I have finally updated my flickr page to include all the (adequate) photos I took this summer! Unfortunately or fortunately, I'd much rather experience life than be continually trying to record it from behind a camera. I think when we someday can embed a camera lens into our heads, or at least a pair of glasses, then I might take more pictures. Until then, I suppose you can be thankful that my 2.5 months of pictures really isn't as many as it could be.
Lora's personal photographs: http://www.flickr.com/photos/loraliy/
I started in Tanzania with our Summer Institute students (see the official EWH photos from my students here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/duke_ewh).
Following 2 months in Arusha and Moshi, Tanzania, I spent a week in Rwanda. There are also more photos from that coming someday. We were traveling with a professional filmmaker who was documenting our technician training program, so perhaps there will even be a movie for you to see someday. I'll post a link here if that ever happens!
Finally, I returned to Europe and spent 6 days in Scandinavia. First I pretended to be an architecture student in Copenhagen and marveled at the idiosyncrasies of traveling with a very different large group of young adults (compared to my very large group of young adults... also very bizarre at times). To top it all off, I spent 2 wonderful days resting, listening, unloading, and just being with my grandparents in Oslo.
Thank you to everyone who sent emails, notes, phone calls, in person conversations, smiles, and even those who helped me to 'be a bigger person' when the situation called for it.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Lifelong confusion.... (or, "Why my Daddy is cooler than yours")
Just the other day I was talking with a friend of mine who does technical theater sometimes, about how if he goes to a show and there are no seats, he'll just watch from the lightbox. I realized that I too, find it rather strange if I don't go backstage after a concert as opposed to those who see going backstage as a rare opportunity. (Don't worry -- I still think it's fun, just not so rare).
That conversation, interactions with people who superficially may have had a similar childhood to mine, and this wonderful holiday called father's day have all met in my list of things that make my daddy cooler than yours. Or at least, reasons why I'm glad I didn't have a different one that would have left me more "normal."
That conversation, interactions with people who superficially may have had a similar childhood to mine, and this wonderful holiday called father's day have all met in my list of things that make my daddy cooler than yours. Or at least, reasons why I'm glad I didn't have a different one that would have left me more "normal."
- My definition of the word "concert:" Sometimes people ask the question, "what was your first concert?" Inevitably, this leaves me quite confused, since they're most likely asking when I first went to see someone like the Rolling Stones, Jack Johnson, or even Backstreet Boys (oh yes, I liked them). Of course, my first memories of concerts involve classical music like the 1812 overture being played by the symphony while we sit outside with Oreos and sparkling grape juice, waiting for the cannons to go off. Or something like the Yuletide celebration (which leads to the fact that I think tap-dancing Santas are the way Santa is supposed to be....) with moonlighting opera singers narrating something like the 12 days of Christmas while being pulled across the stage on a fake sleigh with fake snow. The best ones, though, where the concerts where Daddy wasn't even playing. Like when he took just me to see Andre Watts play George Gershwin on a sparkling blue piano with mother of pearl stars. Or when he took me to see Maureen McGovern and then bought the CD. Or the time Flash Cadillac played with the ISO and we got the CD with tracks that still show up on my iPod. You get the picture.
- My idea of a good vacation: Daddy is a big fan of road trips. I'm not talking about the ones where you drive 2 hours to a cute little cabin in the woods. I'm talking about the one where you take 3 or more children, at least 2 adults and drive from Indiana to Wyoming, pass through Nebraska and South Dakota, and camp along the way. Yes. Camp in tents on the ground. Funny thing is, I still think hotel beds are rather uncomfortable compared to a good thermarest mattress and a sheepskin. Turns out the ability to self entertain and drive for 6-8 hours in a day has turned out to be a huge advantage this summer while I'm traipsing all around Northern Tanzania.
- Motorcycles: I could make this an entire blog post in itself, for now I'll stick to the fact that my first idea of a motorcycle involved 3 wheels. I also thought that all sidecars had been modified to fit three children and a week's worth of camping gear. (Turns out, most people only put 1 person in their sidecar). I also have a very healthy view of motorcycle drivers as the ever so infamous 'organ donors.' According to my dad, every motorcycle driver should be trained in an official safety course, wear full-face helmets at all times, wear gloves, leather or denim pants and tops, and boots that protect the ankles. I also happen to have a full repository of stories about motorcycle mishaps (from all the other people my dad knows, of course), which helps out with those who think that bikes are risk-free.
- The value of Research: Daddy knows the value of good research. Whether it's a new (used) car, computer, ways to get good gas mileage, or the best camping spot in the most remote campground in North Carolina, Daddy is not going to go into a decision uninformed. Even if I thought it completely useless at the time, I often do end up with somewhat useful information someday (some of those days have yet to come, I admit).
- Finally -- Good Hard Work: Practicing, maintaining the cars, or even his funny exercises on the kitchen floor. Even if he's not perfect, he does his absolute best as well he knows. Even though I'd say I turned out a little confused on some points, I wouldn't trade him in.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
We talk too much.
Somebody help me out here... but I think part of our problem in the US is that we talk too much and work too little. We take great joy in putting together websites, talking about our dreams, affirming ourselves, and talking about what's wrong with this world (this is where the finger gets pointed right back at me... oh dear).
Before I left for Tanzania (in fact, for the last 6 months or more) I've had serious trouble sleeping. My regular schedule for sleep seems to start at 2 or 3am and go until 11am the next day. I've never been a morning person, but it was just ridiculous. I'd pay money to get exercise at the gym, and would get on my bike to ride a few miles "just for fun."
In contrast, I have not yet had any trouble sleeping since I arrived in Tanzania 2 weeks ago. Until this morning, I would wake up at 6am naturally (we'll attribute that to the roosters/dogs/cats/small children/cars/general brouhaha) and sleep again until the alarm went off. Walking 20 minutes or more is a given every day, passing people carrying large loads, cutting grass by hand with a machete, and lots and lots of mamas with their little mototo (baby) bundles on their backs. The biggest difference? People here don't complain.
There's a great term in Kiswahili: pole. It means sorry... but more in the 'sorry for you' meaning. So when someone comes home from work, you say the regular greetings but also, "pole," I'm sorry for all your hard work. Or you see someone struggling along the street, working hard... and a general greeting plus "pole" is perfectly acceptable. And the response? Thanks. That's all. We acknowledge others' hard work but after that it's just a fact of life.
For those of you who know me or see me on a regular basis, this is my goal: to accept the pain, the struggle, and the hard work without whining. Because in reality, it's a fact of life and we are often missing out on life if we miss out on the pain and hard work.
(Additional insight into this is the book I've been reading titled "The Gift of Pain" by Paul Brand, an MD who worked in India and primarily with leprosy patients, who have no pain and that is their problem. A fascinating and thought provoking reading for those interested in the science and those interested in life and people in general. I'll try to bring my copy back to the US to lend.)
Before I left for Tanzania (in fact, for the last 6 months or more) I've had serious trouble sleeping. My regular schedule for sleep seems to start at 2 or 3am and go until 11am the next day. I've never been a morning person, but it was just ridiculous. I'd pay money to get exercise at the gym, and would get on my bike to ride a few miles "just for fun."
