“Out of the abundance of the heart …

…the mouth speaks.”*

Had to break my blog silence to share my thoughts about the recent suspension of Hot 97′s DJ Cipha Sound (Luis Diaz) for his comments last Friday.  As you probably know, the DJ stated he was HIV negative because he didn’t mess with  “Haitian girls”.  He then issued an apology, stating that he “reps” for us and even threw in a “sak pase” to try to appease the community.

I’ll get right to the point.  The comment for me, besides being quite offensive, also served as a reminder to me that labels die hard.  Though Haitians were considered an at-risk group and were banned from donating blood almost three decades ago, the inevitable stigma over the community remains.  After all, it doesn’t take much to pound a message into one’s belief system, but altering it, that can take a lifetime.  I just never thought this lie would rear it’s ugly through a “joke”, by means of a young man of color who claims to “rep” for Haitians.

Can a suspension with sensitivity training focused on the Haitian community, change a man’s heart?  I say this because I assume sensitivity would come from there.  A little bit of that could have kept Mr. Diaz from thinking there is even such a thing as a “joke” concerning HIV.  Though I feel the consequences to his actions are a slap on the wrist, only time will tell if they will make any real difference.  But in my mind, if history repeats itself, most likely they will not.

Though your words upset me, Mr. Diaz,  I wish to thank you for the reminder, although unpleasant, that ignorance concerning health and my community prevails.  Perhaps I needed that wake-up call.

*Matthew 12:34

Now this looks familiar…

Of course I have to say a few words about the weather event that hit D.C. in the past week!  It was dubbed “Snow-maggedon”, “Snow-pocalypse”, even “Snow-torious B.I.G.”.  Whatever you call it, I had some Montreal childhood flashbacks all week.  Except I must say snow was much more fun as a kid.  Didn’t have to worry about cleaning your car and shoveling (and re-shoveling) the entrance.  Nonetheless, I’m grateful for the memorable moments in the storm: reconnecting with family and neighbors, playing Chinese Checkers by candlelight, catching up with friends over the phone, reading with no interruptions, baking Haitian cake, dancing like a fool, laughing at the incessant snow-reporting, and reflecting on what’s next in my life…Thank you Blizzard of 2010!

A view from my window

Just Ask

Recently, a friend told me about an experience she had as she bid her final farewells to her late grandfather.  In the midst of her own grief, she watched her mother face a very painful separation from a beloved family member.  Yet from the church to the grave, she stood by her mother, as she had for so many years in the past.  As the casket began its descent to the cold ground below, she held her mother even closer, determined to support her as she crossed this difficult threshold.  All of the sudden, a group of mourners, who seemed to have pushed their way through the crowd, rushed to her mother’s side, in an attempt to offer their sympathies.   My friend was practically put to the side at a moment in her and her mother’s life that was quite delicate and very difficult.  Although I have no doubt the intentions of the individuals were genuine, their timing and manner of bringing comfort, in my opinion, were somewhat unfitting.

I read an L.A. Times article last week  about the frustration some Haitian-Americans are feeling about their role in the recovery efforts of their homeland.  Many wonder when they will be able to offer the consolation and help they know their Motherland desperately needs at this time and are baffled in how limited the opportunities they have to do so.  “Because we’re Haitian, we want to be involved,” one woman said. “We have to be involved”, she emphasized.

I was glad to see the L.A. Times address this issue, and a bit relieved that I was not the only one who had been thinking about this.  One of the main principles of community development focuses on the importance of asking questions.  Questions are important when you work in a community, but who you ask is even more important.  The answers you need are often best answered by the community itself.  And any problems that are identified are best addressed when the solutions come from the community as well.

This is why, at times, I’ve cringed in the past few weeks as I’ve watched various reports coming from Haiti.  Don’t get me wrong,  I applaud the quick response of many individuals to the crisis, but I am baffled by the fact that some news agencies have not taken the time to really tap into the wealth of professionals who specialize in the specific issues of Haiti.  They are out there.  Perhaps their input could lead to a more productive conversation towards the resolution of long-standing problems in the country.

