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.

HONEY AS AN ANTI-CORROSIVE

As I reflect on my day it is pouring again, I almost fell off the chair as a clap of thunder that sounded a felt like a jet breaking the sound barrier shook the house and the lightning that followed lit the house like a magnesium flare. Almost instantly the temperature has dropped and there is a cool gale blowing in the windows… I realise that the camp populations will hate this, but from a purely selfish point of view, the rain and the coolness is refreshing after a long hot day.

I have spent another day driving the predictably frenzied roads. If it wasn’t for the sheer anarchy and overwhelming stimulation of oncoming tap-taps, potholes the size of Texas, motorbikes buzzing in all directions like angry wasps and of course the ubiquitous UN, travelling in Port-au-Prince called almost be termed chaotic.

I had a meeting today with a company that we have not had a great deal of cooperation from. They have been ‘representing’ us in the fight to release some containers of relief goods which have been in port since April. They have requested, and we have supplied a forest load of papers; numerous people have tried to scrape away the oose of bureaucracy; and over time the relationship has become close to caustic. So after numerous phone calls, today was my turn to venture in and try to knead a result out of, what I was told were some overly officious and self-important technocrats.

They looked up to see me walking towards them and I swear you could see the quills spring out and create a simultaneously protective and offensive barrier. Apparently I wasn’t the first NGO in to do battle today and before I could say ‘sakpasse?’ (how are you? which usually makes people smile) the files were out and the ceiling was suddenly the most fascinating specter.

It was then that my companion, who had been here before, began to return the freeze, but noticing a magazine featuring cricket on the desk I asked if the man played, and before long we were talking about Steve Waugh and Alan Border. The conversation moved on to other sports including the Soccer World Cup and before long it just happened to swing around to how important it is to try and get the sporting venues back for the Haitian people; and wouldn’t you know it, if only we could get some of the things in the ports out and to the people, we may well be able to move people from the Soccer field where our IDP camp is located!

We walked out of the office with a new promise, (I’m not naïve enough to believe its anywhere near a guarantee), but for the first time in months, aided by our new Franchise certification, we have the papers signed, sealed and on Monday, delivered.

This interaction reminded me again of the truth of that old adage: you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. When people take the time to connect, to identify common ground and to treat each other with respect, rather than stand on their status and throw their moral indignation, we, together have the potential to make things happen.

TRUST, RESPECT AND INTEGRITY

This week has been a tough one (so far). Not because of sad stories or terrible sights (all though there have been those), but because of difficult decisions, intense negotiations and the resultant actions.

But even in the instances of conflict; when emotions were high, tempers were flaring and the air was thick with fear and frustration there were micro-glimpses of grace and milli-moments of hope. These instantaneous moments of encouragement were enough to keep me focused on the big picture, not because I was right - but because I was not alone.

Since arriving I have been trying to win over the trust and respect of local partners. It has been a tough gig because some feel like they were ignored, trodden on and bullied by imported 'professionals'; people who made it clear that they knew best and that being informed by local knowledge and relationships was not a priority. (Some may not feel this accusation justified - but that is irrelevant - it is how the locals felt!)

It has been a long slog of meetings and meals, conflicts and concessions but it all came good this week when we stood united, and together we fought down the fears of abandonment and the frustrations of broken promises. We were like a well practiced doubles partnership as we took it in turns to back each other up and keep the rally alive long enough to finish the match off with what looked like a well rehearsed play.

The ultimate compliment came, for me, when the day after, my partner said that he appreciated the way I finished off the meeting; the way I honoured his people and yet stood firm and fair; it proved, he said, that he could trust me and my word.

Deep lasting transformations (not surface level wardrobe changes) occur when there is a mutual atmosphere of TRUST and RESPECT. Without these you will not transform society or individuals. Without these essentials of RELATIONSHIP you are just a 'resounding gong' - you will make an impact, and there may be some change - but it will fade away in the winds of confusion and fear. On the other hand, a relationship of trust, respect and integrity will take time, and it will be messy - but when it connects it not only mobilises an individual - it can transform a world.