In contrast, I have not yet had any trouble sleeping since I arrived in Tanzania 2 weeks ago. Until this morning, I would wake up at 6am naturally (we'll attribute that to the roosters/dogs/cats/small children/cars/general brouhaha) and sleep again until the alarm went off. Walking 20 minutes or more is a given every day, passing people carrying large loads, cutting grass by hand with a machete, and lots and lots of mamas with their little mototo (baby) bundles on their backs. The biggest difference? People here don't complain.
There's a great term in Kiswahili: pole. It means sorry... but more in the 'sorry for you' meaning. So when someone comes home from work, you say the regular greetings but also, "pole," I'm sorry for all your hard work. Or you see someone struggling along the street, working hard... and a general greeting plus "pole" is perfectly acceptable. And the response? Thanks. That's all. We acknowledge others' hard work but after that it's just a fact of life.
For those of you who know me or see me on a regular basis, this is my goal: to accept the pain, the struggle, and the hard work without whining. Because in reality, it's a fact of life and we are often missing out on life if we miss out on the pain and hard work.
(Additional insight into this is the book I've been reading titled "The Gift of Pain" by Paul Brand, an MD who worked in India and primarily with leprosy patients, who have no pain and that is their problem. A fascinating and thought provoking reading for those interested in the science and those interested in life and people in general. I'll try to bring my copy back to the US to lend.)
Monday, May 31, 2010
I sometimes forget that I'm an introvert...
Today was one of my reminder days. That's not to say I'm not happy -- I'm ecstatic that the students have all finally arrived, we only lost 2 bags, and they're excitedly beginning their Swahili courses and technical labs.
I spent the last week in Tanzania by myself mostly, connecting with some friends and meeting interesting people along the way in Dar es Salaam, Morogoro, and then back here at TCDC in Arusha. I flew from Dar to Arusha, arriving just after the sunset and was greeted by the sweet, sweet air of the African plains. Breathe deep, look up, and it's a whole different world. The sky has never been so big and stars have never been so clear. The feelings of coming home rushed back and were affirmed by the taxi driver who received a phone call, "are you bringing my daughter to me??"
As we drove the straight, flat road across the plains and under the stars I had to remind myself that this familiarity, this comfort was going to be completely new to the students coming in the next two days.
I stayed at the training center for 1 and a half days before the students arrived, and I was impatient as anything. The teachers here (many of whom recognized me!!!) laughed as I paced and checked my watch over and over again. Finally we had them all here -- bleary eyed, excited, and all together.
The excitement of beginning the program, of showing them the new place and surroundings, of watching them absorb the language, the people, the plants, and the animals (oh, the animals)incredible.
But now, after a full day of interaction, getting to know, and learning more about each student (there is still much more to learn), I am content, overwhelmed, happy, and exhausted. So now I remind myself to take some alone time, leave them to learn things on their own, and make sure to find a pace we can maintain for the next two months.
I spent the last week in Tanzania by myself mostly, connecting with some friends and meeting interesting people along the way in Dar es Salaam, Morogoro, and then back here at TCDC in Arusha. I flew from Dar to Arusha, arriving just after the sunset and was greeted by the sweet, sweet air of the African plains. Breathe deep, look up, and it's a whole different world. The sky has never been so big and stars have never been so clear. The feelings of coming home rushed back and were affirmed by the taxi driver who received a phone call, "are you bringing my daughter to me??"
As we drove the straight, flat road across the plains and under the stars I had to remind myself that this familiarity, this comfort was going to be completely new to the students coming in the next two days.
I stayed at the training center for 1 and a half days before the students arrived, and I was impatient as anything. The teachers here (many of whom recognized me!!!) laughed as I paced and checked my watch over and over again. Finally we had them all here -- bleary eyed, excited, and all together.
The excitement of beginning the program, of showing them the new place and surroundings, of watching them absorb the language, the people, the plants, and the animals (oh, the animals)incredible.
But now, after a full day of interaction, getting to know, and learning more about each student (there is still much more to learn), I am content, overwhelmed, happy, and exhausted. So now I remind myself to take some alone time, leave them to learn things on their own, and make sure to find a pace we can maintain for the next two months.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Travel Tidbits and Packing Drama
I am thankfully and safely in Dar es Salaam now! I'd say I'm even almost over the jetlag, though the minute I say that I'll probably be exhausted.
The trip over here was a 2 day ordeal that involved quite a while hanging out in New York's JFK airport, overnight flight to London, all day spent in the London-Heathrow airport, and an overnight flight to Nairobi followed by a hop over to Dar es Salaam.
Well, so I made it safely at 10:30 am on Wendesday May 26th. It is now Friday May 28th and my bag just arrived this afternoon. The reason for that is a ticket that was originally scheduled to come directly from London to Dar es Salaam. Of course, British Airlines cabin crews were striking, so I was then rerouted through Dubai. When I arrived in London, no one really had any record of me going to Dubai. The nice lady at American Airlines then decided that I would be happier leaving London a little earlier and flying through Nairobi. (For some reason she also suggested a flight through Johannesburg... why?!). Anyways, you can see why my bag might have been a little bit confused.
Fortunately, and unfortunately because of all the time I spent hauling my carry on bags around, I did have quite a well packed carry on times 2. I had all the textbooks, tools, and electronics parts I would need for the summer (just in case the bag gets lost indefinitely!!) plus a couple days worth of clothes. I still got pretty good at washing my underwear in the sink... just sayin. Oh, and things just smell funky. They will until sometime in August.
When I finally got my bag today, it was somewhat disappointing. I'd realized that I was doing fine with just 2.5 outfits, and the bag was super heavy! On the upside, the only liquid that spilled was the tea tree oil/castille soap facewash from trader joe's... so at least my bag smells nice and it's not a nasty, goopy liquid.
But enough about the packing drama.
I feel like I've been here longer than 2.5 days, and am really enjoying my time here. I was picked up by a friend and 4 little kiddos, taken to their mom's house and then to my hostel which is run by the Catholic Passioniste Fathers. I've been running all over the city in taxis, cars, bajajis (the little 3 wheeled motor bike covered thingies), and various other forms of transport. I found the tools I was hoping to find here, met with an incredible technician from Germany who is making huge changes in a local workshop (this workshop now is so self-sufficient that it supports the hospital that birthed it!), and am having dinner (and coffee and tea and breakfast and lunch) with all sorts of interesting people. Last but not least - I had 4 marriage proposals within 36 hours of being here. I think that might be a record. Or just an indication of the fact that I understand them this time...
My Swahili is coming back quickly and I'm getting my own feet and feeling ready for the students to show up next week. It's exciting! Keep praying, sending emails, or whatever :)
The trip over here was a 2 day ordeal that involved quite a while hanging out in New York's JFK airport, overnight flight to London, all day spent in the London-Heathrow airport, and an overnight flight to Nairobi followed by a hop over to Dar es Salaam.
Well, so I made it safely at 10:30 am on Wendesday May 26th. It is now Friday May 28th and my bag just arrived this afternoon. The reason for that is a ticket that was originally scheduled to come directly from London to Dar es Salaam. Of course, British Airlines cabin crews were striking, so I was then rerouted through Dubai. When I arrived in London, no one really had any record of me going to Dubai. The nice lady at American Airlines then decided that I would be happier leaving London a little earlier and flying through Nairobi. (For some reason she also suggested a flight through Johannesburg... why?!). Anyways, you can see why my bag might have been a little bit confused.
