A mother squirrel decided to move into my cousin's apartment about a month ago with her young ones. The matriarch of the new residents, seemingly unconcerned as to whether or not she was discovered, scratched away at the outside wall of the apartment. My cousin's wife, Ivelisse, peeked through the sliding glass door surprised to see the determined mother turn to her unstartled and continued to etch away at the barrier. Ivelisse went back in to her house, continued her conversation with her mother on the phone, in shock as to what she just witnessed.
Days later Ivelisse went to the patio with her basket full of laundry with the intention of placing a load in the washer when she noticed the new tenants moving into her ceiling. The gentle parent placed one new born squirrel in her mouth at a time climbed up a few boxes to the washer from there climbed onto the dryer where she squiggled into the hole which lead to their freshly made nest.
Ivelisse, not too pleased and yet again in disbelief, turned around with her basket still full until the bushy-tailed mover finished transporting her young. The following two weeks little noise was heard on the ceiling of my cousin and Ivelisse's bedroom. By the time the third week came along the rodents ran from one side of the ceiling to the other, sometimes seeming to follow the louder thumps... their food. They would occasionally scratch at the sliding glass door appearing to visit their flatmates, the whole family. By this point Ivelisse tried to assure herself she wasn't imaging this all.
The original tenants of the apartment began to loose sleep over the ruckus, deciding to call pest control to move the nest to another location and inclose the patio with screen in order to avoid more squatters. The team came in, removed the family placing metal sponges on the doorways, discovering more holes and blocking them with different barriers, plastic sheets, plastering up the wall, inclosing the patio and finishing it up by placing four electric irritants that let out an annoying sound inaudible to humans that the squirrels would want to avoid. They left pleased with their work.
Less than an hour after their departure Ivelisse heard faint whining coming from the above. As the hour passed the whining progressed. She called her husband, "They left one up there. She's going to come back for her, we can't let her die up there." By the time my cousin came home from work the resolved mother had broken the newly installed screen found her way to the once opening where she clawed desperately at the materials blocking her from her baby. My cousin set the irritants higher in order to scare her off. She left for a little bit and returned more driven. During the night, the humans heard the desperate whining and the determined mother. Finally the couple couldn't any longer. My cousin turned on the lights went to the patio and began to undo the handy work of the pest control team, assisting the headstrong mother.
He dug through the plaster, pulled out the plastic sheet and the metal sponge and gave way for the mother to find her young. Ivelisse disconnected the irritant and the pair went to sleep. By morning the whining ceased along with the sound of grating plaster.
The human family was left with a screened patio with a hole in it, two plastered areas of the wall, and a deeper hole in one, but with an incredible admiration for the bond between a mother and her offspring, no matter the species.
________________________________________
I went to the park today with a friend and her two daughters. I left with an incredible admiration for the bond between a mother and her offspring.
With you,
Luisely
Showing posts with label Kay Pob... little by little. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kay Pob... little by little. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
between 127th and 123rd
I pressed the brake, slowly transitioning to a halt as my eyes made their way to the sky.
Birds.
Hundreds,
It’s still winter so masses flock to the South hovering over the streets of Miami.
I marveled at the uncountable amount of black birds standing so intimately with me. I observed as some decided, seemingly in synchrony, to unhook their claws and open their wings swaying in circular paths with the wind. The grace and elegance of these birds left me without thought, without breath (for a moment). Sadly, the light changed and I moved passed 123rd Ct. to 122nd Ave. where the only evidence of the phenomenon were five birds- a group of three perched on the wires and, a little further, a couple flying above me.
I knew that God spoke to me through those birds; my awe left me with no intellectual conclusion, so I simply prayed, “One day, let me understand what you wished to tell me with this.”
The reason I visited Miami in the first place was to understand God’s will of how I should continue accompanying the people in Kay Pov and the women who are continuing the work there.
So many good intentioned voices recommended this or that and I found myself forgetting that I am like those black birds. Not only am I part of a bigger whole, not only will the wind guide me, but I must soar with two wings. One of the Catholic Church’s treasures is seeing that charity and justice must exist simultaneously, like the two wings on the birds. Not using one more than the other, not esteeming one more than the other, but using both in order to glide in the currents of wind God sends us.
Now I pray, “Let me be like the birds in their equilibrium, in their trust, in their solidarity.”
With you,
Luisely
Birds.
probably thousands, of birds,
all black,
enjoying themselves in the wind
or standing on the electrical wires between 127th Ave. and 123rd Ct.
It’s still winter so masses flock to the South hovering over the streets of Miami.
I marveled at the uncountable amount of black birds standing so intimately with me. I observed as some decided, seemingly in synchrony, to unhook their claws and open their wings swaying in circular paths with the wind. The grace and elegance of these birds left me without thought, without breath (for a moment). Sadly, the light changed and I moved passed 123rd Ct. to 122nd Ave. where the only evidence of the phenomenon were five birds- a group of three perched on the wires and, a little further, a couple flying above me.
I knew that God spoke to me through those birds; my awe left me with no intellectual conclusion, so I simply prayed, “One day, let me understand what you wished to tell me with this.”
I took it as an utter manifestation of Love
and three days later saw it as a reminder…
The reason I visited Miami in the first place was to understand God’s will of how I should continue accompanying the people in Kay Pov and the women who are continuing the work there.
So many good intentioned voices recommended this or that and I found myself forgetting that I am like those black birds. Not only am I part of a bigger whole, not only will the wind guide me, but I must soar with two wings. One of the Catholic Church’s treasures is seeing that charity and justice must exist simultaneously, like the two wings on the birds. Not using one more than the other, not esteeming one more than the other, but using both in order to glide in the currents of wind God sends us.
Now I pray, “Let me be like the birds in their equilibrium, in their trust, in their solidarity.”
With you,
Luisely
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
God gives, God takes
At 5 in the morning Yvka opened the broken door to Lisanne’s room with a warm bowl of buyon (a soup with plantains, dumplings, and yucca).
As the sun rose from the mountains from afar Yvka sat next to her trying to spoon feed Lisanne, monitoring her breathing. Throughout the morning she bathed her in bed changing her clothes since she could no longer contain her bowel movements.
I arrived at 9am, after theater of the oppressed. The flies swarmed around her as she struggled for air. It was as if they knew.
