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I’ll Be Back

Sunday, August 29th, 2010

By Bill Goslin, Davis Vision, Ballston Lake, New York

"Volunteer New Orleans"I heard about HandsOn New Orleans from Joan and Harry Thornhill, members of our church, who volunteered in Biloxi in February 2006. Joan and Harry sent daily emails back to us describing their work and experiences. Knowing that I was a “jack of all trades” they thought I should go down and help out.

I took two weeks vacation from my job and found myself in New Orleans at the end of April. The city I found was truly devastated with blue tarps on roofs, abandoned buildings, piles of debris, hundreds of abandoned cars, flooded homes for miles and whole neighborhoods destroyed. There was much work to be done.

Photo by Ethan Bagley

Although I traveled to New Orleans by myself, I quickly made friends with the staff and other volunteers. Meeting so many folks, from all over the world, who were also there to help was very gratifying to me personally. The volunteer headquarters was simple yet functional with an air conditioned bunk room, great dinners from the church kitchen, hot showers and wireless Internet access to communicate with the folks at home.

I went on my first “house gutting” job in a middle class neighborhood of ranch homes. I was given a sledgehammer and crow bar then began to work on pulling moldy sheetrock and insulation down from ceilings. This was hard hot dirty work but when we were done the inside of the house was transformed; it reminded me of a new house under construction – bare studs waiting for new sheetrock.

I have spent many years as a volunteer fireman and asked if anyone had heard of “pike pole” a tool used by the fireman to pull down sheetrock. This tool has a long pole and would make the “gutting” work a lot easier and much quicker. No one had heard of the tool so after leaving New Orleans I found the tools and got them to New Orleans. Akron Brass Company, of Arkron Ohio, donated the first poles with just a phone call.

"Volunteer Disaster Relief New Orleans"I had the opportunity to work on restoring a Jazz Venue in New Orleans called the “mother in law lounge” named after the hit single written by Ernie Ka-Doe in 1961. Ernie past away a few years ago and his wife, Antoinette Ka-Doe, had been running the lounge until Katrina when she was pulled from the roof of the lounge by a helicopter. We arrived one morning with a truck load of building materials and began work.

It was a pleasure to get to know Antoinette and the many members of the “New Orleans Jazz family” who stopped by to thank us for our efforts. I might mention that Miss Antoinette is a great cook and while volunteering we ate authentic new Orleans treats like poboy sandwiches, red beans and rice, jambalaya and crawfish. I look forward to someday visiting the lounge, sipping a beer and listing to some New Orleans Jazz.

I enjoyed the hard work, the fellow volunteers and the HandsOn New Orleans folks who make it all happen. I urge anyone with some spare time to volunteer with HandsOn New Orleans. The experience is life changing; helping others who are in need is very rewarding.

As Arnold would say;

“I’ll be back!”

Bill Goslin lives in Ballston Lake New York, a suburb of Albany, with his wife and two sons; Jacob (9 years old) and Simon (7 years old).  He works for a company called Davis Vision where he manages their telecommunications systems.

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Photographic Memories: Katrina Volunteers & Disaster Relief

Sunday, August 29th, 2010

by Chris de Veer, former Volunteer & Director of Hands On Gulf Coast (2006 – 2008)

It’s been five years since Hurricane Katrina slammed into the Gulf Coast inflicting tens of billions of dollars in damages and upending the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.

The tragedy that unfolded on national television compelled hundreds of thousands of people across the US to volunteer their time, their money, and their skills to help rebuild the Gulf Coast.

I was one of those who volunteered. Katrina had struck my family. Although my immediately family lived in Virginia, my grandma, who was 83 at the time, as well as aunts, uncles, and cousins lived in and around New Orleans.

No one was injured, but my grandma and an uncle lost their houses to flooding and muck. Going to help with the recovery felt less like volunteering and more like doing what needed to be done.

I landed in Biloxi, Mississippi in mid-January 2006; my initial three-week volunteer trip turned into a two-and-a-half year experience.

The impressions and the scope of my early days volunteering still resonate starkly.

When I first arrived on a plane into Gulfport, I was picked up at the airport and we  headed back to what was affectionately called ‘Base’, or the volunteer warehouse as I also liked to think of it.

I couldn’t help but notice all the blue-tarped roofs.

They were everywhere and the blue stood in stark contrast to the brown-ish drab of winter.

Despite coming in by plane, I had no idea how far the damage stretched or how thorough some neighborhoods had been decimated.

"disaster relief"The first neighborhood I visited was East Biloxi, home to many Vietnamese and African Americans.