Fortunately, and unfortunately because of all the time I spent hauling my carry on bags around, I did have quite a well packed carry on times 2. I had all the textbooks, tools, and electronics parts I would need for the summer (just in case the bag gets lost indefinitely!!) plus a couple days worth of clothes. I still got pretty good at washing my underwear in the sink... just sayin. Oh, and things just smell funky. They will until sometime in August.
When I finally got my bag today, it was somewhat disappointing. I'd realized that I was doing fine with just 2.5 outfits, and the bag was super heavy! On the upside, the only liquid that spilled was the tea tree oil/castille soap facewash from trader joe's... so at least my bag smells nice and it's not a nasty, goopy liquid.
But enough about the packing drama.
I feel like I've been here longer than 2.5 days, and am really enjoying my time here. I was picked up by a friend and 4 little kiddos, taken to their mom's house and then to my hostel which is run by the Catholic Passioniste Fathers. I've been running all over the city in taxis, cars, bajajis (the little 3 wheeled motor bike covered thingies), and various other forms of transport. I found the tools I was hoping to find here, met with an incredible technician from Germany who is making huge changes in a local workshop (this workshop now is so self-sufficient that it supports the hospital that birthed it!), and am having dinner (and coffee and tea and breakfast and lunch) with all sorts of interesting people. Last but not least - I had 4 marriage proposals within 36 hours of being here. I think that might be a record. Or just an indication of the fact that I understand them this time...
My Swahili is coming back quickly and I'm getting my own feet and feeling ready for the students to show up next week. It's exciting! Keep praying, sending emails, or whatever :)
Friday, April 16, 2010
Just sayin'
Tonight was a beautiful night. The day was warm, sunny, idyllic. The night was cool enough to be comfortable, not cool enough to be uncomfortable driving home with the windows wide open.
I spent the evening with a few really good friends from home, amid lots and lots of well to do educated folks, medical and engineering-type people, and people who think like I do. I spent the evening with people who come from backgrounds like mine. It was dark out and the kids under the age of 4 were still safely running around the yard, swinging, and sliding. It was dark out and I felt no fear, no threat, not even the need to be aware as I walked down the street. The lawn we were on was thick, lush, and could have easily served as a perfect bed for the night. The houses on the street were all lit up, welcoming, and I'm willing to bet that many of them keep their backdoors open late into the night, if not all night.
Walking away from an incredible meal of hush puppies, coleslaw, banana pudding, peach cobbler and the best barbeque one could ever ask for (think entire pig roasted on a spit where the mesquite coals were made that morning on site) I veered a little bit as I tried to look up at the stars. "You know, I was just reading an article about white privilege this week. ...Just sayin'." The artist next to me, also there purely by association with one of the hosts, nodded. It's good to get the ideas out there. We both knew it was true. Neither of us had done a thing to deserve or even work for this. We were just there. Just sayin'.
And you know, I'm not sure I can make a judgment call. I just know it's there. It's been a long time since I've walked down the middle of a street at 10pm and felt completely and totally secure. Unless of course I was with a group of people.
I live in a neighborhood that would be considered unsafe. Neighbors told us to put a fence in our backyard so people wouldn't cut through the yard to get away from the police. I've lived in neighborhoods like that for years. And I don't feel unsafe at home... but I know what's going on around me. I feel safe because the neighbors know me. I know they'd take care of me, like they have so many times before. When the neighbors saw the guy who hit my car and helped the police find him. When the neighbors used their own chainsaws and cut the tree off my car. When the neighbors watch for the UPS man and hold my packages until I get home. When they threaten the person using our yard as a shortcut.
I feel safe because of my community.
And yet, I don't belong in this community inherently. I'm an outsider coming in with all these default privileges. Going to college was expected, so I did. Someone else is paying my health insurance. I can afford to take a volunteer job that I love so I can get more experience to have a real job that pays me to do what I love someday.
I fit in the crowd that was there tonight. Even though I don't make millions. I belong. Even though I don't dress in the latest, greatest brands. And I am cared for, because at least one family there tonight has taken me in as their own. I am so incredibly blessed.
It's funny... I want to work in Haiti, work in Africa, work in the city. But I think like a rich person. I was raised to think like white, upper-middle class America. Spending 2 months in Tanzania last summer was where I first started to realize who I was. And that's hard to change. Perhaps it can't be changed. Or maybe that's the wrong question. Maybe the question is, how can this be used? Where am I supposed to be? It's not an accident that I was born into this family, this neighborhood, and these associations.
I've got a crazy dream (that's totally a good idea!!) of finding the funding to go teach hospital technicians in Haiti. It wouldn't be an entire degree or certificate type program. We would only present the most essential skills, hands-on practical things. As my musician friend put it, "things we should all know so we can actually fix our own stuff." Exactly.
The reason I bring this up, is that if I had managed to get into the right conversations with the people tonight, I probably could have had the whole dream funded by the end of the week. Discouraging? Or maybe now I need to get serious about this crazy idea. I know it could work. (By the way Mamma, this is what I was talking about.... not the haircut) ;)
That's enough thoughts for tonight. I think more will come soon... just sayin'.
I spent the evening with a few really good friends from home, amid lots and lots of well to do educated folks, medical and engineering-type people, and people who think like I do. I spent the evening with people who come from backgrounds like mine. It was dark out and the kids under the age of 4 were still safely running around the yard, swinging, and sliding. It was dark out and I felt no fear, no threat, not even the need to be aware as I walked down the street. The lawn we were on was thick, lush, and could have easily served as a perfect bed for the night. The houses on the street were all lit up, welcoming, and I'm willing to bet that many of them keep their backdoors open late into the night, if not all night.
Walking away from an incredible meal of hush puppies, coleslaw, banana pudding, peach cobbler and the best barbeque one could ever ask for (think entire pig roasted on a spit where the mesquite coals were made that morning on site) I veered a little bit as I tried to look up at the stars. "You know, I was just reading an article about white privilege this week. ...Just sayin'." The artist next to me, also there purely by association with one of the hosts, nodded. It's good to get the ideas out there. We both knew it was true. Neither of us had done a thing to deserve or even work for this. We were just there. Just sayin'.
And you know, I'm not sure I can make a judgment call. I just know it's there. It's been a long time since I've walked down the middle of a street at 10pm and felt completely and totally secure. Unless of course I was with a group of people.
I live in a neighborhood that would be considered unsafe. Neighbors told us to put a fence in our backyard so people wouldn't cut through the yard to get away from the police. I've lived in neighborhoods like that for years. And I don't feel unsafe at home... but I know what's going on around me. I feel safe because the neighbors know me. I know they'd take care of me, like they have so many times before. When the neighbors saw the guy who hit my car and helped the police find him. When the neighbors used their own chainsaws and cut the tree off my car. When the neighbors watch for the UPS man and hold my packages until I get home. When they threaten the person using our yard as a shortcut.
I feel safe because of my community.
And yet, I don't belong in this community inherently. I'm an outsider coming in with all these default privileges. Going to college was expected, so I did. Someone else is paying my health insurance. I can afford to take a volunteer job that I love so I can get more experience to have a real job that pays me to do what I love someday.
