'I am relieved. My baby is alive and well.'

(Written by Melany Markham (Wednesday, 08 June 2016 08:07) By Guy Vital-Herne)

“I was so desperate. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to feed her some milk we bought for her, but she kept on crying, and crying, all the time. I couldn’t sleep. I was so weak from being sleepless for so long. My mind was racing in so many different directions. I didn’t know what to think and what not to think. I thought she wasn’t going to make it.” This is the testimony of Ellen, a 52-year-old grandmother, as she recollects the painful moments she experienced with 9-months-old Bethniflore.

Ellen lives in the community of Colladère, where World Vision has been working with children and their families to alleviate the effects of poverty. But for the past two years, the people of Haiti have been facing a drought like never before. Many areas of the country, including those of World Vision’s Area Programs, have not received rain for four to six months. This drought, the second in two years, has had a severe impact on people’s food security, nutrition and livelihoods. Crops have been lost, work has stopped and children have become even more vulnerable.

According to a national food security assessment released by the Haitian National Agency for Food Security (CNSA) and World Food Program (WFP) approximately 1.5 million people (300,000 households) are severely food insecure. Most troubling in this report is that 76,000 children are acute malnourished and 37,500 children are severely malnourished. 

Following this daunting situation, World Vision Haiti issued a declaration of emergency and launched a response providing needed help to families and their children that have lost so much due to this climate phenomenon.

Several mobile clinics have been organized in order to identify and support malnourished children. When Ellen came with Bethniflore, nurse Jeanine, measured the circumference of Bethniflore’s arm – a common way to identify malnutrition - and weighed her. The little girl was diagnosed with the worst form of it. “I only saw that she was losing weight, her skin was dry and scaly and she was crying all the time. I didn’t know what was wrong with her,” explains Ellen, clearly upset.

Bethniflore was immediately placed in a outpatient therapy program and administered Plumpy’nut, a peanut-based nutritional supplement designed to quickly counteract the effects of malnutrition. “The nurse gave me the Plumpy’nut and instructed me on how to use it. She also taught me how to properly feed Bethniflore using the various food groups that a child needs to eat to grow healthy.” Nurse Jeanine works with the women in this community and shares different recipes through the weekly feeding session that the mothers organize. Each person brings something to prepare the food and the children are fed together while she instructs the mothers on healthy habits for their children and family. “Now I know how to feed and care for my child,” she adds.

As part of the overall response to the food security crisis, World Vision Haiti distributed seeds peanuts, corn, yucca, sweet potatoes, green beans to more than 4,000 farmers; restocked public health centers with additional supplies of Plumpy’Nut and continues to promote its school-feeding program for more than 64,000 children throughout the Central Plateau. Ellen also received seeds of peanuts and green beans that her husband has planted, hoping that this year they will be able to make some money out of their hard work.

“Today, I am relieved. My baby is alive and well. She’s happy and active. It’s all thanks to World Vision,” shares thankfully Ellen

Adeline, a Camp Sodom Survivor

I was making my way through the narrow alleyways dodging the electrical wires that snaked their way through the concrete houses and house front stalls that cling to the sides of the mountains above Port-au-Prince. The kids were yelling “Good Morning” and waving as I passed, the adults eyeing me with perhaps just a little suspicion.

I was on my way to meet Adeline Eliazard and her three children, Nadine Andrice (17), Ernst Andrice (15) and Jerry Andrice (13). With the help of World Vision International Haiti and funds from World Vision Australia, she and her children have been living in a 2 room concrete bunker type house (maybe 40m²) in this densely packed community since December last year. But the four years before that had been very different and very difficult.

On the 12^th day of January 2010 a 7.0 magnitude earthquake that lasted about 35 seconds destroyed her home and all that she possessed. And due to a lack of access of care, Adeline’s husband died on January 13, 2010. It was a devastating time for her and her young children.  In the days before the quake, Adeline, despite a heart condition that required treatment, was just making ends meet. She sold cooking oils and made enough to keep her children in school, feed them, and together with her husband’s income they were able to afford the rent.

Following the quake Adeline and her kids, with 69 other families, moved onto a plot of land (about 400m²) bordering a ravine at the bottom of the mountain. She salvaged all she could from her home, not much, and with NGO handouts, set her self up in a tent/shack – this was going to be home for the next 4 years.

Their community was named Camp Sodom; I can imagine it being a horrible place to live. The day I visited the camp site which was now empty, it was hot, 45C; no trees, no shade, the ground is rough gravel and dirt – it is hot, very hot. Sometime time later, in the first year, an NGO built a toilet block but there were no other facilities at this camp. During the 4 years, Adeline’s sister helped her with some rice and beans every fortnight or so, but she had no other source of income and she couldn’t afford the fees to send her kids to school – the choice was food or school.

Sometime in 2013, the owner of the land decided he wanted his land back so, to encourage families to move away, he had the toilet block demolished. For almost a year, Adeline now laughs as she tells me the story, “we did the toilet in plastic bags, but not everyone was so thoughtful”. The owner also employed more direct methods to encourage the people to move.

