Living in the Present

During a parent-teacher conference, my fourth grade teacher told my parents that I daydreamed a lot. I suppose even at an early age I had my head in the clouds. The negative aspects are that I can zone out in boring classes or work meetings, have my mind wander somewhere else, lose track of my location and pay poor attention to details. The positive aspects are the imagination and creativity that comes with being a dreamer, envisioning the great potential of things and generally easy going nature. During my two week stay in Thailand last year, I met a monk at a Buddhist temple that was sharing his wisdom. He talked about staying present and not letting the mind wander like while sitting in traffic. A year wiser, I continue learning about the importance of being truly present in the moment. When the mind wanders to the past or the future, it goes to situations and places outside of our control and at the cost of losing the very moment you are alive in. The more that the mind escapes from reality or the present moment, the more of  fantasy world can be created. I try to apply the living in the present now by focusing during boring meetings and less pondering in general and it’s true, I find more beauty surrounding me and devote my attention to the people or environment surrounding me.

100 Gourdes

On my daily rendezvous in Haiti, I stop with my companions/translators/friends, Junior and Jean Woody to have street food for lunch. The other week Junior and I ate lunch in a public park area and across from us sat two street boys that looked no older than 11. I invited them to have lunch with us. I ask my favorite question to ask any person, “what is your dream?”. One boy who said he was 12 years old even ;though he was so malnourished he looked more like 7 or 8, said he wanted to be a construction engineer. The other boy who was sick and laying down said he wanted to be anything that God would allow him to be. Junior translated a story they were telling him how they slept in the park and someone stole their shoes. Imagine someone else in so much poverty that they would steal shoes from homeless street children. Right then and there, how could anyone not feel the injustice of these children who never asked for that life and should be in school, focused on homework and imagining the world to be endless of possibilities? Junior later told me that it was not uncommon for wealthy people to hire street boys for a tiny amount of money to commit revenge crimes like murder and beat people. 

Regressing back to a week later at lunch with Jean Woody and Junior, we sat and ate and right outside the hut-like lunch area sat 5 boys/men staring at us while we ate. They looked us right in the eyes with every bite with the kind of hunger that pervades beyond the stomach but into their souls. I didn’t divert my eyes but I didn’t look at them every time. I finished my lunch and there was nothing left but bones but the boys and men still wanted my styrofoam container of nothing. That’s when it really hit me how hungry they were.  Junior asked what I was thinking but might not have had the courage to do, to give them some money. I was debating in my head about how I could buy them all rice and beans but wasn’t sure if that was a good idea...in a lot of aid work, giving something free to a few could lead to a lot more trouble like the summoning of friends and then a group of people asking for things. It’s happened a few times before to me in different cities. I gave Junior 25 Gourdes to hand to them and the 5 boys/men were excited but then I realized it wouldn’t nearly be enough for 5 people so I gave Junior 100 Gourdes instead. The 5 starving males were riled up and figuring out how to share the bill. They talked loudly amongst each other and ran towards another area presumably to buy food to share. It was obvious that their excitement and candor meant that 100 Gourdes was way more than they typically get. 100 Gourdes is equivalent to $2.40.