I fit in the crowd that was there tonight. Even though I don't make millions. I belong. Even though I don't dress in the latest, greatest brands. And I am cared for, because at least one family there tonight has taken me in as their own. I am so incredibly blessed.
It's funny... I want to work in Haiti, work in Africa, work in the city. But I think like a rich person. I was raised to think like white, upper-middle class America. Spending 2 months in Tanzania last summer was where I first started to realize who I was. And that's hard to change. Perhaps it can't be changed. Or maybe that's the wrong question. Maybe the question is, how can this be used? Where am I supposed to be? It's not an accident that I was born into this family, this neighborhood, and these associations.
I've got a crazy dream (that's totally a good idea!!) of finding the funding to go teach hospital technicians in Haiti. It wouldn't be an entire degree or certificate type program. We would only present the most essential skills, hands-on practical things. As my musician friend put it, "things we should all know so we can actually fix our own stuff." Exactly.
The reason I bring this up, is that if I had managed to get into the right conversations with the people tonight, I probably could have had the whole dream funded by the end of the week. Discouraging? Or maybe now I need to get serious about this crazy idea. I know it could work. (By the way Mamma, this is what I was talking about.... not the haircut) ;)
That's enough thoughts for tonight. I think more will come soon... just sayin'.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Thankful for Spring
I wrote a few weeks ago about a rather unpleasant biking experience, so I thought I'd give a post about a day that was as ideal as one could hope for.Today, I rode my bicycle to work, still trying to finish up paperwork from our week in Haiti. Fortunately, I'm moving past the debilitating shock of being back in the US (and feeling unable to do anything). Now I feel focused and directed - trying to do the best possible work reporting, assessing, and recommending next steps. There are quite a few NGOs still in the Port au Prince area who may be able to help with some of the needs we're pointing out.
Outside, the sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and we're sitting right around 72 degrees Fahrenheit (~22 C). I rode home today through spring trees beginning to open their leaves, some in full blooms of whites and pinks. Even traffic seemed more friendly - a traffic cop at the entrance to the University let me turn left without even having to put my feet down to stop. The somewhat tiring uphill on the route home passed without my notice because I was so caught up in looking at the houses on the hill with wild ivies, tulips, daffodils, and lots of flowering trees. There's a particular yellow house on the corner of Duke University Rd and Swift Ave that has a particularly wild, joyful garden. The plants bloom wildly and every which way - just the way they seem happiest. I've seen someone out digging and moving things, so I know they work on the yard. What fun to see something not in neat lines or constrained by borders! It's these kind of gardeners who were probably the children who colored outside the lines in kindergarten.
And to top it all off, I came home to find J sitting outside in the sunshine on our back porch. We spent time talking, planning, and thinking about what to do with our shady, very wild, unable to grow a lawn, yard. I was particularly excited when she suggested putting up the hammocks, getting a compost bin, and getting a rain barrel (that is either already painted or a blank canvas to paint!). All three of these are things I've hoped for in my yard. I think I'll renew my lease.
(Photo from Chicago Art Museum garden during trip with Magali and Jeannette. But I promise I have some of these exact flowers around my mailbox right now)
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Justin's Post
Check out our group post on DoSomething.org from the last few days. This may be a little out of order since we lost internet for a day somewhere along the way.
http://www.dosomething.org/news/ground-haiti-2-months-later
http://www.dosomething.org/news/ground-haiti-2-months-later
Pictures of Life after an Earthquake
Besides all the physical damage around us, the psychological damage to the people of Haiti is astronomical. I’ve heard it referred to as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) on many occasions, and with my very casual knowledge of psychology, I won’t deny the presence of PTSD here. Today I learned a little bit more about what it means to live in the wake of a devastating earthquake.- We arrived at L’Hopital Communaute Hatienne today and were led into the main waiting area by our Haitian driver. He seems confident enough, but as soon as we entered the space, he walked into the center area that is open to the sky and some tarps rigged across the opening. Standing under a roof is still a frightening prospect.
- While sitting amidst a pile of suction machines in the hallway at the hospital, we were joined by a curious 16 year old boy. Demitri turned out to be a great help with removing and replacing screws, practicing his English as we did some troubleshooting together on a somewhat hopeless piece of equipment. We learned how to salvage tubing off an abandoned suction unit and learned how to use a continuity tester to verify the integrity of a power cord. While sitting together on the floor at the end of a produ
ctive few hours, he started to tell me about the earthquake. Demitri had been at home at the time – changing the channel on the TV. Though his house remained standing, he faced a near death experience in one of the aftershocks while respecting his mother’s request to stay home. Fortunately the eager student is still around to hope his school continues soon. I’d like to think that someday he’ll be working in an engineering or technical field making a difference for someone else. (Perhaps I should just be considering teaching??)
- On the way home, from the hospital, we dropped off another Haitian driver for the night. As we drove along his street, he pointed out his house, his grandfather sitting on the steps, and his tent. Despite the fact that his home survived the earthquake, he remains sleeping in a tent. I’m hoping the massive down pour tonight didn’t wash out everyone’s tents.
- Our team member, Jean, got a call from his sister this week, saying that she was back in Haiti. After watching her house fall down in front of her just as she came home from work, Jean’s sister went to stay with family in Miami. Finally, they’ve returned to the country they love, living with family here whose home survived the earthquake. Like Justin mentioned earlier, the quake is no respecter of persons.
Oh the humanity. ... in jars and vials, that is...
Internet has been out for a bit all over the city, so I've got a short note and will hopefully do more of an update tomorrow:
I may have spoken too soon about repairing equipment following the earthquake. Yesterday was our grand adventure to the main state-owned teaching hospital in Port-au-Prince. The drive to the hospital passed by the Palais National, which although still spectacular, is spectacularly at least a full level lower than its original height. The surrounding parks are full of tents and make shift homes built primarily out of scrap wood, corrugated metal, and tarps sometimes labeled with the names of different aid organizations. Passing by countless piles of rubble, leaning walls held up by one or two bars of rebar, and mangled nests of iron I understand the general fear of sleeping under roofs. It’s still difficult to imagine the scene of watching buildings rapidly become piles of rubble not only in the first earthquake but in multiple aftershocks.
The hospital itself was quite damaged, though most of the buildings are still standing, as far as I could tell. Large operations have been set up in tents under the trees, while the large concrete
buildings stand empty. The entire clinical lab is being run in a tent, where I discovered a rather innovative use for babyfood jars - holding urine samples!
The operating theater is actually in a building, fortunately... though it is also a temporary setup. The contrast is striking between the folding tables, piles of boxes containing drugs, and makeshift hand-washing stations and the eerily empty hallways leading into the well built operating theaters with designated prep rooms. We had a rather satisfying quick fix on an x-ray view box in these empty operating theaters, but one wonders how long it will be before hospital operations return to the building. I've been told that this particular building has been approved for safety by a team of engineers, but people are still hesitant to return to working indoors.
Another building that stands abandoned is perhaps even more disturbing. The clinical laboratory building is still standing, but there are broken windows and open cabinets among the rooms. Chairs and tables have been removed to set up the tents. We were shown empty rooms where microscopes once lined the counters. Now there's a box in the corner with the expensive pieces piled on
top of each other. Incubators and refrigerators have been strewn open and vials with blood are broken all over the floor, some mounded high in the sink. Everything in the building is covered in dust and remains to be tested. Our later trips may involve a trip back to this hospital just to plug machines in and find out whether or not they work.