We sat with the others as we planned for the morgue. Madame Lakwa tried to fill Lisanne’s empty stomach at noon while Yvka went off to hide her tears from the rest. They knew, we all knew.
I went to eat and bring back food for Yvka, who hadn’t eaten. Yvka and I stayed accompanying and sharing stories of the time spent with Lisanne as I braided her hair.
The wind blew, the children laughed, Alex complained, Tyler slept, and Lisanne ceased.
I went to her, calmly searched for her pulse, placed my hand on her chest, my finger under her nose, I kissed her still warm cheekbones that I had kissed so many times before and rubbed my warm nose against her cold one.
I walked across the room to Daniel to rub his head. Daniel spoke to me without lifting his head, “M pa kapab fe anyen, m pa kapab fe anyen. I can’t do anything, I can’t do anything.” He struggled up and limped over to his partner whom he had had ten children with. He uncovered her head, leaned over close to her face, straightened up, and limped back to his cot where he sat with his head low. “She’s dead. M pa kapab fe anyen.” I stood up, went outside, found the buyon and offered it to Daniel. He looked at Yvka and nourished himself with his companion’s last meal. He knew.
The wind blew, the children left, Alex complained, Tyler awoke, and Daniel ate.
As M. Lakwa and M. Lissette went searching for assistance at the morgue I continued to braid Yvka’s hair with Lisanne to my right and Daniel to my left.
When M. Lakwa and M. Lissette arrived with the stretcher the sun snuggled into the far off mountains. I thirsted.
They found no one to help carry the body to the morgue. We laid the stretcher by the cot on the floor. I lifted Lisanne’s head and upperbody while Yvka took her legs. Down the steep doorway, through the narrow corner, passed the gate, we carried. The weight of her body perplexed me; Lisanne was pure bones, and her body a cross. As soon as we passed the brick red gate two young men began bantering, laughing. The mockery continued all the way down the hill through the town to the main street.
People began to follow us out of curiosity.
“Who is it?” the voices cried out from porches and kiosks.
“An old one from Kay Pov,” a young woman responded through her smile.
“One less!” they cackled.
“Who is it?” they yelled, “Alex?”
“No, another from Kay Pov,” one of the followers replied.
“Aw, what a shame, I was hoping it was Alex.”
“Who is it?” they asked.
“A moun from Kay Pov.”
Laughter followed.
Motorcycles zoomed by honking and the mockery continued.
It wasn’t until we arrived to the main street that two women offered to help, M. Lissette on one corner of the stretcher and someone unknown to us on another corner. The four of us continued down the street towards the morgue as the crowds continued.
Abba, forgive them, for they know not what they do.
The man at the morgue wanted to discuss business before opening the door for us. Sweat streamed down our faces, the unknown lady went to place her corner on the floor while M. Lissette refuted, “No, we will carry her until she enters.” We did not budge. The man looked at our faces and unlocked the heavy doors to the small room that contained another body. We followed directions placing her body on the floor. We left.
There lay the body of Lisanne “like a dish that is broken.” (Psalm 31)
Our friend
who devoured her rice and beans and only used her spoon to scoop more in her hand,
who squabbled constantly and thunderously with Daniel, but who missed him terribly when he went out for wood,
who would store her powdered tobacco in a knot in the bandana she wrapped around her head,
who opened her clouded eyes towards the sun to sense the sunlight
is now a part of it, of us, all.
All the group of ladies from my first salsa class cleaned out her room today and sat to accompany and feel the wind blow by the side of Daniel and the others in Kay Pov.
Now Tiffany will have a bed.
With you,
Luisely
As the sun rose from the mountains from afar Yvka sat next to her trying to spoon feed Lisanne, monitoring her breathing. Throughout the morning she bathed her in bed changing her clothes since she could no longer contain her bowel movements.
I arrived at 9am, after theater of the oppressed. The flies swarmed around her as she struggled for air. It was as if they knew.
We sat with the others as we planned for the morgue. Madame Lakwa tried to fill Lisanne’s empty stomach at noon while Yvka went off to hide her tears from the rest. They knew, we all knew.
I went to eat and bring back food for Yvka, who hadn’t eaten. Yvka and I stayed accompanying and sharing stories of the time spent with Lisanne as I braided her hair.
The wind blew, the children laughed, Alex complained, Tyler slept, and Lisanne ceased.
I went to her, calmly searched for her pulse, placed my hand on her chest, my finger under her nose, I kissed her still warm cheekbones that I had kissed so many times before and rubbed my warm nose against her cold one.
I walked across the room to Daniel to rub his head. Daniel spoke to me without lifting his head, “M pa kapab fe anyen, m pa kapab fe anyen. I can’t do anything, I can’t do anything.” He struggled up and limped over to his partner whom he had had ten children with. He uncovered her head, leaned over close to her face, straightened up, and limped back to his cot where he sat with his head low. “She’s dead. M pa kapab fe anyen.” I stood up, went outside, found the buyon and offered it to Daniel. He looked at Yvka and nourished himself with his companion’s last meal. He knew.
The wind blew, the children left, Alex complained, Tyler awoke, and Daniel ate.
As M. Lakwa and M. Lissette went searching for assistance at the morgue I continued to braid Yvka’s hair with Lisanne to my right and Daniel to my left.
When M. Lakwa and M. Lissette arrived with the stretcher the sun snuggled into the far off mountains. I thirsted.
They found no one to help carry the body to the morgue. We laid the stretcher by the cot on the floor. I lifted Lisanne’s head and upperbody while Yvka took her legs. Down the steep doorway, through the narrow corner, passed the gate, we carried. The weight of her body perplexed me; Lisanne was pure bones, and her body a cross. As soon as we passed the brick red gate two young men began bantering, laughing. The mockery continued all the way down the hill through the town to the main street.
People began to follow us out of curiosity.
“Who is it?” the voices cried out from porches and kiosks.
“An old one from Kay Pov,” a young woman responded through her smile.
“One less!” they cackled.
“Who is it?” they yelled, “Alex?”
“No, another from Kay Pov,” one of the followers replied.
“Aw, what a shame, I was hoping it was Alex.”
“Who is it?” they asked.
“A moun from Kay Pov.”
Laughter followed.
Motorcycles zoomed by honking and the mockery continued.
