Had I understood the choices at hand, I may not have chosen to have these beautiful children when there is so much exciting work to be done in the world. The days I have time to pursue my other interests are the same days that I feel okay about choosing also motherhood. Here, we attempt to blog about our 5-year-old's questions AND our own questions/ideas around issues that we need to be involved in to complement our parenting.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Dear friends and family, it all started when the temperature dipped to a mild -12 and we realized that we were really going to spend our first winter (in 6 years!!!!) here in Winterpeg so we’d better equip ourselves for the occasion. I bought this face mask for Niko and couldn’t help remarking how much he looks like the Virgin Mary in it (the Caucasian version). And so he is.
It was pretty obvious who would be the angel. And Jesus (our nephew Matoli). Finally Joseph (Matoli’s big brother Zavi).
Peace and Wonderment to you this Christmas
love, from the Angel Gabriela, the Virgin Mary/Niko, Matt, and Esther
May you also find the spiritual in the ordinary and practical at Christmas and everywhere in between. Si Bondye vle.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Niko's DEDICATION at Hope Mennonite Church, Winnipeg, MB
Had the Lynell the pastor at Hope not asked us a month ago if we wanted to dedicate Niko, we may have well forgotten in all our transitioning. We were SO happy and blessed to DEDICATE Niko this morning at Hope Mennonite Church. As we stood at the front with Niko and Gabriela, we saw a community that has been supporting us. Thank you! And we were so HONOURED that NIKO and cousin MATOLI could share this their dedication day. Congrats Jennifer, Will, Zavi, and Matoli also on getting named. Congrats to Grandmas and Granpas & OPA and OMA! See you soon!
The party started at 4:30 which is exactly when the thunderstorm started.
But the sun (and the fun) weren't far behind.
This was Gabriela's second 4th birthday party... the first party was a couple weeks ago in Haiti with our friends there including Marie France, Gabriela's birth Mama. How cool was that!!!!!!! For the Winnipeg version...most friends came from the neighbourhood, Zavi came from across the river, but Brian and Robin came ALL THE WAY from Haiti. Thanks everyone for coming to the parties. There was painting, planting, pinata, and cake. Yep! Matt/Papa made a fresh strawberry shortcake and it was beautiful
and as good as Epi d'Or : )
Monday, July 05, 2010
We are slowly adjusting to Canadian food. . . now that it's finally getting fresher!!!! It was physically and socially harder to grow much of our own food in Haiti, although most Haitians do it just as seemlessly and consistently as brushing one's teeth. Our front yard garden here in Winnipeg reminds me of a Haitian garden which always reminded me of a little ecosystem: small, with lots of different kinds of crops, insects, beautiful to look at. For 5 years we thrived off the harvest of Haitians farmers. God bless Haitian farmers, young and old.
Matt and I share this daydream of starting a juice factory in Haiti. Our recent trip to Haiti from Winnipeg (where asparagus was the only thing in season) reminded us of how delicious Haitian fruit really is. The fact that Haiti doesn’t yet bottle and market their own juice may be a way of saying it’s just that good . . . it can’t be bottled. Starting a business in Haiti feels like a really fun adventure and also an administrative nightmare. Staring a business in Haiti involves a multitude of unnecessary bureaucratic steps and many months of fumbling through the Haitian government system, almost as many as an adoption, which took us and many others at least two years to complete. Lack of consistent electricity, poor road infrastructure, lack of access to the necessary equipment, etc - all these factors together keep our daydream a dream at least these days . . . all these factors we, development workers and economists etc., usually refer to as “lack of infrastructure."
I just spent 10 days back in Port au Prince. While there I walked around camps and hung out with friends who were sleeping in these tents, friends who had lost their houses with everything in it and friends who just didn’t trust their houses enough to spend 8 hours inside them in the dark with their eyes closed. These friends and other familiar people, like the women who sell us bananas and mangoes and my cohort of mototaxi drivers, were thrilled to see us. We haven’t seen you in so long! they exclaimed, How is your family?How are your Mom and Dad? They didn’t just want to know how my baby was, they wanted to know what he’s doing now . . . Does he sit by himself yet, how many teeth? when will you bring him by? I honestly had to compete to ask them how they were, how they are.
