Joshua Molina

Bringing Santa to the Mennonites in Mexico

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Sat, 25 Dec 2010 17:18:00 +0000

Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without bringing some good cheer, so we went with a couple from Colonia Juarez, Chihuahua to visit a Mennonite colony about an hour away and brought them gift from "Nikolaus" or Santa Claus! It's only the second year these timid children experience Santa Claus in one of the most conservative villages in Mexico. Merry Christmas!

Utah Charity Turns 25 - Needs Your Help

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Fri, 10 Dec 2010 15:41:00 +0000

Utah Charity Celebrates 25 Years of working as “Sister Community” with Mali

Salt Lake City, Utah – The Ouelessebougou Alliance, a non-profit organization that was founded by a group of Utah community leaders a quarter century ago, celebrates its Silver Anniversary helping Utah’s “Sister Community” of Mali.

Salt Lake high school is reaching out to the public to reach goal of helping African village Hillcrest High School in Salt Lake City is taking part in the celebration by sponsoring one of 25 villages. Hillcrest students are on their way to reaching their goal of raising $20,000 for the village of Djemene.

By sponsoring a village, Hillcrest High School will provide health, education, and economic development projects in Djemene, as well as build a new elementary school. Projects include vaccinations, micro-loans, mosquito nets, teacher training, and clean water projects.

"As we celebrate 25 years of successful work in Ouelessebougou, Mali, we celebrate not only our humanitarian efforts, but most importantly our commitment to long-term, sustainable development work. We look to the next 25 years with joy in the achievements of our current village partners, faith in our sustainable programs, and hope in our continued efforts with new villages."

The need:

Hillcrest has raised $7,000 so far, and an anonymous donor has stepped in to match an additional $5,000. Still, Hillcrest High School students can use the help of the community to meet their goal.

25^th Year Highlights:

• Malian joins Ouelessebougou Alliance Board of Directors: Talatu Abdoulaye (PhD Candidate at the U of U) - November, 2010

• Malian Staff visit Utah for 25^th Anniversary Dinner Auction – April 9^th 2011, Little America Hotel

• Back by Popular Demand: The Ouelessebougou Alliance to bring back the beloved 5k Race in August 20, 2011, Salt Lake City

25 Years. 25 Villages. 25,000 Lives.

In this economy, it’s rare for a non-profit organization to sustain its work for 25 years. This milestone shows the value the Utah community places on the Ouelessebougou Alliance and on

our “Sister Community” in Mali

WHO:
Utah Charity, the Ouelssebougou Alliance, a long time “Sister Community” to Utah

WHAT:
The Alliance celebrates 25 years working in Mali with a “Sister Community.” Celebrations include village sponsorship fundraising events, 25^th Annual Charity Auction, and the return of the Ouelessebougou 5k Race

WHEN:

December 17^th- Hillcrest High School holds last fundraiser to sponsor a village in Mali

April 9^th, 2011 - 25^th Annual Charity Auction (Little America Hotel)

August 20^th, 2011 – 5k Race Returns (Through downtown Salt Lake)

Media Contact:

Joshua Molina

Development Director | Ouelessebougou Alliance

801.983.6254 - office / 801.983.6254 - cell

josh@lifteachother.org | www.ouelessebougou.org

10 W 100 S, Suite 605| Salt Lake City, UT | 84101

Ouelessebougou is pronounced, "Way-less-ay-boo-goo"

# # # #

Malian Ph.D. Candidate Joins the Ouelessebougou Alliance’s Board

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 19:38:00 +0000

Salt Lake City— Talatou Abdoulaye loves sightseeing, and like most people, enjoys a good book or movie every now and then. But unlike the majority of people where he is from, Abdoulaye is well on his way to earning a Ph.D. from a prestigious American school and has been invited to serve as a board member of an international non-profit in Utah.
             The things that really make Talatou unique --and honorable for that matter-- are his vision, his dreams and love for his country. Growing up in Timbuktu, a city anciently known as the center of the scholarly world, Talatou learned why an education was so important. He moved to Bamako, Mali’s capital, to pursue a degree in English as a Second Language and pedagogy. Soon after, he returned to his hometown of Timbuktu and devoted 11 years to teaching high school age children.
             Then he rose above the crowd and earned a full-ride scholarship from the U.S. government’s international educational plan, the Fulbright Program. Recipients involved in this program are chosen because of their academic merit and leadership potential to come to America to earn an education and knowledge they can later apply in their home countries.
             He went first to Flagstaff’s Northern Arizona University where he earned a master’s degree in bilingual and multicultural education. He has since moved to Utah with his wife and two sons to attend the University of Utah in order to obtain a Ph.D. in education, culture and curriculum issues.
“I chose to come to this part of the U.S. was because of its weather. Not the cold, but for its summers which are so similar to Mali’s,” said Talatou, while adding that his choice was a careful one which involved deciding between the University of Utah, Ohio State