I suppose it's not really my place to try and make light of things, but with such a beautiful tree as your waiting room, things could be worse.
I may have spoken too soon about repairing equipment following the earthquake. Yesterday was our grand adventure to the main state-owned teaching hospital in Port-au-Prince. The drive to the hospital passed by the Palais National, which although still spectacular, is spectacularly at least a full level lower than its original height. The surrounding parks are full of tents and make shift homes built primarily out of scrap wood, corrugated metal, and tarps sometimes labeled with the names of different aid organizations. Passing by countless piles of rubble, leaning walls held up by one or two bars of rebar, and mangled nests of iron I understand the general fear of sleeping under roofs. It’s still difficult to imagine the scene of watching buildings rapidly become piles of rubble not only in the first earthquake but in multiple aftershocks.
The hospital itself was quite damaged, though most of the buildings are still standing, as far as I could tell. Large operations have been set up in tents under the trees, while the large concrete
buildings stand empty. The entire clinical lab is being run in a tent, where I discovered a rather innovative use for babyfood jars - holding urine samples!The operating theater is actually in a building, fortunately... though it is also a temporary setup. The contrast is striking between the folding tables, piles of boxes containing drugs, and makeshift hand-washing stations and the eerily empty hallways leading into the well built operating theaters with designated prep rooms. We had a rather satisfying quick fix on an x-ray view box in these empty operating theaters, but one wonders how long it will be before hospital operations return to the building. I've been told that this particular building has been approved for safety by a team of engineers, but people are still hesitant to return to working indoors.
Another building that stands abandoned is perhaps even more disturbing. The clinical laboratory building is still standing, but there are broken windows and open cabinets among the rooms. Chairs and tables have been removed to set up the tents. We were shown empty rooms where microscopes once lined the counters. Now there's a box in the corner with the expensive pieces piled on
top of each other. Incubators and refrigerators have been strewn open and vials with blood are broken all over the floor, some mounded high in the sink. Everything in the building is covered in dust and remains to be tested. Our later trips may involve a trip back to this hospital just to plug machines in and find out whether or not they work. I suppose it's not really my place to try and make light of things, but with such a beautiful tree as your waiting room, things could be worse.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Earthquake up close
Since I’m not often not home long enough to properly care for a dog, my pets of choice have become plants. Having forgotten to ask my roommate to water them, I’m anticipating that my ‘pets’ will be somewhat wilted when I return from Haiti. But I also know that they are all succulent plants, built to withstand periods without water, and that after even a single watering they will markedly perkier and hold themselves up straighter. That dramatic resurrection exactly describes how I felt in the process of sitting down for dinner tonight. At the beginning of the meal, unable to do more than smile in response to conversation; gradually gaining strength as I worked through Tasso (Haitian beef in a wonderful sauce), green beans, rice with beans, and fried plantains; to significantly much more energy and so much happier at the end of the meal. Today was a long, productive, and wonderful day.
Perhaps the biggest misconception about our work here is that we are fixing everything that was damaged in the earthquake. Yes, we were brought here as part of the relief effort. But I hate to break your bubble: Most of this equipment was in very bad shape before the Richter scale read 7-plus. Only 
one of the pieces of equipment had problems from the earthquake, as far as we could tell. Justin spent a large part of the day tracing the circuitry on this autoclave, resealing the door, and adding a grounding wire to the casing so it wouldn’t shock the person who was trying to sterilize the equipment. Come the end of the day, we were testing the equipment with some of the nurses… and lo and behold… found another problem. It’s exactly like the Tom and Jerry type cartoon where Tom is trying to stop a leak with is finger when another breaks out and before you know it he’s covered in water. The door of the autoclave no longer leaked, but of course now water was leaking out the corroded back of the machine.
one of the pieces of equipment had problems from the earthquake, as far as we could tell. Justin spent a large part of the day tracing the circuitry on this autoclave, resealing the door, and adding a grounding wire to the casing so it wouldn’t shock the person who was trying to sterilize the equipment. Come the end of the day, we were testing the equipment with some of the nurses… and lo and behold… found another problem. It’s exactly like the Tom and Jerry type cartoon where Tom is trying to stop a leak with is finger when another breaks out and before you know it he’s covered in water. The door of the autoclave no longer leaked, but of course now water was leaking out the corroded back of the machine.
Overall, we managed to fix 7 pieces of equipment in a half day at one hospital. We recorded touching 15 pieces of equipment, some of which could easily be fixed with the correct parts – like a halogen bulb. The pieces that were fixed were addressed largely because of some knowledge beforehand that allowed us to bring the appropriate tools and replacement parts. Unfortunately, the hospital we visited today does not have a trained biomedical staff to do regular equipment maintenance. The designated technician wasn’t around quite enough for us to train him all that effectively. Fortunately, the nurses were well versed in their equipment and very attentive to details. It’s exciting to see someone bring you something that is an easy fix, repair it, and in the process show them how to prevent or solve that problem in the future.
The trip home from our hospital seemed surreal. We had spent the night in the Dominican Republic the night before, so it was a rush from hotel to airport to hotel to first hospital this morning. When I finally got a chance to take in the scene on the way home, it was as if the news reels were running outside my window. Except they were life-size, complete with the smells and humidity, and the reporter’s narration was satisfyingly absent.
Our third team member, a biomedical technician in the US, grew up in southern Haiti. We stopped on a rubble filled street in front of a two-story house with collapsing balcony and crumbled foundation strewn about. This was his mother’s house, his home during high school and college. Now it was not even remotely liveable, all his belongings having been looted. As he mourned the loss of his personal library, we asked if he would tell his mother about the scene or show her the pictures we’d taken. “No, no… she doesn’t need to know this.”
Friday, March 12, 2010
Since I did a bad job blogging last time I went...
Tickets were purchased yesterday for a departure the day after tomorrow. And no, it's not for a funeral...
I'm going back to Haiti for a week as part of a team of Biomedical Engineers/Technicians to assess the equipment situation at 4+ hospitals and do as many fixes as we can sight-unseen. Well, sight-mostly-unseen except for some photos. It's incredibly exciting, intimidating, thrilling, and overwhelming. My approach at this point is to be as prepared as possible without sacrificing rest beforehand, do the most thorough job possible while we're there, and write a kick-butt report when we return. Hopefully it will be an impactful project, and not just some disaster-tourists out for a joyride.
In the past I've tried not to drop names of organizations in my blog, but I was told to on this trip... and it makes sense. The more publicity and awareness there is of our cause and related ones, the more we'll be able to affect change. So here it goes:
I'm traveling with Engineering World Health (EWH), based out of Durham, North Carolina. This is the same organization I traveled with in Tanzania. But no, this is not a 2 month stint involving swahili lessons. And since an English-Haitian Kreyol dictionary is not possible to find last minute (as I learned this afternoon), I'll be relying on my French and incredible non-verbal communication skills. Fortunately or unfortunately, my stomach usually lets people know when I'm hungry. I'm hoping that will work in the positive next week.