The job the volunteer team needed to accomplish was to clean up the site of a former building.

I’m not even sure what was there, but from the debris it appeared to be some sort of a shop and residence.

There was little left, but the toilet had not been damaged. It sat in the open.

As we collected garbage into piles, we found items that someone might want to salvage – nail polish, statues, and a small photo album.

I don’t remember the content of the photo album, but I do remember those photos making the horror of the loss very real and very present.

We have photos to remind us of good times, to remind us of loved ones. And here those special memory triggers were, lying in a pile of garbage that would wind up in a land fill. The photos put faces to the ethereal family that had lived or worked here.

"volunteer"Two years before Katrina, I visited my Grandma, pulled out her photo albums, scanned in every photo, made a database, and asked her to identify everyone in every photo, estimate when the photo was taken, and describe what was going on.

Most photos had a story or triggered a memory that led to a smile.

Who knew that in two years (from August 2003 to August 2005), these scanned photos would be one of the few records of my grandma’s 59 years in her Gulf Coast home?

Who knew that a lifeless husk of a house would greet me the next time I visited.

Who knew I would lose the home where I had lived during first grade, the home where my Dad grew up, the home where my grandmother lived ever since she emigrated from Scotland to marry my granddad after World War II.

Even though my family had cleaned up a bit and tried to salvage some items from the Katrina muck, the house was still a wreck.

My grandma showed me her neighborhood.

Few people were around.

She took me to St Raphael’s, where I went to first grade, and I saw the empty halls that still bore the high-water mark of stagnant Katrina water.

She then took me to Ferrara’s, her grocery store, where I remember having the most delicious French bread.

No one had even cleaned out the meat refrigerators or touched the shelves.

The stench of rot was overpowering.

All across her neighborhood, an eerie quiet had settled.

We didn’t even need to look for traffic when we made our turns. We had the roads to ourselves.

A few weeks later, a group of volunteers went to my grandma’s to gut the place and get it ready for rebuilding.

Although it was gutted in a day, it took another two years to get any money from the Road Home Fund for rebuilding.

The Road Home was Louisiana’s program to disburse federal rebuilding funds to qualified homeowners.

In 2008 when she received her money, my grandma found another house near an uncle in Covington.

The house on Peoples Avenue in Gentilly would sit another two years before my youngest uncle would have the opportunity to begin to rebuild.

I know my grandmother was lucky compared to many other victims of Katrina.

My family was able to provide a safety net for my grandma and helped her into a new house within months of the storm’s passing.

Others on the Gulf Coast were not so lucky.

At Hands On Gulf Coast, we made a point of finding families that other organizations could not help, particularly when it came to rebuilding homes.

We sent volunteers to tutor kids in schools, to clean up parks, to work with the Boys and Girls Club, to even micro-chip pets.

There wasn’t a job our volunteers wouldn’t do.

From January 2006 through May 2008, I saw volunteers and the community slowly and steadily reweave the tapestry of Gulf Coast life.

Schools, parks, homes, businesses, restaurants, and stores all showed signs coming back to life.

I am proud of the thousands who volunteered with us.

I’m proud of the volunteers who joined AmeriCorps or became staff members at Hands On or other community nonprofits.

I hope a disaster like Katrina never happens in the region again, but I know that should it, hundreds of thousands more volunteers will come down to help with the recovery.

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What Katrina Relief Gave Back

Saturday, August 28th, 2010

"Volunteer Disaster Relief"by Kellie Bentz, Director of Development, Bayou District Foundation;  Former Executive Director, HandsOn New Orleans

I was having dinner tonight with friends and joking about how I am still here in New Orleans almost five years after my initial visit following the storm.

I originally signed a six week contract to start a “disaster response project” in New Orleans and I find myself still living in New Orleans here.

It is true…this place sticks to you.

I remember the early days of starting this disaster response project, HandsOn New Orleans, in the wake of Katrina with my buddy and colleague, Greg.

"Volunteer Disaster Relief"I don’t think either of us truly knew what we were in for…and I think back and cannot believe that there were people from our national office that believed we had the capacity and ability to accomplish what we accomplished.

After six weeks, Greg had to go back to Atlanta and I looked around and there was no one else to lead the charge…so while I thought at the time my six weeks might turn into three months those six weeks turned in to three and a half years with HandsOn New Orleans.

I look back at that time and could tell you stories that only those that were there can actually believe.

I never would have imagined I would have worked with a team to build 100 bunk beds, and build out a facility that would house thousands of individuals from around the world ready, willing and wanting to “serve.”