It wasn’t until we arrived to the main street that two women offered to help, M. Lissette on one corner of the stretcher and someone unknown to us on another corner. The four of us continued down the street towards the morgue as the crowds continued.
Abba, forgive them, for they know not what they do.
The man at the morgue wanted to discuss business before opening the door for us. Sweat streamed down our faces, the unknown lady went to place her corner on the floor while M. Lissette refuted, “No, we will carry her until she enters.” We did not budge. The man looked at our faces and unlocked the heavy doors to the small room that contained another body. We followed directions placing her body on the floor. We left.
There lay the body of Lisanne “like a dish that is broken.” (Psalm 31)
Our friend
who devoured her rice and beans and only used her spoon to scoop more in her hand,
who squabbled constantly and thunderously with Daniel, but who missed him terribly when he went out for wood,
who would store her powdered tobacco in a knot in the bandana she wrapped around her head,
who opened her clouded eyes towards the sun to sense the sunlight
is now a part of it, of us, all.
All the group of ladies from my first salsa class cleaned out her room today and sat to accompany and feel the wind blow by the side of Daniel and the others in Kay Pov.
Now Tiffany will have a bed.
With you,
Luisely
Thursday, September 16, 2010
conversations
My beloveds!
I haven´t abandoned you, you´ve been in my thoughts and prayers. I´ve received emails regarding the last post, that I did in an attempt to show you that I was still with you, but it didn´t seem to have much success, so here I am.
The two in the last post are Fabio and Pierre (whose mother leaves him in Kay Pov for the elderly to care for him while she goes to the market to sell the goods she can). He fell a week before the picture was taken and still is wounded and that´s why he has the handkerchief wrapped around his arm. All of those in Kay Pov care for him, feeding him (and his mother), scolding him, pampering him, cleaning him, and protecting him. The relationship is beautiful; the way Pierre melts in the arms of Fabio or goes running into his arms in laughter is precious. Pierre adds a spirit to Kay Pov that only a child can add.
This past week prayers were answered, as in every week. The day before Yvka and I were going to go open the account with Madame La Croix and before we began our visits asking for money around the community, three blessings paid us a visit. A priest from Jean Rabel who now resides in the US came along with two of his friends to visit Nazareth. As we sat outside sharing ideas and passions, livestock and dancing, the priest expressed a desire, “I have $5,000 that I had in mind to put towards a center for the elderly, but I have been praying about putting it towards Kay Pov instead.” This came from him, I hadn´t mentioned the ideas or the fundraising. Nazareth immediately directed him towards me, “She´s the one you need to talk to.” The conversation was gloriously providential. The other two gentlemen with him were equally thrilled and willing to pay Kay Pov a visit.
Their eyes, ears, noses, feet, and heart opened to Kay Pov during their visit. They each expressed their desire for the conditions to become more humane, so the conversation continued. Many ideas are swirling in the air, while others are marinating in divine juices, our deep desire is to work with the people of Jean Rabel to hear their desires and to be able to work with them in a sustainable and just way for the people of Kay Pov. We are excited and we need your prayers.
I will keep you updated as we see where God takes us on this journey with Kay Pov. I´m excited!!! So excited!!!
With you,
Luisely
P.S.: Walter´s better, yesterday evening he told me that God explained to him that I was going to marry a Haitian and have 6 to 7 children and stay net, or for good, in Haiti. I laughed hysterically, telling him that the message still hadn´t gotten it´s way around to me, but I´d be on the lookout. Doctor Geralda visited them today, as promised, explaining all the prescriptions to Yvka, who took on the responsibility of giving them their medications, at the required time and with a little snack if food is needed. I am filled with hope because the last few times that I´ve visited Kay Pov, I´ve met Yvka there doing the same, simply sitting and chatting. They´re our family.
I haven´t abandoned you, you´ve been in my thoughts and prayers. I´ve received emails regarding the last post, that I did in an attempt to show you that I was still with you, but it didn´t seem to have much success, so here I am.
The two in the last post are Fabio and Pierre (whose mother leaves him in Kay Pov for the elderly to care for him while she goes to the market to sell the goods she can). He fell a week before the picture was taken and still is wounded and that´s why he has the handkerchief wrapped around his arm. All of those in Kay Pov care for him, feeding him (and his mother), scolding him, pampering him, cleaning him, and protecting him. The relationship is beautiful; the way Pierre melts in the arms of Fabio or goes running into his arms in laughter is precious. Pierre adds a spirit to Kay Pov that only a child can add.
This past week prayers were answered, as in every week. The day before Yvka and I were going to go open the account with Madame La Croix and before we began our visits asking for money around the community, three blessings paid us a visit. A priest from Jean Rabel who now resides in the US came along with two of his friends to visit Nazareth. As we sat outside sharing ideas and passions, livestock and dancing, the priest expressed a desire, “I have $5,000 that I had in mind to put towards a center for the elderly, but I have been praying about putting it towards Kay Pov instead.” This came from him, I hadn´t mentioned the ideas or the fundraising. Nazareth immediately directed him towards me, “She´s the one you need to talk to.” The conversation was gloriously providential. The other two gentlemen with him were equally thrilled and willing to pay Kay Pov a visit.
Their eyes, ears, noses, feet, and heart opened to Kay Pov during their visit. They each expressed their desire for the conditions to become more humane, so the conversation continued. Many ideas are swirling in the air, while others are marinating in divine juices, our deep desire is to work with the people of Jean Rabel to hear their desires and to be able to work with them in a sustainable and just way for the people of Kay Pov. We are excited and we need your prayers.
I will keep you updated as we see where God takes us on this journey with Kay Pov. I´m excited!!! So excited!!!
With you,
Luisely
P.S.: Walter´s better, yesterday evening he told me that God explained to him that I was going to marry a Haitian and have 6 to 7 children and stay net, or for good, in Haiti. I laughed hysterically, telling him that the message still hadn´t gotten it´s way around to me, but I´d be on the lookout. Doctor Geralda visited them today, as promised, explaining all the prescriptions to Yvka, who took on the responsibility of giving them their medications, at the required time and with a little snack if food is needed. I am filled with hope because the last few times that I´ve visited Kay Pov, I´ve met Yvka there doing the same, simply sitting and chatting. They´re our family.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
lessons learned
Saturday, after a few hours swimming in the sea, I went to the place where I feel most at home and at ease in Jean Rabel, the house of the poor- Kay Pov. I sat with Alex and Tiffany in front of me, surprised to see Tiffany engaging in such a long incognizant conversation with me. Never had she maintained eye contact or a stream of mumbles for so long, mumbles that in her mind must have been quite a tale. I sat delighting in Alex´s notion of time and his way of keeping track of it.