PLEASE, FIND MY SON

It is over 7 months since the earthquake that shook Haiti entombed over 200,000 people beneath tonnes of concrete and steel. And today as the machinery and the people scrape away the mountains of debris in Port-au-Prince they don’t stop when they see a human bone or two, the machinery and the work only stops if there is an unmistakable skeleton; whole, or almost!

International Agencies and their workers are not allowed to remove remains, a member of the relevant government agency must be present to verify and catalogue the remains. Only once this has been done can the bones be removed and the clearance works continue. It is a callous reality, but the fact is that in Delmas (where the Salvos are working) and I imagine in other sections of the city too, there is not many debris piles that do not contain the remains of people who long ago were counted as dead but unaccounted for – and to stop work for one or two bones has become unrealistic.

The Salvation Army is not involved in this debris clearance work, but yesterday I spent some time with some men that are. They are big, tough construction type guys, but as they told their stories and visualised their work their eyes revealed a sadness and a deep pain that they were finding hard to deal with. Today they will begin to clear the remains of a house where they know the body of a young boy is buried. The father has told them stories of his little boy; toys and reminders have already been found and collected, but today as he watches them work, he has asked that they do all they can to uncover his boy whole so that he can bury him properly.

Work like this continues daily in many sections of the city – but there are many areas that even now are still untouched - the very obvious signs of death ever present. Some commentators and 'experts' have told us that people should be going back to 'green' houses by now, "they should be forced to go back": and some of them could, and some of them have gone back to areas that are cleared and reserviced - but would you go back into a neighbourhood with only yours and one or two other houses standing and everywhere you look signs and smells of death?

LETTING PEOPLE DOWN

I know I’m not alone in this, but do you remember how you feel when you believe you have let people down? I feel like that tonight!

I had to propose a strategy for our work here in Haiti that required me thinking rationally and, in many ways, unemotionally. I had to argue the strategy, I had to defend it and explain it to the decision makers (as I should). And then when we agreed on the strategy, when the theoretical had been examined to within an inch of its hypothesis I had to implement it.

That’s when the theoretical becomes personal. Today, when I had to stand before a group of earthquake survivors and deliver the news, and outline the strategy – when I had to watch the looks on their faces and see the reactions in their eyes, that’s when I needed to know why I believe that what I am doing is the right and best thing.

When they reacted by yelling at us, as many would; when they accused us of broken promises, as some do; when they pleaded their case, as we all would – that’s when the hypothetical hurts.

Rationally I believe the decision is right, emotionally I feel like a real lousy person. No matter how good the strategy, no matter how well researched and examined, today I felt like I let people down that relied on me and needed me to be on their side.

WHAT ABOUT DEPENDENCY

In the next couple of weeks some of the IDP camps around Port-au-Prince will begin to close down. Many of the camps are on private land and the owners need their land back to remain self-supporting. So, now that the Government's 3 month ban on evacuating camps is finished INGOs are trying to work out how we relocate hundreds of thousands of families.

But like many things in this humanitarian disaster world not everything is plain and uncomplicated. For example, we know that there are people that have moved out of our camp because they have a home to which they have returned, and so they do at night. But then in the morning they return to their shelter in the camp - just in case there's a distribution. Some of them need the support still, but others, (like the 'gamblers' I mentioned yesterday are abusing the system).

Surveys have been done on most camp inhabitants and people's houses have been labelled: Green - they could go back; Orange- they could go back with some support to repair damage; Red - their house is destroyed.

So, now has come the time when the NGO Community and the Government together have agreed that it is time to ask the 'Green' people to go home; assessments are being carried out to determine a viable means of helping the 'Orange' people repair their houses and move out of the camps. It leaves the problem of the 'Reds' but together with others we're working on that.

