Bob Corbett

Bob Corbett is a retired professor from Webster University, who has a long time interest and involvement in Haiti. He has a very comprehensive website on all things Haitian and also moderates a list serve about Haiti, to which I subscribe.

People from all over the world and with all kinds of ideas about Haiti post to this list. I have posted twice, most recently about Father Gerry Jean-Juste.

Quite often, spirited debates break out on the list. Recently, people have been debating how best to help Haiti. Once inawhile, Bob posts on the list, and I thought what he had to say was worth thinking about. It follows below.

I agree fully that there are innumerable decent Haitian people.
That's not what's at issue. The issue is: How do people change the
reality of THEIR Haiti?

I recall a very imporant learning experience for me. I
won't identify the person or place for fear I would jeapordize things in that
area. But, it was way back in Duvalier days. I was deeply impressed
with the work in one area and offered to provide some financial aid. The
Haitian leader of that group told me, "No thank you." I was quite
astonished. Every other place people just wanted anything I might be able
to offer. This leader told me:

1. If I take money from you and it gets out, then the "gwo neg"
in the area will wonder what we are up to, want their share, and we will be in
trouble.

2. Soon, YOU will be suggesting we do this or that....

Thanks, Bob, but no thanks.

Eventually I got this leader to agree to allow me to give his group
anenvelop each month with cash, no questions ever asked, and no mention of
it. That ended up helping what is today a rather successful group, but
part of that success is DEFINITELY related to this leader's understanding of the
need to protect such information.

The problems in Haiti are not a lack of decent and hard working and
ambitious PEOPLE. It's leadership. There is a political class which
is a complete sycophant upon the people. There is an economic class which
is a complete sycophant upon the masses. There is a force -- it used to be
army, now it is police or thugs, who enforce the will of the powerful and keep
the masses in conditions of shocking poverty and powerless over their own
lives.

Okay, there may be a period of history here or there that I've over
exaggerated the disgustingness of leadership, but not by much.

Again, given the hard reality of the PRESENT, I think the best bet that
people of good will have in helping Haiti and Haitians is to forget "Haiti" as a
nation, and go to the villages, the more remote the better, and go SMALL.

Help the market women who need some funds for an initial investment,
help the farmer who needs a hoe or gwo bef or seed. Help the community
that needs water, help the community organization that needs a local store
ordispensary of medicines. Help the local community that needs a school
building or a teacher.

Those are things that many of us in the outside world can DO. We
can either do it alone, or we can bond with a small group of others and get
things moving.

At the same time, go small. Try NOT to be noticed. Try not
to attract the sychophants who will use power and force to steal the
benefits.

THAT HAITI, the Haiti of the real people, the non powerful, the
politically insignificant, they are the hope of the future, be they in the slums
of the city or the more rural areas of tiny villages.

And pardon me if I step on toes here, but get the hell out of the
SPIRITUAL lives of the Haitian people. They can do that quite well
themselves. They need material help and medical help and educational help,
they don't need outside help with their spiritual lives.

Bob Corbett

We Are All Broken

I thought maybe I could use a funny photo to help make a point about Haiti, which I will get to eventually. One of John's childhood neighbors sent him this picture yesterday. It was taken sometime around 1964. John is on the right in the back row and his brother Tom is sitting next to him shirtless. The boys are acting goofy, as young boys often take pleasure in acting.

Over the past few days, I've been reading a book, Living Gently in a Violent World by Stanley Hauerwas and Jean Vanier. Stanley is a university theologian and Jean Vanier founded L'Arche, "an international network of communities where people with and without intellectual disabilities experience life together as human beings who share a mutuality of care and need."

So much of what is in the book reminds me of Haiti. First, just the juxtaposition of the words Gently and Violent in the title, for Haiti and Haitians are both gentle and violent. I find the people to be gentle and when they are not, it is often the violence of the poverty that elicits the violence.

Jean Vanier talks about God's vision for the world: "It is a promise that people can get together. It is a vision of unity, peace and acceptance. It is a promise that the walls between people and groups can fall, but that this will not be accomplished by force. It will come about through a change of heart--through transformation. It will begin at the bottom of the ladder of our societies." (Italics mine)

It will begin in places like Haiti.

I want to quote a number of passages in the book where Jean Vanier is talking about people with disabilities. What he says, I think, also applies to Haiti.

"Jesus wants to break down the walls that separate people and groups. How will he do this? He will do it by saying to each one, 'You are important. You are precious.' There can be no peacemaking or social work or anything else to improve our world unless we are convinced that the other is important. Your are precious. You--not just 'people' but you."

