Haiti: Part senk

The one about the clinic...
***

Entrance to Missions of Love, the clinic is in the lower right level of the white building inside the gates, the lab was the lower left, and the upper right was the pharmacy.

After accepting our bruised backsides as part of our bodies again and not strangling our alarm clocks, we began the real work. Breakfast was a glorious array of fresh mango and pineapple and watermelon, hard boiled eggs, real sweet potatoes (honestly, I was completely in love with the potatoes), fried plantains, and spicy peanut butter toast. The clinic would open at roughly 9am. The strange thing about time there was that we never knew what time it actually was. According to google, Haiti was supposed to be an hour behind us because they supposedly don't follow the time change, but for some unknown reason they decided spring ahead with the rest of us. So, while some of our phones changed to be an hour behind, some didn't. I didn't bother much with it, went to sleep when I was tired and ate when I was hungry and wanted to kill roosters at the same time as everyone else.

Our home away from home

Agony hill, it doesn't look like much here but it's ten times worse then the hill at FSBC

The dining room and soccer watching pavilion of sorts, you can also see the mountain we climbed to the right 

Our pet away from pets, affectionately known as chen

Monday through Friday a group of us would set up shop in the one room divided by curtains which operated as the clinic. There was no such thing as HIPAA or privacy but we tried our best. We saw all age groups, all complaints. The biggest complaints were STDs or largely related to malnutrition and dehydration. Everyone got vitamins, everyone was told to bwe more water. If there was a need for lab work, we would write what test was needed on a slip of paper and they would carry that to the lab, then the lab would write results on another slip of paper and back the patient would come. There was no labeling, no scanner, no medical record numbers. Prescriptions were written on another slip of paper for a months supply or a cycle of antibiotics or a few weeks of blood pressure medications with instructions to come back to have them rechecked. 

Filling baggies of medications

The clinic would close after all the lab work was reviewed and all the patients were seen. Though everyone around seemed to know we were there and some of the more interesting cases were seen after hours, undoubtedly following Kitty's black cloud as a guide. The rest of the day was spent climbing or rooster cheering or card playing or dance partying.

Unfortunately there is no guarantee they will go back to the clinic or take their medications or bwe. All we could do was ply them with information and hope they heard what was translated.

XOXO
Kiki

Haiti: Part kat

The one about the climb
(and no, not by Miley Cyrus. Although, her song would have helped me reach the top with more ease if only I had thought of it sooner)
***
After watching the roosters for a bit, we got a little antsy one evening and decided to climb to the top of Mount Everest this hill.

If you strain your eyes you can see the tree at the tippy top where we took photos. Where ever we went, you could be sure that there were children in tow.

Left to Right:
Back Row- Caleb, Carey, Me, Jil, Kitty, Lindsay, Peter, and Adam
Down Front- Lindsey and Roy and oodles of kids

Once up at the top, we realized our hill top led to another then another then another. Like infinity of hill tops. Which made me wonder how many other villages there were without a place like Missions of Love, without a clinic, or with one and needed help. Had roosters that need to be cheered on and babies that need to be cuddled and kids to give Tootsie Rolls by the thousands and hill tops to be climbed at sunset.

If they let me, I'd gladly go.

XOXO

Kiki

Haiti: Part twa

The one about the roosters
***
The next five days we spent in Jolivert began each morning (as many of you have already learned) with a roughly 4am wake up call by the neighborhood assholes roosters. 

I cannot adequately express the feeling of terror/hatred that would burn through my not-a-morning person heart upon seeing one of the many roosters strutting past my window. They were cunning and spiteful. They would lull you back into an almost sleep, sneak back up and blare as loud as they possibly could, and then they didn't even have the decency to file a report. They would pick up their skirts and high tail it to the next window. I akin the feeling to a hit and run. A crow and dash.

I also firmly believe that they are descendants of velociraptors.

That's right, keep running before Caleb catches you and turns you into dinner.

Now that we had made it to Jolivert perhaps I should give you a run down of the people (since apparently my family was trying to count names to figure out how many there were of us).