The issues that we are dealing with here are obviously numerous, but perhaps most sensitive amongst them is the issue of dependency. If the NGO community continues to distribute supplies and develop temporary camps then we make them permanent. And for many the temporary is already better than the places they were in before. In fact many families have moved into IDP camps from the country areas because they heard there was free food and water etc.

In our camp, not on private land, there are about 4,000 families - many from one of the most disadvantaged neighbourhoods - we cannot, and the government will not, let the camp continue indefinitely, but how do we make sure they get to live life with dignity and yet not be the means by which a completely dependent and unsustainable community is established on a soccer field?

GAMBLING FOR SOAP

Last week one of our Partners in Camp development decided to distribute some materials to the IDPs in Place de la Paix. They did most things right: they had our committee distribute the vouchers to about 1,800 familes; they contacted the UN Security and arranged escorts and security for the day. They got there early on the day; the area was secure, the route in and out was clear and their station was set up. Soon after 'orderly' distribution began: each family was to receive 12 bars of soap worth about 80 Gourdes (that's about USD 2.00).

It became obvious very soon after the distribution commenced that the 'orderly' part of the event was under threat. There were raised voices in teh crowd, and that was very quickly followed by some scuffles: and then it happened, some began throwing rocks at the NGO personnel and the UN Military Escort. When the first rock hit a Brazilian UN Soldier on his blue helmet you could tell that this was not going to be a fair fight!

The UN Militia quickly surrounded the NGO personnel and escorted them to their vehicles and down the cleared exit route as the first shots rang out. Firing into the air the crowd very quickly got the message - the distribution was over. (No one was hurt.)

So what happened? Allegedly (no doubt actually) certain 'business men' approached a number of IDPs and offered to buy their vouchers for between $5 and $7 each. Some had bought 10 or more vouchers - unfortunately they didn't know, and didn't think to ask, what the distribution items were. When they discovered that their gamble had cost them, they were, shall we say, unhappy.

Lessons to Learn: As The Salvation Army has always said: Gambling is not a good habit to get into. (Especially not if you take your losses out on heavily armed Brazilian soldiers after their team has lost the World Cup - Not Happy, Jan!) And, maybe you should get yourself a blue helmet!

MINISTRY OF PLANIFICATION

It is a real place and I spent most of my day there today. What used to be the US Embassy (before they moved to a grander more 'Fort Knox' like building) has become the new home of a number of Government Ministries after the January 12 earthquake levelled their offices next to the Presidential Palace.

As part of the process of importing container loads of relief goods The Salvation Army has been undertaking the lengthy process of obtaining a Franchise Certificate. This will allow the Salvos to be on a priority list for importing, and on many occassions waive the customs duties and taxes. You would understand it is an important accreditation - and today - after months of paperwork and stress by many people before me WE GOT IT!

The promise of the Ministries of Planification and Finance is to set up a sub-office at the port which will process these import issues and their hope is that, providing the paperwork is in order, containers for INGOs with a Franchise Certification will be processed within one day.

Great news! But also more work as it means the potential arrival at our warehouse of 8 more 40 foot containers containing food, tents and other relief items. Which means more distributions. So it looks like the team is going to be busy - but good busy.

Thank you Minister of Planification (who didn't look anything like Voldemort for you Muggles our there) for listening today.

MEET EDWEESSA

Late last year Edween and Pauleene got married and moved into their first house together; they were excited soon after to discover that they would also welcome their first child into their lives. They celebrated Christmas together, hosting their families at their place. Life was tough, but it was good!

Edween was employed by the Railways as a porter and whilst he didn't make much he had a job and an income - he was one of the lucky ones.

Then on January 12 this year, when Edween was at work and Pauleene was home, the earth shook. Edween watched as a 15 foot high concrete wall fell on market sellers, killing hundreds; awhilst Pauleene ran as their house fell down around her burying most of their meagre belongings and destroying the furniture they had managed to buy together.

