My family stepped in often to carry the load with him. My mom, Anna; and dad, Julian Porter, in-laws, Janet and Tony Burt; little sister, Julia; and brother-in-law, Cameron Ainsworth-Vincze; were regular babysitters—most of the times voluntarily.
My grandmother, Maria Des Tombe, has taught me since childhood that being a refugee might form you, but not define you. Her stories planted seeds of compassion in me. I always remember that I am the grandchild and child of refugees.
Then there are my kids, Lyla and Noah, who lost me for weeks at a time during much of their childhood. I am so grateful for their understanding and love, and I am proud that both have inherited my wanderlust.
Good editors become like parents to a writer. They watch your tantrums and witness your most vulnerable moments, because the act of writing is essentially peeling your skin. My editors at the Toronto Star were great parents, alternating between the roles of cheerleader, guide, coach, therapist, and critic. They include Pat Hluchy, Glen Colbourne, Lynn McAuley, and Michael Cooke. I shall always be grateful to Michael for wholeheartedly supporting my decision to act in Haiti. And then there is Alison Uncles, a woman as wide in heart as she is tall in stature. She welcomed me into her office after every trip and was always eager to hear my stories, often with a box of Kleenex between us.
You might think leaping from newspaper writing to books would feel natural. It might for some, but not for me.
My mother was a huge help. A former book publisher and author, she counseled, coached, and commiserated with me. She was also my model of how to have a rich career and rich family life.
My mother’s best friend, and my godmother, Sylvia Fraser, read my first chapters and offered much-needed encouragement.
My agent, Sam Haywood, was a steely negotiator, and my editor at Simon & Schuster, Brendan May, was deft, astute, and upbeat. He would make a great companion in a crisis.
Funding two years of Muspan would have been impossible without an army of huge-hearted readers, most of whom I never met. Many regularly sent cards and hand-written notes of encouragement, which I still treasure, along with their checks.
A number of teachers made Muspan their classroom project, raising money through drives and inviting me to speak to their students. Thank you all, particularly Marissa Revzen-Ellis from Stephen Lewis Secondary School, and Mary Egan from Holy Name Catholic School.
In my second year of fundraising, I was joined by my “Mummy’s group”—the group of women I met when Lyla was just a baby. They voluntarily threw themselves at the task with joy and zeal, even though none of them had ever been to Haiti. Thank you Dorianne McKenzie, Danielle Oaks, Karen Harkins, and Janine Hopkins.
I’d like to thank the Sawatzky family. Ryan agreed to fold my little project under his foundation’s umbrella and his mom, Edie, patiently kept the account ledger and sent me regular reports of how much money we had left.
Since that first trip together, Star reader Paul Haslip has become my dear friend. In fact, he’s returned to Haiti three more times. The country has evolved from a midlife-crisis venue for him to part of his life. The night we stepped out of the pouring rain, he clasped my hands and vowed to help me financially support Lovely’s family for the rest of his life. He’s remained true to his word.
Then, there are those from lòt bò dlo—the other side of the water—and my second home.
As a foreigner parachuting into a place, I needed to learn everything—from the language and history to how to change money and hail a tap-tap. It really takes a village to raise a foreign journalist. First, my official guides, some of whom you met in this book, and others who I didn’t write about: There was Samuel in his winter toque, David the English teacher, Wilnes the tennis pro, and Jean, with his long T-shirts and shy smile. Dimitri Bien-Aimé will always be kindred to me, for the horrors we experienced together and the kindness he always showed to Lovely and her family. I still laugh when I think of him turning to me in the car, holding up a granola bar and asking, “Is this what you all eat in Canada for lunch?”
Joseph Farly worked with me for more than a year, until I couldn’t face another car breakdown, particularly in Cité Soleil. I lost a fixer but gained a dear friend, and every time I arrive in Haiti, I go to the yard before his T-shelter, which he’s transformed into a little bar, and have drinks with him and his friends. And then there is Richard Miguel, who remains steadfast, faithful, and makes me explode with laughter. We both admit, perhaps grudgingly, that we have become siblings.
Gail Buck was the manager and den mother of Healing Hands For Haiti Guesthouse. Any time there was a riot in the city, she would call to alert me, and every time I came home from witnessing something terrible, she would sit down beside me, rub my back, and offer me a beer and cigarette. Gail was my first friend in Haiti, and I am grateful for her tenderness and understanding, as I am to Gaëlle Delaquis, the attaché at the Canadian embassy, whose insights and friendship have been invaluable.
The guesthouse became my second home, and I met many people there who helped me over the years—as sources and friends. To start with, the women who run the place and always made me feel part of the family: Syltane, Mercia, Suze, Myrlene, and Louna. The drivers Dade and Noel saved me a number of times.