Project Starfish aka "The Team":

The prescription writers- Adam (the emailer extraordinaire), Carey (the dancing queen), Peter (the DJ), and Kitty (the black cloud who sutured a woman who got kicked by a cow at the market and a boy who got bit by a dog while the rest of us drained pus...).

The grunts- Lindsay (the giver, I'm pretty sure she would have given away all of her possessions as well as mine if she could), Caleb (the Mr. Fix-It, he even fixed my headlamp by putting the batteries in correctly, a feat I had failed at), Jil (the baby stealer), and Roy (the internet hogger).

Angel Missions Haiti who Project Starfish partners with to find children who would benefit from medical procedures in the states:

Vanessa (the big Mama), Beth (the videographer), Liz (the physical therapist), and Lindsey (the globe trotting soon to be social worker).

This is Grace, a 3 month old who was found in a dumpster and with the help of AMH is awaiting approval to come to the states for the medical care she needs.

Jil, the baby snatcher

Lindsey, I'm pretty sure she was never put down

Missions of Love  is an organization that helps operate and fund the clinic and outreach programs in Jolivert. A few board members from Michigan (Mary Ellen, Brooke, and Rick) had flown in and traveled to bush clinics with us during the week. We also worked with 2 Haitian doctors training for their degrees, 4 translators (Wedz, Charlene, Ensey, and Mildride), Dr. Asa and his wife Jean (who I think I may have worked with their grandson at Massanutten holysmallworld), Christophe (the head honcho doc at the clinic), and Blaud (our easy going Coke connection and manager).

After working in the clinic or out in the bush, each evening we would gather to play cards or tell jokes or hide in the shade. Unfortunately our shady spot was in rooster territory and Dr. Asa could not believe our fascination with the mating habits of livestock (complete with a cheering section). I think we're in Haiti now.

What would you do for entertainment?

Seriously.

A little afternoon delight? "Who needs Cinemax?" -Carey

XOXO

Kiki

Haiti: Part de

Photo Cred: Roy Greensberg, impressive for hanging out the back of a tap-tap

Photo Cred: RG

The trash filled chaotic gob of humanity that is Port-Au-Prince was pretty much what I was expecting. The drive through the country side plus many side comments made from previous team members had me thinking we would arrive in Jolivert to a thatch roof hut and a hole for an outhouse. What I was not expecting was how beautiful the drive was (at least the first 2 hours of the 4 hour drive).

It's a total of 4 hours from Port-Au-Prince to Missions of Love, Clinique de Jolivert. To help you navigate refer to: MAP. The first 2 hours of the trip consists of a nice minimal bounce pavement drive north along the coast to Gonaives, this is also the majority of the distance we needed to cover. We stopped for a leisurely 3 hour meal in Gonaives, where Jil and I split 2 dishes: the shrimp curry and the cabrit creole with fried plantains. Amazeballs.

Cabrit! (Aka goat)

The next 2 hours would take us close to Bassin-Bleu (if you're still following the map) and were spent bumping, jostling, careening, and using a passenger bus as if it was an all terrain vehicle. It's not an all terrain vehicle if you were wondering. Before I could disown my ass cheeks as being part of my body we arrived in Jolivert!

Wait a minute... am I on the set of MASH?!
WHOA! Helicopter overhead! I guess this is my unmilitary account of the going-ons...

Jil and I were completely prepared to spend the next 6 days sans a shower and armed with 5 different kinds of baby wipes between the two of us. Shockingly enough there were several bathrooms and... wait for it... Internet?! We're in the middle of no where Haiti third world country and we have the inter web. One panoramic view of the mountains would we reveal no fewer than 3 cell phone towers. Electricity was only on for certain hours at night and the only way to know for certain if there was power was to listen for the tell tale hum of the generator. Showers are a gentle trickle giving you the feeling of being peed on, except if you were actually being peed on it would be much warmer. Sigh. But there were beds and lights and trickles and nets and those prehistoric vehicles actually did run. 

If you need to take anything away about Haitians, they are highly adaptive and put all of our mechanics in the states to shame. To shame.

I think I need a sound machine now that I'm home,
or 11 other people sleeping in close proximity to me...

XOXO

Kiki