Edween and Pauleene moved back into his parents house, Edween lost his job because the railway station was damaged and Pauleene was 3 months pregnant.

Soon after that time Edween began to work as a driver for The Salvation Army's International Emergency Services in Haiti, and on July 23 (8 days 'late' and adding much to the stress levels of an expectant and impatient father) a beautiful little girl, Edweessa was born - mother and baby were healthy. The family is happy, they are alive, they are well, but life is still a day by day existence.

But today was a good day: thanks to the Children at Joyville in the Phillipines, (Manager: Captain Debbie Serojales) who raised some money to assist someone that had been affected by the earthquake I had the privilege of having the family over for lunch and then taking them out shopping. We were able to buy some much needed baby items for Edweessa, some nutritional supplements and 'luxuries' for Mum and Dad even got a couple of 'luxuries' too!

Edweessa says thanks kids, and thank you for allowing me to make some people very happy.

THE UNFAIRNESS OF MY PRIVILEGE

There’s often moments of guilt in this business – for me anyway. That moment when I realise how much I have and how privileged I am. The latest moment came for me this morning.

I was sitting on the verandah of our house having breakfast; I had just made two pieces of toast spread with that most delicious of spreads, vegemite (brought from home) and grape jam, and a cup of black tea. In that moment I was struck with the now indelible images of the families in our camp – little grubby half naked kids running to me, calling out ‘hey Joe’ and asking for bags of water, for food, for money. Reaching up to grab my hand and walk with me, touching my arm to see what this hairy white skin feels like, stand still long enough and they reach down to lift up my trouser legs to see if it’s the same down there! The older teenagers ask for food and a soccer ball. The Mum’s ask for milk, and for food. The Dad’s ask for food, water and ‘cash for work’.

As you walk through the camp you can’t help but be struck by the ingenuity of the people. In the context of a mass camp, there are some impressive structures. Some have laid concrete to strengthen their footings and make their tin shelters water proof, (at ground level anyway) most have hacked into either the mains power or our generator power to hook up lights and some TVs. One man has built a theatre by enclosing his 12” TV and Video player and charging people to come and escape the camp while watching movies.

But all of them last night endured another night of heavy rain, in a camp with inadequate drainage and as the light breaks on them this morning it’s to another day of cleaning out the mud, drying out the clothes, saving what food they can. They will again take their water containers to one of two communal water bladders where they will line up to get their water, and most will do that twice if not more in the day. Mum’s will try and clean their kids. Some kids will make their way to the Concern tents where they’ll join with others to sing, dance and do craft – and get biscuits and juice.

And as they do that, every single day; I will wake in my dry bed; I will get some bread from a fridge that works most of the time (power permitting), I will run around my cold water shower trying to get wet, I will boil water, which I buy in bottles, on a gas stove and I will have a few moments of solitude before my day begins in which I can try and centre my thoughts and prepare myself for another day. I will go downstairs to the office and someone has made a pot of coffee, I will have a light lunch, and later tonight, dinner prepared for me.

I am able to rationalise the unfairness of my privilege but I am not able to forget it. Maybe that’s a good thing?

PLATFORMS OF THE MOST HIGH

[As I look out my bedroom window I look to the high mountains; often shrouded from sight by mist, but ever present. It is as I reflect on this reality that I presume to speak for the people of Haiti and offer this prayer and pronouncement of hope.]

Mine is the land of high mountains, Ajiti.
Where do I find God?
I live in the poorest of lands,
Where do I find hope?
When my land quakes and the buildings fall,
my people die -
Where do I find tears?

I look around me and I see the high mountains
But angry scars now gouge their sides;
Even these platforms of the Most High,
The magnificent symbols of my land,
These handiworks of God are changed –
But not forever –
They, like me, will recover;
Together we will heal.