I continue to be touched by the love being shown to Haiti during such a critical hour in its life story.  I’m just concerned for the few who are rushing in, many with good intentions, but predisposed with their ideas on how to create a new Haiti.  Such an approach leaves key players on the sidelines, similar to what my friend experienced as she attempted to support her mother in a period of deep loss.  I would simply encourage individuals, new organizations, and the media to just ask.  Ask Haitians and those who have had an established presence in Haiti what the country needs.   Continue to support the solutions that are generated from the community.  Without a doubt, there are many around the world needed for Haiti’s rebuilding.  This includes her children, both natives and in the diaspora, who long to comfort and restore their Motherland.

Didn’t Know

Last night, on my screen, I saw a crowd gathered to eat.

Lines…Orders…Reinforcement…Batons…Tear gas…

And I couldn’t help thinking: I didn’t know it was a crime to be hungry.

The Masters, Montréal edition

I was paying close attention to the coverage of the one-day, closed-door meeting of the Group of Friends of Haiti in Montreal yesterday.  Living in the Washington, D.C. area, news from my hometown up north (and Canada for that matter) is usually limited, but many eyes were on Montreal yesterday as Haiti’s future continues to dominate the world’s headlines.

Jean-Max Bellerive, the Prime Minister of Haiti, seemed to have taken the lead in the conference that included leaders from all over the world: Canada, the U.S., the European Union, Japan, the D.R., and Spain, to name a few.   He made it clear since his arrival in Canada Sunday: “Les Haïtiens veulent rester maîtres de leur avenir”.  Haitians want to be the masters of their future.   Amen, Mr. PM.

Yet the big question remains: how will Haitian leadership fare as it enters this era of new beginnings?  Haitian leadership has appeared weak lately, almost non-existent to some, particularly in the aftermath of the earthquake.  In the few days following the devastation, I shared the sentiment of many Haitians who wondered what on earth President Preval was doing (or thinking)?  And where was he?  His lack of presence when Haiti needed him the most disappointed many, to say the least.   Perhaps coordination in the early phases of this catastrophe could have gone a bit smoother.  Unfortunately, this type of presidential test does not come with a make-up exam.  I’m not sure how he will be able to convince Haitians to trust his leadership at this point.

At this critical hour, I hope he will pass his next test- fully addressing what else has not worked in governments past:  questionable administration practices; aid not reaching the people who need it most; and limited accountability from those supplying assistance.   Corruption has been blamed in the past for many of Haiti’s woes today, but I also knows it travels on a two-way street.  The world is watching Haiti and her Group of Friends to hold all responsible in making the best use of the resources it has poured in to help rebuild the country.

Speaking of rebuilding, one of the key points Prime Minister Bellerive made yesterday was the need for Haitian diaspora to take part in leading the reconstruction efforts.  The aid is coming in, but key leaders of change need to be put in place.  He called for professionals of the diaspora in various fields to consider a temporary return back to Haiti to offer their skills to their homeland.  Considering he made the call from Montreal, I took his request personally.  The city is not only my hometown, but also the place where thousands of immigrants from Haiti, including my own parents, began to settle beginning in the 1960s.  Since then, Haitians in Montreal have made significant contributions in Quebec’s educational system, entertainment world, and political sphere.  And this reality echoes in many other parts of the world where Haitians have found a second home.  I imagine their collective voices and additional input to their homeland could make a significant difference.

But, I also took the call to heart for another reason.  The reality is, many of our parents who migrated over the last four decades are today’s “baby boomers”.   Before this earthquake struck, they were preparing for or settling into retirement,  many of them hoping to at least semi-retire back in Haiti.  Although I’m sure several of them will answer the Prime Minister’s call, they will need the full support of what my Grand-mother often referred to as la relève, the ones who will carry on the torch of those who walked before them.  The road to recovery will be a long one, and as part of the second generation, I hear the call.   Haiti needs us too.