By the end of last year, Adeline was desperate and completely demoralized. She and her kids had lost so much weight that, as Adeline thinks back, “I looked like a stick. I prayed, God deliver us from this place, show me some hope, please God do something to help”.

That same month she saw some new faces in the camp. World Vision International Haiti, with the approval of the Mayor’s office had come to her camp to ‘transition’ people out, close the camp and return it to the owner. This was a government-sanctioned approach that all NGOs are using in Haiti that provides grants for families to find and rent an appropriate rental property for one year and to set themselves up in some kind of small business.

Adeline wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but for the first time in a long time she saw a glimmer of hope. “When I saw and heard Rolande and the World Vision team, I had hope that my children would be delivered and that we could get out of this place. It was the first time I had hope in a long time.”

Today, almost 12 months later, I am sitting with Adeline and her children in the curtained of front entry of her little concrete house on the mountain, looking down on the land that was her home for 4 years; she smiles lots, despite the tears in her eyes as she retells her story, she is happy and she laughs often.

She now has a small business making and selling peanut butter; she has enough income to enroll her children in the new year of school that starts next month and to buy food. Brand new, pressed uniforms hang wrapped in plastic on the wall waiting for the day that she never dared to imagine would come.

With her sisters help Adeline has managed to get medical help for her heart condition and she is doing ok. Her children are happy: Nadine Andrice is a beautiful young woman, shy at the moment with me in the room, but she has friends in the closely packed community; Ernst Andrice is also shy but he sits protectively close to his mum – he has a look of warning, ‘don’t mess with my Mum’ in his eyes; and Jerry Andrice swaggers into the room, braided long hair and a big confident eye-sparkling smile, he slaps my hand in a high five as he sits down next to me.

A little concerned about what happens after the one-year rent grant is exhausted; I ask Adeline where she will get rent money next year. “I don’t know”, she says, “At the moment I only have enough for food and school, and without a husband to help it is tough. But God will provide, I am praying that God will provide”.

When I was here in an earthquake recovery capacity (for The Salvation Army) 4 years ago, the city was a mess, there were about 1.5 million displaced people, today there are reportedly about 55,000 people still living under temporary shelter in camps. But the majority of camps have been closed and cleared. There are public spaces once again available to and used by the people. People are living back in the communities, some in better conditions than they had before the quake. The sides of the roads are lined with smallholder stalls selling fruit and paintings.

But this 5 years of unprecedented investment at best brings Haiti back to where it was before the quake –it is still the poorest country in the western hemisphere with about 77% of people living below the poverty line. The majority of Haiti’s people are still in need of help – perhaps we should join our voices and hope with Adeline’s prayer, “God provide for your people”.

Daryl Crowden

August 2014

Rag Doll in a Cement Mixer

Isle de La Gonave

Like a rag doll in a cement mixer, so was the Tuesday of my visit. The day starts with a pleasant, short 20-minute flight in a Missionary Aviation Fellowship airplane across the water to Isle de La Gonave. We climb steadily through the smog to 4,500 feet only to push the nose to the ground as soon as we reach altitude. On approach to the island we pass over the top of beautiful calm, clear, turquoise water dotted with small fishing boats and coral islands guarding the coast. All of a sudden the dirt strip on the beach is in front of us; it should have been an indication of what was to follow.

About 60km off the coast of the main island La Gonave has seen little investment over the years. There is one carpet road, about 250m long from the harbor to the main town of Anse A Galets. The rest of the island’s 200km road system varies between a few meters of nice smooth sand to extreme, rocky, four-wheel drive. The community I was heading for, Nan Café, is a bone jarring 22km and 2 hours away amongst hills clothed in avocado trees and carved out of limestone.

We have been working in these hill communities since 2002 and over the years we have worked with the communities and other partners to ensure access to schools for about 95% of the children with an increasing percentage of girls staying in and finishing school. When we arrived on La Gonave there were 3 clinics and 1 health care professional for the island’s population of 83,099 people. Today we have established and handed over 9 clinics to the government and there are 22 health care professionals serving the communities throughout the island. The statistics for health problems as a result of poor sanitation have decreased, and household incomes have increased because of improved agriculture practices, fishing techniques, vocational trainings and charcoal production. (Instead of cutting down the whole tree people have learned more sustainable ways of harvesting the wood.)

Much has improved but there is still so much more to do. The school attendance is high, but the percentage of children that can read and write at the appropriate level for their age is very low, much needs to be done to raise the quality of education. I met with 20 young people who told me the stories of their schools and communities. All of them are in or have finished school – an improvement – but then what? With our partners we have provided some vocational training but there are not enough jobs on the island. Despite that the young men and women still want to learn to be plumbers, electricians, tailors and of course, IT gurus.

Port de Bonheur, La Gonave, Haiti

This program has 3 years to go before we close out, but right now, after 12 years in the community we are planning and working toward the transition to sustainability and complete community ownership. Are they ready to continue on their own, can they do it? Their answer: “of course we can, and we must, our families futures depend on it.”

