You've probably heard the phrase, maybe even said it. I know I have. It's the kind of phrase we might utter when we are feeling that the pressure simply to get through the day is enough without the added pressure to actually DO something. We might say something like, "It takes all I have just to exist, let alone do something." Well, in the past few weeks, a number of experiences have collided to help me reflect on existing, on being, and perhaps why God might have revealed himself to Moses simply as "I am" (Yahweh).
The first instance was one my colleague, Larry Luth, wrote about in his blog -- http://ltluth.wordpress.com/2014/09/01/restavek-freedom/ . In short, on Saturday August 23, we gathered with thousands of others in the Stade Silvio Cator (National Soccer Stadium) to watch a concert. The concert was headlined by Chris Tomlin, known throughout North American churches as a prolific song-writer and worship leader, but the heart of the show was 11 contestants, or groups of contestants, each winners in their particular Department (like a Province or State) of a competition for Restaveks. Restavek (from the French words, "reste" and "avec") simply means "stay with" in a literal sense, but the word here refers to children whose parents are too poor to keep them and so they are sent away to "stay with" wealthier families under the assumption that they will be better off. What turns out, though, is that these children, often as young as 7 or 8, end up being virtual slaves, working from the time they wake til the time they go to sleep, often being beaten and mistreated by their "hosts." At this concert, organized by www.restavekfreedom.org, we heard heart-breaking song lyrics about children crying out in the night that beatings might stop. The goal of the concert was that someone, a group of people, a nation, might increasingly stand up for these entrapped children and insist that they matter, that they exist.
Over the past few weeks since this concert, I have begun to notice the different children working all over Port-au-Prince in a new way. I have noticed young children with bald spots on their heads, a tell-tale sign that they spend much of their day carrying baskets, buckets or bags on their heads. I noticed the young girl working in a store, being rudely bossed around by her supervisor who sat on a chair. I noticed that while most Haitians are smiling and look bright, there are many, usually bearing loads, who have the look of many years of hard life despite their few years of life. While it is likely I am reading more into what I see than is there -- just like many of us in North America do when we see families interacting at the mall -- I am becoming aware of the layers of socio-economics and how this affects the posture and stance of people.
Second instance, Thomassique. Thomassique is a fascinating story, especially for a child of Dutch immigrants. You might know that for decades, Haitians have fled Haiti hoping for a better life in the neighbouring Dominican Republic. In much the same way that Restaveks leave their biological family for the hope of a better life with a rich family and find their dream dashed on the rocks of virtual slavery, so also Haitian families have fled Haiti for the hopes of a better life in Dominican Republic only to find themselves in generational poverty as cane-cutters and perpetually unable to become citizens. A few decades ago, a number of these Haitian-Dominicans fled the DR at a time when Haitians were being treated especially badly and they ended up in the Thomassique region of Haiti, in what is called the Central Plateau. There they began churches much like they had in the old country, a story similar to what I heard of the origins of the CRC in Canada by Dutch settlers from the Christian Reformed Church (roughly).
Together with five other staff, I took the trip over two mountain ranges -- Montagnes Du Trou D'Eau and Montagnes Noires -- and through at least two river beds, both of which had shallow water barely wetting our SUV's hubs, and arrived in the town of Thomassique. We were there to share in the reading of the report of the team that had been doing important community development work in the region. We heard a report of how many families had been helped to obtain goats and cows through an agricultural aid program, something that touched me personally as our children had bought Carol and me a World Renew goat last year. There were 10 beef cows and 110 goats in this region alone. We heard how many latrines had been built, an essential tool for community health as drinking water is so often sourced in the very spot they generally dispose of waste. There were 40 latrines built, perhaps one was the one we had bought together with Carol's siblings for her parents last Christmas. What struck me most was the children. In that region they had done a study that showed that 3886 children had not been registered, meaning they did not have a birth certificate and therefore, as far as the government was concerned, did not exist, could not vote, could not be registered for school, etc. It was shocking as some of these children were in their teens. However, again through the work of our ministry partners in the region, help was being given as a small dent of 140 children received their birth certificates. It was amazing to me -- a father with five children who not only have birth certificates, passports, drivers' licenses, bank accounts, phones, email addresses, facebook accounts, and social security numbers, but all the benefits Canada offers alongside that -- health care, education, and many other rights. It has always struck me as normal since my children have enjoyed these privileges, to simply assume that these things ought to be afforded to every person who exists. Seeing the children eagerly lining up with their birth certificates in hand gave me a picture of their being recognized, officially and for the first time, by the land of their birth.