University, University of Iowa and the University of Pennsylvania.
While he lived in Mali he first heard of an American organization that was linked to a group of villages in Ouelessebougou. “At the time, I didn’t know who they were or what they were called,” said Talatou. It was not until he was studying at the University of Utah that one of his friends forwarded him an email about a fundraising event for the Ouelessebougou Alliance. He contacted them and soon after was added as a member of the group’s board.
“The Ouelessebougou Alliance is doing very good work, especially in the educational aspect,” said Talatou. His short-term goal is to complete his doctorate program, but his long-term goal is to return to Mali and apply the knowledge he obtained in the United States. “What I would like to do is to make some curricular changes that are needed in Mali.”
“He undoubtedly adds great value and a unique perspective to the Ouelessebougou Alliance’s board through his vast knowledge and expertise about education and about Mali itself, said Joshua Molina, Development Director of the Ouelessebougou Alliance. We are very lucky to have him on our Board.”

Contact Information
Chad Lyons
lyons.chad@gmail.com
801.717.0318
www.LiftEachOther.org
About the Ouelessebougou Alliance
The Ouelessebougou Alliance began in 1985 with a group of Utah's community leaders who were concerned about a drought affecting northern Africa. The Ouelessebougou Alliance’s 25 years of expertise help villagers in Mali grow through economic, educational, and health development.

Hillcrest High School "Empowers" a Village in Mali

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 23:01:00 +0000

For the past 25 years, the Ouelessebougou Alliance has dedicated its resources to improving health, education, and economic conditions for 25,000 people in 25 villages in Mali. As we celebrate 25 years of change in Mali, we are inviting schools, businesses, and individuals to empower villages in the Ouelessebougou region by sponsoring all the health, education, and economic development programs for one village. In addition, larger sponsors will fund the construction of a new classroom or a complete new school in the village.

Students at Hillcrest High School in Salt Lake are getting closer to reach their goal of raising $20,000 to "empowering" the village of Djemene. Djemene is a village in Mali founded approximately 700 years ago by a farmer from Sounsoukoro named Nadouma Nanko Samake. The Alliance has been helping the people of Djemene with vaccinations, mosquito nets that help prevent Malaria, the construction of drinking wells, as well as health and teacher training. Almost 50% of the children ages 0-5 in Djemene have now been vaccinated.

Hillcrest Fundraising Events

Hillcrest High is teaming up with two restaurants in the Salt Lake area that have agreed to give up to 50% of profits made on the following days to the Ouelessebougou Alliance in order to reach their goal of "Empowering" the village of Djemene:

November 10
Mimi's Cafe
10470 South State Street
Salt Lake City

November 19
Frogurt
1142 East Fort Union Blvd.
Salt Lake City

So please put these dates on your calenders and stop by to support Hillcrest High School and the Ouelessebougou Alliance. Make sure to mention to your waiter that you are a Ouelessebougou Alliance or Hillcrest High School supporter.

Election Day

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 15:17:00 +0000

They say there are two things you should not talk about at dinner: Religion and Politics. I've learned that lesson as I have had the fortune to work on a similar good cause with many stalwart individuals. It's interesting how the subjects can take a completely positive conversation about helping people in Africa or Haiti, and make it an uncomfortable situation.

Americans feel very protective for even the smallest inclination to either side of the political spectrum. And although it can lead to some heated debate, I am grateful that we have such a robust conversation, that we are so motivated to believe in a cause or platform. I am grateful for the right to vote.

Just a few days ago, as I rode down the broken streets of Port au Prince, astounded by all the political billboards and posters overcoming the streets, I asked our driver whom he planned to vote for. Watson is a very smart, well spoken young man with a great personality, so I was taken aback by his answer. He didn't plan on voting. In fact, he didn't know anyone that was going to vote.

