the unnecessary death of carine desir

Last week, a 44 year old woman died on an American Airlines jumbo jet from Haiti to New York. Apparently, Carine Desir was having difficult time breathing. She asked for oxygen but was denied. Two oxygen tanks were later attempted to be administered, but were found to be empty. Doctors on board became involved and a defibrillator was administered, just before Carine Desir died. American Airlines is now engaging in plenty of CYOA.

I have flown on a hand-full of American Airlines flights between Haiti and the United States. The bathrooms on those planes were falling apart; there was little or no security; and often people were standing up during take-off. The case of Carine Desir is the result of either intentional negligence, or a severe lack of diligence due to distractions and diverted attention. Members of the diplomatic community in Haiti have been writing to American Airlines for several years, expressing their concerns about their use of junky planes, and lack of professionalism toward Haitians, and Haitian-Americans.

A brief survey on the relationship between Haiti and the US yields plenty of support for the claim that the use of sub-par machines with empty oxygen tanks for the Haiti flights is in fact an example of the to the lack value placed on Haitian lives by the American corporate and government powers. There is a long history of disregard and abuse of Haiti and the Haitians at the hands of US policies, and firm behaviors. The recent US overthrow of President Aristide occurred after he doubled the minimum wage to $2.00 a day, harming corporate interests in Haiti. This was just after Bush blocked a major IDB loan to Haiti which was to provide for things like clean drinking water to children. But the anthropology of the relationship between the US and Haiti goes way back to the fifteenth century. The relationship has never been a conversation with two equal partners.

With respect to the case of Carine Desir, a more compelling inquiry surrounds asking what might have been distracting for the flight crew on the flight that would cause a thorough check of the oxygen to fall to the wayside. How is it possible that before a flight, the crew might have been busy attending to things other than the check list of cleaning bathrooms and checking oxygen tanks?

This answer is less historical, and more about a mutual lack of cultural understanding between American Airlines and Haitians.

Aside from the very few in the upper class, very few Haitians fly and if they do they do not frequently fly more more than once or twice in a life time. Sitting in the airport in Port-au-Prince, there is a "night-before-Christmas" excitement in the air. Haitians are dressed to the nines, proudly carrying their passports and visas around. The security process for getting on the plane is nothing like what the TSA has administered here. There is always a lot of confusion in the boarding process. Perhaps a bag will be left unattended or left behind and an announcement goes on, but then they just let the bag on anyway, because they know it probably belongs to some Grandmoun who is finally going to Miami to visit her family after waiting years and years for a visa and has no idea what is going.

I once sat with two Grandmothers on a flight back to Port-au-Prince. Because they can not write or read, I filled out their visa forms for them. When the hawkish attendant came by to fill out their visas, certain that they are illiterate, the women proudly asserted that they were able to do it on their own. The attendant grabbed the visas from their hands and marched off.

There is a lot of suspicion about how the plane works, and one of the Grandmothers sitting beside me was obviously quite afraid. The attendants made one of their usual announcements in French (not the language of Haitians, only the elite know French), - - “ok, everybody, this is going to get very loud, and then we will be going up in the sky. It is important that you stay seated during this. Please stay sitting down.” So, during this flight, the attendant predicted correctly: the plane was loud, we were up in the sky, and then bam: one of the nearby small, luggage compartment doors popped open. The Grandmother began pointing to it and screaming as if she had seen the face of Lucifer himself. Wailing and rocking, over and over, “Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!”

Also, children in Haiti often draw airplanes and helicopters in their artwork. There is a fascination by the notion of flight.

I am not making broad claims about Voudon, technology or science in relation to the average Haitian. Rather, I believe that a particular level of care is necessary in this sphere and the burden lies on the service provider, American Airlines. Because I believe that the attendants would like oxygen for themselves if necessary, I suspect that the problem in the case of Carine Desir is one of expended resources. If the attendants are busy filling in gaps with a metal box full of folks, half of whom have never flown before, and come from a world that is more African than Floridian, I can see how some of the material essentials could become neglected. Perhaps that is why these planes have fallen into the shape they are in, as well.