One of the cooks at MCC office in Port au Prince lost her whole house with everything in it. Her children were in the house when it fell down but thankfully under the only part that didn’t collapse. And there she was, huge warm smile scooping out passion fruit to make fresh juice . . . insisting on filling my tupperware with fresh mashed potatoes and sauce when I had to leave before lunch was officially served (to go home to nurse Niko). Was there anything left underneath the rubble? I asked. There were some clothes but they are all ripped.
Why don’t I think I’d be at work if my house went up in dust just a few months earlier?
Why don’t I think I’d be smiling?
Why do I think I’d be drowning in insurance papers?
There are thousands of people sleeping in camps in Pétionville. Once when I walked by one of these camps, I saw a woman in a short skirt and a nice light pink top. Her hair was tightly and smartly braided. She didn’t look like she slept in a tent but neither does the MCC cook, Marie. It’s almost like a way of saying . . . we’re so together, it doesn't even matter if my house falls down or not.
Three months after the earthquake when we were in Canada, we discovered Gabriela and her new friend, Sofia, playing "earthquake" in the backyard under a play tent. Back in Haiti, Gabriela was so happy to play again with Tad, our landlady’s nephew. Tad is too scared to sleep in his own house so between his parents and aunts and cousin, they bring him to his aunt’s house to spend the night and every morning his dad comes and picks him up to bring him to school.
Shouldn’t this kid be getting therapy?
Pre-earthquake, Tad lived with his parents. post-earthquake his parents and extended family spend an extra hour and a half a day towing Tad to and from his aunt’s house and his parents house and school often sharing morning coffee or an evening plate of rice. And Tad sleeps peacefully with his two aunts, two cousins, and his grandmother who moved back up to her daughter’s place after the quake. Tad is as healthy and energetic as Gabriela, if that’s any measure (and impressed us with his ability to stand up to her).
It’s true that Haiti lacks physical infrastructure. Apparently, according to some structural engineers that we talked to, the physical difference between a house that stayed standing and a house that fell down is about $50 in building supplies, rebar etc. I am all about safe, healthy houses but I want there to be a way to talk about this that is more than physical infrastructure. Haitians are often referred to as resilient. As much as we can generalize, I agree that Haitians have high resilience but resilience is usually saved up for adversity and I think there is in Haitian culture a social infrastructure which both resists change and is stronger than any house (9 million strong) that money can buy.
Ten years and 12 days before the earthquake in Haiti, I sat on a beach on the West Coast of Africa waiting for the sun to rise on the new millennium. At that point, we’d been living in Senegal just 4 short months but enough time for me to feel that there was something there, something stronger than rebar. It's similar to what I feel in Haiti.
I don’t know what the solution is to the problem of poor infrastructure: physical, social, emotional in one place or another. Maybe being out of balance in one way or the other is part of the definition of every culture. As for me, I spent my last few days in Haiti dropping off as much money into the hands of regular Haitians as I could: the tailor, artists, banana-sellers. That’s the only thing I could think of doing. That and watching folks dote on Niko. That and daring to rest one moment at a time within the strong social network that has been woven around me and my family.
These days have been filled with WHY’s (and princesses). Why is Canada cold? Why did God give us sleep? Why is that lady carrying that dog?
And then one day at dinner, this. . .
Gabriela- Mama, why does your skin burn in the sun and mine doesn’t?
Mama- Because God gave you beautiful skin that doesn’t burn in the sun.
G- Why did God give you skin that burns in the sun?
Mama- Because I was born in a cold country.
G- Why did God give Papa skin that burns in the sun?
Mama- Because Papa was born in a cold country. I said this ignoring the bright white and bald Haiti-born Niko bopping up and down on Matt’s lap...feeling my argument about to bust apart.
G- And Niko was born in Haiti, why Mama?
I paused. I paused in this enormous and tender moment, my heart filled with excitement about bringing Gabriela’s biological Mama to her. . . to this little girl and her big heart.
G- Why Mama? WHY MAMA? Gabriela exclaimed louder and louder.
Tell her, Matt said, go ahead.
Mama- Gabou, I started, you have two Mamas, one Mama who has skin just like yours and one Mama who is me.
Do you want to see a photo of your other Mama? Her name is Marie France.
And so begins the journey of questions, more questions, more thinking about this complex relationship we have with Gabriela, with her Haitian mama, and with Haiti.