"When we listen to stories of terrible pain and know we can't do anything about it, we touch our own vulnerability. We have heard the scream of pain, but we don't know what to do with it. None of us knows what to do with the deep brokenness of our world. Maybe that realization can bring us back to community. We can do nothing on our own. We need somewhere to be together."

"We must begin at the bottom. Jesus came to announce good news to the poor, freedom to captives, liberty to the oppressed, sight to the blind. Let's help the poor to rise up, and then help those who have power and money to see that for the sake of peace, which is the greatest good human beings can seek, they too should enter into this vision and start helping the weak to rise up."

"Jesus came to change a world in which those at the top have privilege, power, prestige and money while those at the bottom are seen as useless. Jesus came to create a body. Paul, in 1 Corinthians 12, compares the human body to the body of Christ, and he says that those parts of the body that are the weakest and least presentable are indispensable to the body. . . Who really believes it?. . .Do we really believe that the weakest, the least presentable those we hide away--that they are indispensable? If that was our vision of the church, it would change many things."

"I have been trying to point out that our deep need is to meet those on the other side of the wall, to discover their gifts, to appreciate them. We must not get caught up in the need for power over the poor. We need to be with the poor. That can seem a bit crazy because it doesn't look like a plan to change the world. But maybe we will change the world if we are happy. Maybe what we need most is to rejoice and to celebrate with the weak and the vulnerable. Maybe the most important thing is to learn how build communities of celebration. Maybe the world will be transformed when we learn to have fun together. I don't mean to suggest that we don't talk about serious things. But maybe what our world need more than anything is communities where we celebrate life together and become a sign of hope for our world. Maybe we need signs that it is possible to love each other."

My head is swirling with the truth of these statements. Let me just add a few more thoughts. Sometimes I get a little nervous when people start talking about how happy the poor are, not that I think that's what Jean Vanier is doing at all. People living in poverty have much to teach us about what is important. But I also think that some of the horrid, torturous conditions that I have seen children living in shouldn't be tolerated and we should work fervently to alleviate those conditions.

Secondly, when I think about how people at the bottom of the ladder are seen as worthless by the rest of the world, I think of my son. My son, who is an absolute dynamo, smart, compassionate, athletic, loving, my son was on the last rung of this ladder until God brought him to us. For me, he represents all of the children in the developing world who exist in such conditions that their gifts are lost to them and to the world. We are not seeing clearly.

Thirdly, we are all broken. All of us, probably none so much as those of us overachievers in the First World. Even those cute, little boys in the picture at the top, who all went on to become successful men. But as Jean Vanier would point out, they are having fun.

Because I've been so inspired by him, I'll give the last words to Jean Vanier: "The heart of L'Arche is to say to people, 'I'm glad you exist.'"

Frandy

Life is very hard for poor people in poor countries. All their energy and attention is focused on survival: getting enough food to eat, having safe shelter, obtaining clean water. It's hard for people to try to better their lives or the lives of their children in these circumstances.

Once in awhile, though, you come across a person who for many reasons, is able to think of and work toward a better life. We know such a person in 20-year-old Frandy. We met Frandy seven years ago when he came to John about his heart.

Frandy lives on top of a mountain with his mother and two older brothers in the seaside slum of Carrefour, next to Port-au-Prince. He is very thin. I remember when we went to Frandy's home. We hiked and hiked and came to a two room, concrete block structure with a tin roof. Frandy welcomed us, and his mother served us Coca Cola that they had gotten for the occasion of our visit.

Frandy had a hole in his heart, and he came to St. Louis for medical care. His mother accompanied him. On the first night here, as his mother soaked up the incredible luxuries of this country, she said, "We are in paradise."

Frandy did not have to have surgery, which was a blessing. Another blessing for him was an opportunity to experience the blessings of the United States.

He returned to Haiti after a two month stay. Frandy was already a driven person who excelled in school. He was now motivated to work even harder and with the support of people in the States, he saw a way that he might attain the almost impossible goal for a poor Haitian of going to college.

Frandy's supporters paid for his education in Haiti. He studied and studied. He listened to the Voice of America. He practiced writing English through sending e-mails and speaking English with anyone he could. He became quadralingual in the process. Frandy speaks French, Haitian Creole, English, and Spanish.

He passed the Haitian equivalent of high school, a huge achievement for someone from Frandy's background. Later this month, he will take the TOEFL (Test of English as a Foreign Language). Passing TOEFL is a requirement for a foreign student to attend college in the United States. Say a prayer that he does well, will you?

