Inching forward with the main thing, along with some side projects

So, I thought I'd write a bit about the work we're doing, or about the progress we're making on it.

R, the attorney who came to Haiti shortly after the earthquake, was here for 2 months, then went back to the U.S. for a few weeks, then came back at around the same time I came, is pretty amazing. She knows a lot about US immigration law and procedures and forms, the kind of book knowledge that I think I can eventually acquire without too much trouble (hopefully). But she also knows a lot about the different positions that UNICEF and various NGO's (nongovernmental organizations) take on international adoption and related matters. She's met a ton of people who work for these NGO's and for various governments. And she also has this big picture grasp of what the different players' concerns are, and who is pressuring who for what reasons.

She also has a really good memory about all the aspects of the 2 cases of the 2 kids we've gotten into the U.S. (I'm still having trouble remembering who talked to who and when, and what each person's job is, and what they've actually done. It's complicated.)

What she doesn't know that much about is the internal workings of the Haitian government and specifically, the Haitian social services department (this is one of the most important entities in the adoption of Haitian kids). Various forms and various permissions are needed from them in order for kids to leave the country, whether orphans or not. So a lot of our legal or quasi-legal related work has been in making contacts with people here who are familiar with Haitian social services, and trying to learn what we can from them. And then discussing what we've learned and how that information affects those 2 kids, and how it might affect other kids in the future. And gathering various documents or formulating questions that we need (or would really really like) the answers to, from someone.

So that's sort of the main work. And R will be leaving Haiti next week, because she needs to do a bunch of work related to orphans in certain Asian countries. So I'm supposed to step into her shoes for the remainder of my time in Haiti when she's gone. These are big shoes. And I feel it.

But then there's also a lot of other stuff that's not directly part of the main work. One thing has been basic housekeeping or logistics stuff (buying drinking water, getting gasoline, getting other household supplies, and such). We're hoping to rent or buy a diesel powered automatic transmission vehicle, which is also part of this category of tasks we've had (these are hard to come by in Haiti). And there's some issues with license plates and driver's licenses and such.

And there's also maintaining relationships with different people. We rely heavily on MOH, a partner organization that has been in Haiti for many years. So there's a lot of communication with them, which often means driving out to visit them to talk with certain people, or dropping things off, or picking them up, or borrowing one of their people for an overnight stay to help us. Unfortunately, it's about a 1 hr drive, with good traffic. So every time we go out there, that's at least 2 hrs of the day on the road. Often, it's more.

As an aside, most Haitian established businesses close up shop somewhere between 3 and 5 pm. Traffic gets to be pretty bad from about 3:30 pm to pretty late. I think a lot of the street vendors keep selling until later, so traffic can be bad even at 7 or 8 pm. Also, we've tried to avoid driving at night for a number of reasons:
1) potholes are harder to see (and there are many potholes and sections of road that are gravel or pebbles)
2) the fact that lanes are optional, and the many people walking along or within the traffic makes it rather easy (in our minds at least) for us to hit one of them accidentally), and
3) we've been warned that there's considerably more crime in certain parts of town at night.

As an aside to 3) above (an aside to an aside, or "a twig off the branch," as my brother and sister might call it), we met some people working for Oxfam last Sunday. Both are white (European), and they're apparently not allowed to go out of their housing complex after 6 pm, since a few months ago, there were some kidnappings of some of their employees. Apparently, if you work for a big name organization, and if you can be easily identified on the street, there are some people who are willing to kidnap you and demand a ransom from the organization you work for.

(I think this is not as big a concern for us because the organization we work for is tiny. Still, we do stand out in a crowd. S is white, and R and I are both Asian, and Asians are very rare in Haiti. Many of the kids we see have apparently asked or believed or formed the impression that R is Jackie Chan's sister. And by extension, then, I must be his brother. Never been mistaken for that before.)

As a further aside, it's amazing how people (myself included) get used to the things we see every day. At most of the car dealership we've visited, and many of the stores and restaurants and even orphanages and schools, there's a security guy at the entrance. He's not wearing a uniform, but you know he's security because he's holding a shotgun or a rifle, and he usually has a little bit of a suspicious look on his face as you walk through the entrance. But it's something I've gotten used to.

Alright, enough of my asides. I wanted to say that with all my ignorance of Creole and French (the languages spoken here), and of Haitian culture, and with all my efforts to learn about the Haitian social services department, I haven't felt terribly useful so far. Which I know (in the opinion of at least one missionary who commented on this) reflects an American cultural value: Americans prize effectiveness and efficiency, to a far greater extent than many other cultures (which are often more relational). That whole question of: "what have you accomplished?" is one that we ask ourselves, and when we ask others, we phrase it as "so, what did you do?"