Promises

In first grade, my teacher told us that when you make a promise, you must keep it. I took that lesson to heart and try always to honor my word. The other day I went to see Father Bourdeau who runs an orphanage on the outskirts of Port-au-Prince in Croix-des-Bouquets. Nearly 2.5 years after the earthquake, many non-profits providing food and other aid to the vulnerable are reduced in size or have left. The orphanages suffer as a consequence. Father Bourdeau greeted me with the warm smile on his face and with a sincere kindness in his eyes as he always had but this time there was sadness. He already messaged me two months ago about how he had to let go of 30 children to return back to their extremely poor parents. He then explained in more detail than my last visit 6 months ago about the many people that stop by to play with the children, take pictures and never donate or return. They make promises of supporting the children but in the end their words were insincere. It was clear that this great man that dedicated his life to God and the orphanage found it so incomprehensible that other human beings could take advantage or at best ignore the condition that the children live in. As I listened, I didn’t know what to say. I found it terrible and I also felt guilty. I intended on sending money about a month ago but didn’t, financial constraints and other excuses aside, I simply did not. I gave a meager donation right there although I had just told myself on the ride over how I needed to conserve the little amount of funds I had left for my trip. On the tap tap ride home, I contemplated the situation while looking at the pink skies and hearing lively music all around. How does that happen where people are able to look at poverty, make promises and then forget about it when they’re home as if it were a dream? Was I like that too? The amount of money I spend on dinners out or fun events could tremendously help the orphanage. If I didn’t go for a brief last minute trip to the orphanage and saw the situation in person, would it be easier to let more time pass and not help. I know I will never have enough money to support all the things I want to support but my inexperience with all of this makes it hard to draw the line.

Los Angeles Bus Rides

Ever since discovering that a bus easily runs outside of my apartment to Union Station for my work commute, it’s been transforming. I always preferred driving, having the comfort of setting my car to a certain temperature and the convenience of leaving as I pleased. I didn’t realize that my perceptions of Los Angeles are pretty confined to my bubble of grad school friends and USC. It’s fair to say that the group of people I interact with are fairly privileged, not just in comparison to the world but also in LA. Embarrassingly enough, I even have a heated footrest in my private office at work, which is great but makes me feel so far removed at times from my work in developing countries.

When I started taking the public bus, it opened up my eyes to many things that blue collar workers in LA face. If someone has a strict job in which they have to clock in and may get fired for being late, they have to meticulously plan out bus routes. But certain days, to my frustration, busses decide to skip their run and you end up waiting double the amount of time. Or a fight breaks out and everyone has to hop off. Even with my super convenient bus stop outside my apartment and a one shot ride to Union Station where a free USC shuttle runs to the medical school where I work, I spend 3 hours each day I take this commute. Now I imagine if someone had 2 or 3 transfers or what about a family at home.

I remember reading “Nickel and Dimed” where a PhD attempts to work 2-3 minimum wage jobs to see if she can get by like so many people in America. Some things that many middle class and above Americans fail to realize is that those working minimum wage jobs are often super hard working, rarely able to afford a day off even to take care of sick children yet are not able to make ends meet. The Los Angeles public transit opens up this realization for me where I can interact with the rest of the city outside of the privileged buildings of a super wealthy university.

Universal Language

The more places I venture to, the more I begin to see how we are all the same. I usually don’t speak the language of the places I travel to but do not usually have any major problems getting around or forming friendships. There is something so universal about a smile, laughter and kind eyes that does not need translating. I notice that sometimes I form friends without even really speaking to them like on the soccer fields of Shirati or children at orphanages. It sort of reaffirms my belief that all people are equal and we might have different cultures and beliefs but we are all inherently the same.

A Step at a Time

At times engaging in poverty alleviation work can be overwhelming. I see the sullen expressions of Haitians that have spent the better part of the past two and a half years in internally displaced camps living under makeshift tents, jobless and hungry. The government and area NGOs have made some strides but there are far more waiting. The orphanages in Haiti are out of food that they used to receive from NGOs that are leaving and have no real means on income to feed the children. Poverty can rob people of economic opportunities and a decent life but the worst might be robbing them of hope. Sometimes people look to me, an inexperienced 25 year old girl as a source of opportunity and hope. I feel helpless knowing I do live a relatively privileged life but I don’t have enough money to support all the people that I would like to. Other times I have to realize that I do have resources to help and even just genuinely listening and caring can be enough. I left a different life path that would have provided for an easy, comfortable life to pursue what I’m passionate about. I surround myself in my occupation, friendships and extracurricular activities with the same goal and feel so much wealthier in life than any salary could compensate for. I think I’m moving in the right direction but trying to learn, fail, get back up again and take another step forward.