I feel truly blessed to have had moments where I would be standing among the hundreds of volunteers and feeling chills, feeling grounded, feeling connected.

What I realized after meeting so many people who came to “Serve” was that most people were looking for a way to “connect” with other human beings in a way that was meaningful.

There are so many stories of individuals that felt their lives had truly changed after spending one week in New Orleans, one week in the bunk house, one week serving with their fellow man/woman.

Some of the most meaningful relationships in my life today came from this experience.

It is true when people say that usually the one serving gets more out of the experience than the one being served.

The entire city of New Orleans is a testament to that.

"Volunteer Disaster Relief"So many people have come from around the world and either come back multiple times or have decided to make New Orleans their home.

So much of my experience in New Orleans has been shaped by the people who have walked into my life or who I have been blessed to have shared moments with…one of those very special people who I will always remember is Ms. Antoinette K-doe. HandsOn volunteers helped rebuild her lounge.

She was a force….she worked alongside the volunteers everyday and at the end held an incredible party.

She was such an inspiration in my life and the lives of so many Handson volunteers.

Her funeral made me finally realize why there is a bumper sticker that says “New Orleans puts the FUN in Funeral.”

Her passing was a celebration of her life not a mourning of her death.

Antoinette is just one of the many characters so many of us have been blessed to share moments of New Orleans with.

Now, five years later, New Orleans has become a laboratory for what is possible…on the education front, on the housing front, in social innovation and on the human connection front.

Heck, I even came to appreciate what football can do to a city’s spirit!

I could not have asked for a more rewarding and formative experience.

Related Content:

An interview with Kertrina Watson Lewis

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Posted in Disaster Relief, Stories from the Road, Volunteer Leader, Volunteer Reflection, Volunteering, Volunteerism | 4 Comments »

Waterline

Saturday, August 28th, 2010

by Jessica Kirkwood, VP, Social Media, HandsOn Network

In December of 2007,  my HandsOn Network colleagues and I traveled to Biloxi to volunteer.

While we were there, we painted the exterior of a house built for a woman whose home was flooded during hurricane Katrina. We also painted murals in a daycare center that was finally re-opening and started construction on another new home.

On our first night in town local residents came to our group dinner and told us their stories.

A man named Grady started by telling us was that he usually avoids talking about his experience of the hurricane.

Before Katrina, Grady lived with his wife and three children in a nice house near the beach in coastal, Mississippi.

He was the founder and CEO of a successful company.

He drove a nice car and lived in a comfortable home.

Grady’s elderly father, reliant upon an oxygen tank to breathe, lived in the house next door.

During the summer of 2005, Grady’s family evacuated their home five times for hurricanes.

On one of those occasions… it didn’t even rain.

On the morning of August 29th, 2005,  Grady didn’t think it looked like Katrina would hit the Gulf Coast.

He and his family decided take their chances and stay at home.

At noon that day, the situation looked increasingly dire so they drove two miles inland to Grady’s office.

They brought their boat and left it set so that if the water rose the boat would rise with it.

Well, the water rose.

Grady described the speed at which the water came pouring into his office building and the way it just kept coming and coming.

He only had one life jacket.

His six, eight and ten year old children looked at him with worry in their eyes.

When the water started to become dangerously high, Grady put his six year old in the life jacket and tied a rope around him.

Grady, his wife, his father and the other two children held on to the rope and prayed.

The family decided that if the water rose too high they would break a window up near the ceiling, climb out and swim around the building to the boat.

I’m not sure where Grady’s father’s oxygen tank fit into the plan.  Perhaps it didn’t.

The water kept rising.

The eye of the storm passed over the building.

Grady’s children began to cry

The water kept rising and rising… and then finally…finally…it stopped.

When the water receded Grady’s family had to walk the two miles back to their neighborhood and make their way over six blocks of debris, eight feet high, to find the spot where their house had been.

It took four days for Grady to find what remained of his house four blocks from where it originally stood.

With all communication cut off, Grady’s family had no way to understand the magnitude of the storm’s impact.  In other parts of the country their extended family had no way to know if they were alive.

As Grady talked, I couldn’t help thinking about how frightened he must have been during the storm. I thought about how responsible he must have felt – responsible for protecting his family, for making the choice to stay, for needing to save their lives.

I thought about the nightmares that jerk me awake in a cold sweat – the ones where something terrible has happened to my children. The ones where I can’t save them.

I thought about Grady living through this literal nightmare and it took my breath away.

After his talk, Grady told me that the thing about his experience that hurt him the most was that his children were robbed of the secure knowledge that their father was Superman.

