Department of History

My two best friends, Lindsey and Natalie, and I arrived in Haiti’s Port Au Prince airport tired and anxious about our trip. We were traveling to Haiti to visit our friend Megan who works at the Three Angels Orphanage in Port Au Prince. Between the three of us, we knew two phrases in Haitian Creole: “No, meci,” (pronounced “no messy”) and “M’pa pale creole” (“I don’t speak Creole”). We never had to use the latter because as we stepped out from the airport, we were immediately swarmed by men eager to practice their English while offering to take our bags to our destination. For a small fee, they would call our party, letting them know we arrived or would be more than happy to escort us to our hotel. “The streets of Haiti are not safe for American women,” they insisted. A few American dollars would purchase their protection.

As we pushed through the crowd, Megan spotted us, and greeted us by saying, “Welcome to a third world country.” As she took us to her car, I was overwhelmed by my first glimpse of Haiti. I had seen hundreds of pictures of the country, but nothing could compare to the absolute beauty of the country overlain with the worst poverty I had ever seen. The drive to the orphanage gave me an even clearer picture of the country. We never traveled above 30 miles an hour, people, goats, and chickens continually darted in front of our vehicle. I gripped my seat as Megan swerved all over the road, crossing center lines in oncoming traffic, pulling in front of other cars, and occasionally driving on the sidewalk. Noting my uneasiness, Megan laughed and said, “You should see a Haitian drive.” I got my chance a few days later when Jimmy, the driver for the orphanage passed a dump truck at 50 miles an hour, narrowly missing an oncoming school bus by less than 10 feet. “Plenty of room,” Jimmy laughed, commenting on what nearly made me pass out.
When we got to the orphanage, Megan paused by the door and said, “OK, are you ready to be attacked by kids?” With that, she opened the door and as we walked in, we were immediately overrun by kids crawling on us, hugging us and raising their arms to be held. They had never seen us before in their lives, but it made no difference to them they asked our names and then begged us to play with them. Of course, we agreed!

We spent the next few days hanging around the orphanage helping the nannies care for the 20 children that stay there. Each of us had our favorite kids that hung around us for our stay. Lindsey had Ellie, 3 year old obsessed with braiding Lindsey’s blonde hair. Natalie had Rebecca a toddler that called her “mommy” and cried any time Natalie put her down. I had two favorites. Jean Baptiste was a two year old that literally walked around the orphanage with his arms straight up looking for someone to hold him. Knowing that I couldn’t refuse such a cute face, he always went to me straight off. My second “buddy” for the week was Betany a shy 6 year old with the most adorable smile. I didn’t know it at the time, but Betany is the child that has lived at the orphanage the longest, coming to Three Angels as an infant. She has almost been adopted at least twice, once actually being fully adopted by an American family who never showed up to pick her up at the airport. A few days later, the orphanage received word from the family that they were no longer interested in adopting Betany, leaving her absolutely devastated.

Luckily, Betany is in the process of being adopted again, and even though the adoption process can take several years, I think that this time, Betany will make it to the US and actually go home. Betany’s new family, like many of the families adopting children from the orphanage, try to come and visit their kids whenever possible. While we were there, three American families were visiting their kids—two of them were down to finalize the adoption and take their kids home. The other family was just beginning the adoption process, but had made several trips to visit their daughter, Naiutil. The families typically bring things that the kids don’t otherwise get. New clothes, shoes, candy are all popular things that parents bring to their kids, but while talking to Naiutil’s dad I found out that the one thing the kids want more than anything is water. In a tropical climate like Haiti, everyone is always sweaty but even dirty water is expensive. Consequently, the orphanage doesn’t have running water meaning that the nannies give the kids baths in recycled bath water and ration the amount of “clean” water the kids get in a day. However, when parents come to visit, the kids get as much water as they like. Hearing that made me realize just how poor Haiti is.

Considering Haiti’s poverty and the fact that most of these kids are not technically orphans, but rather kids dropped off by their parents who can no longer afford to care for them, all of the children are incredibly happy and behave like typical kids. They love to dance and sing and watch DVDs on Megan’s computer when the orphanage has electricity. At the same time, they can be little terrors. Try giving 20 kids rabies vaccinations. I have never heard such shrieks as Dr. Jack and his wife Marsha held down the kids one by one to give them their shot. Kids were running and hiding in hopes of eluding the needle. It was chaos. I know that 20 children may not seem like a lot, but considering that they are cared for by 4 nannies during the day and only 2 at night, it is impossible to keep an eye on all 20 of the kids as they run around all day long. Even with three extra pairs of eyes, there was just too much going on for everyone to watch all of the kids. When Megan told us that they could have up to 40 kids at a time, I was completely amazed.

On one night in particular, one of the night nannies did not show up, meaning that there was only 1 nanny to take care of the kids. We had just gotten back from dinner when we heard Andrese, the nanny, begging the kids to sit down while they waited for the electricity to come on (most of Port Au Prince has no electricity during the day). But asking 20 kids under the age of 8 to sit quietly is pointless. I walked into the playroom and saw children were climbing on the stairs, the chairs, and tables. Andrese and I finally corralled the kids into the chairs and I asked them, “Hey do you guys know any songs?” Reece, the oldest in the group, said they did and all the kids began singing “Jesus Loves Me” followed by “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” in perfect English.

By the end of the week, we were all exhausted and ready take a real shower rather than a sponge bath. But at the same time, we were sorry to go. We had only known the kids for a week, but it made no difference. Lindsey put down Ellie and Ellie cried. Natalie put down Rebecca and Rebecca cried. I hugged Betany for the last time and she didn’t cry, but she looked at me, gave me a kiss, and said “I love you.”
The last thing I said to Jean Baptiste was not “goodbye.” In the chaos of our last afternoon, I was helping the nannies watch the kids and upon seeing him climbing on the concrete stairs, I put my newly acquired Creole vocabulary to use. In Creole, I yelled at him saying, “Jean Baptiste, get off the stairs and sit down.” For what it’s worth, he listened?but because he was down for his nap when we left, that was the last thing I said to him. As much as it kills me to think about that, I hope to go back sometime soon. Having survived my first trip to a third world country, I now know what to expect and I can’t wait to return and visit again.

Dana Caldemeyer is completing a master’s in modern American History