Returning home to Haiti

Port-Au-Prince, Haiti—Nick Andre knew he needed to stay in Haiti. His wife and five children were there. And even though he had a job teaching Haitian Creole at IU and was pursuing a master’s degree in French Linguistics, something told him he needed to be home.

That was last summer, before he knew the earth would shake. Five months before the quake, he didn’t know one wall of his house would fall. He didn’t know then that his wife and children would survive, although thousands of Haitians would die January 12.

In May, I visited Haiti to learn about a tree-planting project and visit friends. I made a trip to see Andre, who had taught me Creole during the 2008-2009 school year. I found him outside of Port-Au-Prince in a small office where he hunts for jobs.

Before the earthquake, Andre had hoped to find work in education somewhere in Haiti. At IU, Andre earned an MA in French Instruction and was working on another in French Linguistics when he decided to return to be with his family.

Higher education achieved abroad doesn’t guarantee work, especially in Haiti, a country where more than two-thirds of the population doesn’t hold a formal job.

After the earthquake, Haiti needed doctors and construction workers more than it needed professors. But Andre has been able to find work as a translator for visiting aid groups. Andre’s fluency in Creole, English, and French make him an ideal translator for working with educated Haitians as well as those who speak only Creole. The work, however, comes and goes with the visitors.

Andre’s struggle to find lasting work represents one of the great frustrations of Haitian life: even if you find an opportunity for education, you will return to a country that isn’t ready for your work.

Or perhaps Haiti most needs people like Nick—people who have gone and returned. Nick has lived comfortably in Bloomington, but returned to Haiti because it will always be his home.

“It was a good decision to stay with my family, but it also is hard to stay and not have a job when I need to help my family,” he said.

His on-and-off job as a translator means he has time to pick up his children from school. Their classes have started again after the earthquake, but sessions are held outside in the schoolyard. Students and teachers are still scared the buildings will crumble.

But the students learn. In their yellow shirts and khaki shorts and skirts, the students sit in rows and learn about their history.

As they grow, they will face a struggle similar to Andre’s—finding a meaning and a place for their education and the experience of living through the quake.

IU’s link to Haiti is a strong one. The Creole Institute, where Andre was a research assistant and teacher, is a prime source for Creole language materials that have been used by government officials, aid groups, and students since 1964.

As long as IU shares this link to Haiti, there will be a community of support for people like André who have been part of the Bloomington family and returned to where they are most needed.