And there is my Hope found,
There in the Creator’s handiwork
I find my reason for believing that
God has not forgotten me.

My God who hears the heavens and the earth
Will not let me be forgotten,
My Creator who does not engineer mistakes
Will not overlook me,
The Architect of the universe
Will not be found sleeping!

My Hope and my Guide watches over me
The earthquake has not destroyed me
The hurricanes will not defeat me.
Despite appearances
My Protector is watching out for me.

You may ask – where is your God now?
And I will answer:
In my people, [In you?]
In my high mountains,
In my Dreams and in my Hope.

THERE WILL BE HOPE

Place de la Paix used to be the venue for one of Haiti’s most passionate past times, soccer. Home to the Black Eagles soccer team this sporting venue was the congregating point for hundreds of people seeking to escape the daily grind of life in Delmas 2.

Delmas 2 is one of the most infamous ‘suburbs’ in Haiti; the leader of The Salvation Army in Haiti, (Major Luciene Lamartiniere) who lived in the area for over 13 until on January 12 this year his house caved in around him, says that it was not unusual to hear gunshots, to come out of church and see dead bodies in the road. But despite the reputation Delmas 2 has been home to The Salvation Army’s Children’s Home, School, Clinic, Church (Corps) and Headquarters for over 30 years. The Salvation Army is known here, and respected.

So when, after the earthquake, other NGOs refused to enter the area ‘because it was too dangerous’ The Salvation Army was already there, and continue to serve the community. Today the soccer field and the surrounding Plaza are home to about 20,000 people. Most used to cheer for their soccer heroes on this pitch; this morning, after very heavy rain again last night, many were trying to dry out belongings, and throw out stagnant muddy water.

Right down the bottom of the camp, fenced off, are two large tents. Managed and staffed by Concern these are the Child Friendly tents. Here, this morning, there were about a hundred kids and when we walked in it was as if the King had arrived. The greeted (yelled at) us and sang the songs that they had learned about hygiene, and as I sat with them they offered me their High Protein biscuits that they had just been given for lunch. A tent full of beautiful smiles, gorgeous kids, reaching out to touch ‘le blanc’ and to welcome him into their space.

Here in the poorest country in the Western hemisphere, in the middle of the most infamous suburb in the city, at the bottom of the second largest (by population) IDP Camp in the country, right alongside the mass grave of who knows how many earthquake victims, are the reasons we do what we do. These kids – they need food, clean water, safety, education, love and hope. Most other things are luxuries and I am humbled by their acceptance of me and their desire to share with me the little they have.

"Somewhere amidst all of the confusion, there will be hope, there will be love, there will be God!"

EVEN THE WINDOWS BOW IN SUBMISSION

It's Sunday and Haiti is eerily subdued. The roads are quieter, (the UN vehicles are hiding) the street markets are almost empty and even the weather seems shy. It wasn't that way last night mind you; we had one of those extreme electrical storms, accompanied by floods of rain, that I have come to associate with hot, humid, tropical countries. It was an awesome display of light and sound, an extreme power event that had the man made electrical supplies quivering in their circuits. Even my bedroom windows bowed in submission to the fury of the heavenly torrent and had me relocating my bed so as not to be showered (although the coolness of the rain made it tempting to stay where I was).

But as awesome as the display was, it was not what the Million or so people living under canvas needed last night. As we head into the middle of the hurricane season, this rain brings new challenges for us, but new misery for people that have already experienced so much. Despite this, as we check the camp, most people are restoring their reality; they are smiling and laughing as they sweep the viscous milk chocolate brown fluid out of their shacks and resettle their worlds, and their meager belongings.

As we walk we notice again that despite the confined and depersonalising conditions people have created homes. Some have laid concrete footings to keep the waters out whilst others have raised wooden beds and furniture on concrete blocks to allow the water free flow access, whilst they remain aloof and oblivious. Many, if not most have electricity, thanks to some ingenious (and illegal) wire tapping and from many come the strains of familiar tunes even though the words are sung in a language not understood by me.