Grady’s kids saw their father’s raw fear and it stripped them of their innocence.

More than anything else, this is what Grady wishes he could erase.

When we were in the Gulf volunteering, the physical destruction caused by the storm was no longer represented by piles of debris or the twisted remains of buildings, but rather by endless stretches of emptiness marked only by driveways and stairs leading to the ghosts of vanished front doors.

I wondered about the destruction that I couldn’t see – to the economy, to public health, to community.

Grady’s family left Biloxi and moved to his wife’s family farm in Georgia where they still live.

Though Grady commutes back and forth between the farm and the gulf coast for work, his family will not return.

They don’t even want to visit.  They will never go back.

We also heard a story about a woman who worked as a nurse in a mental health facility before the storm.

Because the patients couldn’t be evacuated, staff had to stay and work or lose their jobs.

The nurse stayed and, because she stayed, so did her husband and son.

After the storm, when she was able to finally make it back to her house, she found her husband and son drowned in the family living room.

She was found cradling the body of her son on her front porch.

She had been sitting there holding him for days because there was no one to come and collect the dead.

“So is everything rebuilt now? Is everything back to normal?”

We heard how much people in the Gulf region hate this question.

So much of was lost can never be rebuilt.

Grady told us about what he called the second storm surge, the wave of volunteers who came from all over the country and arrived well before the government with water, ice and bread.

The volunteers brought simple things like toothpaste and soap. They brought baby formula and diapers.

“They restored my faith in humanity,” he said.

I wished that I had been one of those volunteers, but on the day of hurricane Katrina I watched CNN and gave birth to my daughter.

This office trip was the first time I was able to leave her at home to come to the Gulf to volunteer.

The house we painted belonged to an elderly woman who had been living in a nursing home for nearly two and a half years after the storm.

Her house, entirely renovated by volunteers, was almost finished and she would finally be able to come home.

Everyone we met in the gulf talked about their faith that the Gulf Coast would be reborn into something greater than it was before.

Despite their experiences, they believed that the utter devastation was, itself, a catalyst for the Gulf Coast’s renewal.

They described people and communities coming together to collaborate in ways that would never have been possible before the storm.

Their enthusiasm and hope were contagious.

I found myself swept up in it, and felt part of something larger than myself.

And in so many ways, I felt so grateful.

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Serendipity: The Way Katrina Brought People Together

Friday, August 27th, 2010

by Amanda J. Smith, Rhino Entertainment Company

"Volunteer Disaster Relief"Volunteering with HandsOn New Orleans (HONO) these last few years has been a profound and humbling experience for me.

It has literally changed my view of the world, my place in it and how I relate to others. One might surmise that it’s the simple act of volunteering that did it, or the magnitude of the Katrina tragedy, but it’s more than that.

As much as we all strive to “be the change” we seek in the world, it’s hard for volunteers to put that into practice without some kind of infrastructure or support.

As new volunteers, we need good leaders, otherwise our efforts get squandered, misdirected or wasted in bureaucratic red tape. I’ve had that experience before, of spinning my wheels, and ultimately gave up in frustration.

What a waste!

In my life at least, HONO has become the catalyst that makes my volunteer efforts & energies actually productive and useful to others.

Amazingly, they have found ways to harness a world of diverse volunteers, empower us, and direct our best energies towards  tangible service. That’s one of the many reasons why HONO is so incredibly unique and why I, like so many others, find the experience so rewarding that we keep returning to volunteer with them again and again and again.

"Volunteer Disaster Relief"“Gutting is fun!” Actually, we all know that it is a heartbreaking job, tempered only by the cathartic relief of exhausting physical labor, and the knowledge that we are actually helping someone clear a space for their future, and dreams for a new beginning.

That’s why a big team of LA-based Rhino Records employees signed up for a project called “Miss Patricia’s Gut” on the very first day we arrived to volunteer at HONO in 2006.

None of us knew anything about the project, or Miss Patricia, we just went where HONO directed us.

As we dug into the work, our HONO project leader, shared what he knew about the project, that the house had belonged to the late Professor Longhair, a legendary New Orleans R&B/jazz pianist, and had been passed down to his daughter, Miss Patricia Byrd, who was living there with her son at the time Katrina hit.

"Disaster Relief Volunteer"

Photo by Lindsay Shannon

Being obsessive music geeks, we knew exactly who Professor Longhair was!

Our company had actually released records & CDs by the legendary musician.

His legacy was already intertwined with our own lives through both music and the business of selling music.

