Check me out today on The Root . It's a story about Haitian-Americans, more specifically children of Haitians in the American Diaspora going to Haiti to help in rebuilding efforts.
Thanks for stopping by.
Oh, and since I'm really in the bush, that is outside of Berlin, I have no idea what my Internet access will be like over the next few days. . .
Happy Easter. . .
3/31/2010
3/22/2010
Imagining (Home)
I can't pretend that I haven't thought about it before, but waking to the news of the healthcare bill passing in the second chamber of congress. . . well, brought back vivid pipe dreams of returning to the United States.
Seriously, why would anyone leave universal healthcare, subsidized daycare, a fair cost of living and a pretty generous social net to go to a place that offers absolutely none of that? It wasn't exactly rocket science. Even though I missed family, my culture, American people (minus the ignorant and racist teabaggers). . . none of that compared to my family's quality of life here in Germany.
Now that Obama has succeeded in pushing through the most humane and hopeful piece of legislation since I've been an American, I can imagine life in America again, with my family.
Let's hear it for change.
Seriously, why would anyone leave universal healthcare, subsidized daycare, a fair cost of living and a pretty generous social net to go to a place that offers absolutely none of that? It wasn't exactly rocket science. Even though I missed family, my culture, American people (minus the ignorant and racist teabaggers). . . none of that compared to my family's quality of life here in Germany.
Now that Obama has succeeded in pushing through the most humane and hopeful piece of legislation since I've been an American, I can imagine life in America again, with my family.
Let's hear it for change.
3/20/2010
A Day in the Life
Some recent photos of the boys at The Clermont Center taken by my brother, Hervé , who is currently in Jacmel. 
(Jean Peter and Martin Luther chillin' or "Nou posé" in Kreyol)
(Life in the tent)
(Fritzca doing laundry)
(there is always time for soccer. . .)
(Jean Peter and Martin Luther chillin' or "Nou posé" in Kreyol)
(Life in the tent)
(Fritzca doing laundry)
(there is always time for soccer. . .)
3/16/2010
Journey to Jacmel
(a damaged wall from our house)
(a school in Jacmel some of our children attended; 200 children died here)
(same school)
My brother, Hervé, is currently in Jacmel with the children at The Clermont Center. He brought medical supplies, clothing and books for the kids and some moral support that the world hasn't forgotten about Haiti.
(some of the boys with Markes, the head counselor)
Hervé was relieved to discover that the house itself appears to be more resilient than other houses in Jacmel, many of which came tumbling down in a matter of seconds. There was damage done to our house but it's not immediately apparent and it is still unclear just how much. But the boys are able to spend time in the recreation area, which is a blessing now that hurricane season has begun. (however, rain, my brother tells me today,11/18, seeps through cracks in the kitchen left from the quake.)
(the center's name did not crumble)
But they still continue to sleep in tents outside because they are so traumatized by the images they see around them. Friends' houses destroyed, their school in complete rubble, the classmates they lost while they were outside playing soccer. . . they fear that if they sleep inside, the house will come crashing down on them. So my brother has been camping out in Jacmel and taking pictures with his cell phone and I am posting them here for now.
(tent in the center's yard where they sleep)
Journey to Jacmel will become its own blog with regular updates about my family's travels to The Clermont Center. I hope to be there soon.
Now that we see how blessed we've been, our top priority will be to focus on expansion to address the very tragic orphan situation that affects Haiti now.
Listen to a literary piece I wrote about Haiti here on Season Two of Berlin Stories (NPR World Wide)
3/15/2010
Bachata in Berlin
Tonight, while I was strolling past the apples, I heard something on the supermarket loudspeaker that made me stop my cart, stand still and listen in surprise. The music, totally out of place in a Berlin supermarket, brought back a lovely memory. . .
It was around 1999 and I was in Washington Heights (New York City) at a birthday party. I can no longer remember whose? Anyway, there were a lot of Dominicans there and I was with a good Haitian friend of mine who loves to dance to all kinds of Latin music. That night was full of Bachata and I could feel the movement come back to me in the grocery store. Step, step, step, shake. . . step, step, step, wiggle. . .
My Haitian friend, a fantastic dance partner led me from one song to the next and an acquaintence asked, "Is that your German boyfriend?"
In Berlin, I hear Cuban salsa everywhere because Buena Vista Social Club had an Abba-like following here. But salsa has almost become synonymous with Latin music/dance. OK, so you'll catch the occassional rumba but in the 10 years I have lived in Berlin, I have never heard Bachata. I don't know why it was playing at the grocery store and I have no idea if I'll ever hear it again. It was like being on the Upper West Side all over again. Pass the platanos please.