American Airlines should make immediate changes to the physical quality of the planes, as well as numbers of attendants on board. Furthermore, the cultural sensitivity of the crew on these Haiti-US routes must be addressed.

if laughing is loving

A friend recently forwarded this email to me; an email that I sent out last June. Rereading it, I think it can be applied to my life in general, not just that particular trip. As I prepare to visit Bangladesh for the first time, I wonder what will confront my senses and ignite my passions, but I don't think anything has ever ignited my passions the way my friendships have.

- - -
To All~

I have the privilege of traveling in Haiti until August 21. Access to email will be sporadic, but please email me. I will be visiting new towns, and old friends from last summer, while I gather information for my Masters thesis. Haiti brings to my life unequivocal inspiration along with deep spiritual and intellectual angst. In Haiti, there are no distractions from the need, or the joy, of the moment.

When scary things happen in Haiti, --things that I can't control-- I will think of you, and your laughter, and the very funny moments I've shared with you. If laughing is loving, then I am the luckiest woman in the world to love and to be loved with such severity. Vibrant photos promised upon my return to Nashville.

Before the grace of you, go I.

Love, Kate

who has a seat at your table?

My interest in raising children is on par with my interest in owning a dog, and anyone who knows me knows that I am not a dog person. (But that’s not where I am going with this blogpost.)

That being said, there is something that I envy that is very innate in the struggle of raising children, and what it all produces. Every time I go to Susan and Andy’s it becomes more and more difficult because I envy the love they have in their family. I envy it so much, it nearly brings me to tears, questioning my own human capacity to be capable of the day-to-day work required for raising children. They have two kids. Henry is five and Cal is two; I have been their weekly babysitter since I moved to Nashville. I am far from being a great babysitter, but they accept me anyway, even when I serve their kids garlic bread for dinner. They are members of the vast family that I have acquired on my life journey; it is a journey in which I have relied upon the loving and giving hearts of strangers who have evolved into forever friends.

Like Kathleen and her children. They have continued to provide for me, a sacred space for love, honesty, and understanding, and all without justification or trial. While the essential timing and unbelievably sincere and sacred efforts stand alone, the Harrington clan is not alone in having been welcoming to me. I have a long list of people to whom I should write heart-felt letters to about the grace, forgiveness, devotion and hospitality shown to me during my adult life everywhere from Jerusalem to Montana. If I knew I was going to die tomorrow, it is unlikely that I would sit around with my best friends or the people I see often. I would probably want to visit people like my friend Marcia in San Francisco, who offered me hospitality during a time of suffering and loneliness.

Patience and hospitality are the earthly things capable to create the welcoming conditions for the kingdom. If I have learned anything from divinity school, I have learned that hospitality is the heart of Christianity. As a liberation theologian, that specifies hospitality for the materially poor, - first and foremost. And parenthood seems to be baptism by fire about hospitality. The lines of mine and yours become less delineated. The thing, I believe, that separates parental love from eros (erotic love), agape (community love), or philos (fraternity), - is the willingness to engage is a particular type of kenosis if you will - - the willingness to empty yourself and die for your child. There is almost a joy in the thought of it.

St. Augustine might say that if we start acting hospitable, we will become hospitable. Choices can become our habits and our habits can become our nature.

Today, let us live with a spirit of hospitality.

ask cashier for details

Two months after I moved to Tennessee, Angela came to Nashville and the two of us went on a road trip heading south. About forty miles outside of Nashville, Angela and I stopped to get some gas. As we approached the Flying J, Angela pointed out a sign prominently placed above the door: "The terrorist threat for today is yellow. Ask cashier for details." Like a good American, I do what I am told, because I love freedom.

After all, I moved from Washington, DC our nation’s capital, and I will never forget watching the Pentagon burn for two weeks after 9/11. If they are monitoring the terrorist threat many years later in Tennessee – something must be up.

While paying with American currency for the package of Swedish fish and the bottle of French spring water, I said, "So, I am interested in getting the details. The sign outside said that I should ask you for details about the terrorist threat. Is everything ok?"

The cashier seemed caught off guard and replied, "I don't know."

I asked, “Is that sign posted for the benefit of truck drivers en route? Like, is it a heads-up?"

The truck driver in a few people in line behind me piped up. "That sign is for us all," (que National Anthem), “that sign is for anyone who walks into the Flying J."

“Ok, well I guess that’s why I am asking for the details. It says to ask for details,” I said.