Suddenly a young man, maybe my age, walked up to the patio where we sat. His pants unzipped, his belt hanging from the loops and his toothbrush in his pocket. I observed a bit protectively. He walked straight up to Flavio, Fabian, and Walter´s room. “Bonswa, komon w rele?” I asked waiting to see his manner of responding. The visitor responded with incongruent blabber directed to me, without hostility or sympathy. I asked Alex who he was and if he understood the response. “No, his head turns in circles” he answered referring to the visitor´s mental instability, this coming from Alex, whose head doesn´t necessarily follow a straight line, filled me with tenderness. Alex shared his little knowledge about the young man; he came from Cap-Haitian wanting to stay in Kay Pov, and the older ladies of the church denied him his request. That distracted Alex and he went off on a tangent about how stunning Cap-Haitian is, he had never been, but he had heard of its beauty, I must go visit he insisted.
As Alex went on about Cap-Haitian I saw Flavio walk up to the doorway with his metal bowl in one of his tough hands and his walking stick in the other. The young man practically snatched the bowl from his massive hand with a nod of gratitude, sat down on the floor next to the entrance and started inhaling the rice in it. It had been a while since I had witnessed someone eat so ferociously, because Analise, who gobbles her food, and others in Kay Pov, lack the physical strength and health to eat so rapidly. He looked nowhere as he ate; his eyes were fixed on the metal bowl filled with less rice by the mouthful. When no more rice remained Flavio walked towards him, picked up his now empty bowl and spoon, walked over to the faucet by the cistern, filled the bowl with water and served it to the young man. I paid close attention to see if an exchange of money or goods was to take place, but I waited in vain. The newcomer left as quickly and naturally as he arrived.
“Is he family Flavio?” I questioned.
“No, he´s hungry.”
Flavio responded matter-of-factly, as if giving his only bowl of food received daily to a stranger with more health, strength, and youth than him, but hungry just the same, was the most natural act.
The lessons never cease.
With you,
Luisely
Suddenly a young man, maybe my age, walked up to the patio where we sat. His pants unzipped, his belt hanging from the loops and his toothbrush in his pocket. I observed a bit protectively. He walked straight up to Flavio, Fabian, and Walter´s room. “Bonswa, komon w rele?” I asked waiting to see his manner of responding. The visitor responded with incongruent blabber directed to me, without hostility or sympathy. I asked Alex who he was and if he understood the response. “No, his head turns in circles” he answered referring to the visitor´s mental instability, this coming from Alex, whose head doesn´t necessarily follow a straight line, filled me with tenderness. Alex shared his little knowledge about the young man; he came from Cap-Haitian wanting to stay in Kay Pov, and the older ladies of the church denied him his request. That distracted Alex and he went off on a tangent about how stunning Cap-Haitian is, he had never been, but he had heard of its beauty, I must go visit he insisted.
As Alex went on about Cap-Haitian I saw Flavio walk up to the doorway with his metal bowl in one of his tough hands and his walking stick in the other. The young man practically snatched the bowl from his massive hand with a nod of gratitude, sat down on the floor next to the entrance and started inhaling the rice in it. It had been a while since I had witnessed someone eat so ferociously, because Analise, who gobbles her food, and others in Kay Pov, lack the physical strength and health to eat so rapidly. He looked nowhere as he ate; his eyes were fixed on the metal bowl filled with less rice by the mouthful. When no more rice remained Flavio walked towards him, picked up his now empty bowl and spoon, walked over to the faucet by the cistern, filled the bowl with water and served it to the young man. I paid close attention to see if an exchange of money or goods was to take place, but I waited in vain. The newcomer left as quickly and naturally as he arrived.
“Is he family Flavio?” I questioned.
“No, he´s hungry.”
Flavio responded matter-of-factly, as if giving his only bowl of food received daily to a stranger with more health, strength, and youth than him, but hungry just the same, was the most natural act.
The lessons never cease.
With you,
Luisely
Friday, August 20, 2010
a doctor's visit
Yesterday a doctor went to Kay Pov. God knows the last time our loved ones saw a doctor.
Tuesday I told them that the doctor would be coming at 9am in the morning on Wednesday, market day. Never ceasing to amaze me, at 9 o´clock I found all of the mentally stable ones waiting for their date, minus Walter who refused to be seen. Tyler, Flavio, Adaniel and Alex, the market frequenters, all opted out of their biweekly outing for the grand event. Flavio finished buttoning his inside out red Hawaiian shirt over his other, coincidentally, red shirt and fixing his hat. While waiting his turn to see the doctor I caught him stretching out his shirt, attempting to iron out the wrinkles. Tyler shaved, put on his best attire: navy blue corduroy pants, a long sleeve shirt, thick soccer socks, and tennis shoes, as I passed by admiring his apparel for the occasion I observed as he struggled to tie his laces with his one useful hand. By the time he finished sweat spotted his freshly shaven face as he sat with dignity and patience.
Geralda, the doctor who agreed to visit Kay Pov, arrived at nine. I asked one of the gentlemen for a chair and immediately was offered four; it is one of their few possessions, a small wooden chair to shita, or sit.
I wanted to see how Geralda interacted with them and how she dealt with the environment. She noticed that the consultations would be held outside sitting on a chair, asking questions to some who aren’t necessarily completely cognizant. I wanted to see if she looked into their eyes, if she understood the murmurs that stream through their toothless mouths, if she touched their skin without disgust. At first I could tell she was a bit taken aback. Her first patient, Alex went on to tell her everything he could imagine could be going wrong with him and what the cause of everything was. “Can you tell me your age Alex?” “Yes, October 12th.” She looked at me and smiled. Little by little she went understanding them more and more. She tried to give Tiffany a check up in vain. Tiffany kept on running out of her chair, laughing and sticking her hands in her mouth. I walked over and caressed her hair, she would look at me calmly grab my hand with her drooly one and turn her back to the doctor. Alex came with boiled green bananas as an offering for Tiffany. Geralda continued her attempts to consult Tiffany, but in return would be offered chunks of the boiled bananas from Tiffany’s wet hand. Tiffany’s cough continues.