Australian sponsors support about 6,700 children in three development programs, (Grand Lagon, PACODES and Port be Bonheur) on La Gonave. If you are one of them I can tell you, after visiting all three programs, that you can be proud of what the children and their parents have achieved – lives are being transformed and hope is growing stronger.

Return to Haiti

I look out my window and there is a wall of pastel coloured houses climbing up the mountainside, it
looks to me almost like a Lego construction, gone a little wrong. The houses seem impossibly conjoined, wallpapering the mountainside like a 3D image.

I must admit it's not the image of Haiti that I remember from my time here in 2010. I saw them then, and I remember commenting on how so much of this seemingly fragile community survived, but at that time I was concentrating on the destruction in the valley and the city below these houses. A lot has changed in 4 years, both for me and for Haiti.

Four years ago I spent 8 weeks here with the Salvos: an amazing group of people served a community of 20,000 displaced people in Delmas 2 and initiated numerous other recovery and rebuilding programs. (Have a look at my blogs from July/August 2010) Today I returned with World Vision and I come to see the work (about 6,500 children and their families are supported) that Australian's support on La Gonave, an island just off the mainland, and to finalise the transition process for a displaced people's camp in Port-au-Prince. There are still about 100,000 people in temporary housing.

The unprecedented outpouring of funds to the country has ended, the influx of every kind of NGO and Aid provider has retreated, the country that was the poorest in the western hemisphere is still the poorest, the people are still amongst the most vulnerable and there are still people here, very passionate, committed people wanting and trying to make a difference. The Salvos are still working in areas no other NGO will go, including World Vision;  World Vision is still working in some of the poorest and most vulnerable Haitian communities that have been ignored by Haiti's own systems.

As I drove into town from the airport some of my first impressions included: the condition of the roads are still amongst the worst I have ever travelled on; the traffic is still utterly chaotic, at one point on a road two lanes wide 4 lanes are created, 3 going into town and 1 out, before they all try to merge into one to enter a roundabout; there are open areas where 4 years ago there were thousands of temporary houses; there are small piles of rubble, cleared slabs and some new buildings going up where there were huge piles of rubble and there are still white UN vehicles driving like they own the roads.

The problems associated with the 2010 earthquake are innumerable, but amongst them is the fact that many seem to be acting like they have done their bit, they have given much to Haiti and now it should be fine and there are so many other places in the world that need help. But Haitians still need help, children still need access to quality education and health systems and parents still need help to improve their capacity to provide for their children.

That's My Dream - Haiti

James Tabuteau has been living in a ramshackle tent camp in Haiti's capital since last year's catastrophic earthquake wrecked his home, struggling to find enough unskilled temporary work to feed his young family.

But as one of the first graduates of a free vocational training program set up by Haitian-American hip-hop star Wyclef Jean's Yele Haiti foundation, Tabuteau is now a newly minted carpenter with hopes of rebuilding his life and his nation.

"The day of my graduation there was an engineer that was attending the ceremony who told me he was interested in hiring me. So I am now talking to them and I am confident I'll find the job. And they also know I was one of the best students," said Tabuteau, a 25-year-old newlywed with a baby son.

"Now I can have a stable job and you never know, I could soon have my own shop. That is my dream."

Yele Haiti has teamed up with several other organizations to help expand the skilled workforce that Haiti needs in order to recover from the massive January 2010 quake that killed up to 300,000 people and made hundreds of thousands homeless.

A class of 106 trainees graduated on July 29 in construction crafts such as carpentry, masonry and plumbing.

"Now, as a plumber I see my future differently," said 29-year-old Jean Luckson Louis-Jeune, a graduate who said he had never held a job before.

"I finished high school, but I did not have the means to enter a university. But one does not have to be an engineer, agronomist or doctor to be useful, the country also needs the professional I have become today," Louis-Jeune said.

COMING HOME

I walked home from work today!

It was a nice day, the sun was shining through breaks in a cloudy sky and the air was cool. As I meandered from the office I passed beautifully landscaped gardens, green, colourful and heavily scented with spring flowers. I crossed even, flat, un-cratered roads at traffic lights where vehicles where orderly and drivers, for the most part, patient. I walked along sidewalks that were clean and uncluttered - void of street food and markets.

As I walked the three kilometres home, past houses that were intact, clean and obviously well maintained: I was struck by the contrasts to my life of the past 8 weeks. I was walking alone, no military, no Haitian escort and guide; I was outside a compound, a safe zone - and I was alone! The piles of debris and mountains of garbage were strangely absent. The smells of street stalls and clogged gutters were replaced by roses and fresh cut grass. The helicopter that passed overhead was not a huge throbbing military bird sweeping low overhead - it was just the police!

"How do you reconcile your two worlds?" I was asked today. This is home: this comparably sterile, privileged community of order and security. This place where I am free to be who I want when I want. This place where food is plentiful and security is assured. There is no comparison, it is not appropriate to compare the two contexts. I just have to take a deep breath and intentionally recognise that this is my home reality - Haiti was for a time: an amazingly influential time - but it is not my life.