Then I realized there were 19 candidates just for the Presidential Seat. The electricity had been out on Watson's street for almost two weeks, let alone lack of access to the internet, so how were these people supposed to know about their candidates? And as many of them live in tents and look up just blocks away their government leaders and federal workers living in lavish houses up the mountain side, how are they supposed to trust their candidates?

The elections in Haiti are just a few weeks away, but here in the U.S. the day to cast your vote is today. So if you haven't already done so, go to the polls, exercise your right that many people in other countries would love to have. Vote.

A Taste of Homelessness

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Sat, 30 Oct 2010 09:10:00 +0000

When I woke up yesterday, I would never have imagined the experience that awaited me after completing only the first leg of my three stop trip home; how I would soon be among the displaced and homeless I saw in Haiti. Although it was nowhere near the circumstances these people face on a daily basis (and possibly even an insult to them for making the comparison), but still, I was able to get a glimpse at the desperation of having no place to sleep.

I woke up at the crack of dawn and was taken one last time through the broken streets of Port au Prince to a place I had become all too familiar with, the PAP airport. After getting hustled for $15 for help I did not need, I was only way to Fort Lauderdale. I wanted to take advantage of my almost 6 hour layover, taking the bus to the beach. I made a similar stop on a shorter layover in Puerto Rico on my way to Haiti with no problem.

This time, I had made a fatal mistake: even though my tickets said "American Airlines" on the paper, I didn't realize that it was actually Continental Airlines handling the flight. That meant that even though I was at the American Terminal, I was supposed to be two Terminals down. Instead of rebooking me to the next flight, they sent me to Terminal 1 to try and make it, which needless to say was no use. I was then sent back and forth, running, sweat dripping from the stress and humidity. At 8pm, all my resources exhausted, I gave up and sat on the floor, broken. I would have to sleep in the airport, not even in the terminal but the public, outer area of the airport until 4:30am when the ticket counter re-opened.

The story continues, as it is only 5am now, but in all the desperation and hopelessness of not being able to go home, the paralysis of having no recourse, the longing for my wife's arms, wanting to get the dirt, sweat and grime that has accumulated over the last 24 hours; but I can't help but feel that I have nothing to complain about. This week I saw true desperation; people knowing that this is their condition for not only an extra day, but however long it takes to solve the homelessness in Haiti.

Pulling Out

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 00:27:00 +0000

Tent after tent lined the broken, narrow road; people staring at us as we drove by their tents, their homes, all the possessions these displaced people had left. We were looking for the Medecins sans Frontiers, Doctors without Borders, that we were told worked in the former golf course converted into a tent city for 60,000 Haitians. We ran into an American woman with a stethoscope and asker her about the Medecins sans Frontiers, and to our surprise they were no longer working in the camp.

Rewind to several hours before, early in the morning when we left for the St. Louis de Gonzaga school where we formed a relationship earlier this week. We arrived at the school and the headmaster looked delighted to see us, in his very intrinsic, authoritative sort of way. We were soon at the 600 gallon watertank that we found such a perfect fit for the product. With the help of the school staff, we quickly had an effective method to get the sachet in the tank. In 10 hours, the tank will be completely disinfected and the children will be cleaning their hands in a non-toxic, highly sanitizing solution that's even safe enough to drink. The visit was quick, but their gratitude made all the difference on this trip. Faces showing an emotion reminiscent to quiet dignity and acute gratitude.

Next came the tent city. We made our way back to St. Pierre where the staff were very pleased to see we returned. I wonder if many groups make similar promises, but upon seeing the enormity of the challenge, don't ever return. In fact we are learning that many groups are now pulling out, even as the Cholera outbreak has now claimed over 300 lives and infected almost 5,000 people. We do a quick demonstration for the staff, having gone over the purpose and use of it just a couple of days before. Again a quiet gratitude, but many thank you's. We would find out a little later that a TV news crew came by right after and they showed off their new sanitation products. We'd never get to the see the 8pm news report since there's no TV in our compound.

Next we went to the women's prison where we met with the Chief of Police. We sat in the lobby for a while, waiting and watching a French dubbed version of 007 on the small analog TV. Upon meeting the chief, we hit it off right away. We had no previous appointment and he may not even have known about us prior to this meeting, but he was very welcoming when we told him our purpose. After a detailed explanation of the product, he gave us a list of all the police stations and prisons in Port au Prince so that we could do the same there. We were then escorted to the water tanks on top of the station where we rigged up a way to disinfect one of the 300 gallon tanks. In the background, the women's prison sat heavily guarded, women crowded into each other. A perfect place for bateria to germinate and for our product to receive some use. The Chief also introduced us to UN staff members who were also happy to hear about our work in Haiti. We are anxiously awaiting the response from the UN after what the staff member tells us will be a promising relationship.