Jacques Roumain’s timeless novel, Masters of the Dew tells the story of Manuel, who, after several years in exile, returns back to Haiti determined to encourages his fellow countrymen to come together and become masters of their own destiny.   The book certainly does not romanticize Manuel’s attempts to inspire change in his homeland and neither should we.  But if we can learn anything from this classic gem in Haitian literature, it is that sacrifice is necessary for the long journey towards transformation.  I hope I’m ready.

The Passion of Compassion

Q:  After the passion fades, what keeps people together?

A:  The strength of resolution and dedication to finish the job.

                                                                       -Excerpt from answerbag.com

1/22/1o - 8:15 pm

Surely as I type this, the Hope for Haiti telethon is being viewed across  all the major television networks in North America.  I have been truly moved by the response of so many individuals, organizations, and countries across the globe who have responded to this overwhelming human catastrophe that has hit so close to home for me and others who have ties to Haiti.  It turns out the world is not as selfish, cruel, and heartless as we often perceive it to be.

I am still unsure how much of the telethon I will be watching tonight.  Although I have donated to the relief efforts, I have yet to participate in a fundraising event.  My heart is in the cause, but not quite yet in the flurry of activities that have sprung out of this tragedy.  And there have been so many in Washington D.C. alone, which is really remarkable.  The Survival Kit drive, the food collections, the “Swing Dance for Haiti” party…Truly the world’s heart is beating with Haiti’s today.  However, in the midst of all this focus on the country, my thoughts can’t help but to turn to the  ”after” that will  follow.  After the telethon ends.  After the news crews begin to leave.  After all the aid is distributed.  Will the focus and concern for Haiti continue after the spotlight pans away from this impaired island?

Scientists have determined that the passion for love between 2 individuals often fades after 2 years (sounds familiar to anyone?).  Some social scientists have even begun to report that the passion for President Obama, which was at an all time high only a year ago, is slowly waning (not quite sure how they determine that…).  In the case of disaster relief, when passion for a cause begins to decline (which is an unavoidable reality), it is often referred to as compassion fatigue.  We’ve seen it in past tragedies, it is only human to grow weary of situations that feel so above and beyond us. 

As I try to grasp the real magnitude of this current devastation and the implications for the nation’s future, I am also in awe of the life lessons humankind is drawing out of Haiti’s ashes.  In a way, this earthquake seems to have shaken all of us.  Our collective soul received a wake-up call that we should not take lightly.  The frailty of our own humanity.  The great need we have for one another.  Our desperate longing for God.  Our inescapable mortality.  We are not as much in control of our lives as we so confidently think we are.  And if that doesn’t awaken us, I’m not sure what will.

In French, a new awareness, such as was described above, is known as prise de conscience, an awakening of the soul.  A prise de conscience is often life-changing, one that causes you to view your own existence from a different perspective and challenges you to embrace life, and your role in this world, in a new way.  May Haiti’s current position in the headlines and on our hearts not be limited to temporary hype.  That’s my hope for Haiti.  Instead, I hope it triggers a genuine, organized, action-oriented response for the long-term recovery efforts (which will take several years) the country will need for its restoration.  And may this call to action make us also more aware of the plight of people in need across other oceans, other countries, other cities…and, across the street.

I’ll close by mentioning another important component of compassion fatigue, the men and women on site who are working directly with the survivors of the earthquake.  The painful sights they are seeing, piercing cries they are hearing, and stench of death that surrounds them, makes their already challenging work even more difficult.  They themselves are exposed to and experience their own trauma while on the line of duty.  They need all the prayers, encouragement, and gratitude we can give them at this time.  May we not forget the unseen hands and voices on the frontlines of bringing much needed hope to Haiti.