I believe that 'now that I have seen I am responsible' to continue to do all I can to influence others (individuals and organisations) to consider the reality of life in Haiti (Pakistan, Chile, etc) and to encourage and show them how to become partners in 'majority world' development and renewal.

I will not, and cannot forget! I live a life of multiple personalities, but now I must be home, I must be engaged with my family, and in my ministry here.

[So now I sign out for a few weeks - I'm going away on holidays with my family and will not be blogging. This post will mark the end of my Haiti reflections.]

LESSONS FROM HAITI

Today marks the end of another deployment for me. To those that have followed my journey and sent messages of encouragement, thank you.

As I look back on eight weeks in Haiti I am once again humbled by the people that I have met; the lives that I have become part of and the experiences that have forced me to consider my accidental privilege. As I reflect on my deployment the lessons learnt include:

• HOPE: Despite the abundance of physical evidence that surrounds the people they find a reason to hope and believe that better days are ahead. Despite years of neglect and bad representation they hope that the coming elections will change things. Despite a horrific natural disaster, the latest “worst the world has ever seen”, they hope that their Creator, the God they worship vigorously and enthusiastically will again renew and refresh their country.
• WELCOME: Despite having little and having no opportunity to obtain much they make complete strangers like me welcome. “Welcome Home” they said to me, time and again.
• ACCEPTANCE: Not only do they welcome strangers, but they accept them and invite them into their lives and to become family.
• TRUST & RESPECT: Sustainable and indigenous development facilitation is (almost) impossible without these characteristics. If you really want to transform lives you need to be informed by the ‘experts’ - that is the indigenous people, and you need to be willing to not only be sensitive to, but respectful of the customs and idiosyncrasies of the culture, even if you don’t understand. Only in being willing to be a student do you earn the trust and respect of the people, and only in doing that do you earn the right to be a partner in their transformation.
• DISAPPOINTMENT: You can put in place all the safeguards you like, (personally and organisationally) but most probably there will be at least one moment when you are disappointed by the character of humanity. It is that moment that marks your character – does it destroy you and turn you into a cynic, or does it drive you to deal with the disappointment and move on for others?
• KNOW YOURSELF: You need to know when to stop and take time for yourself. Failure to be ‘selfish’ causes you to run the risk that you go home early, or that you become useless to the people that need you at this moment.

There are other lessons; many (but I’m too tired to think of them all at the moment). So as I wait in the airport lounge at Miami International it is with a sense of release that I know I am on my way home. I know that there is so much more that needs to be done in Haiti, but I have done my best, I have worked my smartest and I know that I have made a difference. My Haiti ‘venture is over and soon I get to see my family again.

So, goodbye from me to Haiti: but whilst you may stop reading about Haiti here, can I encourage you to keep informed about this destitute country, and when you can make a difference.

TRUST AND SECRETS ARE ENEMIES

We all keep secrets, most are meant to be harmless, like Christmas presents or nuts and cherries. But in my experience it is very hard to trust a person, (or an organisation), that keeps secrets. Some organisations have made it into an art form; they demand loyalty and obedience but withhold vital information, secrets, ‘for my own good’.

I have written before about the principle of PQT, or Prior Question of Trust, but I do so again because I believe it to be perhaps the single most important ingredient in any relationship – and in my current context – in a relationship with local leaders and an organisation for the purpose of transforming communities and empowering individuals. A lack of trust can be devastatingly destructive, whilst the nurturing of it can be exponentially transformational.

I have observed both aspects of this trust relationship in Haiti. Too many NGOs come to this disaster already convinced that the people cannot and will not help themselves. So in the interest of expediency, and with the excuse of emergency, they import and implement programs without due regard for the need and the long term results. Sometimes this results in a stubborn allegiance to a log framed agenda for the purpose of satisfying and maintaining a donor relationship – rather than admitting the needs have changed and the project is not of benefit to the beneficiary.

One of our partners has succumbed to this donor driven temptation. The money is big, the reputation to be made is important; the relationship to be maintained could be of long lasting benefit (in another disaster). But does that make it right to perpetuate a project that is not ‘building back better’? A project that was needed 7 months ago but is still only just beginning, and will now give the impression that this Soccer Field IDP Camp, this potential slum ghetto, is a permanent housing solution. The secret, ‘a silent insidious agenda’ has been uncovered by the leaders of the community, and now, where there was once trust and respect, there is dangerous anger, unwillingness to cooperate and this impacts on us all.

Into this cauldron of disappointment and distrust walks a short, wiry, Haitian man. A man that has had his own dance of disappointment and disempowerment with well meaning donors. It took almost six of my weeks for this man to trust, but then he started walking alongside me. He started talking with and for me. This relationship of trust with an alongsider began to transform what was a mechanical relationship, a meeting of others into a communion of brothers.

Today when we met with a group that days before had threatened our partners, we sat together, expats and local leader, and he spoke in the heart language of his people and even though the message delivered was not all good news, the people listened, they trusted and respected this insider, this trustworthy man, and they thanked him for his honesty and for ‘no more secrets’.