We never did get a hold of Dr. Rashid al Badi at the Centre de Drouin hospital: no answer when we tried to call. But it's on our list for the next mission to Haiti, along with the orphanages that Brother Theodor from the local LDS Humanitarian office told us needed our help.

Tonight I ate my final meal in Port au Prince. I pull out myself tomorrow morning, having been changed by what I have seen. But I know much good can get done when you get past the beaurocracy and the red tape and go directly to the people. If you would like to know how you can give to a Beachhead International mission, visit our website: www.BeachheadInternational.org

A New Lead

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 12:55:00 +0000

Last night, right before I went to bed, a reporter from the Toronto Star also staying at the guest house gave me her dramatic account of the sick being treated for Cholera in a hospital about 2 1/2 hours from here (a 4 hour drive in last night's rain). She explained how a car driving behind them was honking the whole way, when she realized that a man was holding an IV bag up for someone sick to death in the back of the truck.

When they arrived, they saw the countless sick and even watched as a person that had not survived the deadly disease had to be placed outside, with no proper way to clean or disinfect the body nor to properly cover it. I knew that was our last mission here with the Beachhead CLO2, proper disinfection of the dead to stop the spread of disease.

As we drive by certain crumbled buildings, our driver often tells us, "There are people still stuck under there." The retrieval of bodies has not been completed almost a year after the earthquake. Now with the Cholera outbreak, we hope to head out to that hospital today and offer our help.

Wonder where your money goes?

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 23:25:00 +0000

Ever wonder where your money goes when you give to charity? Do you think all the aid that is supposed to go disaster victims actually gets there? Well, today we learned the harsh reality first hand.

Let me try to paint a picture of the customs house for you: You drive into a gated complex (really only three buildings sharing a parking lot). As you step up the broken stairs, you a large open area reveals the front entrance, along room decorated by teller-like windows. A single hallway to the left hides several rooms, the one at the far end is air conditioned, bringing refuge from a muggy day. Inside the room, three desks occupied by two women who first ignore you, then act like they don't understand why you're there. As soon as we mention Fedex, they send a few blocks down to a tiny office/warehouse where the "Fedex" is supposedly located. A small sign with a tiny Fedex sign adorns the doorway.

The man at the door hears us out, but says there's nothing we can do without the paperwork. We tell him we have a tracking number and that does nothing for him. He sends us off, but we refuse. We make a fuss and ask for a supervisor. He finally lets me in but keeps Gerry out as I explain our situation. This time we are brought to the back where we see a wall full of boxes, all waiting to clear customs, and for how long? Shipments of medical supplies collect dust, boxes with "Direct Relief" written on them stand broken, piled on top of each other, squashed, boxes of bandages seeping from the sides and peering through the "Fragile: Handle with Care" stickers.

We are again told that we need some paperwork and are sent off. We refuse and now our driver is caught in the melee. He tells that that they need to give us a sheet to take to customs, otherwise how can we get the paperwork? They comply and we're off to customs, where we head straight to an old man on a typwriter that takes our information and our money. A few dollars and several minutes later, we're back to the back office in Customs, an office that we will be all too familiar with when this day is over, having spent a considerable time inside the airconditioned walls, at least 8 or 9 times in and out of its doors.

For the next 6 hours, we are herded from office to office, our packet receiving more and more marks, our entourage increasing by the hour (a group whose services we would have to pay for but to whom we are extremely grateful). I stand by as our paper is passed off from one hand to another, then forgotten in a pile somewhere. When I ask what the status is, they forget which paper I am talking about, even though I have been standing there the whole time.

At one point, they decide that Gerry's U.S. driver's license is not enough ID to continue the process, so we drive the hour back to the guest house and retrieve his passport. A funny thing happens after that; Gerry stands back and now they think that I'm the person on the passport. I look nothing like Gerry, but somehow they have profiled us together. I don't argue since I'm the only that can communicate with them anyway and that speeds up the process.

Speaking only French comes in handy at times, since they understand me, and I sometimes understand and sometimes don't. I can tell by the tone of their voices sometimes that the news is negative, and that's when I just say I don't understand and somehow the process moves along anyway.