PS. These photos of Gabriela and her two Mamas were taken as we left Haiti a week after the earthquake. Marie France and her family and friends were fine, but the neighbour's house had collapsed on their house so they, like many, were living in a nearby camp. Haiti is, for us, a place of miracles . . . the miracle of raising a Haitian child in Haiti, the miracle of finding her birth mother and finding her again and alive after the earthquake. Those are miracles. When we met Marie France outside of the camp she was staying, she asked please please could she come with us to the Domincan Republic. My heart broke in half (the part that was still left) and I couldn't say anything. We HAVE to do something about this inequality!!!!!!!!!!!! Young and intelligent women like Marie France have so much to offer their beautiful country and our world. These women need to be leading, not begging to get out. We've got to believe it and cut out the BS of giving and receiving with strings attached.
God help us.
PSS. Marie France is just like Gabriela . . . confident and lively with sparkles of excitement and intelligence in her eyes. You won't see all that here on the photos. Haitians don't actually smile for photos...they look serious on purpose.
Friday, May 21, 2010
during breakfast, i stepped momentarily into the kitchen to make tea, when i looked back this is what i saw
so much for BABY Niko! Even Gabriela noticed that his hair is growing.
Some hair at the back is like 5 cm!!! at this rate every cm counts : )
Sunday, April 18, 2010
hi Ben, how's this...
we've landed
this afternoon, i sat on my bed (the mattress Niko and I share on the floor of our living room at Canadian Mennonite University, WINNIPEG, Manitoba) and started going threw some files that we've been storing in a suitcase. Gabou, observing me, said: "Mama, we're going another place?". "Of course not darling", I replied. We been here 3 weeks yesterday, longer than we've stayed anywhere since we left Haiti in January. Haiti is worth mentioning here b/c it's living a while in Haiti (and MCC) that has helped us develop the required skills for this kind of moment to moment living...
It's hard to believe it was only yesterday when Gabou could carry Niko and we were still home in Haiti.
Two weeks ago, we listened and actually watched the ice berg cracking and bumping down the Assiniboine River.
And last week Niko celebrated his half-birthday with some butternut squash in the CMU cafeteria
Here are some of all of our favourite things about Winnipeg, so far: Zavi (our nephew and cousin), Winnipeg Transit, more time with family...
cinnamon buns from Tall Grass Prairie Bakery, sunshine, and going out in my sweats (i haven't brushed my hair in weeks : ) no one knows me here ; ) --it's delicious
yes, we miss things about Haiti: our neighbours, rice and kalalou sauce, cherry juice, a pile of swiss chard for 25g, the mountains, Niko's many admirers, and most of all feeling the love and that Haiti dishes out abundantly from the moment the blazing sun rises and where every moment is lived fully and with as much laughter as is possible. And of course, where people know me/us from kilometres around.
I went to my first sweatlodge on Sunday in Leando, Colorado. The lodge is homemade out of birch sapling and tarps so that it's virtually air and light-tight. We sat on towels and blankets leaving grass showing where I put my feet when things got too hot. For a bunch of reasons including nursing, altitude, and hot yoga, I was half-dehydrated to start with but still well enough to feel claustrophobic when the door was closed and all was dark except for the orange glow of the granite rocks that were assembled already hot in a pile in the centre of the lodge. With my eyes closed, I felt less anxious but still anxious, still trapped. The ceremony of the sweatlodge was divided into 3 "doors" and then a final round of more sweating and singing and praying. The physical door of the lodge, a piece of tarp the size of a big bed pillow, was opened between "doors", cold air and light entered, more hot rocks were added from the fire outside, the water bucket was re-filled. When the door is closed, drumming begins, then singing, and then the leader asks for prayers. My first prayer during first door was really vague. On the second round of prayers, the facilitator encouraged us to share the joys but also the rubble of our hearts. He said "rubble". My second prayer was like this:
I have lived in Haiti for 5 years, most of the time with my doors unlocked.
As we all know there was a lot of rubble in Haiti recently.
I was in my house in Port au Prince during the earthquake.
My house shook too but nothing fell of the walls.
The rubble at my house was not physical rubble but emotional rubble.
It's the rubble of my heart.
My heart is broken.
Because we left Haiti.
Sure we stuck it out a few days.
And sure there was a ton of pressure because whenever anyone saw me and our 3 month old baby, they said "you better get out of here". And we were scared to go to the Canadian Embassy to pick up his passport in case they might not let us NOT evacuate.