I visited Analise’s and Adaniel´s room to see if they were ready for their consultations. Excrement plastered Analise’s bed and the floor around her. She must have suffered a long night. Geralda walked in, surely smelling the evidence of Analise’s lack of health. Without making a scene she walked over to Adaniel at the other side of the room and started his check up, while we cleaned Analise and her belongings. By the time Adaniel’s consultation ended we decided it would be best for Analise to be seen outside under a tree, the same tree we bathe them under. Analise seemed to have no interest in leaving the room and sensed where I planned to guide her, “I don’t want a shower!” she started yelling as I held her in my hands walking her towards the tree. “A doctor is here to see you.” “A doctor? I don’t have any money, a doctor won’t see me,” she said through a dry laugh. All the while she pulled all her weight, maybe 60 pounds, back towards the filthy room. “I want to lay down.”
I’m sure slightly intimidated, Geralda sat patiently under the tree watching the spectacle. I leaned my forehead on Analise’s and began humming a Bobby McFarrin song she likes to hear and held her in my arms. After numerous kisses on her cheekbones she began to stammer with me towards the tree. As she sat down she started undressing, while patting around the dirt around her in search for her pillowcase which carries all her belongings. Geralda looked at me in shock, I lead her eyes towards Analise’s cloudy ones and she began to talk to her. The consultation began with Geralda touching Analise with her pen to let her know where she sat; by the end Geralda was placing her hand on Analise’s.
Each one handed their prescription to me as they finished. By the end of the morning the collection of prescriptions filled my pocket. As Geralda and I walked down the hill towards a mini-medical dispensary Jara and Pharmaceutics without Borders set up, I thanked her for her gentleness with them, for her patience, and her sense of humor, for going and seeing them. She looked straight into me and said, “This is a pleasure for me, thank you.”
AAAA! God is outstandingly wonderful! I wanted to find a doctor to visit Kay Pov once a month, a doctor to care for them delicately and with dignity. I wanted to find a sustainable way for their prescriptions to be paid for and God with Geralda, Jara, those in Kay Pov, fulfilled my desires. Prescribing medicine to those in Kay Pov comes with more complications than usual. Many medications require food intake alongside them, if they have one meal a day, then the doctor can’t prescribe those medications. None have clocks and some are not aware of the time of day or have the memory to remember when to take their medications. Two madams offered to assist in giving Adaniel, Analise, and Alex their medications. We’ll see how it goes. After Geralda explained how to take each pill, syrup, or vitamin the gratitude expressed to her from all of the conscious ones moved her, and me.
How blessed am I to love these people and see them be loved by others. Thank you God, thank you.
With you,
Luisely
P.D.: The lady who used to wash their clothes and sheets no longer follows through, so we’re in search of someone else. I have a plan. Pray, that God illuminate us and that God’s will be done through us.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
a particular bond
There is a bond created when 2 Hydrogen molecules connect with an Oxygen molecule that is particular. The compound bends so the H-O-H is not linear as you see here. This particularity, however minor, allows water to possess the qualities to be our life source. (Okay, so maybe chemists can explain this in a much more enlightened and inspiring way, but simply put it is still amazing.) When listening to the explanation of this miracle of creation I remember feeling awestruck at God’s divine detail. We, all living creatures, have been molded to respond to this bent compound of molecules: water.We carry the water from Kay Se (where I live) to Kay Pov with a bucket over our heads. We, unlike the people living in Kay Pov, benefit from strong legs and backs, eyes without cataracts, and young age.
After nearly two months of pleading with the mayor’s office and pressuring Pe Nehemiah, my birthday wish came true. The day after, on June 10th we decided enough excuses had been heard. The group of women to whom I teach salsa (Lydia, Tutti, Frances, Yvka, Lisnei, Nelly included) and I organized. We gathered and prepared for a sit-in in the mayor’s office with the PVCs and all the material for the installation of the water pipes. Down the street we walked, united with the long tubes above our shoulders, listening to the people’s comments along the way. When we arrived to the county office we laid the PVC pipes along the entrance of the office and walked in. As we entered one by one into the mayor’s office, he stood up noticing the lack of room for all of us in his office; he invited us to a larger office. We went together, all the women and I, and spoke. He listened while men from the office went to find more chairs for the women standing and sitting on each other’s laps in the office. We explained that we planned on waiting peacefully there until the installation began.
The mayor picked up his phone, spoke firmly to a man, Durval, on the other line and hung up. As I sat in the crowded office listening to the mayor’s deep Kreyol, I turned my gaze to the faces of the women beside me. Women of different ages used to the oppression towards their gender, all in need themselves, who united gained the courage to stand up for the rights of the marginalized and have their voices heard. Their faces held strong and determined were paradoxically balanced with an undertone of tenderness, of love. This act of solidarity, of power in numbers, blossomed from the love they felt either for each other, for those in Kay Pov, for me, for justice or for all of those reasons combined, but it blossomed from love. Hanging up the phone, the mayor looked at the array of resolute women and explained that we could leave the material in the office and leave confident that the work would begin the same day. Ugh, I was so sick of being thrown from one place to another and not seeing the water in Kay Pov. We listened and explained assertively that we would take the material to Durval’s office and sit until he walked up to Kay Pov with us to begin; and that’s exactly what we did.
With the sweat rolling down our faces we walked alternating the tubes from one shoulder to the other to his office. On the way, God gave us an unexpected and welcomed gift as we spotted Durval walking down the street towards us. By midday two men had begun the ditches needed for the placement of the pipes. The power of organized, unyielding women united for justice moved not only the mayor, Pe Nehemiah, and Durval, but all of us. The women radiated as they heard the songs of gratitude being sung to them by the residents of Kay Pov, because of our willpower and God’s grace, their standard of living was being raised to a more humane state, and with that, their dignity. Since we are all one body, their benefit is our benefit.
