A Day at the Zoo...Becoming a Little More Haitian

This week I have been treated like a Haitian twice. The first time was an eye opener, the second time made me smile. Tonight on my evening walk/ run I stopped to chat with an older gentleman who lives in my subdivision. We talked about my Creole improving and how long I have been here. He told me, at first I was blan. Now I have been around for awhile so I am Christine (French pronunciation of my name). He told me, continue to stick around a bit longer and keep working on that Creole and soon people will begin to point and say, look - there goes another Haitian. He probably doesn't know it, but after a long week, his sweet comment made my day.

Yesterday, a team of blan decided they would get a tour of the hospital. They didn't work or volunteer at HIC, but decided to visit after volunteering in a local school for this week. They entered the pediatric inpatient area with a translator acting as their tour guide. The pointing and gawking at patients made me angry, but what happened next really took me aback. One of the team leaders approached me after I finished giving Baby Joseph his bottle. He and I were pacing around his bed since he likes movement when he is getting ready for his nap. She pointed at him, and started asking me a bunch of questions: "How old is your son?" "How long have you been here?" Whoa. First off, not my son (although I would love to fly the little cuddle bug home with me). Second, well I have been here a month working at the hospital, but I am assuming that's not what you mean? Yep, this woman thought I and "my baby" were patients here at the hospital. It took a lot of effort not to give the team a lecture. Instead, I explained to them I was working here as a Dartmouth medical student. This was not my baby, but a good friend I spend my work breaks with. I explained to them how I feel about handouts. Then I pointed them in the direction of the pediatrician and her interns when they tried to hand out money to a random woman who told them "she was in charge." Hopefully their communications with the pediatrician means the cute little girl from Wednesday can purchase her medicines now at least.

After the team left, I was reminded of a deep discussion I had with one of my fellow blan volunteers in Les Anglais a couple weeks ago. He brought up the point of what happens when we (short term blan volunteers) leave. We talked about what impacts different groups might have, what happens with the handouts, the view from the locals who live here year-round, etc. When the hospital tour left, I got to see the juxtaposition of what we think happens and what really happens. My suspicions about handouts were confirmed when patient's parents started going through the goodie bags the tour team had handed out to each patient. One parent picked up the two mini tubes of toothpaste and said "I think we can get 15 gourdes a piece for these right?" Not that brushing ones teeth for a week really fixes a lifetime of cavities either, but the reality of the situation made me laugh a bit.

I questioned to myself, would this group of individuals ever know where their tubes of toothpaste really went? Then, as I started questioning the tour, I became a bit angrier. Would they really ever take the time to wonder where their tubes of toothpaste went? Would they ever allow themselves to tour hospitals across the US? Would their large group be allowed to go into patient rooms, despite not being hospital staff, and get to point at patients and ask them personal questions? And then, instead of staying to chat with the patient, after having their answers, just getting to waltz right out of the hospital? I don't think so. Then why is it different here? Why are teams of blan allowed to tour the hospitals of Haiti, the slums of India, the townships of South Africa when they don't work there? Why are they allowed to treat patients, human beings like you or me, like animals? HIC is not a zoo or jungle excursion. The patients spending weeks in the malnourished section of the pediatric inpatient unit don't deserve to be pointed at, to hear blan say to one another "I know this is really hard for you to see.." They, like you or I, deserve dignity and respect. And the only ones who are allowed to say "this is really hard" are the patients. After all, they are forced to deal with these tough situations every day, not just for a 5 minute stroll during the tour. For these patients, this is a daily and harsh reality, not just a random day at the zoo.

Baby Joseph this week saying "What's that you say? There was a tropical storm this week? Hmm, doesn't phase me. I am a Haitian and we Haitians are tough."