But our baby Niko is unlike the so many children in Haiti who can't leave.
And that's what breaks my heart -
not that they can't leave
but that we left with Niko and Gabriela.
What breaks my heart is that it's considered safer to leave and that we think and act like it's better over here.
It's different over here. I don't know if it's better or worse...
...what I do know is that after I shared my prayer out loud to the 30 strangers sweating with me, I didn't feel claustrophobic anymore. I opened my eyes to the darkness. I breathed the steamy air in deeply. I sat up straight. I sang louder. I felt those around me. I was together with everyone. (And my breasts started to spray milk into my shirt.)
In many ways Haiti has been a safer place for me than Canada: everyday adventures, reasonable amounts of food, fresh food all year round, sun, the family that is MCC, no speed limits or superhighways, regular nights made romantic by lack of electricity, everyone's a Christian or at least can talk about it, fewer white people in case I was still comparing myself to my peers, Christmas at church and no presents!, confidence that Gabriela is getting both sides of her culture.
And yet I couldn't stay in Haiti in the short-term post-earthquake because I was scared...scared, not of lack of water or food or people stealing stuff but because I was scared of staying home with our two kids and Matt going out all day and all night and me being stuck there with Niko nursing and Gabriela sucking on his hands like she likes to do (it's adorable but drives me bonkers) and jumping on his head and me not knowing what to do, wanting to be the best Mama I can be but feeling bored, feeling powerless, feeling alone, feeling like my bum will get stuck in a chair, worried that I'll get fat and I'll be embarrassed and my children will hate me and I'll so lack confidence that I'll be scared to speak up and to hold my own and scared of not knowing what I'm good at and what if I'm just average? WORRIED THAT I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO TO "HELP" HAITIANS because I've learned so much from them, and what if my grandfather found out I'm just daydreaming instead of writing academic articles? What if some members of my family found out that I'd rather go out and drink a milk steamer by myself than read to my kid, that I'd rather go bowling than go to a CRC church, that I love the sexy feeling of shaking my hips, that I've always wanted to be black, that I think I'm an artist, that I'd rather eat spinach casserole than fudge anyday of the week even if it's local fudge and that I like reading Oprah magazine (sometimes).
So anyways, what I learned in the sweatlodge is that if I speak up I'll be more comfortable.
Praise God for blogging.
Esther
Thursday, February 11, 2010
we are all loving the snow and sunshine
(it's like our broken hearts are being frozen back together)
life goes on here and there...
Niko turned 4 months old yesterday
and we all took a big leap with Gabriela
celebrating her Fèt Fin Tete (Weaning Party)
with a cake in the perfect shape of a breast
friends and sparklers, balloons and music
and one last nurse
super Sean and super Niko
Thank you Sean for hanging onto us and hanging out with us.
You are a natural with the baby!!!
sleepy Niko with being loved by Hillary, Louisville, CO
...our wise friend Patti says what often happen when people leave is they jump into a similar situation OR the extreme opposite OR crash in their parent's basement. We have considered both (yes we will come sooner or later this year dear parents but not with our exploding suitcases : ) meaning we've considered WWOOFing in Nicaragua and surfing in Melbourne (i am 34 after all and haven't surfed but Googe and I have both less time and less delusions about saving the world - most places I've been there are already people doing that)
The real reason I'm leaving Port au Prince is not lack of amenities (which actually improved our relationships and handiness), or Haitian customer service, or the perfect weather...the real reason I'm leaving is because I want to live in a walkable community. I could say lots about how I adore walking and how fabulous walking is for a society but Enrique Peñalosa (mayor of Bogota from 1998-2000) says it so beautifully that I about had an orgasm reading it:
"One of the most powerful instruments for creating an egalitarian society is by improving public space. A high-quality park never ceases to cause joy. People need to walk and be with people, and this is essential to their happiness. Parks, green spaces and libraries make enormous improvements for the lives of the poor and create a more just, egalitarian society." And this from Mr. Penalosa who thinks cities in the developing world are at a critical moment when they can learn from the mistakes of industrialized nations and choose to develop in a more people-friendly way.
"In order for these cities [cities in the developing world] to prosper, they must provide happiness for their citizens", the former mayor said. "This happiness does not come from individual wealth, but quality of life. This is extremely crucial for the developing world because it is our competitive edge--we cannot give high income, but we can give quality of life"
isn't it so beautiful... and true!