I think Frandy is succeeding because he is: intelligent and driven. These may be God-given qualities, but Frandy is making the most of them. He also has people willing to invest in him. Without this, attending college in the United States would be a cruel dream.

Frandy sees a better life for himself and his family and that vision draws him on. I admire him a lot. God willing, he will succeed.

Pearl of the Antilles?

Haiti was once known by the above title, though it may be difficult to believe today. The island, which was once lush and forested is now largely barren. However, the conditions that created such a fertile country still exist, as evidence by the these pictures, which were taken only a few weeks apart. If given the chance, stuff likes to grow in Haiti.

I’ve spent a few posts describing Haiti’s troubled history and the problems it faces. I would like to spend one entry listing the strengths of the country.

-The weather in Haiti is fabulous. FAB-U-LOUS. We have been here for seven months now. Locals had told us that December, January, and February are beautiful months in Haiti and we are finding out how right they are, especially given the temps in Illinois. The days are sunny and warm, but not oppressively so; we don’t run the air conditioning at night. There is little or light rain. Nice breezes from the Caribbean help cool the island, even during the hotter summer months.

-The people in Haiti are resilient. The living conditions for poor people here are wretched, for reasons detailed in the previous post. Though the infant and maternal mortality rates and the average lifespan of Haitians are all atrocious, they are not as bad as the might be. Many of the African countries have much worse mortality rates, and I find it hard to believe that conditions, bad as they are there, are as poor as in Haiti. Haitians are descended from some very tough people: the slaves who defeated Napoleon’s army.

-The people in Haiti are hospitable. We have been extended such kindnesses from Haitians who are very poor. We have visited people in their shanty homes who have had cold Cokes waiting for us. They will also offer you the only chair in their house.

-The people in Haiti are largely law abiding. You read, and I’ve discussed the gang-related crime in Haiti. However, gang members comprise a very small part of the population. By and large, the people in Haiti are peace-loving. We have traveled around Port-au-Prince on public transportation—i.e. tap taps—extensively and never felt threatened or in danger. I believe the United States to be a much more violent country than Haiti, and I think the crime statistics would bear this out.

-The people in Haiti are hard working. As George Orwell said in Down and Out in Paris in London, the unpoor don’t realize how much work it is to be poor. From walking miles for water to washing clothes by hand to fixing cars wherever they break down, Haitians are usually working.

-The people in Haiti want democracy. Despite the failure of past governments and the hardships of getting to the polls and then waiting there often for hours, the Haitian people turn out in huge numbers for the presidential elections. They want to have a voice in choosing their officials.

-The people in Haiti are good cooks. This is rather a painful paradox, given the scarcity of food in many Haitian homes. But we have had delicious meals here prepared by people from all different income levels.

-There is a ton of potential in Haiti, if it can only be channeled. This is a country of 8 million people, many of whom would love the opportunity of a job. People here want a better life and are willing to work for it.

As you can see, most of the strengths of Haiti are bound up in its people.

Welcome to Our World

I have always wanted to see a baby born. In one of the most common, yet profound miracles, one person becomes two. I got my chance this past weekend at a maternity hospital not far from where we are staying. In March 2006, the three-story, 60-bed hospital came under the administration of an international organization. Each month the number of babies delivered there has increased. Last month 1,300 babies made their way into the world at this hospital.

Despite its infant and child mortality rates, Haiti is a land of young people. And pregnant women. This hospital is trying to specialize in high risk pregnancies. Pre-eclampsia, high blood pressure and swelling in the legs, which can lead to eclampsia—seizures—is not uncommon in Haiti. Ideally, the hospital would care for women with this and other risk factors for pregnancy, including being under 16 or over 40. But this is Haiti, and nothing is ideal. If women show up in labor, they are not turned away. This makes for a very busy hospital.

We snaked our way through the line of people waiting outside the hospital—we later learned that they have to limit the number of visitors, otherwise the already crowded building would be impassable. We asked for “Mary” an American nurse John had met, who is volunteering at the hospital for the better part of a year. Her name, along with John’s scrubs and our white skin, got us instant admittance. “Today, it’s not too busy,” said Mary, a clarification that our untrained eyes needed as there were women and babies all over the place.

On the first floor, was a room full of women with tiny swaddled babies, waiting to be discharged. In another room, nurses took vital signs of women in various stages of pregnancy. Across the hall behind a large canvassed-draped opening we could hear the cries and moans of women in the early and middle stages of labor. John examined the drugs on the shelves of the small but well-stocked, for Haiti, pharmacy. Hydralazine, a blood pressure medicine safe for pregnant women and toxemia drugs, like magnesium sulfate, were neatly stacked in the room that was the size of a large pantry.