WHEN ALL WE HAVE IS NOT ENOUGH

The distributions are complete: in the last two weeks we have given over 7,000 cots to about 3,600 families. Today as the last cot was thrown off the truck there was a combined sigh of relief from one or two of us, and a moan of disappointment as about 150 families realised they were missing out. It wasn't ideal - but it was reality.

As we got to the last row in the truck I called the UN Commander over and explained the situation, we looked together at the numbers, and realised that we had the potential for a riot. There were all kinds of suggestions from well meaning people, but the reality was we didn't have enough. But we would of had enough if:

• the 120 people that got through the system and got two lots had not been selfish
• a number of cots had not been stolen from the warehouse and sold for personal gain
• some of our payed employees had not taken cots during the four days

It continues to disappointment me that selfishness is the default of humanity. There are many that fight this urge daily and moment by moment, there are many that are generous and selfgiving - I know many. But in this context when people are fighting for survival there are two sides: I can understand people scrambling to get all they can, but then I find myself annoyed because in doing so they deprive someone weaker, or less fortunate.

As the cots decreased people began to get more and more vocal, the UN soldiers got closer and closer and the atmosphere became electric with the tension and the disappointment. I took cots off people that were not supposed to have them only to receive a look of complete surprise: one member of our staff asked why she couldn't have two: I wanted to say because I have seen you take cots before today. But instead I explained that we paid her to help us, enough for her to buy cots, we didn't pay these others. Her response: you don't pay me enough, give me more!

There are some that will never be satisfied - but in my experience these selfish people are the minority. The overwhelming majority thanked us, shook our hands and smiled - even one or two that got nothing today.

YOU OK, YOU WORK LIKE ME

It's been a long day. It started at 4:45am (as most of my mornings have in Haiti) thanks to the rising warmth, the rooster, the donkey and the cow in the yard behind. But it has been a good day.

Some days you have to make an effort to find the silver lining don't you? It's easier to allow the tough things of living and working to dominate our efforts and impact our moods. It's tougher to make the decision to rise above them and to maybe even use them as the extra fuel you need to transform your attitude and your influence on others.

Today was one of those days for me. I woke knowing it was going to hold some tough spots, and I was tempted to allow myself to be carried through the day by that mood - to operate on auto-pilot and just survive. But, whilst the tough stuff still loomed before me, the people that came across my path today made it impossible for me not to celebrate living and life.

The highlight of my day was a moment when with a few others I was unpacking 1,600 cots and loading them onto trucks for tomorrows distribution. The guys I was working with knew that at the end of the day they were without work. No wonder the afternoon started tense - the boss is here, why - oh no! But after 4 hours of working and sweating together I had stacked as many as most and to their surprise I was still going. It was at that moment that one of them went and got a water bottle and offered me a drink - and said to me - you ok, you work like me!

I had earned their respect! I was for a few hours one of them. And that was a nice place to be.

SHINY SHOES

About 5 years ago my daughter Alexis came into my office at Mont Albert (Melbourne) to tell me that in the little second hand shop up the road there was a pair of new looking Doc Martin boots for sale - for $10.00. (Alexis has an eye for shoes: 43 Reasons Why I Need to Make Some Changes...)

I had been after a pair of these boots for a while – and now they have been my preferred option on every deployment. They are comfortable, I can walk in them for hours, and they are tough, and yet stylish!

But after a few distributions, walking through the dirt and garbage of Delmas 2, they were looking a little worse for wear this morning when my driver, who always has shiny shoes, told me it was time I had my shoes cleaned. So across the road we went to a man that I have seen sitting in the same spot every day I have been to town. He sits on a small wooden stool, with his shoe shine box in front of him and he never says a word. But every one that comes to this building knows him, and they all have shiny shoes.

From under his Dodgers baseball cap his dark eyes looked at my boots, and then glared at me! I’m sure I didn’t imagine the look of disgust – and so the process began. Again no words were shared; with a knock of his brush on the box my right foot came to rest on his box, a brush took away the grime, a cloth took away the dust, a second brush applied liquid polish, a second cloth dried the polish before black nugget was applied by hand and then with another knock the process was repeated on my left boot. The next knock told me it was time to change feet and a third brush shined the boots before a prized piece of felt came out of his shirt pocket to make the boots gleam. After the process was complete and with boots shinier than I have ever seen them he sat back and smiled a gap-toothed smile.

My shoe shine man sits at his post for about 8 hours a day, and in that time he will shine about 50 pairs of shoes, and will make about Gds 300.00 (that is about USD 7.50). He didn’t say much to me, he just made my boots shine, he smiled at me and as I handed him my Gds 20.00 (about $0.50) he said, “Merci, Monsieur”. In that moment I remembered why I was here.

I know it doesn’t make much sense, but it reminded me of a Celtic blessing I have spoken so often which finishes with the words:

May Christ who loves with a wounded heart open your heart to love.
May you see the face of Christ in everyone you meet,
And may everyone you meet see the face of Christ in you.