So we're going to Bogota (tomorrow) even though the weather is so cloudy that we probably won't stay just because I want to walk where others walk and bike just because it is essential to happiness... we'll stay until my yoga teacher training in California (Feb 19-28).
after that only God knows...
our list looked like this on Thursday:
1. Bogota
2. Montreal
3. some city in Holland- i think Niko would be real cute speaking Dutch
4. Winnipeg/Calgary/Halifax
5. Boston- 3rd after Miami and NYC for Haitian population
6. Tanzania
7.
here are the criteria:
- walkable and walking activists
- we don't get called out to for being black or white
- two languages is really nice and fun
Making this choice gives me the same feeling I have when I'm in Canada under the hottest-shower-I-can-stand for just a few more minutes that turns into 20. GUILT. Why do I have this choice and 99.99% of the world doesn't? If you don't already think I'm crazy, while I was in Haiti, I repeatedly daydreamed (especially while someone was asking me for a loan) about being a Haitian peasant growing vegetables and taking them down the mountains to sell. I think I'd love that! The grass is always greener... many a Haitian no doubt thinks my life is a bowl of peaches because my husband has a car, not to mention changes diapers. I am herein and forever more committed to not promoting this myth: that my car and my car-dependent lifestyle is more wonderful than something else. Especially to my children.
As for the guilt if there's anyone out there who knows where I got it, let me know : ) The first time I got on a bike in Dezam, my neighbour saw me and just about fell of his bike...instead he exclaimed "SHE HAS A CAR and SHE HAS A MOTOCYCLE and SHE'S BIKING!! Yep, she really is a martian! The director of MCC Dezam (Haitian-born Jean Remy) tells a story about going to the market and buying a sack of rice and walking home with it on his shoulder. People saw him and yelled out "don't you care about us? if you did you would give us that job?" "Are you too good for us now? (because you have a job with the white people: MCC). Haitians say to me, if you can then you choose what's best for your family. I am happy to be leaving Haiti with some Haitian values that have rubbed off onto my heart from our 5 years here, i mean there : ( Values of faith, sticking together, holding relationships tight, not holding onto stuff, the closeness of candlelight (that is easier to remember if you don't have regualar or any electricity), honouring the time it takes to prepare a meal, honouring gender roles, always having time for children and anything else that happens in a moment...there are many. Thank you Haiti for showing me/us a high quality of life.
May rub Haiti off of us and onto others everywhere we go. sources for the Bogota stuff: http://www.thefreelibrary.com, www.walkable.ca, Wikipedia
Thank you to those who have written us asking for more stories about Haiti that may complete the pictures you are seeing and hearing on the news up there...Thank you MOM, JENNIFER, JESSA and the rest of you. We've been receiving calls from CBC (Stephen Puddicombe) and the Sarnia Observer which is pretty cool. From my experience, the earthquake made what's bad in Haiti worse: physical infrastructure, people needing work and what's good in Haiti stronger: friendships, solidarity, caring for one another. We need to value these basic human needs and potentials everywhere. We need to see these stories of love!!!! We need to keep learning and working with these positives of Haiti and Haitians and the rest of us. We need to stop feeling sorry for Haitians. We need to give them what we would want. There's no "later, after this crisis" to start giving Haitians the dignity they need to move towards true independence. There's no way to peace, peace is the way. (A.J. Muste)
Our friend Trish (in Alberta) contacted me on Facebook (at 4:14 on Monday), about the brother (in Haiti) of a friend of a friend of hers (in Miami), who desperately needed dialysis after the quake. She was looking for places in PAP that had the equipment. I posted that on FB at 4:30. Got a message from an angel - Randy - on FB who I don't even know, at 4:36. His org had brought dialysis machines to Hopital Militaire. I passed that on to Trish right away, who passed it on to her friend. The brother went to Hopital Militaire and got what he needed!
An inter-continental FB exchange that literally saved a life!!!!!!
We are both finding it very hard to write at a time like this, so very briefly, I will just let you know that we are in the Dominican Republic. We came across by road on Sunday night. We are staying with some friends here in Santo Domingo for a few days while we figure out what to do. The "figuring out what to do" part is not easy. I wish I were further away so I wouldn't feel such an intense draw to return. It is painful.
Thanks to everyone for all the notes, emails, comments, etc.
