Civil Unrest

Civil Unrest

Pop! Pop! Pop!  The sound rang out in the dark of Haiti’s night sky and jolted me as if I were a passenger in the back of a tap-tap traveling along the road to Port-au-Prince.  I turned to Gama, my co-director, and asked, “Is that gunfire?”  He nodded his head and said, “You’re not in the United States anymore.”  Fair enough, I thought, and settled in for the night on the 2^nd floor terrace to get some work done, editing our program manual over a cup of chamomile.  Tea and front row seats to a demonstration against local government officials made for an interesting Thursday night.

                After some time, the sound of shots began to blend in with the chirping of crickets, the crowing of roosters, and was later drowned out by the sounds of men yelling into a bullhorn.  Atop this mountain, it’s hard to tell which direction the sounds are coming from, though one can assume almost certainly they are associated with what’s happening down on National Route 2:  Manifestations. As my anxiety began to waver and fade, I finally turned out the light and retired for the evening. 

As most of you know, we recently celebrated the dedication and official opening of the Be Like Brit Orphanage last weekend as Gengel friends and family gathered here in Grand Goâve to celebrate the life for which this building is named. While the weekend went off without a hitch, the days following the event would be marked with demonstrations in the streets, complete with burning tires, rock and bottle throwing, and setting cars ablaze in an effort to disrupt traffic and attract the attention of the central government in Haiti.  While these demonstrations disrupt life a bit, behind the orphanage walls, we are safe and sound. Our location atop a mountain gives us great security, and our presence in the community and reputation as a force for good gives us an immunity from all the chaos that happens just below us on Route 2.  We have a prime viewing spot for all the action; we can hear it, see it, and smell it.  Yet the chaos is just far away enough to feel somewhat benign, and is largely easy to ignore.

From behind the secure walls at Be Like Brit, a rooftop view of downtown Grand Goâve

It’s when that chaos or any kind of chaos comes to your own home, past your own gates and affects your own friends that it becomes real. Though the sound of gunfire in the night and the vision of burning trucks and angry citizens may make one feel uneasy, the walls that surround us help to mitigate that. At Be Like Brit, we are not just a building anymore; we are a home. Home is the place where one is supposed to feel the most at ease and the most secure. We have given ourselves the task of creating this type of environment for some 66 children in the months and years to come. Thus, when something happens that takes away from our ability to foster a sense of security and home, we feel betrayed and are shaken to the core, as if we were part of the chaos we watch unfold daily from the safety of our 2^nd floor terrace.

As our 70+ guests piled into trucks which would ferry them down the mountain and to the bus waiting for them, something was amiss here at Be Like Brit. One of our guests returned after a visit to the Hotel Montana and found that her luggage was missing from her room. As I feel a sense of responsibility to ensure that all of our guests feel as safe as they would in their own home, I immediately felt a sense of betrayal and anger. Our very sense of security and safety had been violated – behind our walls; within our very own home.

As we narrowed down the list of people who had access to the room from where the items went missing, I began to consider the implications of this type of event. Without a doubt, someone on our staff had gone into a guest room and rummaged through someone’s personal belongings. They had quite carefully chosen a handful of items to take, and hastily attempted to cover up their wrongdoings by moving the bags to a cabinet, under a sink in a bathroom.  It was clear to me then that someone on our staff had to be let go. If we are to effectively build a sense of security in a chaotic world, we certainly had to have a stern response to such an egregious violation in what should be our most reliable place of refuge.

A brief investigation was conducted, and regrettably, we had to let a group of employees go. The part that I struggle with the most is the knowledge that whomever it was that took these items did so most likely because of a desperate situation in their own life.  Just as some residents of Grand Goâve demonstrate in the streets against high food prices and ineffective post-earthquake development and reconstruction, others make ends meet by taking that which does not belong to them, selling it for a menial amount of money and perhaps buying the only meal they will eat that day with the profits.

Knowing that we at Be Like Brit had to revoke the only source of income this handful of employees had was a tough decision. In some ways it was easy:  You steal, you lose your job. In other ways, the reality of the situation torments me. These are people I have worked with side by side for two weeks now. They are people I have grown to know; they have been the people in my daily life. What angers me the most is the fact that their lot in life is so dismal they felt the need to take from us. In taking a handful of material things, they took so much more from us. Our sense of security and our sense of home left with those items.

It’s interesting, being here at Be Like Brit. Groups of people come by and knock at the gate in amazement at the marvelous architectural feat they spot on the hillside while driving down Route 2. The building’s physical presence invites passersby to stop and ask for a tour. The interest is genuine and understandable. The fact that many people think that we at Be Like Brit are somehow this privileged, wealthy, rich and prestigious organization is not surprising; indeed, our building is an impressive and amazing sight nestled amongst the USAID tents and squalid huts and shelters which litter the otherwise pristine Haiti landscape.

While we may have the benefits of an amazing structure, thanks to the generosity of so many wonderful friends and supporters, along with the gift of a brilliant architect in Paul Fallon, one simple fact remains:  We are not perfect.  What was to have been a perfect weekend was marred by an incident where one of our own betrayed us.  No amount of square footage, no security walls and not even the beautiful dedication and opening weekend we had can change the fact that we are not perfect.  We learned that the hard way last weekend when we learned of theft within our walls. 

So, from this incident, we learn.  Just as in Brit’s death, we take away something from this and go forward with even more determination to make Be Like Brit closer to perfect. As we embark on this new journey, this transition from construction of a building to the creation of a home, we will be tested in many more ways. Whether the riots on Route 2 or an employee breaching our trust, we will react, we will respond, and we will grow from that which tests us.

We will forever hold to the mission we have focused on:  To help the children of Haiti.  No demonstration in the streets, no tires burning, no rocks, no bottles, no inconvenience, and no thief among us will interfere in that mission.

My father used to always say there was nothing worse than a thief, and I think I agree with him.  Not because the material things are irreplaceable.  Not because they even really matter that much in our own lives; but because of what it does to one’s ability to trust.  He also used to say that there was no reason to ever steal from him, as if one was in need of something, all they had to do was ask for it.  I believe very much that Be Like Brit and Len and Cherylann Gengel might feel similarly.  We’ve seen what they have already done for the people of Haiti.  And they’ve only just begun.

So for now, we continue to work.  At night, a few of us gather on the 2^nd floor terrace to observe the happenings in town.  Some nights are quieter than others.  We feel safe in our home, we feel safe in our city, and we feel safe in Haiti.  And we know that the love, support, and prayers of countless friends and strangers alike are keeping us from harm.

Western courtyard from the roof, at home.

Thanks for reading   ~ Jonathan