"It helps us stay aware," the truck driver said, nodding with an aura of pride "it helps you stay aware."

Angela joined the line to purchase her Elvis mug, and post cards. Upon hearing the scuffle, she approached me with a nervous giggle and asked that I join her in the back of the line, curious as to what in the world I was getting myself into, I told her, "I was just asking for the details!"

Approaching the front of the line again a few minutes later, I turned to the cashier and asked, "So, how often does the sign get changed?"

Like an honest patriot she leaned over the counter as if to share a secret, "To tell you the truth, I have been here three months, and that sign- it ain't changed once."

I pressed on, "Do you think if Iran or North Korea are about to nuke us, the details - - whatever they are - - will change and the color level will also be changed to maybe orange? Or red?”

Irritated, and before wishing me farewell, the cashier pivoted toward me in a very soldier like manner and said, “Look, all I know, is--- yellow, is good. It's always been yellow here.”

there is no time i feel more alive than when my heart is breaking

happy valentine's day week. for you, a gem from the ever so eternal post secrets:

two longings

Today, I found a hand-written note inside a used book that I recently purchased. I can’t stop thinking about it:

Monday. Packing.

Dear Michael,Wow. I’ve never known a real pilgrim-missionary-journeyman before. You are doing something amazing. Something I could not do right now in my life. I am incredibly proud of you, do you know that?

Yet, I wish I were going – mainly because I will miss you SO much. I can’t imagine how I’ll survive without communicating with you for days and days. I know I’ll think of a thousand things to tell you. You whom I tell everything to – whether you are listening or not.

I wonder what God has in store for you on this pilgrimage. Why have you been chosen to go? What is your lesson? How will it change your life? It does not matter much to me I guess, as long as I am still included in that changed life. Feels like a new era in our story together somehow. Life with you is always an adventure – incredible, and fascinating.

So have fun. Enjoy the adventure that you are undertaking. Remember to journal a lot – for both of us. I know we’ll be connected in spirit as we always are. I know you will be fine and I will be fine and the kids will be fine and your Mom will survive somehow. We have lots more adventures ahead of us. I will be waiting patiently for your safe return so we can continue on together.

Thanks for being such a beautiful, caring, and complex man of service to the world. The people of Haiti will be forever enriched by your presence. I guess it is the least I can do – to share you for a few months. I piece together the paradox – to make peace with the paradox, to find a balance in some larger sense, so that a life can feel whole. I love you forever, Peg

no less than

I spend a great deal of my free time critiquing Christianity. (Don't worry - this post is not about the hundreds of things that I think about the thousands of things I have come across pertaining to the vast subject of "Christianity." I might save those conversations for the poor soul sitting beside me on my upcoming 17 hour plane flight to Dubai.) But really, it is no secret that I find enjoyment in studying, deconstructing, and teaching aspects of the theology, history, and practice of Christianity. It is also no secret that I am not much of a Christian apologist. But there is one thing I stand by to no avail: Jesus lived with an apocalyptic sense of urgency and he lead a political movement in which he inspired people personally, so much, that 2,000 years later Jesus, (and of course that which has been attributed to him by architects of the church), is remembered daily by billions of people while other messianic movements and magical people from that very place and that time are not.

There is a reason why some people stick.

When people are oppressed, and disengaged from the causes of the circumstances of their lives as the people of Israel were at the time of Jesus, there's only room for certain things to stick. Not every Joe Schmoe is going to inspire a revolution, or a movement, or a belief that the kingdom of God will reward those suffering at the hand of Rome. And today, it seems difficult for a movement of empowerment to resonate with those who are economically oppressed, or with those who feel that their voices, VOTES, and lives have been ignored and harmed at the hands of politicians who love war, are eons away from the economic conditions of most Americans.

Barack Obama has stuck.

This is not by chance, and no matter what happens from here on out in this election, the wave of change associated with the hope and faith represented by and placed in Barack Obama, are not soon to go away.

Here is a video that really stuck with America, and the international community. When the video came out in March, it became a "who done it" story because so, so, so many people understood and agreed with the message. And even if those very people are not voting this cycle, their sentiment was voiced in this video, - no less than the sentiment Jesus voiced for a group of people in the Galilee, and no less than the voice Barack Obama has taken on for so many of us. Thanks, Phil.