GUTTED BY SELFISHNESS

I know it happens, but not to us!

Today started well. We arrived at Place de la Paix to find the UN had sorted the people: the site was under control. The people too were, almost patiently, waiting. The worst part about the morning was that the weekend's garbage had not been removed and, with the dead dog in rigor mortis, the site should have been classified as a biological weapon. (It took all my will power to keep my vegemite toast in the right place!)

After a fairly uneventful distribution to about 700 families and before the sun climbed too high in the sky (although it was 38C when we left at 10:00am) we climbed back into our vehicle, into the soothing gale of sterile air-conditioned air and we headed away, quite pleased with our efforts.

That's when the sinking feeling in my stomach commenced. Rumours of theft and profit at not just The Salvation Army's expense, but at the cost of the beneficiaries began to surface. I can't prove a thing, other than that the stock is gone, but the people I trusted, the people I pay to be on our side have apparently let me down. But not just let me down; they have stolen from their own people, for their own profit.

It has left us in an awkward position with promises made. But mostly it has gutted us. You start analysing every little thing; wondering if there is more below the surface. You start wondering if there is anything you could have done better or different to avoid this happening. And of course now I have to decide what I do about my people - I know what I feel like doing! (And I have a few suggestions from US Military personnel that secure our sight.)

BALANCING ACT

It's not easy to make a living in Haiti.

Like all countries there are those that are doing very well: they live in the expensive areas, in the palatial houses with the manicured lawns and drive the expensive cars. Then at the other end of a very long spectrum, or perhaps in a completely different Haiti, there is the man that sleeps during the day on a mound of sand alongside the main road, or the woman that hides under a broken down bus chassis, avoiding the sun, or maybe avoiding other people. And then of course there's the kids... wandering the streets looking for food and water; playing with whatever and allowing their imaginations to fashion it into the toys they know exist, but will never afford.

And amongst the chaos of the roads, in between the UN vehicles, the rich people's shiny rides, the colourful taptaps emblazoned with "Merci Jesus" and other religious clichés, you'll find all kinds of sales people.

Running through the cars vying for business, balancing 'insulated' rice bags or boxes with a slab of ice to keep the bags of water or sodas cold boys and men compete against each other to sell and make between 1 and 5 Gourdes (4 - 12 cents) per sale. Women, equally if not more acrobatic, balance boxes of soap and beauty products. Others sell deep fried banana chips and bottles of washing liquid.

But slow down at an intersection or stop and before you know it a little boy who can't even see in your window or an older man will descend and start dusting your vehicle for you. Some intricate hand gestures are exchanged and a deal is struck, or he goes away looking for someone willing to pay to have a shiny car - for a few minutes.

As this intricate balance of vehicle, sales agent and unbelievably ineffective traffic cop plays out on the roads you pass innumerable street stalls selling bbq chicken, fried bananas, DVDs, TV aerials, books, clothes, shoes and so much more. It seems that everyone is selling the same thing, and yet day after day the same people will set up the same stall.

When you're desperate you will try anything in the attempt to make some money to eat and to live. Haiti is not alone of course in the sense that there are millions of people in many countries doing the same thing - whatever it takes to survive and to give your kids every chance to thrive.

There are no easy answers, there is no quick fix, but from those of us that have so much - we need to keep trying - please don't throw your hands in the air and argue that there is too much need, that there is no way you can make a difference. You can! You can choose one project, like sponsoring a child, or one appeal, and you can give until you can't give anymore.

We, our generations, have the assets to change the world for the better - all we need now is the inclination. 

MEDICAL SUCCESS

I had the privilege today of travelling west to visit a Salvation Army Clinic that has been started in the last month. My job was to make sure the key activities were being met and the budget wasn't being blown. But when you actually hear the stories and see the faces of people waiting for the clinic - it makes you forget the project mechanics (almost).

In the last 4 weeks the clinic has seen an average of 20 people a day, and has treated and diagnosed presentations from sore ears to a heart attack which happened in the compound while the person was waiting to be seen for a sore throat.

Located in the Army's compound at Petit Goave, the clinic operates out of two classrooms from the school (holidays at the moment). Outside one classroom a nice young man takes blood pressures and triages patients; in the room behind a doctor sits behind a bare table and attends to his patients and if necessary sends them next door to the nurse who fills scripts from a pile of medications on a desk behind her.

It may be nothing flash to look at, but this clinic has made a difference to the community. People that couldn't access the normal clinic because of distance or cost now attend here and pay about $ 0.75 for an adult consultation and $0.25 for a child.

This community is one of those devastated by the January 11 earthquake. Evidence of the quake: collapsed buildings, piles of rubble, fields of tents and temporary shelters bear evidence to the impact on this ocean side city. But of course it is many of the people that still bear both the physical and emotional scars. Almost eight months on and tremors (albeit very small) are still felt regularly in these areas, and these people, hyper sensitive to the movement are still afraid.

The money that you gave to earthquake appeals has gone toward things like this project. It is a relatively small project which will run at about USD 20,000.00 for six months. In month five an assessment will be done to see if its continuation is viable and the funding is available.