After going from office to office, pressurring person after person, waiting for hours, we have somehow made it to the office of the Chief of Customs. He asks us what's inside the box. I explain how we are hoping to use the products to sanitize schools, disinfect tent cities, and stop the spread of some deadly diseases. He looks, and thinks, and finally signs the paperwork.

After that meeting, they lady who at first was difficult, but ended up speeding up our process and got us in with the Chief of Customs tells us she just wants one of the bags for herself and that we wouldn't have to pay the office at all. A small kickback for a huge success, we gladly comply. In fact, after we receive our box we go back to the Chief, give him a couple of bags and show him the value of the product for his office. He is overjoyed and gives us his card. A huge score for the next time we attempt such a venture.

With the box in our hands we are ready to start sanitizing, disinfecting, stopping the spread of these deadly pathogens. But the rain has started coming down hard in Port au Prince, and we may be too late. At this rate, the diseased continue to spread as rain and sewage converge and people work to collect the water.

Youn Bèl Rev

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 14:48:00 +0000

These beds were not made for people taller than six feet. Even though I'm exhausted before 10pm, I still manage to wake up in the middle of the night, expecting to see my wife beside me or at least to recognize my room, but I'm caught by surprise by the net that surrounds my body, the humidity and the wild animal noises outside our window.

We are minutes away from a fight at customs, we need our package so that we can do what we came her to do. Gerry comes from a social environment where was used to negotiating agreements in various countries, but unfortunately he does not speak French or Creole, leaving him a bit helpless. It's up to me now to act as translator and true negotiator. What will it take to get them to release our box? Is it even at the airport? Fedex has virtually washed their hands clean of any responsibility. I want to know who will answer for the women and children who continue to live with the viruses and germs invading the few possessions they have left in the rubble.

The Plot Thickens: Stuck in Customs

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 01:58:00 +0000

Stuck in Customs: 1 box full of the products we need to disinfect tent camps, schools, prisons. We shipped the box containing 200 L500 packages, able to produce more than 5,000 gallons worth of sanitation solution.

3 days: that's all it was supposed to take to ship the 20 pound box. But since Friday, it's been stuck in customs, processing, awaiting approval to be sent to our shipping address in Port au Prince. What we didn't know is that Fedex contracts with a local company, and doesn't actually have a local office in Haiti. We've passed by the UPS office and hear there's a DHL office, and there was possibly a Fedex location before the quake. But now there's not a single person that can tell us where our box is.

All the numbers on the website supposedly for a Haiti office are not in service, from either Skype or our Haitian cell phone. There may be some inherent protocol we are missing; some type of kick-back for the government. We are learning little by little that there are people in Haiti that are doing quite well, making a profit in fact from "Les Blancs" as their fellow countrymen suffer under carps.

The plot thickens as we have trained the workers at the school and promised the people at the camp we would come and show them how to disinfect their toilets. Tomorrow, we head to customs to fight for our package.

The Voiceless

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 16:42:00 +0000

As we walked through the tent cities again today, we decided to leave our guides inside the car and go in on our own. We needed to talk to the people without reservation, asking them about the conditions inside the camp. I met a lady named Gerdy Smith (or Smith, Gerdy as they introduce themselves here.)

Gerdy told me of the unsanitary conditions that they have to live in, and how her daughter is now sick. She tells me how they have to share the three working latrines among the 5 thousand people in the camp? And when do they go? We didn't see a single person go in or out of one while we were there either day, and we are told that its too dangerous for women to go at night, since its so dark.

As we spoke to the people, the children came up to us yelling, "Les blancs!" At first I wondered if they all would be weary of us, but they all wanted me to take their photo. They were also quick to show me their Michael Jackson dance moves. The children had hope in their faces, one of the kids stuck by us as we walked out and looked for our driver. If he were born in the U.S. or immigrated before the quake, what would his future have been like?

These people are the "voiceless." The earthquake and hurricanes have wiped out their belongings, including often their ID's. With no ID there is no voter registration. And even if they can register, many are afraid to go and vote; many more don't think any of the more than dozen Presidential candidates will make a difference for them. In fact, many are sad that Wyclef Jean was out of the running, and although he may not know much about politics and is under investigation for his charity, Yele Haiti, a symbol of change like Wyclef is what the people are hoping for. Thousands of posters with the faces of candidates litter the once proud buildings turned to rubble.