Being sent to work on his family home was a random assignment, but we felt an instant personal connection through the shared love of music.

Someone with a BlackBerry sent an email to our co-workers back in LA, and within hours, the whole Rhino company felt connected to the project and Miss Patricia as well.

That afternoon, Miss Patricia & her young son stopped by the house to meet us in person.

Someone had told her we were from Rhino – she had received royalty checks from our company over the years and was touched by the synchronicity of our volunteer involvement.

She told us stories about her father, growing up in this home with him, and that “he could make a piano walk.”

She shared the harrowing stories of her own experiences during the storm and evacuation to the Convention Center.

In the process of gutting her house, we had carefully salvaged several Professor Longhair posters, which Miss Patricia graciously gave to us to keep and display in Rhino’s corporate offices when we left.

It’s hard to explain the richness of these interactions in words, and how bearing witness to someone else’s tragedy can feel like an honor, but it does.

It’s our shared humanity and our connection to each other at this most basic level that allows us to really open up & be there for each other.

It’s why HONO works so well, and why we all keep coming back.

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Hurricane Katrina: Volunteer Reflections on Disaster Relief & Heroism

Friday, August 27th, 2010

"Volunteer"by Erika Putinsky

It is difficult to believe we are rapidly approaching the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina.

As we relive the stories of the hurricane through media retrospectives that are sure to come this week, I am hopeful that we also remember the lessons learned while rebuilding the infrastructure, unmasking issues of disparity that have existed for hundreds of years, and supporting survivors as they create their new normal on the Gulf Coast.

This is our chance to truly, respectfully, and actively remember the loss, triumph, and continued need of the people of the Gulf Coast region.

"volunteer disaster relief katrina"During my efforts with HandsOn Network on the Gulf Coast after Hurricane Katrina, I had the opportunity to live and work in a place where our nation truly came together as a unified community.

While I was in the disaster zone after Hurricane Katrina I was unsettled and amazed every minute of the day.

At no moment was it possible to escape bizarre sites like a delicate vase balanced atop a house that had been reduced to kindling, juxtaposed against the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen.

These unavoidable ironies hinted that Hurricane Katrina would continue to challenge us with unbelievable sadness and pure beauty for many years to come.

Once the images of the despair and the stories of the survivors reached our world, people began to act.

It seems one of the most profound parts of the recovery was that we all got out from behind our veil of comfort and did what we could to help.

During that time, we were reminded the power of putting thoughts to task.

In Mississippi I met a 90 year old woman that drove 15 hours to volunteer because the hurricane gave her a reason to “still be on earth”.

She said she was a “real good cook” and explained nothing would help the survivors and volunteers feel better than a hot meal.

I saw residents that had lost everything riding dilapidated bicycles through debris filled streets while singing and wearing superhero costumes. They said they just wanted to create some happiness in the midst of the destruction.

"Disaster Relief Volunteer"After the hurricane so many people remembered the power in showing up, being willing to help with a hammer to rebuild a home, or offer a hug to rebuild a life.

We are a world of heroes- we show up in times of great need and have the opportunity to live that heroism through continued action.

Now it is time to dust off our superhero capes, folks.

Let the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina be a catalyst to remind the world to reflect on what can be with their minds, act on what should be with their hands, and continue to craft what will be with their efforts.

There are issues in every nation across the globe that we can solve with our ingenuity.

The Gulf Coast region still needs our help.

Perhaps, keep it local and volunteer at a nonprofit in your city.

You might even walk across the street and introduce yourself to a neighbor.

Show up, put your good thoughts to task and unleash your inner superhero!

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Posted in Disaster Relief, Inspire, Service, Stories from the Road, Volunteer Leader, Volunteer Reflection, Volunteering, Volunteerism | 5 Comments »

Don’t Think You Are Done Volunteering Just Yet: Nashville Flood 2010

Saturday, August 14th, 2010

by Jamie S. Dent, AmeriCorps Program Manager at Volunteer Tennessee

On the morning of Sunday, August 8, 2010, I arrived in North Nashville to spend a few hours helping a resident still struggling to recover from the May 2010 floods.

This volunteer opportunity still had four open spots after I had signed up and I was a bit surprised that others hadn’t jumped on the opportunity to help people that were directly affected by the flooding.

At the project start time, it was already 85 degrees and the sun was reigning high in the sky.

I met the wonderful project leader, Ashley there promptly at 9 AM.

We surveyed the property and identified that the resident’s backyard contained a multitude of items that had been removed from the home sometime after the waters ravaged the property.

