Ursula's Thoughts

Oh my God!!!! (actually I shouldn't say that because I'm techincally an agnostic) Today was AMAZING!!!! It was the most mindblowing experience, but I must begin my entry in the weeks and months prior to my arrival in Haiti. When I learned that I would be taking the spring break service trip to Haiti I was overjoyed, and even a little bit overwhelmed because I'd been so passionate about helping the Haitians since the earthquake hit. Now when the earthquake hit my life was forever altered. It just so happened to coincide with an extremely dark point in my life and had been an escape for me. No. It was more of a wakeup call really. It was like a slap to the face an a few words of tough love. Like stop worrying about your stupid problems! You have it so infinitely much better than most people. It was truly an epiphany of the highest regard. I immediately began researching Haiti and its history, its politics, its severly impoverished people. For a strong-willed and most oftenly stubborn person like me it became my mission. I began feverishly donating and buying anything that said the word "HAITI" on it (which was probably me, as a sort of bleeding heart, being suckered, but whatever). Then i just generally began fascinated by philanthropy everywhere. By my definition philanthropy means the duty that every human being owes to his fellow man- despite social positions, social standards, and economic statuses. Given that I don't come from the most wealthy of families, and am not in the sort of socioeconomic position to give away millions upon millions of dollars like many billionares whom the world deems philanthropists, i decided to give my time and undying attention. Then again these so-called philantropists simply blow millions of dollars to have their names forever imprinted on the walls of a beautiful building in the midst of ruins. They proclaim such superiority, but they don't actually get down on their hands and knees and HELP people. Anyone like that is nothing more than a fradulent hypocrite in my eyes. But anyways... Where was I? Oh yea, earthquake, philanthropy, frauds. So all of that was last year, and this year the trip was declared safe, so I immediately hopped abord, and by this time I was deeply submerged in the work of Amnesty International. Despite the necessary fiery Thursday afterschool planning sessions, I managed to make it to at least 2 of the Haiti meetings (and missed, or was late to the majority of them). All year I mentally prepared myself by thinking whenever I saw someone on the street or in a fancy new BMW "This person is equal to me. Whatever faults they have I share. Whatever attributes they have I share. I will not allow myself to think less of them simply because of socioeconomic status or hygiene." And it worked. Then came spring break. Chaotic, overwrought, and overrated. I was thoroughly unprepared and extremely fatigued from constant travel. Early mornings, late nights, and long car rides are about all I can remember of them. The same can be said of my travel day. Within a blur of plane rides and various passport checks, I'd arrived in Port au Prince. But it was so much different than I'd expected. It wasn't the sad gloomy place as depicted in the magazines in the black-and=white photos. It wasn't a desolate disgusting mess with an unruly and uncivilized. It was truly beautiful. The most beautiful place I've ever seen. Sure it had reckage and the sand kicked up like a white fog, and sure I got called to ("Eh! Shakira!"), but it was gorgeous. Everyting was a technicolor blur of happy bright color. An oasis in the sandy desert. There were beautifully decorated buses that housed people with the most beautiful dark flushes of skin. There were nippy motorcycles that zipped in-and-out of large busses and vans. There were dirty faced little boys who'd come to our car when we stopped and would click at us for some money. There were little girls and boys in their uniforms. There were broad shouldered women who bore large black bags upon their heads, and sun darkened men bearing coconut like fruits and massacring them with machetes, feeding them to the masses. Truly amazing. Oh, before i forget, as I boarded the final plane in a sleep-like daze I began to ponder the reason as to why I personally wanted to help. As I looked around at all of the tourist-y church groups in matching sand and water colored teeshirts wielding cameras like swords, I wondered about them (because they were just SO quintessentially american and it didn't help that there wasn't a face darker than that of a peach). I concluded that they have AMERICANITIS. It's a tragic disease of the brain. It's what makes americans believe, with their superiority complex, that they, as the master country, have more means and can do a better job of saving the world. Each one equipped with a substantial messianic complex, they set out to band together and "change the world", but in all reality they don't want a world that's different from theirs. They simply wish to impose their beliefs uponn others in hopes that they'll one day create clones of themselves that just so happen to speak Creole. Yet for me, this trip isn't really about changing the world. It's about changing myself. It's about seeing, and visiting, and tallking to these people who have infinitely less than i could possibly care to imagine, and drawing from their experiences. Using these experiences to empower myself and improve myself. To empower me to face every obstacle with an obliging smile and to overcome. I want to change into an unpredjudiced, unbiased person. I want to find my Nirvana, and share it with the world.