Earlier today we went to the one of the schools and were met by a very adept looking group of cleaning workers. They showed us how they clean the school and where the students wash their hands. It was great to see the discipline as the students came and washed, only one had the be corrected by the director. They were all anxious to learn about the new technology to stop the spread of bacteria, viruses and disease. Tonight we figure out logistics, possibly the 600 gallon tank of water used to wash the children's hands will be the key to sanitation for the school.

Outrage: Day 1 in the Haitian Tent Cities

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 21:00:00 +0000

The tent cities were worse than we imagined. One bathroom for every thousand people. four stalls in total. Each completely unsanitary.

We went to a school earlier in the day with the same result: unsanitary conditions, but local leaders willing to make a difference. We showed them the sanitation product and they lit up when we told them how we could help them disinfect their bathrooms, their kitchen areas.

At the camp, we spoke to the camp leaders who worked for the Haitian ministry for Women's rights. They are the ones running the camps, and again, they were willing to show us the four latrines and five showers that faced the street. The locals standing next to the shower told us about the bacteria building up along the shower area and how people were getting sick. A big sign from the Health Ministry showing the proper way to wash hands overlooked the four toilets meant for almost 5,000 people, but there were no facilities to actually wash their hands.

Little children toddled around the infected streets on their hands and knees. Next door, in the police station, we were shown the prison. Tiny cells where people are kept for petty crimes, toilets inside the cells reaked of being unmaintained. We showed them the CLO2 and promised to return.

To think, just days before, NGO's we tried to get a hold of said there was no need. NO NEED?! Have they walked around these camps and come to the conclusion that there is no need for sanitation? As cholera continues to kill hundreds of Haitians, there is not a single place they can refer us to that could use sanitation? "Politics." That's the explanation that our driver gives.

I understand politics in Haiti has had a history of corruption, but when the NGO's tell us point blank that it's all taken care of? Outrage. That's the only way to describe it.

"New Blood"

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 12:03:00 +0000

1, 2, 3... 5 new mosquito bites overnight. How did they get through the mosquito nets we sleep under at night? Could they have been hiding inside without me noticing? I spray and lather repellent several times a day, but it seems to be of no use. The women who run the guest house joke that they are glad when "new blood" comes into the house, because then the mosquitos leave them alone for a while.

Maybe it's the rainfall overnight that spawned a new generation of mosquitos, but I'm not too worried because I got my shots and Malaria medications before I left. I'm just waiting for that mosquito with Dengue fever to attack. Luckily they have all been pretty benign. We will be prepared for them today, though, as we visit the camps.

Giving out sanitation products has been a lot more difficult than we thought. It seems some people are unwilling to share information about contacts with other grassroots non-profit groups and so we're forced to go straight to the camps and find those in need. We were lucky enough to find a Haitian friend, that is willing to come with us, help us make contacts, and even be our liason after we leave. We are just looking for honest, educated people that will send our products to those in most need.

The Hunger Games

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 02:11:00 +0000

I was poised not to eat local food here in Haiti. The nurse at the Davis County health department told me to beware of produce, and make sure all water we drank was bottled and sealed. So I came with four boxes of power bars, a diet I tested a couple of days before my trip. Anyone that has tried it very well knows that your stomach doesn't really welcome a steady stream of protein mixed with chocolate.

I forgot that a stay at Healing Hands for Haiti included one meal a day (today they even offered us breakfast). Today I finally met the lady that cooks for us and we spoke in a melange of French and Creole. I quickly lauded her excellent cooking. Really, it's very similar to Latin food, but there's a distinct flavor that my tongue and stomach greatly welcome. I tried to follow the etiquette of my guests, as I rarely see anyone get seconds, but the small plates leave my hungry, and the heaping bowls of food call to me.

I usually practice self-control, but today's desert, a banana pudding, was so good, when the girl came to take away our plates, I politely asked for more. What I really wanted were the rolls sitting on the serving table, at least ten still untouched. But I also remember what one of the guests told us last night: "remember there is always someone that could use it more," or something of that nature.

Sundays are somewhat of a quiet day, or at least in this secluded part of town. Still, you could hear what sounded like a demonstration in the background, but I am sure was actually a soccer game. You could also hear music begin to play as the sun slowly descended. It was a type of salsa music, reminiscent of the old-school Havanna style salsa I heard growing up in New Jersey. And now as the sun has set, there is commotion in the streets, honking, the roar of engines. Is something going on out there? Or has the party started? Could it be a Jewish type of sabbath, over when the sun goes down?