We quietly began to work together to move the items from the exposed ranch to the curb at street level. Shelves of books, end tables, couches, pictures, appliances and keepsakes were all piled up.

The water did not discriminate.  It simply took out everything it touched.

Because of the extreme heat, we took several long breaks in the shade.

Moving heavy flood soaked items in the humid morning sun was sure taxing on our bodies.

We had that feeling in our stomach that churns when you are pushing through a hot  and humid day.

Ashley was wonderful and brought plenty of water and snacks.

The resident was home and continuously expressed her sincere appreciation for the help.

We just said “no problem” and smiled as best we could in the heat, while she watched many keepsakes get hauled away.

After just under two hours of constant labor and a few needed breaks, we were able to move everything out of the resident’s back yard.

The resident had called 211 to ask for help. Then, Volunteer Tennessee, who managed the coordination of requests from homeowners and those seeking assistance, sent the volunteer need to HandsOn Nashville.

HandsOn Nashville provided project leadership and volunteers.

Without the collaboration of these agencies, many would be without access to those who want to help.

Some tend to think that because the Nashville flooding happened 90 days ago that the needs have all been met.

That thinking couldn’t be farther from reality.

I hope this article inspires the selfless part of you to consider taking a few hours out of your week or month to sign up for a volunteer opportunity.

You don’t have to put on gloves and a mask and haul out items that were affected by the flood; there are hundreds of opportunities to serve others at HandsOn Nashville’s Project Calendar.

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Special Moments, Volunteering in Haiti, part four

Thursday, July 29th, 2010

by Veronique Parages, Skills-Based Volunteer Program Director, HandsOn Network

Human Dignity

I was the last person in the Tap-Tap the other day, the crowded little pick up truck used for the local transportation system, on my way back to my volunteer housing.

As usual a mix of kids were coming back from school and people were returning from work.

We all smiled at each other and talked a little.

So many people are living day to day here.

At one point, I shared the tap tap with three women and one of them seemed very poor.

Her skirt was clean but in pieces and her tee shirt might have been nice a long time ago.

She carried a big bucket of water and a plastic bag of fruits that she was probably selling in the market during the day.

She smiled at me, in a shy and sad way.

So far I have not given money to the kids that ask for it from time to time.  They don’t insist, but they figure I am worth the try.

Sitting across from the woman in tatters, the children’s requests were on my mind.

Should I give the woman money, I wondered. And if so how much would it take to change her week?

What about the other two women riding the tap tap? They look much better off but I know that life isn’t easy here and everybody is in a kind of permanent survival mode.

What if I offend the woman I want to help?

Orphanage in Port-Au-Prince

The organization I’m volunteering with is in regular contact with various Haitian orphanages.

Today I visited one of them in PAP.

I walked down a crowded street with a market on each side along high walls.

A sign from a now crumbled hotel hangs over a large, metal door.

Inside, I saw a huge, wild  field surrounded by walls.

At the front of the field there were three tents – two plastic and one large, military style fabric tent.

They were all empty.

The lady in charge of the orphanage welcomed me and explained that the orphanage takes care of forty girls aged four to eighteen.

All of the girls go to school and the orphanage staff are proud of that.

There were two showers at the end of the wild garden and an open air rest room.

The fabric tent, as it turned out, was the bedroom for all forty of the girls and the plastic tents were the dining room and the place to work on home work.

There were no beds.

There were three chairs around the long eating table and four low benches for homework.

There were no toys.

Various clothes of all sizes dried in the sun.

A small pile of knock off crocs shoes in all sizes were strewn on the ground.

The orphanages  previous building was completely destroyed by the earthquake, along with all of the items that were inside.

I was not expecting so much distress.

The list of  items that the orphanage needs is so long!

I have tears on my eyes as I stand there with my meager gift for the girls.

How can I help them?

How much money would it take?

I wonder what organization I can put them in contact with?

I worry about what will happen if the hurricane season blows all tents away.

After I left, I thought of this orphanage all day long and felt terrible.

Later, I received a phone call.

A cousin of a Haitian friend based in Paris that I met during the week-end called for news from my visit.

I shared what I saw there with him.

He used to work in the export of Haitian furniture exporting furniture and is the founder of a foundation created to increase tourism in Haiti.

He knows a lot of people here.

He promises to help me find whatever is needed for the orphanage and I feel a bit relieved and hopeful.

My little friend

She is six years old at best and wearing a lovely white dress that is too short for her.

Her hair well organized with cute ribbons and hair ties of different colors.

She comes to the feeding center every day after school because her mum helps out there.

She is shy and didn’t want to talk to me at first.