An Open Blog to Pat Robertson

After the “devil” statements came out last week, I bit my tongue.  I figured there was no sense in giving additional attention to non-sense with all that was happening around me.  I finally decided I needed to address this when I was being asked how my family was doing and “what about the ‘pact with the devil’ comments?  So here it is, my response.  Got it off my chest, walking in forgiveness, feeling a little better.

1/17/10

Dr. Robertson:

In the midst of undoubtably the most challenging and emotionally agonizing week I have ever endured, you spoke.  Directly from behind the desk of your Christian program, a platform created to uplift people in times of crisis, you spoke.  And the aftermath of your words, the caustic tremors they’ve produced within me and the Haitian community I belong to, have yet to cease.

As if worrying about the fate of loved ones in a severely distressed capital wasn’t enough.  As if it wasn’t enough to watch an entire city fall to the ground and turn to dust, along with your history and culture.  And as if it wasn’t enough to watch my parents’ pain as they witnessed yet another crisis unfold in their beloved homeland. 

In addition to all of this angst, I found myself having to cope with feelings of  frustration and anger that drained me of the energy I desperately needed to sustain myself and try to support my family and community both here and in Haiti.  It’s close to a week since the devastation began, and I decided my grudge against your actions need to end.  And as a Christian, I’m called to forgive.

As late as today, I found myself addressing your statement to those who wanted my opinion on your comments.  They asked me if it was true, if there was any validity to your explanation of why this calamity struck Haiti.  Not sure how your notion could possibly begin to explain this natural disaster, but I will tell you what I told them.  I know that no one can give an accurate account of what took place that night in 1791 at Bois Caïman, when Haitian slaves united to revolt against their oppressors.  None of us were there.  I also know that history is captured through the eyes and the intentions of the beholder.  I can’t help but to think that Antoine Dalmas, the French historian who first recorded this “event” you were describing, may have had written it with a perspective that could have been biased or downright vengeful.  After all, the Haitians slaves defeated his country and claimed their independence from the French.  A first for the victors and a humiliation for the defeated.  Could he have taken some creative liberties when composing this section of the history book?  I wouldn’t be surprised. 

What does surprise me, however, Dr. Robertson, was how you gave credit to the devil as the one who helped free slavemen from their oppressors!   Surely the ”devil” does not deserve that much recognition, don’t you think?  My Bible speaks of a compassionate God who has deep, heartfelt concern for the oppressed:

Deut. 26:7-8: Then we cried to the LORD, the God of our fathers, and the LORD heard our voice and saw our affliction and our toil and our oppression; and the LORD brought us out…”

I believe God was with my ancestors back then, and continues to be with us today.

The media has taken notice of that too.  Television news have shown numerous reports displaying the faith so many Haitians (even some who were trapped in rubble)  have in God.  The front page of Sunday’s (1/17/10) Washington Post described Port-au-Prince as “a kind of multidenominational, open-air church”.  Even in this immense human tragedy, Haitians have not stopped crying out to God.

I can only hope the testimony of the people of Haiti have rattled and challenged your own spirituality.   And if you insist, Dr. Robertson, on continuing to speak on the air in the future, please ask God for His wisdom in the choice of your words (James 1:5).  Perhaps, before you decide to retire, this could end the list of controversies you’ve amassed in the recent past through your insensitive statements .

Peace,

Laurie Williams

Silence is Broken

I finally heard from my Uncle Luc in Haiti, and I thank God.  Like many of you, I’ve witnessed other devastating natural disasters in the past as they gradually unfolded on my television screen.  And I would always wonder what the experience must be for the loved ones witnessing the horror from afar.  The helplessness, the worry, the desolation must be unbearable, I would tell myself.  It was, and in some ways, it still is.

