contributed to the destruction witnessed on January 12, 2010 when a 7.0 magnitude earthquake hit Port-au-Prince and killed more than 220,000 people, leveled 300,000 homes, and sent 1.5 million people into makeshift displaced-persons camps.

This is when Herby’s life changed radically.

“When I came to Port-au-Prince, it was not a good life for me,” Herby says. In the three years before the earthquake, Herby settled into a grinding daily routine: walk two hours to reach school by 8am; return home by 7pm; study late into the night; then crash from the fatigue. His aunt was just as busy, working long days at a factory.

When his house was damaged by the quake, Herby settled in Izmery Park, a nearby soccer field-turned tent encampment. He began to volunteer, managing a composting-waste sanitation program introduced by an international organization called SOIL. His volunteering eventually led to a job.

Educating communities on sanitation tapped into Herby’s passion to serve others and contribute to Haiti’s development. Over five years later, he manages SOIL’s composting-toilet social business and is able to send his family members weekly support, including enough to help his mother build a new home. He is a source of pride for both his communities – Delmas 33 and Saint-Louis de Sud – and the type of success story that works like a magnet to pull others to the capital.

But Herby’s success is not the norm. Most migrants in Port-au-Prince work hard for meager and sporadic earnings. Indeed, 70 percent of the national population earns less than the daily minimum wage of US$5.11.

Take Paul, for instance. Like Herby, Paul comes from a coastal town in southern Haiti. At the age of 11, he was sent to live with a cousin in Port-au-Prince and soon after began work as a mason.

Thirteen years later, he is still just getting by. “The only thing I like about Port-au-Prince is the work,’’ Paul says. In some seasons, Paul can work consistently for a few months at a time, but right now, he has gone two months without any leads. He relies on friends to call him when they learn of jobs, and his other four siblings who have also come to the city to make ends meet. Paul hasn’t re-created ‘’home’’ or established close community connections. He lives alone, and admits to keeping to himself most of the time, staying “off the streets’’ so as to not fall in with the wrong crowd.

Teenagers walk to school in Cap-Haïtien, Haiti’s second largest city in the north. Alex Proimos [CC License]

Despite the challenges faced in big cities, leaving is unrealistic. Paul admits he would return to Belle-Anse in an instant if there was stable work, but the fact city-dwellers find opportunities more often and earn 20 percent more than their rural counterparts for the same jobs anchors him in Port-au-Prince.

For Herby, it is much the same. Though he loves his job with SOIL and his new community in Delmas 33, he hopes to return home, but only as a place to retire and start a community enterprise once he has earned enough money, gotten married, and raised a family in the capital.

Haiti’s countryside remains at the heart of Haitian culture, tradition, and imagination. Society will continue to struggle with the cultural and familial disruptions that rural-to-urban migration creates as new waves of people like Herby and Paul leave their homes, hoping to make the elusive opportunities they seek a reality.