I am too white, too different I guess.

I kept smiling and talking to her and slowly we learned each other.

Yesterday we had fun reading together and reviewing numbers.

She jumps at me when she sees me now, kisses me and says, “Bonjour!”

Her eyes sparkle with fun.

I hope her Mum will continue to have the money for her to go to school.

She deserves a better life and I want to help her get it.

Quiet time

After a day spent riding a tap tap for one to two hours and another three hours working in the feeding center, all the volunteers are hot, dusty, sweaty, thirsty, tired and burned by the sun.

My hair is a battle field.

The questions plaguing us all is will we have water and electricity back at home?

Nobody knows why and how, but the electricity and water go on and off without warning.

Some days we have it and some days we don’t.

In our countries we take such things for granted, but here, in Haiti, we suddenly understand the value of it.

Enjoy your comfort today and recognize that half the people on the planet do without!

After taking a cold shower, I sat on the floor of the terrace with a beautiful view on Port-au-Prince and the surrounding mountains.

A cool wind blew.

We, the volunteers and now friends, shared  our day, our “special moments” and our questions.

We drank a little bit of wine left by a previous guest, what a treat!!!

We promised each other that we will continue to help Haiti and the Haitians, that we will find the money needed for eight to ten kids from the feeding center to go to school in September.

We promised each other that we will share how incredible the country is for tourism with the very low crime rate and beautiful beaches and landscape.

We promised each other we will continue to support the local nonprofit organizations we met here.

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La Cantine du Père Jean Juste, Volunteering in Haiti, part three

Tuesday, July 27th, 2010

by Veronique Parages, Skills-Based Volunteer Program Director, HandsOn Network

Père Jean Juste created the foundation and the feeding center where I am volunteering in Haiti years ago.

More than 1000 meals are served once a day from Monday to Friday to the kids and young adults of a poor part of Port-Au-Prince. What an efficient and really helpful place!!!

After applying to be a volunteer, filing up 20 pages of skills and competencies, I received a confirmation saying that I would help in a kitchen.

I was quite disappointed at the beginning – would I see the kids? Would I be cooped up inside somewhere?

I decided to be quiet and wait and see… as a good Haitian would do!

I am so happy I did it.

Let me explain .

In the front, there’s a waiting area, the line area and the eating place.

In the back, there’s the food preparation, the cooking and the organization of the plates.

The feeding center is placed on a hill, located in a empty field with some goats, chickens and one or two cows.

This hill is covered with tent camps and of small houses, half destroyed or half finished.

On top of the hill sits the church of Pere Jean Juste – who unfortunately passed away one year ago. He was well loved and he is well missed.  Huge signs written on the walls in all the surroundings witness how much Pere Jean Juste held everybody’s heart and mind.

The front of the church features a large covered porch where the kids and young adults wait until the feeding center opens its doors.

Step by step, minute by minute, kids come and hang out on the benches.

Some young guys organize Christian songs.

The ambiance is fun and the kids play together in a nice way.

A small front yard is closes for a moment just before it becomes a place to pass on plates full of food.

In the backstage things run smoothly and efficiently.

At 7am, cooks and helpers come through the back yard, surrounded by high walls.

Fresh vegetables, small pieces of meats are cooked together with spices in huge metal heavy buckets.

Rice and beans are cooked in the same heavy recipients.

Fumes, smells, vapors, laughs and songs mingle during the cooking hours.

During various down times, women rest on low chairs in the back yard protected from the sun by an USAid  plastic tent.

Two showers and a restroom are available for all the feeding center’s employees and helpers, a great privilege in this country where most of the people don’t have regular water.

Around 1pm, everything is usually ready for the ball.

Young helpers without hot mitts take two of the huge burning pots full of rice and place them inside the central building where the plates will be passed on.

These two big pots are placed along a large rectangular table.

Huge soup tureens full of meat and sauce and vegetables are also placed on the table.

The ballet of the plates begins!

Along with the other volunteers, I sit around the burning rice pot on law chairs with a metal plate that serves as large serving spoon in one hand and an empty plastic plate in the other one.

We fill the plates – we give more or less depending on the age – and give it to a person who places it on the table.

Two women stand at the table pour sauce and veggies on each plate and organize pyramids of full plates on the rectangular table.

When the table is piled up, “Jean-Claude” one of the feeding center supervisors monitoring the food delivery, opens the window facing the front stage area.

While the preparations occurred, the front yard was opened and kids and adults lined up, at first in a quiet way and more and more noisily after the crowd of young adults crowd arrived.