It's basic and it's low cost, but it's literally life changing.

COTS & GREMLINS

Today was a much better day for distributions. At 8am, when we arrived at the canal alongside the camp it was only about 38C, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, the people were already barricaded behind two UN Military Vehicles, the top of the road was blocked off by another team of Brazilian militia one of whom I swear must have been called Goliath: he was huge and no one was messing with him.

If there were such a thing as Swiss precision in relief good distribution mechanics, all indications were pointing to us pulling it off today. Most of the UN Military was in place, the rest were with the trucks which were 5 minutes out, we were there, and the people were waiting.

It was then that the gremlins began to show their furry faces - the guy that had the key to some of the required material wasn't there and he didn't have a phone - we went without him. Some of our committee decided to try and hold us hostage to their selfish demands - we went without them. (I'm sure I'll hear about that soon!) One of the beneficiary checks (not an important one) was taking too long, our people were playing god - we went without them! As each gremlin was dispatched the Swiss movement began to kick in.

Within two hours of arriving we had distributed 2,486 cots to 1,243 families (plus a few that grew legs and walked all by themselves). The Brazilian military were amazingly effective and helpful today, and with a few adjustments to our delivery mechanics people were shepherded through the process with as much dignity and 'comfort' as is possible in a maneuver like this.

As we drove out of Delmas 2 toward home, we noticed a new stall at the market - apparently there are new cots available for about 2,500 Gourdes!

DOES BEING RIGHT MATTER?

You have to be a jack of all trades in this business. About a week ago an arrangement with a local businessman blew up in my face. I had succeeded in pulling off a minor coup (very minor) in which we would share a facility which we were renting but were not fully utilising: the result was that a large INGO had space to store some much needed relief goods and The Salvation Army would recoup some money from a much more financial organisation. No harm done?


Unfortunately a local business leader didn't agree. I received a letter advising me that I was in breach of all kinds of agreements, (most of which did not exist), but one of which did. It just so happens it was in French and my French is a little rusty. (I can tell my wife I love her!) No excuse, legally, I know, but now unless I rectified the arrangement (kicked the INGO and all their goods out) he would pursue "other options".

Life is never dull is it? It turns out that, as well as my oversight, before approaching me the INGO had been in discussion with the other man to hire his facility, so my arrangement has resulted in him losing business. Phone calls flew in numerous directions, meetings were held in numerous locations, and after a number of negotiations with all parties the man has graciously allowed the arrangement to continue.

It's all very well to have a knowledge of development and emergency management, it would even be good to have language skills, but these skills and abilities must be subservient to a willingness to be a diplomat. There are times when being right is not that important. There are moments when it matters more that the job is getting done than that I am doing it. There are days when feeling good is a luxury. And the instant it matters more that I am known for it - that's the moment I need to give it away.

DISTRIBUTION OF COTS

The radiant heat off the concrete road was already hot enough to be uncomfortable when the Brazilian Military rolled up in support of our three trucks at 8:00am. Today was the first day of a distribution of camp cots that we had been working to get released from the docks for months.

The aim was to deliver 2 cots to each of 2,000 families (half the population) today - it was always going to be a big ask. But despite the heat and the impatient people, things got off to a chaotic, but good start. The people filed through in some order, had their registration cards scanned and collected their 2 cots. As they passed me I was grateful to receive that universal sign of thanks, the thumbs up, or a smile that we had not seen for a while. Some even shouted their thanks as they passed by; at one stage a crowd chant issued from the recipient with the words: Armee du Salut repeated with a clap.

Life was good. We were doing well. This is what it's about... but then all good things tend to come to an end. The impatient shoving got worse, one of the soldiers in crowd control ended up with a split finger somehow, people were starting to test the UN Military resolve.

The Brazilian Lieutenant asked how many more we had to distribute, we were about half way there, but then with a shout from the crowd a man took a dive off the side of the road into the canal about 8 feet below (luckily unhurt) things began to get dangerously out of hand. What was a chaotic but managed distribution was turning sour quickly.

With the military I made the decision to close up trucks and withdraw. Leaving about 1,000 people waiting! But when it gets to the point where lives are at risk, the IDPs, the Militaries, or my teams, there is no choice. We drove away, escorted by the armed militia with a truck and a half full of cots.

So now we regroup, and we de-stress so that Wednesday morning we go again, we try and distribute to the rest of the group we left waiting this morning.

EXCEPT I AM MOVED WITH COMPASSION

As we swung off the tarmac onto the dusty corrugated dirt track into the bush it felt like we had just left whatever civilisation there was behind. My guide and companion, Major Lucien (The Salvation Army Haiti's Leader) knew the track well and his familiarity led to the gusto with which he threw the vehicle around bends and through flooded areas. We flew round a corner only to startle a couple of horses that looked at us like we were in the wrong place, and by this stage I was wondering if we were.