It was around 1999 and I was in Washington Heights (New York City) at a birthday party. I can no longer remember whose? Anyway, there were a lot of Dominicans there and I was with a good Haitian friend of mine who loves to dance to all kinds of Latin music. That night was full of Bachata and I could feel the movement come back to me in the grocery store. Step, step, step, shake. . . step, step, step, wiggle. . .
My Haitian friend, a fantastic dance partner led me from one song to the next and an acquaintence asked, "Is that your German boyfriend?"
In Berlin, I hear Cuban salsa everywhere because Buena Vista Social Club had an Abba-like following here. But salsa has almost become synonymous with Latin music/dance. OK, so you'll catch the occassional rumba but in the 10 years I have lived in Berlin, I have never heard Bachata. I don't know why it was playing at the grocery store and I have no idea if I'll ever hear it again. It was like being on the Upper West Side all over again. Pass the platanos please.
For some reason, the video doesn't want to properly embed so click on the link. Check out the hiccup on the four.
3/09/2010
On Multiculti Marriage
One of my closest childhood friends was a Hindu girl whose parents had often hinted (strongly) that she marry this particular Indian gynecologist or that particular Indian internist. "He comes from a good family," they'd tell her. But my friend, like most of us first generation Americans, resisted the custom of her parents' homeland. She travelled to Cuba, went to med school and ended up becoming a doctor all by herself, thank you very much.
When I was younger I actually pitied this friend because I couldn't imagine my parents nagging me about marrying some Haitian-American guy. Marriage was one area in which I didn't want my parents meddling around. What was the point of us growing up in America if we couldn't marry whomever we wanted?
Now that I'm married to someone from a completely different culture and, despite my fluent German, I sometimes feel like we're speaking a different language. I start to wonder if my Hindu friend might not have had it so bad after all?!
How often have we sought out the right partner simply by hoping we'd see stars and hear music whenever our eyes met? Well, guess what, our parents actually knew better (am I really saying this?). They look less for the romantic and more for the practical. They know that common backgrounds later play a role in child rearing, expectations of family and passing on religious and cultural traditions. Of course these can all be fused together from different perspectives, but it sure must be a lot easier to not have to always explain traditions, as opposed to simply sliding into them.
Some days I understand why people marry their high school sweethearts or the kid from their CCD class. I doubt that would be for me but now I have greater understanding for it.
Oh yeah, and my childhood friend? She ended up marrying a businessman from New York who is Punjabi Sikh. And her parents had nothing to do with it.
When I was younger I actually pitied this friend because I couldn't imagine my parents nagging me about marrying some Haitian-American guy. Marriage was one area in which I didn't want my parents meddling around. What was the point of us growing up in America if we couldn't marry whomever we wanted?
Now that I'm married to someone from a completely different culture and, despite my fluent German, I sometimes feel like we're speaking a different language. I start to wonder if my Hindu friend might not have had it so bad after all?!
How often have we sought out the right partner simply by hoping we'd see stars and hear music whenever our eyes met? Well, guess what, our parents actually knew better (am I really saying this?). They look less for the romantic and more for the practical. They know that common backgrounds later play a role in child rearing, expectations of family and passing on religious and cultural traditions. Of course these can all be fused together from different perspectives, but it sure must be a lot easier to not have to always explain traditions, as opposed to simply sliding into them.
Some days I understand why people marry their high school sweethearts or the kid from their CCD class. I doubt that would be for me but now I have greater understanding for it.
Oh yeah, and my childhood friend? She ended up marrying a businessman from New York who is Punjabi Sikh. And her parents had nothing to do with it.
3/07/2010
Conditional Love
While I don't remember exactly when I began distancing myself from my Catholic upbringing, I do recall the relief I felt, no longer having to separate my intellectual beliefs from my spiritual ones.
My 17 year-old intellect thought it was wrong to preach to poor people that they shouldn't use birth control. My 25 year-old brain told me it was impossible to abhor sin when so many leaders of the church, one after the next, sin without recourse of action. My 30 year-old gut knew that there was a problem with an empire that claims to advocate for children yet does not bring justice to those who abuse children.
I don't deny that the Catholic Church has been charitable to Haiti and other destitute nations. The church has shown great humanity yet, in the same breath, it continues to show great disdain for basic human rights.
Today I read that a child was expelled from a Catholic school in Boulder, Co because his parents are lesbians. How does the church explain this to a child? God's love is conditional? Your parents, even if they appear to love you and take care of you and nurture you, are actually sinners and you are no longer welcome to be a part of our community? God doesn't love or accept you because your parents are gay?
It reminds me of the story a close relative of mine once shared with me. This relative attended Catholic school in Port-au-Prince with strict nuns who preached that charity was the Catholic way. Then, when she was 10, her father died that Christmas and the nuns called her into the office and wanted to know who was going to pay for her tuition? She and her sister were swiftly kicked out of the school and forced to attend Haitian public school with all of the other children who didn't make God's cut.
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