We left with our hearts lifted, our heads high, and our voices rejoicing, singing, “Mesi Jesu-O, Mesi Gran Se mwen, mesi pou tet ou kan manm nen mamn nen ou. Thank you Jesus, Thank you Grand sister of mine, thank you for keeping your hand in mine.” We’ve had a few setbacks (to say the least) since June 10th, but 5 days later the water flowed through the pipes, out of the faucet and into the hands of our beloved ones in Kay Pov. Changes are happening: two women now are in charge of washing their clothes and leaving them to dry before six other women rotate days to tend to them. Today they had meat in their daily meal. The Alex, Fabio, and Walter, and Fabien are starting to use the bucket I brought to throw their trash in rather than littering their abode. And…there is water in Kay Pov!
There is a bond created when 2 Hydrogen molecules connect with an Oxygen molecule that is particular. The compound bends so the H-O-H is not linear as you see here. This particularity, however minor, allows water to possess the qualities to be our life source… We, all living creatures, have been molded to respond to this bent compound of molecules: water.
With you,
Luisely
Luisely
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Miracles in Stillness
I know, I know, I´ve been slacking. It´s been over 10 days since I´ve written anything, so before telling you my many stories I would like ask for your forgiveness and let you know that I´m not planning on making this the norm.
So now, let the stories begin…
It seems God knew I needed to spend a little bit more time learning the lesson of simply being in the present. Of not preoccupying myself with all the plans I had, but with embracing what is happening now. On Sunday (the 30th), after assuming the recuperation process was at it´s end, my health started going downhill again. By nightfall my fever had risen and my body weakened. The following day I planned on working in Kay Pov with Dianne and Frances, the two ladies who I had planned could accompany me on Monday s to bathe the people of Kay Pov and to wash their abode. Monday morning putting my hair in a ponytail left me out of breath, so I simply prayed and waited. Frances came. I explained their preferences and nuances, gave her the bucket for the water, the lotion, the soap, the mop and blessings, blessings, blessings. Diane did not show and Frances and I knew the task at hand should be done with another. So I asked another friend, Tutti. She explained that if she did not finish making a certain amount of cards for her work she would be behind and then not receive her pay. She looked at me and smiled saying, I can go to work early tomorrow and catch up. I kissed her, blessed them both, and praised God for the miracle. As they washed our loved ones in Kay Pov, cleaned their home, massaged their bodies, I lay in bed and prayed, sending my blessing and love to the two women caring for those in Kay Pov.
With each passing day my health stayed in the same state, as my hopes ascended to levels new to me in Haiti. The opportunity for these miracles to flourish would have vanished if I would have had perfect health. I would have continued being able to go to Kay Pov, visit the women who work at the club. I would have continued as the healthy, foreigner who helps, rather than being seen as a human receiving love and help from others. Lydia would not have administered the flow of people willing to help in Kay Pov on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturday s. Antwanet would have not related to the prostitutes as a fellow mother, as she did when she saw the joy as they read the letter I sent to them out loud wishing them a joyous mother´s day (28th of May here).The conversation I shared with those around me, those who visited me, would not have occurred, conversations where true sentiments flowed out of our hearts and into the other’s open hearts. I bound myself with the other. Relationships are all turning aright: the community of Jean Rabel with Kay Pov, women of status with the prostitutes, me with our sisters and brothers here in Haiti, slowly becoming right-relationships. The week where I physically did less, where I was the recipient of attention, I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to. My inability to go forth allowed others to become the protagonists in the story, in their community – my true desire. The people in Kay Pov received manicures, pedicures, haircuts, shaving, hairstyling, bathing, clean clothes, and love in actions, love in deeds. The women tending them rejoice from seeing the happiness and gratitude of the people in Kay Pov. Exultations flow out of us all.
I’m in better health now, and I am seeing the fruits of God´s work through us. As the people of Jean-Rabel turn their eyes, their heart, and their hands to Kay Pov, with the daily food, the accessible water (in the works), the willing and dedicated hands and ears, the time for my hands to tend to other forgotten ones may come sooner than I thought. As our Love continuously reminds me, it´s better when I am not in control and I just follow the Spirit one minute at a time.
There's more to share, I'll write soon.
With you,
Luisely
So now, let the stories begin…
It seems God knew I needed to spend a little bit more time learning the lesson of simply being in the present. Of not preoccupying myself with all the plans I had, but with embracing what is happening now. On Sunday (the 30th), after assuming the recuperation process was at it´s end, my health started going downhill again. By nightfall my fever had risen and my body weakened. The following day I planned on working in Kay Pov with Dianne and Frances, the two ladies who I had planned could accompany me on Monday s to bathe the people of Kay Pov and to wash their abode. Monday morning putting my hair in a ponytail left me out of breath, so I simply prayed and waited. Frances came. I explained their preferences and nuances, gave her the bucket for the water, the lotion, the soap, the mop and blessings, blessings, blessings. Diane did not show and Frances and I knew the task at hand should be done with another. So I asked another friend, Tutti. She explained that if she did not finish making a certain amount of cards for her work she would be behind and then not receive her pay. She looked at me and smiled saying, I can go to work early tomorrow and catch up. I kissed her, blessed them both, and praised God for the miracle. As they washed our loved ones in Kay Pov, cleaned their home, massaged their bodies, I lay in bed and prayed, sending my blessing and love to the two women caring for those in Kay Pov.
With each passing day my health stayed in the same state, as my hopes ascended to levels new to me in Haiti. The opportunity for these miracles to flourish would have vanished if I would have had perfect health. I would have continued being able to go to Kay Pov, visit the women who work at the club. I would have continued as the healthy, foreigner who helps, rather than being seen as a human receiving love and help from others. Lydia would not have administered the flow of people willing to help in Kay Pov on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturday s. Antwanet would have not related to the prostitutes as a fellow mother, as she did when she saw the joy as they read the letter I sent to them out loud wishing them a joyous mother´s day (28th of May here).The conversation I shared with those around me, those who visited me, would not have occurred, conversations where true sentiments flowed out of our hearts and into the other’s open hearts. I bound myself with the other. Relationships are all turning aright: the community of Jean Rabel with Kay Pov, women of status with the prostitutes, me with our sisters and brothers here in Haiti, slowly becoming right-relationships. The week where I physically did less, where I was the recipient of attention, I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to. My inability to go forth allowed others to become the protagonists in the story, in their community – my true desire. The people in Kay Pov received manicures, pedicures, haircuts, shaving, hairstyling, bathing, clean clothes, and love in actions, love in deeds. The women tending them rejoice from seeing the happiness and gratitude of the people in Kay Pov. Exultations flow out of us all.