As we drove back from Thomassique, I couldn't help but be inspired by the work of the committee in Thomassique to initiate and follow-through on so much transformative action. Not only had they promoted healthy living through latrine use, fostered dreams and thriving through the distribution of goats and cows, and established programs and volunteers to continue the same, but they had communicated through vivid legal language that 140 people exist and another 3746 ought to be able to say the same (once their committee's work is truly done).
I was thinking about this, helping Restaveks "exist" and undocumented children "exist" when another, uglier memory surfaced. It was back at the concert. About 2 hours into the five hour concert, one of our boys had to use the rest-room. Having been to hockey games at the ACC in Toronto and Copps Coliseum in Hamilton, I had something of an expectation that a stadium might have a bank of bathrooms. But this is Haiti. There was one bathroom. Yes, one. It was in the VIP section where Chris Tomlin was hanging out before his set. When we inquired of the Haitian usher if we might use it, he took one look at our skin colour, smiled, and let us in. A simultaneous experience of bladder relief and uncomfortable privilege. I am not sure which was stronger.
There is something wrong when a population allows some of its own to become virtual slaves, others to officially go un-noticed for lack of paper-work, and then to elevate a group of visitors by virtue of their skin colour to a place a privilege. And Haiti is not alone in this. Ask a Korean living in Japan, First Nations member living in Canada, or the residents of Chicago's Cabrini-Green. Every one of these people exist. Every one made in the image of God who identifies himself simply as I AM.
It's funny. These first four weeks, as we have learned to drive in Port-au-Prince traffic, negotiate the currency, adjust to the heat, discipline ourselves to always use clean water and always use keys, and simply learn how to live, I have been thinking that phrase at the beginning of this article a lot: "It takes everything I have to just exist." Now that we are getting into the rhythm of living here, existing is getting easier, or at least "normal."
Which leaves me -- and by extension, you -- with a burden/responsibility/opportunity: What would it look like if the energy I have beyond my own existing were used to help others exist? For me at least, the beginning of the answer is to take my cue from Jesus, who slummed it out on earth with us, "emptying himself" of his being in very nature God, with all the privileges which go with that, so that we can go way beyond existing, but truly living, in this life and in the life to come.
The first instance was one my colleague, Larry Luth, wrote about in his blog -- http://ltluth.wordpress.com/2014/09/01/restavek-freedom/ . In short, on Saturday August 23, we gathered with thousands of others in the Stade Silvio Cator (National Soccer Stadium) to watch a concert. The concert was headlined by Chris Tomlin, known throughout North American churches as a prolific song-writer and worship leader, but the heart of the show was 11 contestants, or groups of contestants, each winners in their particular Department (like a Province or State) of a competition for Restaveks. Restavek (from the French words, "reste" and "avec") simply means "stay with" in a literal sense, but the word here refers to children whose parents are too poor to keep them and so they are sent away to "stay with" wealthier families under the assumption that they will be better off. What turns out, though, is that these children, often as young as 7 or 8, end up being virtual slaves, working from the time they wake til the time they go to sleep, often being beaten and mistreated by their "hosts." At this concert, organized by www.restavekfreedom.org, we heard heart-breaking song lyrics about children crying out in the night that beatings might stop. The goal of the concert was that someone, a group of people, a nation, might increasingly stand up for these entrapped children and insist that they matter, that they exist.
Over the past few weeks since this concert, I have begun to notice the different children working all over Port-au-Prince in a new way. I have noticed young children with bald spots on their heads, a tell-tale sign that they spend much of their day carrying baskets, buckets or bags on their heads. I noticed the young girl working in a store, being rudely bossed around by her supervisor who sat on a chair. I noticed that while most Haitians are smiling and look bright, there are many, usually bearing loads, who have the look of many years of hard life despite their few years of life. While it is likely I am reading more into what I see than is there -- just like many of us in North America do when we see families interacting at the mall -- I am becoming aware of the layers of socio-economics and how this affects the posture and stance of people.
Second instance, Thomassique. Thomassique is a fascinating story, especially for a child of Dutch immigrants. You might know that for decades, Haitians have fled Haiti hoping for a better life in the neighbouring Dominican Republic. In much the same way that Restaveks leave their biological family for the hope of a better life with a rich family and find their dream dashed on the rocks of virtual slavery, so also Haitian families have fled Haiti for the hopes of a better life in Dominican Republic only to find themselves in generational poverty as cane-cutters and perpetually unable to become citizens. A few decades ago, a number of these Haitian-Dominicans fled the DR at a time when Haitians were being treated especially badly and they ended up in the Thomassique region of Haiti, in what is called the Central Plateau. There they began churches much like they had in the old country, a story similar to what I heard of the origins of the CRC in Canada by Dutch settlers from the Christian Reformed Church (roughly).