Still, chalk it up to the almost impossible task of escaping your own cultural values, but a few other side projects I've done have alleviated some of my vague dissatisfaction with my lack of accomplishment. What side projects, you might ask? (Or not.) Well, I'll tell you:

Side project 1: I helped MOH with a request they had. MOH (the organization we're working with), runs an orphanage, a school, a medical clinic, and a church and also hosts various volunteer teams (from the US or Canada). Many of their staff who are expats are Canadians.

One of their staff doctors asked for some help with getting an adult patient a B2 visa to go to the U.S. to receive medical treatment that isn't available in Haiti. Now our organization works with orphans or abandoned kids, but we were eager to help because it's possible we might apply for B2 visas for some kids in the future, and we wanted to learn about the process. So MOH prepared all the paperwork, but they felt it would be better to have an American citizen go to the embassy with her to apply for the visa. And if said American citizen also was a lawyer, wouldn't that be even better? So that was me.

I'd never visited an American embassy before, so there was a lot of observation and learning for me. The first day, we didn't have an appointment for that day (we had one for the following week, but her medical condition was rapidly worsening), so we were stopped at a counter by a military guy. And we found out the only way to reschedule an appointment was by email. We talked to a woman on the phone, and asked if there was any way to reschedule in person or by phone, but were denied.

An email was sent, an appointment for the next day was granted, and we went back. Once we got past the lines and the guards at the various security checkpoints, it really turned out to be an experience that reminded me of going to the DMV.

"Go to window 6." (Wait at the line for window 6.) Then,
"Go to window 12." (Wait at window 12, then submit papers, get asked some basic questions by a woman at a counter with a glass partition and a microphone.)
"Wait until your name is called." (Wait for a while, then name is called.)
(more questions)
"Go to window 4 to get your fingerprints taken" (go there, wait, help my "client" get her fingerprints taken.)
"Go to window 14" (more waiting, more questions)

Fortunately, the women behind the counters at these windows seemed like somewhat bored bureaucratic types. In other words, there seemed to be a good chance that no one would be doing any tough grilling as to why this woman needed a visa, or whether she would overstay her visa, or such. We had answers for these, but it's always a little dicier if you're actively trying to persuade someone that your client is not going to break the law.

At the end, at window 14, a woman told us that while these applications normally take a few days, because of her medical condition, we could come back that afternoon to pick up the visa. She didn't need to be there, so I went back, picked up the visa, and got it to her.

While I didn't really do that much, various folks at MOH (all of them Canadians, as it turned out) thanked me at various times throughout the day, which felt good. I suppose my being there helped reassure them that if any problems had arisen, I could've maybe helped. And as far as I know, the woman left Haiti on a plane to the U.S. (Hope to confirm this soon.)

Side project 2: While waiting at the embassy, we met a guy who, as it turned out, is a doctor doing some traveling medical clinics in the area. Now the "we" I've been talking about included the woman with the medical condition, in a wheelchair, and a nurse from MOH who pushed the wheelchair, and helped the woman out, and had some pain meds in case she needed them, and who was also there to answer any medical related questions in case we were grilled by someone deciding whether or not to grant the visa.

So this doctor sees the woman in the wheelchair, and asks the nurse about her condition, and we start a little conversation while waiting. It turns out that the doctor is going back to the U.S. later that week, and brought some extra medical supplies that he hasn't used. He says he doesn't want to take them back to the U.S., but would rather donate them. And he describes the stuff to the nurse, and asks if MOH could use them. She says sure.

Since MOH is a little ways away from the city towards the north, and since he's been living and working in an area west of the city, and since the house that my organization is renting is in the city pretty close to a motel he'll be staying at before he flies back to the U.S., I offer to hold the supplies and pass them on to MOH.

And so it goes. I tell my coworkers about the doctor, and later that week, I call, find out where the hotel is, and pick up the supplies from him. Some of them have gone to MOH, and we'll probably take the rest of them sometime soon. So that was a good thing.

Side project 3: wheelchair modification.

I don't have a great aptitude for things mechanical. I do kind of enjoy assembling IKEA furniture, when I have the time, but there's plenty of folks out there who understand tools and parts and how to fix things far better than I.