I’m in better health now, and I am seeing the fruits of God´s work through us. As the people of Jean-Rabel turn their eyes, their heart, and their hands to Kay Pov, with the daily food, the accessible water (in the works), the willing and dedicated hands and ears, the time for my hands to tend to other forgotten ones may come sooner than I thought. As our Love continuously reminds me, it´s better when I am not in control and I just follow the Spirit one minute at a time.
There's more to share, I'll write soon.
With you,
Luisely
Monday, May 31, 2010
melting into the sun
I have seen God.
I have seen Walter's 84 year old hands rub sun-heated, soapy water over Samara's raisin skin, latched on to her bones.
I have seen the burning bush.
I have seen a blind man bathe his bed-ridden friend's armpits, breasts, ribs, legs, toes, and back with the dignity of a queen.
I have seen Jesus wash his disciples´ feet.
I have seen parched lips moistened by stubborn, tender hands.
I have seen Love.
Samara died yesterday. Her frail body let go.
There is a peace in death.
"For what is it to die
but to stand naked in the wind
and to melt into the sun?"
-Kahlil Gibran
May we look for the resurrection of the dead. Amen.
With you,
Luisely
Friday, May 28, 2010
a kiss, a smile, a reprimand, and signs of rain
After giving the Salsa classes to the group of ladies today, I visited my forgotten friends in Kay Pob. The odor, a bit different than usual, with the mix of moist earth and forgotten urinals welcomed me. Doors were closed and voices mute. As I turned the corner looking for familiar eyes, I found Tiffany rocking back and forth in her chair. Her eyes looked intently at me and her expression remained unchanged. As I closed the distance between us I noticed the dirt on her skin and the stench of her body. Reaching her crossed legs, I kneeled in front of her and was met by her forehead leaning in for a kiss. Oh, I missed her.
Alex, as always, sat next to her and broke the silence, assuming that I must have been sick because I had disappeared. Fabio, at the other end, shyly ducked his head saying, “Mwen pa we ou. - I haven’t seen you.” I described my sickness, followed by my recovery. His smile sans teeth and bashful chuckle caressed my soul. Walter’s shouts from inside the room began, scolding me for not coming, for allowing him to think I had gone back to my country. I cannot recall the last time I received such strong reprimands, all from a man lying down in his mattress. I sat down next to him and leaned in to hold his face, “Walter, Walter, I was sick.” At a comical speed his face transformed, “Oh, I so mean to you. How you feel Luisely? I miss you so much. How’s your body?” He reached out to me and embraced me singing, as loudly as his previous screams, praises to God for my return. “I missed you too Walter.” “You missed me?” I was asked with a childish grin. “Yes, I missed you.” And it was true.
We went to visit the others, all of whom were in the same clothes we left them in almost two weeks prior. The sheets were the same and the stench horrendous. My family had been abandoned. Samara has stopped drinking any liquids, and developed a sort of crust on her lips. David disappeared two days ago and no one knows where he can be. Replacing him and his belongings laid a broken bottle on the soiled concrete floor. Lisanne, without her companion rested with lost eyes. Smelling the need, I took her bucket used as her toilet to empty it. When I returned and outlined her face with my fingers, stroking her cheeks, listening to her woes, I also glanced at her hands and found her feces smothered on her fingers which she evidently wiped her nose with. Less than two weeks of abandonment. This cannot happen. My goal next week is to find two women to accompany me in bathing them on Mondays. Assuring that when I leave, every Monday the two women will continue bathing my family. We’ll start with Mondays.
They were fed though, not missing one day of food, Thank God! We’re still working for the water. Let’s pray for that. “With our powers combined,” as Captain Planet would say, we can find a way to make water accesible for the people of Kay Pob. A Human Right, and access to basic hygiene.
As I left, heavy clouds hovered over the mountains and lizards scurried for cover. I looked up and thought, “I asked for water.” God provides. God always provides. – It still hasn’t rained.
With you,
Luisely
Alex, as always, sat next to her and broke the silence, assuming that I must have been sick because I had disappeared. Fabio, at the other end, shyly ducked his head saying, “Mwen pa we ou. - I haven’t seen you.” I described my sickness, followed by my recovery. His smile sans teeth and bashful chuckle caressed my soul. Walter’s shouts from inside the room began, scolding me for not coming, for allowing him to think I had gone back to my country. I cannot recall the last time I received such strong reprimands, all from a man lying down in his mattress. I sat down next to him and leaned in to hold his face, “Walter, Walter, I was sick.” At a comical speed his face transformed, “Oh, I so mean to you. How you feel Luisely? I miss you so much. How’s your body?” He reached out to me and embraced me singing, as loudly as his previous screams, praises to God for my return. “I missed you too Walter.” “You missed me?” I was asked with a childish grin. “Yes, I missed you.” And it was true.
We went to visit the others, all of whom were in the same clothes we left them in almost two weeks prior. The sheets were the same and the stench horrendous. My family had been abandoned. Samara has stopped drinking any liquids, and developed a sort of crust on her lips. David disappeared two days ago and no one knows where he can be. Replacing him and his belongings laid a broken bottle on the soiled concrete floor. Lisanne, without her companion rested with lost eyes. Smelling the need, I took her bucket used as her toilet to empty it. When I returned and outlined her face with my fingers, stroking her cheeks, listening to her woes, I also glanced at her hands and found her feces smothered on her fingers which she evidently wiped her nose with. Less than two weeks of abandonment. This cannot happen. My goal next week is to find two women to accompany me in bathing them on Mondays. Assuring that when I leave, every Monday the two women will continue bathing my family. We’ll start with Mondays.
They were fed though, not missing one day of food, Thank God! We’re still working for the water. Let’s pray for that. “With our powers combined,” as Captain Planet would say, we can find a way to make water accesible for the people of Kay Pob. A Human Right, and access to basic hygiene.
As I left, heavy clouds hovered over the mountains and lizards scurried for cover. I looked up and thought, “I asked for water.” God provides. God always provides. – It still hasn’t rained.
With you,
Luisely
Friday, May 14, 2010
Hope.
