Haiti On My Mind

Haiti is on my mind tonight and has been a lot lately. Between releasing the Haley and Cam "Special Report" short story, which is loosely based on my experiences in Haiti, and this news story about busting child traffickers in Haiti and the Mardy family, many of my old memories of Haiti have surfaced. (Not to mention, a lot of conversations with my parents about the shots they need to get to serve their mission in Samoa, which are the same shots I had to get to go to Haiti and Cambodia.)

The news story today really struck a sad chord with me. I have met the Mardy family. I have heard Guesno Mardy speak first-hand about how his son was kidnapped out of the church building, and who he (correctly) suspected did it and why. I have been to one of his orphanages in Port-au-Prince, and helped work on a new, under construction, orphanage outside of town. (The picture above is of the orphanage. The picture below is of me making concrete to build an outside kitchen the orphanage could use until the inside one was functional.)

All of these memories are still emotional and tough to process. The things we saw and did were so far outside the realm of expected and normal that I know I'll never experience it all again. And with the exception of the friends I served with, there is no one who can relate to what we did there. (Unless another civilian knows what it feels like to disembark a plane in the dark and be told that there may or may not be snipers dialed in on you, even though you are only there to bring medical aid.)

I truly wish and pray that I could work in the field of anti-trafficking. My time as a volunteer in Haiti and Cambodia opened my eyes to a world I never could have imagined. I truly believe if people want to "strengthen the family" and "protect" the family, fighting trafficking and helping those the most at-risk for trafficking, is the best way to do that. I wish more people would investigate and educate themselves about where, why, and how often trafficking happens. You might be surprised to learn how close to home it happens. You don't have to be like me and fly off to developing countries to fight trafficking. You can fight it in your own neighborhoods. Because I can guarantee it happens in your town, regardless of how big or small it is.

I miss being of service to the world in such a measurable way. I often wonder if I am just a huge waste of space (single, unemployed, etc). I know I made the right choices when I chose not to serve in the Peace Corps, and I indefinitely postponed moving to China. But my desire to serve in those types of capacities has not lessened.

Now, to just figure out how to be of service again.

Reflections on life-changing moments

There is a funny little misperception out there that I talk about people on this blog. I've had acquaintances or even close friends tell me, "I better not show up on your blog."
Go back and try to find even one post where I talked about someone (in the negative or even a unfair or humorous way) without their permission. You won't find one. I've never done that and I never will.
I want to make that clear before I continue. I would never speak ill of another person on my blog, especially if it gave away identifying information.
There have been key, life-changing moments in the past ten years that I did not share here because I did not want to say anything that may be construed as negative about another person.
Over the next few days, weeks, maybe months, I have decided to start sharing some of those key moments. This blog is, after all, nothing much more than my personal diary, and the parts of my life I have chosen to share. There has now been enough time and space between the original events and now that I feel I can share those experiences without hurting feelings, causing any drama, or even inadvertently "outing" another person's identity.
I chose in the past not to share these experiences as they happened because I knew other people might be able to put vague references and puzzle pieces together to identify the players. There are some past events that were hard and awful to go through, and my side of the story was never shared. But I am ready to do so now. This first experience is the only one where I think the person in question will be identifiable. I have not taken more pains to hide her identity because she has passed away.

Many moons ago I had a wonderful friend. She was, even at her best, a fair-weather friend. Some days we were thick as thieves, the next, she couldn't be bothered to pick up the phone.  Her hot-cold attitude drove me crazy. And if everything we did was not about her, she was going to make me miserable for "forcing" her to do something else.

When she and I first met I was immediately turned off by her snotty, snobby, superior attitude. She had once read the expression, "turned up her nose," in a book. She took it literally. I have very clear memories of her literally "turning up her nose," and walking around with her head tipped back, her chin sticking out, and her nose pointed to the ceiling. She would purse her lips and walk with her hands clasped at her chest when she did it. It was comical. She would tell me eventually that she was "being haughty." We were only about 15 I think and I didn't know what "haughty" meant- at least not the way she pronounced it- "hofty." I had to ask her to clarify it for me, and she laughed and laughed in one of the most snobby, condescending tones I have ever heard. (And it was a laugh I would hear often over our friendship.)

I remember that moment exactly- her high-pitched, fake, laugh. We were in her bedroom. She was an only child (sort of- there were half and step-siblings who did not live there), and somehow had connived her way into the master bedroom. Her parents slept in a different room. She had a queen-sized canopy bed and a chaise lounge. She loved to tell me to sit on the "chayzzzzzz." I didn't mind doing so. It was comfortable.
Even after her definition of "hofty" I was still confused. How had I never heard of this word before and she had? She was behind me in school and English was my one good subject. I noticed a dictionary on her desk and picked it up. I asked her to spell "hofty." She condescended and spelled it out slowly, letter by letter. By the time she finished spelling it out, I knew the word and the meaning. I didn't need the dictionary. But before I could put it down, she snatched it from me, intending to mock my stupidity further.
I tried to correct her- not to put her down and make myself out to be the smarter one, but because if you are going to walk around with your nose turned up "haughtily," and tell people so, you better know how to pronounce it.
She was so mad that I would dare correct her (which I only barely did), that she threw the dictionary (a big, blue, hardback) across the room and broke something.
It was the only time I have ever seen someone do that in real life. Sure, I have seen it on television or movies plenty of times. It sounds and looks dramatic. I have no doubt it was a move she had learned in a book or a movie. I remember thinking at the time that she had no idea how to be authentic. Everything she did was calculated, rehearsed, and gleaned from pop culture. I wondered how long it would be before she would act normally with me.
After the book throwing incident I went home. I told my parents I didn't want to go back. They had set me up with her in a way and encouraged me to try again. She had had a rough life and needed some friends (she was new in town).