The other day, we visited an orphanage that cares primarily for kids with developmental disabilities. It's a little heartbreaking to be around them, especially because many of them are beautiful kids, and quite young, and a little starved for attention, since some tugged on my arm, or just patted me, or wanted a hug. And alas, the orphanage is in fairly bad shape (by US standards). There's a good number of kids, and in the area outside the residence, there's a tarp that's been stretched out to give some shade (a needed thing in Haiti).

Many of the kids are outside, but some are too disabled to be brought outside. And there's a lot of flies buzzing around both inside and out. And some of them land on the faces of some of the kids who are in bad shape. And they physically can't wave them away (or perhaps mentally aren't able to register the idea of doing so). And so it's sad.

And the staff of the orphanage just have their hands full, washing the kids, changing their clothes, feeding them, making sure they don't get into trouble. There's just too many for the staff to give much attention to any one kid for very long.

So we visit, and it turns out that they've recently received some wheelchairs from an international organization that distributes them. The ones that can be used are used, which allows some of the kids who are in pretty bad shape to at least get outside, and see a little sun, and feel the breeze, and see stuff, and hear the sounds of the city. Which is a good thing.

But some wheelchairs aren't able to be used. Some don't have foot pedals, which the director of the orphanage tells us causes the kid in them to just have their feet and legs go numb eventually. It's just really uncomfortable.

The other problem is that some of the wheelchairs don't have seatbelts, which is a pretty important thing for these kids because the orphanage staff really don't want any kids to fall out, or try to get out of the wheelchair while it's being pushed somewhere, or such.

But then, in looking at the four wheelchairs that are unusable for one or both of the above reasons, I realize that one wheelchair has no seatbelts, but has foot pedals. And the other has no foot pedals but has seatbelts. The seatbelts in the second could, with the right tool (namely, a hex wrench, aka Allen wrench, of the right size) be removed and attached to the first.

This looks very doable to me, since plenty of that IKEA furniture that I've had experience with uses just the same kind of hexagonal wrenches and screws and bolts. I've seen plenty of the hex wrench sets in Bakersfield at the dollar stores there, and I imagine that it's really just a matter of finding one, or finding a store here that sells them.

So, with a certain amount of optimism, I mention this to my coworkers and one of the translators. For the next few days, as we drive around town, I look for hardware stores on the street. And we find one on a certain day when there's nothing too urgent going on. I look inside but alas, no hex wrenches.

Now previously, during some of our travails with the electrical system in the house, I'd heard that there might be some tools in a shed near the house. And so I look later that day, hoping that there might be some hex wrenches. After a little searching, I find one, a small rusty one in a corner. And a few other wrenches for different nuts and bolts, which I think might work. And some pliers.

So I gather these tools in a bundle, hoping that at least one would be useful.

Now by this time, I've also picked up the medical supplies mentioned above. And these supplies include a whole bunch of hemostats, surgical tools that are normally used to hold gauze in a surgical incision, or to hold things open or closed. (Any of you medical types, feel free to correct me in the comments, here.)

So I also grab one of these, and add it to the bundle. And the next time we visit that orphanage, I bring the bundle, hoping that somehow we'll be able to do it. And amazingly, yes, that one small rusty hex wrench from the shed in the house is in fact just the right size for the screws holding these seatbelts in place.

Elated, I start to loosen one of the screws, and then one of the orphanage staff workers sees what I'm doing, and gets the idea. He speaks no English at all, but I quickly figure out that he's one of those many guys with a far greater aptitude for things mechanical than I have. After a few minutes of him and I working together, one of our translators sees what we're doing and also starts to help out. He, too, is gifted in the mechanically arts.

There's a little labor involved, and much sweating on my part (because of the heat rather than the difficulty of the work), and soon the seatbelts get transferred to the wheelchair that has foot pedals. And our translator and the orphanage staff worker also work on one of the other wheelchairs and essentially repair a big problem in one of the other previously unused wheelchairs. That one isn't completely fixed, but it's a lot closer to being usable when we leave. And the other one with foot pedals and seatbelts is being used by a kid as we walk out the entrance.

I feel really good about this. Partly because I felt like the Lord had been really gracious in providing exactly the right size small rusty tool in the shed.

And also because our visit helped allow a pair of Haitian guys with mechanical skills to work together to repair some wheelchairs for some Haitian orphans.

And those wheelchairs are now used to let some disabled kids get out of the house, into the sun, and feel the breeze, and see stuff outside, and hear the sounds of the city.

Good stuff.