First and foremost, my heart goes out to the many families who are still seeking a sign, any sign, of hope, confirming that their loved ones are still alive.  I know what you are going through.  The sleepless nights feel endless.  You keep wishing the phone could ring, and when it finally does, you jump in fear, not wanting to hear what news awaits you on the other line.  You can’t focus, can’t think, can’t eat, can’t sit still.  And the images on T.V. don’t help, they just grow increasingly grim as each day slowly passes by. 

I still await word from some relatives and friends in Port-au-Prince.  And for the family members who are now accounted for, a new set of emotions arise.  Sadness for people who didn’t get the same confirmations I received.  Guilt when I’m able to eat something, while thinking about my cousin who called us to tell us how hungry he was as he walked by dead bodies scattered all over the city.  Concern for the family members who are homeless and now in outdoor camps…what if it rains?

In all this, I’m amazed to have found some comfort in the reports of survivors in Port-au-Prince.  I’m blown away by countless examples of endurance and their expressions of faith in God.  They kept me going as I waited, and as I still wait with all who have been affected by this calamitous event.  As we approach Martin Luther King Day, I’m reminded of his wise words:  “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy”   The world is watching now as Haiti displays, in great measure, the strength and resilience of all her children.

“The Darkness Night of Our History…”

And I would add to Edwidge Danticat’s words, the longest night of our history.  My words will be brief tonight.  Like many inside and outside of Haiti, I anxiously await to hear from family in Port-au-Prince as I’m typing this post.

I was preparing for my trip to Haiti (which is scheduled for next week) when I heard the horrific news.   As if expressing its own version of an aftershock, my body shook, literally for an hour, as I watched the news unfold.  I was heartbroken.   And I wept.

I wept for yet another disastrous event to have struck a country that is so close to my heart.

I wept for the mothers and fathers who are trying to locate their children in the heavy cloud of dust and darkness that has engulfed the Capital.

I wept for the people and their voices trapped in the debris they once called their home, or work place, or community.

And I wept, in anger, for the reporter I saw on TV who questioned a correspondent she was interviewing about the risk of violence in the country’s distressed capital because, (and I quote) “Haiti is a violent nation”.   Now, if the media can’t even try to uplift a country at its most tragic hour in history, will they ever let go of the negative image of Haiti they insist on presenting to the world?

It’s not a New Year without my Soup Joumou

Happy 2010!  What a blessing to welcome another year!  For me, holidays are an opportunity to reconnect with family and the culture (or cultures) that link us together.  Many of the rituals I observe around the holidays are a combination of the North American and Haitian subcultures that I am a part of.  January 1st, however, not only marks the beginning of a new year, but also the anniversary of Haiti’s independence in 1804.  To celebrate their freedom, the former slaves prepared and ate Soup Joumou (a rich squash soup that slaves were once forbidden to eat) to their hearts’ content.  Over 200 years later, their descendants maintain the tradition…it’s just not a New Year without a bowl of soup joumou!

As New Year’s day unfolded yesterday, I was reminded all day of the power of tradition, proudly passed on through kettles full of pumpkin, spices, vegetables, and various meats, often prepared and stirred together through a group effort.  Whether they were American-born, living in Haiti, or diaspora away from the homeland, I smiled as I heard and read about the compatriotes around the world who were enjoying their bowl of soup.  I hope we all took a moment to reflect on the meaning of that freedom meal our ancestors enjoyed over two centuries ago.  Some may question whether their hopes of true independence have become a reality for the country, and I often struggle with that question myself.  But I found the most important question for me to ask this new year was: what am I doing with my own independence?  I’ve had the chance to learn, travel, and watch technology evolve through experiences my parents and grand-parents never had access to.  I have opportunities now that were once not available to people in the country I live in simply on the basis of their skin color.  True, independence may not look like many of us wish it could, but the story is not over.  And perhaps independence is a journey, not a destination.  I just want to make sure I play my part at this juncture of the history book.  After all, to whom much is given, much is required (Luke 12:48).

Just some of my thoughts today.  I hear some left-over soup calling my name…Bon Ane!