When women have normal deliveries, they and their babies stay in the hospital for a whopping four hours. If a c-section is required, they remain for 48 hours. Mary points to a stack of used cardboard boxes against a wall. “When a baby dies, that is what we put them in for their trip to the morgue.” Prior to this system, the mothers were responsible for their babies’ bodies, which led to little bodies being found in the sheets and under the beds. Infant and maternal mortality rates in Haiti are the highest in the hemisphere 680 women out of 100,000 die giving birth and 84 children of 1,000 don’t make it to their first birthday. This compares very poorly with U.S. ratios of 17 and 6, respectively.

As we were processing this information, a woman in a gown came from behind the canvas doorway, escorted by the one of the hospital workers. They walked up the stairs to the second floor. “She’s going to deliver soon,” said Mary as we followed her.

The second floor is where most of the obvious action takes place: babies being birthed. There is a small delivery room a larger room where women who are toxemic are monitored, and an operating room for cesareans and emergencies.

We walked into the delivery room, which measured about 10 feet by 8 feet. There were three young women on the three beds in the room with two young midwives attending them. “Yesterday we were so busy that a baby was born on the floor where you are standing,” said Mary.

Today, the woman in the middle bed was farthest along; you could see her baby’s head with its thick black hair at the opening of the woman’s vagina. Already the experience was upping my heart rate in sympathy with the woman and the baby. I felt like Prissy in Gone With The Wind, who says, “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ babies.” But despite my apprehension, I was where I wanted to be. A doctor came in with a fetal monitor to check the baby’s heart rate. This soon-to-be mom along with the woman on her right were having their first babies. None of the women had family member with them.

Mary went to the head of the woman who was close to delivering and began stroking her forehead. She would yell and moan as the contractions intensified. The women at this hospital receive no pain medicine or epidurals while they are in labor; it’s just them and their pain. Sometimes the midwife would say, “Ferme la bouche!”—Close your mouth—which seemed rather harsh to me. Later John said that perhaps the midwife wanted the mom to save that energy for pushing.

As the baby’s head continued to widen the vaginal opening with each contraction, the midwife stood over watching. At last, she began to tell the woman to push. There was no keeping the mouth shut now, and the woman cried out as she pushed. With a couple of pushes, the head was out. With another couple of pushes and some pulling and turning by the midwife, the baby’s torso was out. The umbilical cord, which looks like long, thick, gray tubing, was wrapped around the baby’s neck, but apparently not tight enough to be a problem. One more push and the baby was out along with a lot of fluid and some blood. A metal bowel had been positioned underneath the woman to catch most of these fluids.

The midwife immediately put the baby on the mom’s torso. The mom seemed so relieved that the baby was out and that most of the pain was over that she wasn’t too interested in the baby. The nice-sized baby was covered in the damp, white chalky substance, vernix caseosa, which protects the baby’s skin from the amniotic fluid. With her dark skin underneath it, the substance gave the baby a rather ghostly appearance. But after the midwife gave her a little shake, she wasn’t quiet like a ghost. She let out a very loud cry, which sounded so good. The midwife began tying off the umbilical cord near where it attached to the baby. The other end of the cord was attached to the placenta, which was still in the uterus. It would not come out until later.

The second woman’s birth was similar to the first, except that her baby’s head was bigger. The midwife made a small episiotomy so the woman wouldn’t tear. This baby was also a girl with a healthy cry.

Both times this process made me teary. There is something so primal yet so otherwordly about child birth. To see women go through such an agonizingly painful and body distorting experience gives me new respect for the strength of women’s bodies. And then to have this new, little, beautiful creature result from all the pain and blood and effort. Only God could be behind this. I could have watched babies being born all day.

Of course this is Haiti and not all the births go as swimmingly as the ones I witnessed. A young German obstetrician, who has been at the hospital seven weeks, says she has seen in Haiti fetal abnormalities that she could hardly imagine. As the hospital somewhat specializes in high risk births and has the stack of cardboard boxes attests, the medical staff see a lot of tragedy too. When I commented to John how healthy these two babies looked he said, “They are as healthy as they are going to be right now.” It’s a depressing thought.

And yet. What’s that quote: a new baby is a sign that God wants the world to go on. We have an obligation to give these babies a better world and a chance at a decent life. Seeing these babies born makes me realize that all the more.