EWH is not initiating this project all alone. AmeriCares has asked us to partner in this (potentially) multi-phase project to improve the state of medical equipment in and around Port-au-Prince. They may be addressing other needs too, but I don't know about them. Do your own research.
Since this trip has been pieced together so last minute, you'll learn more details as we go. I'm really enjoying the challenge of getting to think through the whole process to make our work effective. This is in contrast to being a student with a set packing list, scheduled itinerary, and pre-established connections. Next week in Port-au-Prince all the preparation will have been things that our team has thought of, designed, and intentioned. It's exciting to use the knowledge I've been learning over the past year while compiling guidelines of how to donate medical equipment effectively. Now it's time for the practical exam.
To give you an idea of the preparations -
Photo: From my first visit to Haiti. This is the sign we put on a half-fixed autoclave. The next day I found it on my bag. "Dange: Pa touche wap mouri." "Danger, don't touch. You'll die."
Oh, and before I forget, the views expressed in this blog are solely the personal views of the author. Unless of course I'm quoting or misquoting someone else.
I'm going back to Haiti for a week as part of a team of Biomedical Engineers/Technicians to assess the equipment situation at 4+ hospitals and do as many fixes as we can sight-unseen. Well, sight-mostly-unseen except for some photos. It's incredibly exciting, intimidating, thrilling, and overwhelming. My approach at this point is to be as prepared as possible without sacrificing rest beforehand, do the most thorough job possible while we're there, and write a kick-butt report when we return. Hopefully it will be an impactful project, and not just some disaster-tourists out for a joyride.
In the past I've tried not to drop names of organizations in my blog, but I was told to on this trip... and it makes sense. The more publicity and awareness there is of our cause and related ones, the more we'll be able to affect change. So here it goes:
I'm traveling with Engineering World Health (EWH), based out of Durham, North Carolina. This is the same organization I traveled with in Tanzania. But no, this is not a 2 month stint involving swahili lessons. And since an English-Haitian Kreyol dictionary is not possible to find last minute (as I learned this afternoon), I'll be relying on my French and incredible non-verbal communication skills. Fortunately or unfortunately, my stomach usually lets people know when I'm hungry. I'm hoping that will work in the positive next week.
EWH is not initiating this project all alone. AmeriCares has asked us to partner in this (potentially) multi-phase project to improve the state of medical equipment in and around Port-au-Prince. They may be addressing other needs too, but I don't know about them. Do your own research.
Since this trip has been pieced together so last minute, you'll learn more details as we go. I'm really enjoying the challenge of getting to think through the whole process to make our work effective. This is in contrast to being a student with a set packing list, scheduled itinerary, and pre-established connections. Next week in Port-au-Prince all the preparation will have been things that our team has thought of, designed, and intentioned. It's exciting to use the knowledge I've been learning over the past year while compiling guidelines of how to donate medical equipment effectively. Now it's time for the practical exam.
To give you an idea of the preparations -
- Spent this morning distributing travel insurance cards I bought yesterday
- We compiled and refined a list of pertinent questions to ask the hospitals. For instance, we can get their wish list, which might include an ultrasound. But we've got to ask if they have a doctor trained to use it AND if there's even electricity to make the ultrasound turn on.
- Found a connection with a Clinical Engineer from the University of Arkansas who has been given donations by Siemens, Drager, and others... talked about how we could help him identify appropriate recipients.
- Looked for the non-existent English-Haitian Kreyol phrasebook (and the even more impossible medical phrase book)
- Bought silicone sealant to fix a leaky autoclave. Picked up WD-40 and superglue as impulse buys. I'm guessing they'll be useful.
Photo: From my first visit to Haiti. This is the sign we put on a half-fixed autoclave. The next day I found it on my bag. "Dange: Pa touche wap mouri." "Danger, don't touch. You'll die."
Oh, and before I forget, the views expressed in this blog are solely the personal views of the author. Unless of course I'm quoting or misquoting someone else.
Monday, March 1, 2010
How to Feel Small
As I begin to write this, I can't decide if I continue writing somewhat negative posts because of the name of the blog (see the first post, May/June 2009) or because writing makes it better. Bear with me... hopefully there will be much more interesting and uplifting stories soon!
But for now, I'd like to divulge my secret to feeling very small and insignificant:
Take 1 bicycle and add 1 not too serious (but carrying lots of serious stuff!) rider. Add a once-sunny day turned gray and overcast. Then set the time to just before evening rush hour. Ride the little bicycle right down main street and start praying that no one hits it...
This wouldn't be such a big deal, if it weren't for the five-points intersection in the middle of downtown. And the intersection wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't for the man in his massive sedan taking his time through the intersection. And the car wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't signaling a left turn - which is exactly what I was doing while approaching from the other direction.
The problem lies in the fact that this man had no intention of turning left and was rather upset when I started to turn in front of him. Wake up drivers! When a bicyclist is signaling a turn, it usually means we're going to take it. Leaving your arm hanging out without knowing it is a little bit more difficult than leaving your turn signal on accidentally.
So no, I didn't get hit. And no, there were no horns or screeching tires. But I was definitely frustrated, angry, and not just a little shaken. Perhaps a good spring present would be an air-horn for my bike...
And that is how to feel very, very small. Sometimes I enjoy the reminder of my insignificance in this world. Today was not one of those moments. I think I'm going to make some cookies.
But for now, I'd like to divulge my secret to feeling very small and insignificant:
Take 1 bicycle and add 1 not too serious (but carrying lots of serious stuff!) rider. Add a once-sunny day turned gray and overcast. Then set the time to just before evening rush hour. Ride the little bicycle right down main street and start praying that no one hits it...
This wouldn't be such a big deal, if it weren't for the five-points intersection in the middle of downtown. And the intersection wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't for the man in his massive sedan taking his time through the intersection. And the car wouldn't be such a big deal if it weren't signaling a left turn - which is exactly what I was doing while approaching from the other direction.
The problem lies in the fact that this man had no intention of turning left and was rather upset when I started to turn in front of him. Wake up drivers! When a bicyclist is signaling a turn, it usually means we're going to take it. Leaving your arm hanging out without knowing it is a little bit more difficult than leaving your turn signal on accidentally.
So no, I didn't get hit. And no, there were no horns or screeching tires. But I was definitely frustrated, angry, and not just a little shaken. Perhaps a good spring present would be an air-horn for my bike...
And that is how to feel very, very small. Sometimes I enjoy the reminder of my insignificance in this world. Today was not one of those moments. I think I'm going to make some cookies.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Why we didn't all just go to Haiti
I think it's reasonable to say that many of us, when we hear of a crisis, would much rather do something tangible than sit around and weep, pray, or part with our money. And yet, praying and giving money are often some of the best things you can do. This article does a good job of explaining exactly why.
Interestingly enough, much of my work this last year has hinged around this kind of a problem - specifically with medical equipment. So often, wealthy nations or hospitals want to help "the poor starving children" and think that by donating items, they can really be of help. A common idea is that "something is better than nothing." In all reality, that couldn't be farther from the truth.
In disaster situations and even extreme poverty, the infrastructure isn't present to keep even human waste from getting into the water system, much less dispose of expired drugs, medical waste, and unusable food/clothing items. A rule of thumb we often repeat in guidelines for effective medical equipment donations is "if it's not acceptable in the donor country, it's not appropriate for the recipients."
