The communication barrier

I had become very comfortable in the Dominican Republic over the course of the last few years. I had become pretty proficient at Spanish and even had a pretty good grip on my street Spanish and could catch people off guard when they thought I was just another tourist.

All of a sudden I was working with Haitians. Almost none of them spoke Spanish and only a few spoke English, so I was going back to zero on the communication scale. Sure, I knew good morning, good afternoon, thank you and God bless you. . . but that only gets you so far when you are trying to reach out to earthquake victims.

The language barrier was such an issue and time was so often of the essence that people would be quickly taken in for surgery and would wake up with missing limbs having little or no idea ahead of time of what was about to happen. It was horrible. Weeks after the earthquake people were still terrified when they were taken in for wound cleaning or fixator adjustments that they might lose more of their limbs and such. It was very hard, and I can't imagine what it was like for the people and their families to not know what was going on.

Communication continued to be a huge issue and it caused a lot of distrust both on the part of volunteers and patients. Frequently their were rumors among the volunteers that there was going to be a riot. Haitians tend to speak with large gestures and raised voices and look as though they are about to fight and then at the end of the conversation they shake hands and are clearly friends, but many of the volunteers didn't understand the culture. I didn't understand it either. . . But the Haitians were so patient with us. . . I might have started a riot if I was in their shoes, and had been treated like they were.

The rules kept changing. Public Health wanted to shut the hospital down and get all of the Haitian back across the border, so they made things more and more difficult.

Rule 1: Only one family member per patient. Everybody else had to get out. But they had no where to go. . .

Public health said that if the "extra" people didn't go quietly on their own then they would come in with armed guards and escort everyone out. The translation team told many of the patients that if they didn't leave quietly they would be shot. Lack of language skills can be dangerous, I might have started a riot.

We were taking a load of "extra" people on our school bus over to the Haitian side of the border to one of the camps where they would be allowed to stay. The people didn't really know where we were taking them. They were scared, and didn't know what was ahead. At the hospital, they had food and felt safe, the rumors were that we would be dumping them off somewhere along the road to fend for themselves.

We handed out snacks for the bus ride, and of course people tried to hoard them. They didn't know what was ahead. One of the North Americans on the bus with me almost attacked one of the Haitians who took more than his share and a shouting match began. I don't know what the Haitian said and neither did the North American, but what he said back to the Haitian made me ashamed to be an American. Luckily I don't think anyone on the bus understood more than the tone and gestures.

It is so easy to get trapped into thinking we know what is right and our ideas of what is fair is the only way. I am sorry though if I thought that the little pack of cookies might be my last sure meal, I would try to take more than my fair share too. It was scary for them. They didn't know what the road ahead would hold.

After I got the North American to calm down and shut up, I spoke to the people through a translator. They asked how they would find their families again. I was able to explain the process. Some of them, including the man who was fighting thought that they would be prisoners in the camp where we were taking them, I explained that they were free to go at anytime. Some of their questions I could answer, some I couldn't. We almost didn't make it across the border in time that night, but everybody was calm and had their voice heard.

Some times we just need to listen. Lord, help me remember that! MY schedule and MY agenda seem to leave so little time. . . help me to be human again and to recognize the importance and the gift of being human!