For the last three months, I have provided, what I hope were, inspirational words to urge you to write after we all have endured a difficult two years of pandemic isolation. I am proud to announce that for April, May, and June, WRITE NOW will host, an incredibly talented and courageous author and humanitarian, Robert Wheeler.
Each week Robert will provide NHWP a journal entry about his passion to teach writing to the children of a Haitian Orphanage. With the constant dangerous presence of guns and gangs, the frightening threat of kidnappings, and only two hours of electricity a day to communicate with loved ones here in New Hampshire, Robert will relay his journal to NHWP. Each entry will give our writing community weekly glimpses into his dedication to helping Haitian orphans and sharing their joy of learning to write and be creative during this devastating time and environment of hardships. Please visit us every week to follow his journey and share in his hope of showing the orphaned children of Haiti that they are not forgotten. – Masheri Chappelle, Chair
• • •
Week One
Sometimes we do things that make no sense to us until much later, and that are inspired by the most alert part of our being. Spring has just arrived in New Hampshire and neighborhoods are coming alive and beginning the final push toward those coveted summer months. Thoughts of blooming flowers and green trees, and walks along the shoreline, and grilling with friends arouse in us that warm, laid-back feeling.
So why would I leave the confines of New Castle Island, my haven in New England, to travel to Port-au-Prince, Haiti, a country in dire turmoil? The news continues to present its coverage of assassinations, gang violence and kidnappings, and has shown heartrending images of the recent deadly earthquake. Our US Embassy has issued a Level 4, Do Not Travel, advisory.
If you had asked me before I left, I would have said that I was searching for something, but that I didn’t know what that something was. All I knew for sure was that my search had to center on teaching, as I enjoy kids and have a few intriguing and fun things to share about the art of writing; things that have proven to make me a nightmare for our standardized public school approach to education.
I’ve been in Port-au-Prince for a week now, here on the gated grounds of an orphanage. There are guards carrying shotguns and we have armored cars, complete with bulletproof windows, in case we venture out or need to get out in a hurry. We hear gunshots some nights, and there are swarms of bugs and quite a lot of garbage littering the ditches found along pathways. There is even a brown goat that seems to enjoy drinking from the muddy water that the rain brings.
Thus far, even though classes have not yet started due to the extenuating circumstances of the orphanage changing locations, my search has been unexpectedly abundant: I have found the clearest blue/green ocean that appeared outside my plane’s window as we flew over Bimini, and then found the breathtaking mountainous terrain of Haiti as we began our descent; I have found sincere smiles and kindness from everyone I’ve encountered, even as their homes and towns and streets still show devastating signs of the quakes and of the riots and of poverty; I have found lovely flora, wild-growing pink bougainvillea and tall palms that sway in the warm breeze; I have found other volunteer teachers, and a doctor, all of whom have been inviting and engaging and supportive; I have found the best, and most authentic, hugs from all the children of this orphanage; and I have found that–although I miss my wife and girls and Thadeus, my loyal labradoodle, and all family and friends–I am not sad, dismayed, or afraid.
My Haiti, at this time in my search, is most lovely and is most inspirational. My Haiti is filled with promise and with hope, and I am excited for tomorrow.
~RW April 2, 2022