It's Sunday - it's Church day - and it's serious. Those that can't go to church are listening to songs that for centuries have brought comfort and hope to others disempowered, homeless, voiceless and marginalised. Some of the songs, sung by the enslaved of years past provoke questions and emotions that find their genesis in the reality of the Haitian context. Here, in a country built on slavery and then their freedom the songs have new and evocative meanings.

It's Sunday and it's a day to be at home, to be with family, and to intentionally look to a Creator that is beyond the circumstances of their reality and beyond their understanding. But not beyond their faith to believe that somehow, because they exist and God is present (as evidenced in the awesome display of nature last night) that HOPE exists. So, the roads are quieter, the weather subdued and the people? They loudly and enthusiastically worship the God who is present – and wait and hope that the world will not forget.

GOD WHISPERS THEIR NAMES

Yesterday, waste management personnel found the bodies of three ‘unborn babies’ in the waste tank of a portable latrine in Place de la Paix, the Salvation Army managed camp in Port-au-Prince (Haiti) that is home to over 20,000 earthquake survivors.

How do you process the raw emotions - the fear, the desperation, the hopelessness - that would force a woman to make a decision that resulted in her baby being dumped in the sewerage? This isn’t the first time we have made a discovery like this, and once again we have no idea why this had to happen; we have no idea who the mother or the parents are, so this is pure speculation.

Were the babies aborted in a ‘back-yard’ procedure and then unceremoniously and surreptitiously dumped because they were the result of rape and the cause of shame? Were their lives terminated because a mother has spent the last six months fighting to survive in an IDP camp; hungry, scared, hopeless and she doesn’t want to bring a baby into an existence like that? Were their lives ended because the mother is sick and she felt she had no choice, no access to medical support or no money to pay for it?

Or were the babies miscarried or still-born? Is there a woman, somewhere in that camp, grieving a terrible loss and fighting the guilt and the sorrow of losing the greatest and perhaps only hope she imagines she had in the world? Is there a woman hiding in the dark shadows of that timber, tin and tarpaulin jungle wondering why it matters that she fight anymore? Is there a wife, hiding in shame from a husband who doesn’t know? Or is it a frightened teen, orphaned by the earthquake that has no idea how to deal with what just happened and no support to help her?

And as selfish as this sounds what do we, the Camp Managers do about it? And how do we help our team deal with the terrible cost of hopelessness and fear? How do we help them understand that this is not their fault; that there is no amount of vigilance, no amount of care and concern that could have avoided this? How do we assist them to overcome the shame and anger they feel? How do they process their feelings of inadequacy?

Don’t tell us it’ll be okay because God is good; don’t pronounce us faithless because when we hurt, we doubt God exists. Don’t condemn me as unchristian because I want to hit people that take advantage of powerless and hopeless people. Don’t tell us to love because God is love! And don’t tell us you love us, (in the Lord), despite our apparent uncertainty, and what you call disbelief!

All it does is convince me that some have never looked into eyes of utter despair and complete hopelessness – and seen God! All it does is remind me that faith can be so shallow that it doesn’t allow for doubt, for hurt, for suffering and complete despair – and simultaneously, God! I have been preached to in religious clichés about a theoretical faith – but ‘they’ show me, by their determination to survive, a deep faith in a God they trust to love them - even if they can’t love back.

How do we help women like those described above? Truthfully, I don’t know; but maybe we’ll start by sitting, saying nothing, just being present. Somehow honouring the lives of these, and other discarded babies and restoring the dignity of life. We’ll remind them, and ourselves, that God doesn’t make junk. And maybe, by showing we care, by being present, by loving them even when they reject us, shove us away and yell at us – just maybe they will begin to like themselves again.