Seems to me we just keep coming back to that simple 'do unto others...' advice.
Interestingly enough, much of my work this last year has hinged around this kind of a problem - specifically with medical equipment. So often, wealthy nations or hospitals want to help "the poor starving children" and think that by donating items, they can really be of help. A common idea is that "something is better than nothing." In all reality, that couldn't be farther from the truth.
In disaster situations and even extreme poverty, the infrastructure isn't present to keep even human waste from getting into the water system, much less dispose of expired drugs, medical waste, and unusable food/clothing items. A rule of thumb we often repeat in guidelines for effective medical equipment donations is "if it's not acceptable in the donor country, it's not appropriate for the recipients."
Seems to me we just keep coming back to that simple 'do unto others...' advice.
Disaster do-gooders can actually hinder help
Uninvited volunteers, useless donations can cost money, time — and lives
By JoNel Aleccia
Health writer
updated 7:13 a.m. ET, Thurs., Jan. 21, 2010
No question, the two church-goers from New Jersey had the best intentions in the world when they arrived in Port-au-Prince this week to help victims of Haiti’s killer earthquake.
Trouble was, that was all they had in a land where food, water, shelter and transportation are at a desperate premium, said Laura Blank, a disaster communications manager on the ground for World Vision, a Christian humanitarian aid group with long ties to the country.
“They seemed very eager and very passionate about helping the people of Haiti, but they didn’t have a ride to get out of the airport,” said Blank, who had to direct the pair to assistance.
More than a week after a magnitude-7 earthquake devastated the country, disaster organizers say they’re seeing the first signs of a problem that can hinder even the most ambitious recovery efforts: good intentions gone wrong.
From volunteer medical teams who show up uninvited, to stateside donors who ship boxes of unusable household goods, misdirected compassion can actually tax scarce resources, costing time, money, energy — and lives, experts say.
“Everyone wants to be a hero. Everyone wants to help,” said Dr. Thomas Kirsch, co-director of the Johns Hopkins Center for Refugee and Disaster Response. “It’s not the way to do it.”
Even a medical crew from his own school — Kirsch declined to identify them — arrived in Haiti so ill-prepared they had to seek sustenance from non-governmental organizations.
“They had no bedding, supplies or food,” he said. “They ended up glomming onto some of the NGOs.”
Volunteers simply show up
What to do with well-meaning volunteers is not a new problem. In every disaster, large numbers of people simply show up to help. A handbook published by California disaster officials estimates organizers can count on 50,000 “convergent” volunteers after any severe earthquake. After the Sept. 11 terror attacks, more than 40,000 unsolicited volunteers arrived at Ground Zero in New York.
In the U.S. and around the world, aid organizations are walking a fine line, trying to encourage skilled professionals who can provide indispensable assistance — and waving off those who might not be up to the task. At the federal Center for International Disaster Information, a stern note warns the well-intentioned:
“Volunteers without prior disaster relief experience are generally not selected for relief assignments,” it reads. “Most offers of another body to drive trucks, set up tents, and feed children are not accepted.”
It’s an effort to help would-be Samaritans recognize the reality of the situation, said CIDI director Suzanne H. Brooks.
“It’s very romantic in the TV and movies,” she said. “They think it’s flying in for a weekend. They need to think of it in terms of months.”
Those best suited to help are probably already there, experts said. They’re trained crews who not only have experience working in disasters, but also in developing nations, Kirsch said. The best teams also have a command of Haitian Creole and French, if possible.
When teams arrive without those skills and without their own supplies, they drain resources that could better be used for actual victims, said Dr. Kristi L. Koenig, an emergency physician at the University of California, Irvine, who specializes in disaster response.
“Unless you’re part of a team before the disaster happens with a formal mission, you’re going to be part of the problem,” she said.
Even worse, certain volunteers have required emergency intervention themselves, Kirsch noted.
“Most people do quite well, but about 10 percent don't,” he said. “They end up totally freaking out and having to be evacuated.”
Winter coats and high-heeled shoes?
A different but equally pressing problem is the flood of ill-advised donations that aid agencies already are facing, organizers said. A handful of “Help Haiti” food and clothing drives across the country are inspiring cringes among some workers, said Diana Rothe-Smith, executive director of the National Voluntary Organizations Active in Disaster, a coalition of agencies.
“I would strongly recommend that no donation drives be conducted unless there’s an existing organization on the ground, in Haiti, that has asked for the help,” Rothe-Smith said. “It does pile up very quickly.”
Donations of old clothes, canned goods, water and outdated prescriptions are accumulating, said Brooks. While such items sound useful, they’re actually expensive to sort, to transport and to distribute, she said. Cast-off drugs can be dangerous.
Oftentimes, the household items donated are simply not useful to the disaster victims they’re intended to help.
“I guarantee you someone is going to send a winter coat or high-heeled shoes,” Brooks said.
In fact, after the tsunami in Indonesia in 2004, aid organizers in Sri Lanka were forced to deal with donations of stiletto shoes, expired cans of salmon, evening gowns and even thong panties, according to news reports. In Florida, a truckload of mink coats showed up during the 2004 hurricane season, Rothe-Smith said, a likely tax write-off for a retailer having trouble pushing furs.
The compassion behind some donations is understandable — and laudable, she added. People see dire images on television or in news reports and they want to help.
“It seems to make logical sense to go through your own cupboard and gather those items,” Rothe-Smith said.
The reality, however, is that inappropriate donations actually do more harm than good.
“If you buy a can of peas and it costs 59 cents, it’ll cost about $80 to get it where it needs to go,” Rothe-Smith said.
Mathematics of donation favor cash
Many agencies try to motivate donors with the mathematics of the situation. Jeff Nene, a spokesman for Convoy of Hope, a Springfield, Mo., agency that feeds 11,000 children a day in Haiti, urges cash donations that allow his group to buy in bulk from large suppliers and retailers.
“When people give $1, it translates into $7 in the field,” he said. “If they spend $5 for bottled water, that’s nice and it makes them feel good, but probably it costs us more than $5 to send it. If they give us $5, we can get $35 worth of water.”
That’s a sentiment echoed by virtually every aid agency.
“I would really say at this point, honestly, right now, money is the best thing to give,” Rothe-Smith said.
Donors can find vetted agencies helping in Haiti on sites such as Charity Navigator.
Still, trying to direct the flood of compassion can be tricky, Nene acknowledged.
“Some people get a little miffed by it. They think they’re trying to help and when you don’t receive it in that attitude and spirit, they get upset,” he said.
“You just have to tread lightly. You don’t want to crush people when they’re so willing to help.”
© 2010 msnbc.com Reprints
URL: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/34958965/ns/world_news-haiti_earthquake/
MSN Privacy . Legal
© 2010 MSNBC.com
Uninvited volunteers, useless donations can cost money, time — and lives
By JoNel Aleccia
Health writer
updated 7:13 a.m. ET, Thurs., Jan. 21, 2010
No question, the two church-goers from New Jersey had the best intentions in the world when they arrived in Port-au-Prince this week to help victims of Haiti’s killer earthquake.