Two Friday’s ago Nazareth and Rose revealed indispensable information regarding the lack of food in Kay Pob. Mme. Lisette notified the day before that she would not be preparing food because there was none. Zaloa and I shared this with Nazareth and Rose who informed us that Pere Nehemiah, next door, was responsible for the money donated for Kay Pob by a twin parish from Michigan. Without vacillation Zaloa and I headed over to Pere Nehemiah’s house to find a means to feed the people in Kay Pob. We formed a great team, Zaloa defends herself better than I do in Kreyol and I dominate French better than Zaloa; God’s granted me the gift of diplomacy that balanced Zaloa’s gift of directness. Pere Nehemiah welcomed us and we sat, Zaloa in front of Pere Nehemiah, and me, in the middle to his left. Zaloa began with her passionate explanation about the lack of attention in numerous ways to Kay Pob, explaining that at this moment our focus was their stomachs and that “li foc mange yodia,” “they must eat today.” Pere Nehemiah agreed, adding that he had no money to help. We listened and, with Rose’s story of Calloway a few nights before, I described how it would be lovely if Jean Rabel felt ownership for Kay Pob and if the food would come out of the community as a whole, not from the outside or a few. He went on to tell us details about the committee that gathers every Sunday at 3:30pm to organize Kay Pob’s necessities. We told him we’d go as well.
Zaloa stepped in saying, “Yes, we know about the committee, but they need food today. We would like to know where the money donated from Michigan is, in order to use some of it for them because they will go hungry.” Pere Nehemiah, taken aback, looked at me and started speaking French. I went translating for Zaloa. “I have not seen the money you speak of, “ he announced. Zaloa, annoyed and determined, invited him to see Kay Pob, if he does not smell, touch, see, and hear the reality it is hard for him to be moved to act. We said our goodbyes and left. While bartering a bag full of fried balls of dough in the street to calm the bellies in Kay Pob at least a little, Nazareth and Rose came marching up the street, commanding us to follow them. We balanced our way up the five uneven, steep stairs, stepping around the men who rested on them and read the letters painted on the wall, the mayor’s office. The mayor seemed to have taken the day off, but luckily Stefan, his right hand man, sat among the men we weaved through to arrive. Nazareth and Rose introduced us and then proceeded to tell Stefan about the food, or lack of, in Kay Pob. Stefan without allowing his eyes to meet ours and occasionally nodding hello to passer-bys said, “I will go with you and see.” Zaloa, Stefan, and I exchanged a few words as we walked through the dust of Ru Jon Baptis towards our beloveds in Kay Pob. Before turning left up the hill, Stefan, while on the phone, beckoned us to follow him.
We arrived to a two story pink building; we felt our way up the dim staircase finding a little office to our right. There, a young lady sat at a desk with four men relaxed in chairs around the bureau. As soon as we were seen, the men straightened up, two of them excusing themselves as the lady and one of the two men remaining stood confidently. Hands extended, names interchanged and eyes gazed upon us. Neither one of us knowing why we were lead to this office, we turned to see the sign that read National Project of Scholastic Canteens, our explanation followed. They listened, concerned and went on to explain that the organization only distributed food to schools, but that if they saw any opportunity to distribute food to Kay Pob, they would do so. One man stood up, opened a cabinet and started counting money to donate. Zaloa stopped him saying, “No, no, we did not come here for donations.” “But to see how the community at large could look after Kay Pob on a regular basis,” I injected. They smiled and nodded and took out a paper. The man who had said nothing to us directly so far, stood up and said, “Let’s go.” “To Kay Pob?” I asked surprised. “Yes,” and he followed. By the time we finished stumbling down the dim stair case a request for him to go somewhere else came. He turned to us, lifting and pointing to the empty report in his hand, “I will go.”
Zaloa, Stefan, and I returned to our original quest climbing the hill to Kay Pob. Pushing the brick colored gate open, and turning the corner instead of having a gust of urine-filled air, we smelt food. Kay Pob was full of movement, as we never had seen before. Mme. Lissette, the cook stirred a pot of soup with carrots and potatoes, food our eyes never had seen served before. Spectators crawled everywhere. Joy and anger danced in me, neither one taking the lead. There was food, yes. Lisanne, Tiffany, David, Walter, Tyler, Fabio, Samara, Junior, and Alex had food, Alleluia! Ask and you shall receive. At the same time, was this an act, was this all in order to shut us up and make a show. We asked Mme. Lissette and she said simply, “Pere Nehemiah.” We looked at Stefan and saw the spectators and the attention he was receiving. Stefan saw action, smelled food, and heard laughter; as soon as he leaves, the spectators would be gone, they would still need food tomorrow and the laughter gone (with the occasional exceptions). I decided to stay in the present, “Luisely, there’s no need in that, be with them now.”
That Friday was our day for exercise. We distributed the balls of fried dough in order to give them a bit of calories to move their arms and legs up and down with our stretches. The commotion from the spectators and our visitor filtered our voices and attention was difficult to attain. Walter stood right next to me in order to hear all my instructions, while Tyler focused on trying to make the three paralyzed limbs follow the instructions given with his one functioning arm. Overwhelmed by the action and number of people, Tiffany rolled up in her petit chair and rocked herself back and forth. Others complained and others laughed. Stefan stood up, checked on the food and said his goodbyes. The spectators trickled away little by little. After tending to all of them, I stepped into the opaque room Samara, Lisanne, David, and Tiffany share. A group of women surrounded Samara’s skeletal body, Zaloa looked up to me and extended her hand. We held hands and began to pray. Zaloa, not one to pray, held Samara’s hand while tears strolled down her face.
Two weeks have passed since that Friday and each day the people have been fed. Kay Pob is changing. Mme. Lissette’s manor with the people is gentler; caresses are exchanged with gazes of love. The committee gathered enough money to buy soap to wash the clothes. The clothes waits for us clean and dry on Mondays when we bath them. This Monday Samara allowed us to cut her nails, a first, Zaloa cut, while I caressed her and sang to her. This past Wednesday we saw her eat a few spoonfuls of rice, another first for us. (Before Samara survived off of the Tampicos Zaloa buys her. She drinks about a quarter liter of the fruit punch per day.) This Wednesday Pere Nehemiah met us at Kay Pob and visited with the people for at least a half hour.
Hope. Little by little. Maybe next week we no longer have to carry the water up the hill, maybe our cries will be heard and the inactive cistern will be fixed.
With you,
Luisely
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