PACMAN ON REDBULL OVERDOSE

You ask the NGO Coordination group and they will tell you that since the earthquake there have been up to 900 different NGO and Humanitarian Agencies of various sizes in the Haiti. Each of these requires at least one car if not many more. One NGO I know of has 5 brand new specially designed Land Cruisers on the docks, and that’s a small fleet. (We hire local drivers with their own cars, and have bought three vehicles, including two trucks.)

The roads are in terrible condition, I have not travelled on a road yet that does not look like Swiss cheese, the 'pot holes' (more like bunkers guarding the 18th) are unforgiving, and the traffic is like something out of a dodgem circuit – though miraculously there are fewer accidents. Between the ‘assertive’ taptaps, the self important government cars and the seemingly immortal motorbike riders the roads were chaos before January 12.

But now, add in what must be hundreds of UN vehicles which range from the infamous white SUV with the obligatory flashing lights, to the troop carrier and ‘tank’, the mega-fleet of USAID dump trucks, and the multitude of water-carriers, and chaos has become the ultimate understatement.

But my biggest whinge (complaint) - since that’s what this is – is the way the UN vehicles treat the rest of the road users. You would be forgiven for thinking that the UN are the most important people in Haiti and they couldn’t possibly wait in traffic like the rest of us peasants – they act like a giant Pacman on a Redbull overdose. They are the single most visible vehicle on any road and you can’t miss them with the huge blue UN emblazoned on the vehicle. And who would defy them, they usually have some kind of weapon visible and threatening as they pull alongside and refuse to acknowledge your existence as they force their way in front and through.

I live 10 miles from the IDP Camp we manage, and some days it takes 1.5 (the other day 2.25) hours to drive one way. I know this time/distance compares favourably with some places, like Manila - but seriously, Mr. and Ms. UN if you treated other road users like your mandate suggests (with dignity and respect) you’d make life on the roads just a little better – and who knows maybe others would follow your example – oh, wait a minute they already do!

Ok, whinge session over: sucking it up and getting on with it now :)

FUN AND GAMES

I get all the good jobs!

Negotiating allowances and position descriptions after people have been working for a few months is more akin to dentistry than HR! I have spent the afternoon making sure everyone knows what is expected of them and, of course, how much money they can have for it. That's the bit that we always seem to get stuck on, and it is due in part to the knowledge that the BIG INGOs pay BIG bucks, and in some cases way above the national average.

People know there is "plenty of money" (how often did I hear that today?) and it doesn't take some of them long to want their share of it. But there is a balancing game to be played: that is paying a person their worth, in the context of a country like Haiti, paying them what we can sustain and what we can afford within the limits of being accountable to donors who give their money to make a difference in the lives of the Haitians.

Then you have the person that argues with you about the amount because he wants to make sure that the programs and the survivors are getting enough. Despite the fact that he lost his wife and house in the earthquake, and has four kids to support he says, "but Sir, you have come to help Haitians, you have come here for us, I should not take this (pay envelope) from you I should be thanking you for letting me help you help my people".

So tonight I am all negotiated out and to make matters worse I think our cook/housekeeper hates me now :(

PROGRESS UPDATE

The first container was released today! (To all those that went before, Jean Robert, pulled it off and we should have 4 containers unloaded by the weekend - without a Franchise Certificate.)

But before I go there let me say that I had the privelege of seeing some beautiful unspoilt forest today. I travelled along the coast to the city of Petit Goave. Like all the urban areas I have been in so far it is a place filled with detroyed buildings, rubble and shelters of all sizes and materials. Situated on the coast it is a nice place. But to get there I had to pass over a mountain that cut through a fairly unspoilt forest area, with cocounut and fruit trees framing the relatively wide, smooth road (of which there are very few in Haiti).

The Salvation Army complex is quite large with a church (Corps), school and offices - but as of Monday it will also be home to a new Clinic. Finally, the project has been approved, the reporting structure has been designed, and the money has been delivered (today). Soon more people will be able to access medical care. This is another good initiative and a win.