Whenever Jean-Claude opens the window, the passing of the plates begins.

It is always fast and efficient with clear monitoring of who is getting what, with secret codes and rules for people arriving with their own bucket to fill in for families in distress  who are not able to come to the window.

Outside, additional helpers put spoons on the plates and finalize the process.

As the rectangular table empties quickly, our plates’ dance behind the table doesn’t stop.

Each time we take a full plate of rice, the next layer of rice steams up, burning me.  Who needs a sauna? Here you are… so natural!

I am red, also steaming, sweaty and tired.  My shoulders and hands ache, each plate is heavy, rice is stocked.

I am laughing and smiling, trying to understand everybody talking so fast in Creole around me. No need for music!

The rice bucket is empty? Let’s bring a new one.

Young boys bring a new one, even hotter.

(How is that possible?)

Before they return, I breathe a minute, trying to recover, drinking these little plastic bags full of good water that we can find every where through out the county.

After two hours of work and more than 1,000 meals served, I feel glad that the children will have had a solid meal at least once today.

I am so happy to have been accepted to be part of this!

I am so proud of the feeding center’s members.

I am thankful for all their extraordinary good work and this helpful exercise, repeated every day of the school week, every week of the month, and every month of the year!!!!

I will never ever forget you and will do all I possibly can to help you the most I can in the future.

Be prepared to participate!!!!!

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Tap Taps, Volunteering in Haiti, part two

Sunday, July 25th, 2010

by Veronique Parages, Skills-Based Volunteer Program Director, HandsOn Network

The “tap-tap” is the common system of transportation.

One trip is 5 gouds, one goud is a Haitian dollar, a $ dollar is 40 gouds.

It sounds easy but you try learning to pay for your rides in Haiti.

Trips around Port Au Prince are not expensive, but they are always interesting.

No one uses signals and most of the drivers don’t actually have a license to drive because it is too expensive.

The streets are colorful with Christian messages in orange, yellow, red, looking as old as the many pick up trucks with low tires.

Many of the pick ups have a make-shift roof to protect the passengers from the sun, wind and dust.

“Tap-tap” is the noise of the passengers’ heads knocking on the roof, the sound of their shoulders and arms hitting the metal borders of the truck bed or their neighbor’s body.  It is also the noise of knocking on the roof or the window of the front seats to let the driver know that one of the passengers wants to stop.

The two benches along the back of the pick up can fit 6 people each… o0ps sorry make that 7… no 8! (and sometimes more).

Just squeeze, squeeze, squeeze!

I see kids in uniforms, people dressed up to go to work, women going to sell or to buy at flea market with huge bags full of chicken (some live) or vegetables or water to cook.

Everyone travels using the tap-tap system! And so do we… a 1 to 2 hours commute time every day back and forth to our volunteer project.

We have to take three consecutive tap-taps to arrive at the feeding center where we volunteer — and it is so worth it!!!

A tap-tap ride is a colorful piece of Haiti. Everyone helps everyone else.

People give you a hand to catch a moving tap-tap still, find places for the pregnant women to sit, hold children on laps, hold a neighbor’s bag, pass on the money and the change, hold you and catch you if you are standing half bent over in between seated people under the low roof losing your balance at each pothole.

The Haitian people have been welcoming and friendly to the strange animals that we are, especially the white skin ones like me, look funny and stand out here.

Sometimes very young children show me to their parents.

I find that a smile and a big” Bonjour” get’s all the passengers smiling back.  They begin to talk, shy first and then more, in French or trying in English.  It’s a perfect way to discover the Haitian’s day today’s lives.

Christian messages are everywhere, on the tap-taps as decoration, as well as in the names of shops and in Haitian’s hearts.

Some passengers read the bible in the tap-taps.

Children in uniforms go to private religious schools when they can afford it. –70 to 80% of public schools have been destroyed by the earth quake around Port-Au-Prince.

The poorest accept their misery and the earthquake as the will of God.

But is it?

Can all the small church networks help people create local projects and local jobs instead of organizing long days of prayers? Or can they do both?

I know it is easy to say and not to do, but talking to the kids, to the students, to the youth in the tap-taps gives me the feeling that if somebody believes in their country and its resources, the Haitians may believe in it again too… How can we help?

If Rwanda has been able to rebuild their country, to reunify two populations with respect and solidarity to each other despite years of horrible genocide, maybe Haiti can take the earth quake as a catalyst to reunify rich and poor, to create synergy and actions plans, to re-launch agriculture and exports and begin tourism?

I really hope so.

We need to continue to help them do it…

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