Both Al and Deb Ingersoll provided a wealth of knowledge about the workings of nongovernment agencies in Haiti and were an inspiration for how to live a good, meaningful, and adventurous life. Andy Ripp patiently taught me the engineering magic of structures built to withstand earthquakes.
Jean Angus was the lead administrator of the Baptist Haiti Mission in Fermathe. He always made time for my questions, despite the incessant ringing of his three phones, which he answered in three languages. He graciously set up Lovely’s family account at the hospital and oversaw it for years.
A number of Haitian journalists helped me along the way, particularly Milo Milfort, who tracked down sources and linked arms with me during street protests. Georges Michel, newspaper columnist, radiologist, and celebrated Haitian historian, was my analyst, teacher, and source of contacts and story ideas over the years. He also carefully read through a draft of this book.
I broadened my understanding of Haitian history through the books of Laurent Dubois, Amy Wilentz, James Ferguson, Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Bernard Diederich, and Paul Farmer—all of which I’d heartily recommend. Dr. Farmer’s book Aids and Accusations deepened my understanding of the essential role of Vodou in the Haitian culture, regardless of a person’s religion, as well as of extreme poverty being the ultimate source of maji.
“In such a zero-sum setting,” he wrote, “one person’s fortune is manifestly another’s ill fortune.”
Laura Wagner was a saving grace—cross-referencing my pidgin Kreyòl in these pages with the official Akademi Kreyòl.
I learned much about the pitfalls of international aid in Haiti from Timothy Schwartz’s Travesty in Haiti: A true account of Christian missions, orphanages, food aid, fraud and drug trafficking, and three books by American associate anthropology professor Mark Schuller: Killing with Kindness: Haiti, International Aid, and NGOs; Humanitarian Aftershocks in Haiti; and a book he co-edited with Pablo Morales called Tectonic Shifts: Haiti Since the Earthquake. Other books that helped form my thinking were Linda Polman’s War Games and Naomi Klein’s The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism.
As a parachuting journalist, I relied on the reporting of others to keep me abreast of news from Haiti while I wasn’t there. Clearly, the Haitian newspaper Le Nouvelliste was my regular go-to, but I must also pay tribute to the dogged Jacqueline Charles from the Miami Herald, and Jonathan Katz and Trenton Daniel, two hardworking former bureau chiefs in Haiti for the Associated Press.
Countless people were continually generous with their time, agreeing to long interviews at the end of long days, none more so than Nigel Fisher, Université Quisqueya’s Jacky Lumarque, and Dr. Louise Ivers, the country lead for Partners in Health.
You have met Rea Dol in this book—wi
th her booming laugh and indomitable spirit. Rea was my model and touchstone for how aid could work in Haiti. She also was the reason I could help with Muspan, setting up an accounting system and overseeing the payments every month.
Finally, I need to thank the members of my Haitian family, for sharing their lives with me: Rosemene, Enel, Rosita, Elistin, Sophonie, Venessaint, Jonathan, Lypse, Ananstania, Lina, Sadrac, Lala, and, of course, Lovely. I still don’t know what you truly make of me, this strange woman who descends, often without warning, into your lives and pokes. But I’m eternally grateful for your patience and love.
About the Author
AUTHOR PHOTO BY TARA WALTON
CATHERINE PORTER is the Canada bureau chief for the New York Times, based in Toronto. She joined the paper in February 2017 from the Toronto Star, Canada’s largest-circulation newspaper, where she was a columnist and reporter for sixteen years. She has received two National Newspaper Awards in Canada, the Landsberg Award for her feminist columns, and a Queen’s Jubilee Medal for grassroots community work. She lives in Toronto with her husband and two children.
PorterWrites.ca
@porterthereport
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Porter, Catherine, 1972 December 26–, author A girl named Lovely / Catherine Porter.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-5011-6809-3 (hardcover).—ISBN 978-1-5011-6811-6 (ebook)
1. Haiti Earthquake, Haiti, 2010. 2. Earthquake relief—Haiti. 3. Haiti—History—21st century. 4. Porter, Catherine, 1972 December 26–—Travel—Haiti. 5. Avelus, Lovely. I. Title.
HV600.2010.H2P67 2019 363.34'95097294090512
C2018-902309-0 C2018-902310-4
Interior design by Lewelin Polanco
Cover design by David Gee
Cover image: Shutterstock (Haiti), Getty Images (Silhouette)
ISBN 978-1-5011-6809-3
ISBN 978-1-5011-6811-6 (ebook)
A Girl Named Lovely Page 27