Trouble was, that was all they had in a land where food, water, shelter and transportation are at a desperate premium, said Laura Blank, a disaster communications manager on the ground for World Vision, a Christian humanitarian aid group with long ties to the country.
“They seemed very eager and very passionate about helping the people of Haiti, but they didn’t have a ride to get out of the airport,” said Blank, who had to direct the pair to assistance.
More than a week after a magnitude-7 earthquake devastated the country, disaster organizers say they’re seeing the first signs of a problem that can hinder even the most ambitious recovery efforts: good intentions gone wrong.
From volunteer medical teams who show up uninvited, to stateside donors who ship boxes of unusable household goods, misdirected compassion can actually tax scarce resources, costing time, money, energy — and lives, experts say.
“Everyone wants to be a hero. Everyone wants to help,” said Dr. Thomas Kirsch, co-director of the Johns Hopkins Center for Refugee and Disaster Response. “It’s not the way to do it.”
Even a medical crew from his own school — Kirsch declined to identify them — arrived in Haiti so ill-prepared they had to seek sustenance from non-governmental organizations.
“They had no bedding, supplies or food,” he said. “They ended up glomming onto some of the NGOs.”
Volunteers simply show up
What to do with well-meaning volunteers is not a new problem. In every disaster, large numbers of people simply show up to help. A handbook published by California disaster officials estimates organizers can count on 50,000 “convergent” volunteers after any severe earthquake. After the Sept. 11 terror attacks, more than 40,000 unsolicited volunteers arrived at Ground Zero in New York.
In the U.S. and around the world, aid organizations are walking a fine line, trying to encourage skilled professionals who can provide indispensable assistance — and waving off those who might not be up to the task. At the federal Center for International Disaster Information, a stern note warns the well-intentioned:
“Volunteers without prior disaster relief experience are generally not selected for relief assignments,” it reads. “Most offers of another body to drive trucks, set up tents, and feed children are not accepted.”
It’s an effort to help would-be Samaritans recognize the reality of the situation, said CIDI director Suzanne H. Brooks.
“It’s very romantic in the TV and movies,” she said. “They think it’s flying in for a weekend. They need to think of it in terms of months.”
Those best suited to help are probably already there, experts said. They’re trained crews who not only have experience working in disasters, but also in developing nations, Kirsch said. The best teams also have a command of Haitian Creole and French, if possible.
When teams arrive without those skills and without their own supplies, they drain resources that could better be used for actual victims, said Dr. Kristi L. Koenig, an emergency physician at the University of California, Irvine, who specializes in disaster response.
“Unless you’re part of a team before the disaster happens with a formal mission, you’re going to be part of the problem,” she said.
Even worse, certain volunteers have required emergency intervention themselves, Kirsch noted.
“Most people do quite well, but about 10 percent don't,” he said. “They end up totally freaking out and having to be evacuated.”
Winter coats and high-heeled shoes?
A different but equally pressing problem is the flood of ill-advised donations that aid agencies already are facing, organizers said. A handful of “Help Haiti” food and clothing drives across the country are inspiring cringes among some workers, said Diana Rothe-Smith, executive director of the National Voluntary Organizations Active in Disaster, a coalition of agencies.
“I would strongly recommend that no donation drives be conducted unless there’s an existing organization on the ground, in Haiti, that has asked for the help,” Rothe-Smith said. “It does pile up very quickly.”
Donations of old clothes, canned goods, water and outdated prescriptions are accumulating, said Brooks. While such items sound useful, they’re actually expensive to sort, to transport and to distribute, she said. Cast-off drugs can be dangerous.
Oftentimes, the household items donated are simply not useful to the disaster victims they’re intended to help.
“I guarantee you someone is going to send a winter coat or high-heeled shoes,” Brooks said.
In fact, after the tsunami in Indonesia in 2004, aid organizers in Sri Lanka were forced to deal with donations of stiletto shoes, expired cans of salmon, evening gowns and even thong panties, according to news reports. In Florida, a truckload of mink coats showed up during the 2004 hurricane season, Rothe-Smith said, a likely tax write-off for a retailer having trouble pushing furs.
The compassion behind some donations is understandable — and laudable, she added. People see dire images on television or in news reports and they want to help.
“It seems to make logical sense to go through your own cupboard and gather those items,” Rothe-Smith said.
The reality, however, is that inappropriate donations actually do more harm than good.
“If you buy a can of peas and it costs 59 cents, it’ll cost about $80 to get it where it needs to go,” Rothe-Smith said.
Mathematics of donation favor cash
Many agencies try to motivate donors with the mathematics of the situation. Jeff Nene, a spokesman for Convoy of Hope, a Springfield, Mo., agency that feeds 11,000 children a day in Haiti, urges cash donations that allow his group to buy in bulk from large suppliers and retailers.
“When people give $1, it translates into $7 in the field,” he said. “If they spend $5 for bottled water, that’s nice and it makes them feel good, but probably it costs us more than $5 to send it. If they give us $5, we can get $35 worth of water.”
That’s a sentiment echoed by virtually every aid agency.
“I would really say at this point, honestly, right now, money is the best thing to give,” Rothe-Smith said.
Donors can find vetted agencies helping in Haiti on sites such as Charity Navigator.
Still, trying to direct the flood of compassion can be tricky, Nene acknowledged.
“Some people get a little miffed by it. They think they’re trying to help and when you don’t receive it in that attitude and spirit, they get upset,” he said.
“You just have to tread lightly. You don’t want to crush people when they’re so willing to help.”
© 2010 msnbc.com Reprints
URL: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/34958965/ns/world_news-haiti_earthquake/
MSN Privacy . Legal
© 2010 MSNBC.com
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Haiti: Pre-earthquake
In light of the catastrophe in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, I figure I should probably write a little bit about my experience there. Fortunately, the hospitals we were working with are farther inland and all their locations are still standing. This puts them in the position of providing care to many of the wounded. Having worked with the people at Partners in Health (PIH), I would highly recommend sending any support through them if you want to help with the disaster relief. PIH isn't just an outside aid organization, their whole strategy is to train and employ Haitian nationals, from the cleaning staff and community health workers all the way up to the doctors and nurses - and everyone in between.
While in Haiti, we worked with Youdy, their head biomedical technician. I was so impressed with his knowledge and desire for learning. Youdy has completed multiple courses in specific types of equipment, both in the US and via distance-learning. He is training at least 8 young men to work at the different site hospitals and as assistants for him. While we were in Haiti, Billy and I worked with Youdy to repair 3 tabletop sterilizers and help set up an x-ray machine. Once we arrived at home, we were also able to send back the parts for a 4th sterilizer which is likely in service now.
More to come later. For now, here are the pictures from my time there:
Zanmi Lasante Hospital in Haiti
While in Haiti, we worked with Youdy, their head biomedical technician. I was so impressed with his knowledge and desire for learning. Youdy has completed multiple courses in specific types of equipment, both in the US and via distance-learning. He is training at least 8 young men to work at the different site hospitals and as assistants for him. While we were in Haiti, Billy and I worked with Youdy to repair 3 tabletop sterilizers and help set up an x-ray machine. Once we arrived at home, we were also able to send back the parts for a 4th sterilizer which is likely in service now.
More to come later. For now, here are the pictures from my time there:
Zanmi Lasante Hospital in Haiti
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)