The only life I had seen since leaving the main road to the Dominican Republic were the horses and a couple of startled goats; for as far as I could see, all I could see was salt bush and desert foliage - in the far distance the largest lake in Haiti spread out below the cloud shrouded mountains - it looked idyllic. (Unfortunately the lake is salt water and not much use to the people in the area.)

All of a sudden, as we crested another mound and the 4 wheel drive settled onto all 4 wheels, I spotted the reflection of the sun on some flat tin roofs. There was a village of mud brick, coconut frond, tinned roofed houses in the middle of this nowhere. As we drove through the village, as parched as any desert, Major Lucian commented that we had arrived in "Balan, the poorest place in Haiti that The Salvation Army works".

The Salvation Army has the biggest 'compound' in town which houses 1 school classroom, a canteen ("for when we can get them some food"), a ministers house, and a church. [Photos opposite] surrounded what can only be described as an arid playground. 150 children attend school here.

I wish I could do justice to the emotions that this place evokes in me. (But I'm not good at feelings at the best of times; just ask my wife and daughter!). The walk to the Church was another sensory overload: the sun was already beating down hot and dry, the breeze through the bush was timid, the lizards scurrying away from potential threat, the drum being assaulted in the Church accompanied by the most enthusiastic singing and the spotless white dresses of the little girls running to join the chorus.

Here in the middle of the desert in Haiti, in a village that has no water supply, no electricity, no resources of any kind; in a community that boasts about 1,000 people in the ultimate minimalist environment I joined the 30 or so Salvationists and sang (in Creole): 

Except I am moved with compassion / How dwelleth thy Spirit in me? / In word and in deed / Burning love is my need; / I know I can find this in thee.

It is not with might to establish the right, / Nor yet with the wise to give rest; / The mind cannot show what the heart longs to know / Nor comfort a people distressed. / O Saviour of men, touch my spirit again, / And grant that thy servant may be / Intense every day, as I labor and pray, / Both instant and constant for thee.

The worship this morning went for about 3 joy filled, enthusiastic hours and whilst the people of Balan lack physical resources it was never going to stop the utter conviction they have that God, Creator and Friend, is their constant resource and their reason for living.

YOUR ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER

I have written about this before: in a different country and a different disaster, but once again I have been disappinted by those Christian T-Shirt Evangelsits who appear at every disaster. Haiti has had its fair share, probably for a long time, but certainly since January 12 of "Mission Teams".

The flight I arrived on had it's obligatory collection of bright coloured Mission TeamT-Shirts and cargo pants, and just about every time I pass the airport (which I do daily) Haiti is welcoming another crowd of Christians coming to spend a week putting back together another church or mission centre. (Forgive the cynicism dripping off my furrowed brow!)

Today it was about 20 assorted lime green shirts of varied shapes and sizes, khaki cargo 3/4 length trousers and cameras and ID cards dangling on red lanyards around their necks. In sunflower yellow writing the back of the T-Shirt announced that "my love of Christ compells me to bring hope to the victims of the Haiti earthquake", followed by the name of the Church, and the front of the Shirt reminded me that "God sent his Son because he loves the whosoever".

Now, I have a natural aversion to T-Shirts like that: maybe because I am actually quite a shy guy, maybe because I am a bad evangelist, maybe because I am not willing to be a 'fool or Christ'. But mostly because if you are going to wear the shirt, your actions -the way you show respect and love to others - must match your message.

And today, without going into details, let me just say that the actions of some of these evangelists of hope and love did not match their message. Just because you are white and wearing a lime green shirt does not make you more important than the kid who is trying to get enough to eat by dusting your vehicle as you idle at the lights. Just because you have 'come to do mission' does not make your place and time in the line more precious than the three Haitians that were waiting already.

I am reminded that some people in the world have just enough religion to be dangerous, but not enough religion to love. Either don't wear the shirt, or make sure your actions, at all times and in all circumstances, match your advertisment. (Maybe another reason I don't like the to wear the T-Shirts.)

CHILDREN'S TENT

It is always nice to spend time with the kids. It helps refocus your energy and your intentions.

It's been a day of fighting with adults who seem to be out to get as much as they can for themselves as quick as they can and while they can. But at the end of my day I had the chance again to sit with these kids. All of them come from the Place de la Paix IDP camp. All of them have been living in some pretty ordinary conditions for almost 9 months now. Some of them have learnt to walk in this tent.

But as I arrive, they begin to sing as if I am the only person that matters; they start to dance and act up, and for a moment they make me forget my surroundings, they make me feel like I am the most important person in their world - and you know what, it feels good.

They finish their song and they sit down in groups that make me realise that this process has become their routine. They are handed a biscuit and a drink - and the kids closest to me don't just offer to share, they offer me the lot, trying to force me to take it from them. I swallow hard and fight back the effects of the dirt that just got in my eyes, and I kindly refuse the offer.

It is such a contrast from the meeting I have just come from where the not so hidden agenda was all about what they could make out of the earthquake and the resources coming through their company - to these kids who have nothing and yet will share what little they have.

Thank God for the kids who make you realise why you do what you do, and make you feel good doing it.