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| The 135 Kilometre trip from Port-au-Prince to Thomassique took just 3-1/2 hours. |
Together with five other staff, I took the trip over two mountain ranges -- Montagnes Du Trou D'Eau and Montagnes Noires -- and through at least two river beds, both of which had shallow water barely wetting our SUV's hubs, and arrived in the town of Thomassique. We were there to share in the reading of the report of the team that had been doing important community development work in the region. We heard a report of how many families had been helped to obtain goats and cows through an agricultural aid program, something that touched me personally as our children had bought Carol and me a World Renew goat last year. There were 10 beef cows and 110 goats in this region alone. We heard how many latrines had been built, an essential tool for community health as drinking water is so often sourced in the very spot they generally dispose of waste. There were 40 latrines built, perhaps one was the one we had bought together with Carol's siblings for her parents last Christmas. What struck me most was the children. In that region they had done a study that showed that 3886 children had not been registered, meaning they did not have a birth certificate and therefore, as far as the government was concerned, did not exist, could not vote, could not be registered for school, etc. It was shocking as some of these children were in their teens. However, again through the work of our ministry partners in the region, help was being given as a small dent of 140 children received their birth certificates. It was amazing to me -- a father with five children who not only have birth certificates, passports, drivers' licenses, bank accounts, phones, email addresses, facebook accounts, and social security numbers, but all the benefits Canada offers alongside that -- health care, education, and many other rights. It has always struck me as normal since my children have enjoyed these privileges, to simply assume that these things ought to be afforded to every person who exists. Seeing the children eagerly lining up with their birth certificates in hand gave me a picture of their being recognized, officially and for the first time, by the land of their birth.
 |
| 13 of the 140 Birth Certificate Recipients |
As we drove back from Thomassique, I couldn't help but be inspired by the work of the committee in Thomassique to initiate and follow-through on so much transformative action. Not only had they promoted healthy living through latrine use, fostered dreams and thriving through the distribution of goats and cows, and established programs and volunteers to continue the same, but they had communicated through vivid legal language that 140 people exist and another 3746 ought to be able to say the same (once their committee's work is truly done).
I was thinking about this, helping Restaveks "exist" and undocumented children "exist" when another, uglier memory surfaced. It was back at the concert. About 2 hours into the five hour concert, one of our boys had to use the rest-room. Having been to hockey games at the ACC in Toronto and Copps Coliseum in Hamilton, I had something of an expectation that a stadium might have a bank of bathrooms. But this is Haiti. There was one bathroom. Yes, one. It was in the VIP section where Chris Tomlin was hanging out before his set. When we inquired of the Haitian usher if we might use it, he took one look at our skin colour, smiled, and let us in. A simultaneous experience of bladder relief and uncomfortable privilege. I am not sure which was stronger.
There is something wrong when a population allows some of its own to become virtual slaves, others to officially go un-noticed for lack of paper-work, and then to elevate a group of visitors by virtue of their skin colour to a place a privilege. And Haiti is not alone in this. Ask a Korean living in Japan, First Nations member living in Canada, or the residents of Chicago's Cabrini-Green. Every one of these people exist. Every one made in the image of God who identifies himself simply as I AM.
It's funny. These first four weeks, as we have learned to drive in Port-au-Prince traffic, negotiate the currency, adjust to the heat, discipline ourselves to always use clean water and always use keys, and simply learn how to live, I have been thinking that phrase at the beginning of this article a lot: "It takes everything I have to just exist." Now that we are getting into the rhythm of living here, existing is getting easier, or at least "normal."
Which leaves me -- and by extension, you -- with a burden/responsibility/opportunity: What would it look like if the energy I have beyond my own existing were used to help others exist? For me at least, the beginning of the answer is to take my cue from Jesus, who slummed it out on earth with us, "emptying himself" of his being in very nature God, with all the privileges which go with that, so that we can go way beyond existing, but truly living, in this life and in the life to come.
Amen John! You put into words so well what your work and on a shorter term, what a service and learning team is all about.
ReplyDeleteThanks! Clare. I put it into words and am inspired by you who put it into action.
ReplyDelete