Instead of partying with the villagers, I'm hanging in the guest house. Gerry enjoyed the cool water in the pool, but I was not in the mood, preferring to finish reading the book that has had me addicted the past few weeks: The Hunger Games. Fiction is usually not my cup of tea. But something about the book has kept my attention. Could it be the desperate need among the people in the districts as there is so much lavish in the Capital? That's what it seems like here in Haiti as well. As we drove up close to the big houses on the Hill, as big and fancy as the ones I've seen in Beverly Hills, our driver Watson was quick to point out that there are some people in Haiti that are doing quite well, while so many continue to suffer in tent camps, overtaking parks to set up their tarps. Tomorrow, I get to see those camps first hand.

Holy Creole

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 18:14:00 +0000

We wanted to fit in with the local Haitians when we went to Church, so we figured we'd dress down somewhat. I still wore a white shirt and tie, but with Khakis and white sneakers. Gerry was more ready for the jungle than church, with his combat boots, and explorer attire. Little did we know, as we drove up the hill to where the chapel was, that we would see so many well dressed people. As we entered the Church parking lot, we immediately realized we were underdressed. All the men were wearing slacks, shirts, and ties, and the women were immaculate with their dresses and skirts.

We were hoping to meet the mission president or some of the other people we contacted prior to leaving the U.S., but it didn't work out. But with two gringos ("Les Blancs" they call us even if I don't consider myself white, but apparently it's a term like gringos that they refer to all Americans (black or white) Asians, Latinos, etc., members were quick to extend a handshake and offer translation.

I knew Creole was different than French, so I came prepared to be a little behind, but wow, as soon as the Creole words spewed out of the speakers' mouths, I knew I was in trouble. Luckily, many of them spoke French and I was able to make friends. The highlight of Gerry's day was a little 3 year old girl that went up and gave him a big hug and stayed there a few seconds as if she knew him.

We were wondering if this is the Haiti that we see in the news, the deaths, the disease, the need. Then we looked past the church gate, and saw some young men filling up a bucket with water that was coming down the street. That's when we came back to the reality of what we're doing here. The spread of cholera continues. I'm doing everything I can to be careful; when I heard the crack of the seal on my water bottle today, I let out a sigh of relief. I have to stay alive or else my wife will kill me.

Our driver, Watson, seems like a very well educated, classy fellow. His English is incredible and he knows these streets the way my father knows New York City; all the shortcuts and wrap-arounds. He came well recommended by the other aid workers here.

We also met a man at church who came up to us and offered his help. He's a DJ at a local radio station that has a motivational radio show. He wants to "Enlever les Haitians," lift them up. He offered to help us make some contacts.

Tomorrow is the big day. We were lucky to see how calm the streets can get on Sunday; Haitians are very religious, though, as Watson tells us they all go to Church, but living the tenants is another thing. Tomorrow, the streets fill again, the camps revive, and we will be out trying to help keep people and places well sanitized.

Love in the time of Cholera

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 01:32:00 +0000

Cholera broke out in Haiti this week. I found out yesterday just hours before my flight. The friends I've made here at the Healing Hands for Haiti guest house tell me it must have been brought over from South America by either an aid worker or a UN peacekeeper. Haiti hasn't had a cholera outbreak for 50 years.

One of the dentists I met here says he was at a fancy French restaurant with the Haitian ministry of health last night, who spent most of the night on the phone taking care of the pandemic. The ministry's advice to the newly formed dentist expedition: we need a lot of help here.
Gerry and I have made some contacts so far, but there is so much left to do. We have a product that could save lives and stop the spread of similar diseases; it's the unsanitary conditions and bad water that are behind many of these deaths.

Tomorrow is Church. We get to meet the mission president. I'm excited to see how church is in Haiti, and excited to make Gerry go to all three hours of church!

And why "love" in the time of cholera, you ask? Well, I left my love last night in Salt Lake. I wished she was there with me as my friend in Puerto Rico took me around el viejo San Juan during my layover. Gracias Emmanuel! And I miss you, guera!

Vaccines and Pills

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 03:31:00 +0000

I'm just days away from traveling to Haiti. It's hard to fathom what I'm about to see: the suffering, the devastation, the hunger. As a journalist I've followed every step of the relief effort since the earthquake. But I'm sure nothing I've read or any video I've seen can prepare me for what I'm about to see in the flesh.