And then to add to that we have had a number of containers of relief goods, including camp cots earmarked for the IDP Camp held in customs for a number of months now - but today the first one was released and arrived at our warehouse. So tonight the first 2,500 cots have been unloaded and are ready for distribution. As soon as the rest arrive, (hopefully tomorrow) we wil begin the process of distirbuting these to the families in our camp. This means liaising with the UN Forces to provide security, and splitting the people into probably two groups to do the distribution over two days.

If it is anything like today (40C, 88% humidity) it is going to be warm work. But at last some of the promised can be fulfilled!

HOW TO FACE WITH DEATH

Today's blog is shared with the permission of The Salvation Army - Haiti's Assistant Camp Manager: Rodney Belain. It is a piece he wrote after a particularly rough day.

--------

Life is something that you cannot understand and you can even spend all your time, you will never understand it. There is something that says death is easy but life is hard. All you have to do is to live your life as it comes and do not let anything to bother you, you’ll find a lot of people who will bother you but, don’t let them do it.

You need someone to comfort you when you do not feel good, I mean miserable, I just want you to know that God is there for you, bring him all your burdens, cause he cares for you.

Sometimes, I ask myself why God has created us, because some people need help and some spend a lot of money without thinking about the others.

It’s only one thing that I would like to ask you, give Jesus your life, let him guide you, let him teach you how to live and how to help the others. I know that no one is perfect, but a part of you is. Even if you don’t see it in you, sometimes you want to do stupid things, fight yourself and try not to do it. As you know God can make a way where there seems to be no way he works in ways we cannot see. I will follow him ‘till death, cause he is the almighty God.

I suggest you pray before sleeping, talk to God let him know what you think, ‘cause he’s your best friend you ever have. And he will bless you all the time.

For you my friend, think about that brothers…

THE ROAD TO JACMEL

As the car laboured up the steep slope all you could see was where the track seamlessly joined the sky, you knew there had to be more track at the top but it still came as a surprise when we reached the apex and there it was stretching out before us. Like a monsoon rain burst on a scorching Haitian afternoon it was a relief – we were on flat track, and we could see the track ahead - it appeared to stay flat for a while before the hairpin bend to the right and more flat and straight before it dropped off at an alarming gradient.

We motored along on the flat and straight, watching the scenery go by for as far as the eye could see, the hairpin bend arrived and the front of the car seemed to disappear over the edge before you were suddenly whipped around to the right and stabilized for a few seconds before plunging down the next valley. Mad Mouse had done its thing again. Kids screamed as the cars flew around the track and as they were flung first left and then right, for a momentary illegal touch (and shy knowing smile) against the girl they liked but couldn’t say. For the 60 or so seconds the ride at the Melbourne Show took it was at once exhilarating and down-right scary. But when it was all over the destination was wonderful – you had conquered the ride.

Yesterday, I took Haiti’s answer to Mad Mouse from Port-au-Prince to Jacmel, a place famous for Pirates (I reckon saw a painting of Captain Jack Sparrow on the dock) and now almost 600 Salvation Army (SAWSO) Temporary Shelters.

We came over some beautiful green covered mountain scenery that dropped away to the beautiful azure coloured ocean on both sides. We hung on with white knuckles as we were thrown from one side of the car to the other. As we swung wildly from side to side - dodging tap taps, motorbikes, people, potholes, and disappearing roads created by the earthquake - we were assured that our driver was very good.

I watched fascinated though, (trying to think of something else other than the 2,000’ drop) as four beautiful large hawks slowly rose on invisible mountain thermals alongside the road, they seemed to keep pace with us without moving a muscle, their wings locked in and their heads pointed towards the ocean. As they rose and fell with apparent ease alongside us I was reminded that I can be like the thermals, I can be part of that which lifts people up, which sets them above their circumstances. I have an amazing privilege.