All I can do to prepare is get my vaccines, 6 to be exact. I also started taking the Malaria pills that will keep me from a terrible disease that is now so widespread in the island nation, though just a few miles away, in the U.S. and surrounding areas, Malaria has been obliterated since the mid 1900's.

Our mission is to deliver sanitation products, or find NGO's willing to partner with us to provide this innovative sanitation solution. We really have no way of knowing how we'll be received, but if what we see on the news is true, they will welcome all the help they can get.

Where were You?

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 00:52:00 +0000

Whether you agree with him or not, Barack Obama DID bring us all together, even if it was just to get together to watch his swearing in.

Where were YOU when it all went down? Post your experiences below.

Exit Strategy

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 22:36:00 +0000

(continued from the post below)

The gate at Seventh Street never opened. When we all finally figured it out, the crowd started moving again. Maneuvering through the crowd, we found an opening to the mall through the Gardens. There was no checkpoint, which really defeats the purpose of any checkpoint. We ran to as far front as possible. It was magical! A Latino among Blacks, Whites, Asians, young and old, families of descendants of slaves and former slave owners, and, like myself, those that weren't even born in this country. All there for a higher purpose, unified in what Barack Obama called out for in his speech: A New America. Some say that his plan is too big, but he answerd the critics by saying (I'm paraphrasing) we've done big things before.

In the middle of all the commotion, it finally hit us! Yes, I mean frostbite! We tried to find shelter in an ambulance, already packed with frozen inaugural viewers. We even tried to stand in line for some hot chocolate, but after another hour of idleness, we couldn't stand it anymore. So in pre-hypothermia stages, we made a run for it. Little did we know that as many people were trying to leave as were trying to get in. Bittersweet was the feeling as I warmed up at Starbucks, finally feeling my toes again.

Yet those that didn't stay for long knew that they had been part of history. It didn't really matter where you stood when Obama stumbled through the oath.

The Audacity of Cold

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 22:11:00 +0000

Frozen fingers kept me from updating you all by more than just the Twitter bar on the right, but our Journey actually began at 3:30 this morning. We wanted to be sure to be on the first Metro. Our ambition was quickly dissipated by the realization that there were other stops before ours with commuters just as ambitious. The first train showed up at the station packed to the brim. Our constituants, so eager to make it aboard, failed to head the prophetic words of the conductor, and tried to defy the laws of physics by squeazing even more people onto the train. Soon enough, one of the doors jammed and the train was evacuated; messing it up for all by a lack of patience.

At 4:30am we separated from the other two members of our party who actually had tickets, then we went to join the masses, all hoping to live a bit of history. Once we found a line that actually looked official, we moved it along until it just stopped. We were so close! Another hour later and only a few more yards further, we were getting worried. Was anyone getting in?

A few leaders emerged in the group; some led us in chanting, "Let us in!" thinking that somehow that the louder we were, the more of a shot we had at them opening the gate. Did they think this was a democracy or something? Others led us in the "hoki poki." We welcomed anything that would keep us warm in the 20 degree temperature. Yet others broke from the pack and jumped the fence, making a mad dash for the lawn. Most surprisingly there was a growing group on the other side of the gate trying to get OUT. I would later understand why.

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 18:58:00 +0000

Up until November 4th, most of this country was in a great divide not just between McCain and Obama, Minority & Majority, North & South. It's great to see people, some of whom adamantly opposed Obama, come out, celebrate, and as I walk around DC, they're even wearing his pin. Unity has become a possibility. Let's see how long we can keep it going.

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 18:10:00 +0000

I just saw a young white man give up his seat for an older Black woman. On any other day, it wouldn't be a big deal, except 50 years ago, it wouldn't be proper. What a way to commemorate Dr. King today.

The Game Plan

Joshua.Molina@mac.com — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 17:21:00 +0000

We woke up to the voice of Dr. King; every tv station celebrating the life of the man that made tomorrow's events possible. Yet, as much as Dr. King's iconic image has been seared into the minds of all Americans, now souvenirs of Barack Obama litter the streets as vendors, authorized or not, profit off the likeness of the 44th president.

We're now planning our game plan, figuring out every detail via The New York Times, Washington Post, and DC Metro website to make sure that we don't miss a single step or overlook any rule. Stay tuned as our journey continues these next few days.