Connecting The Lines Of Communication

From the very moment I open my eyes in the morning I am connected. I check my phone for texts, missed calls and emails from multiple accounts before leaving the safety of my bed covers. The rest of my day is spent double-clicking in an endless stream of communication. Traveling to Haiti forced me to consider what my day would be like if I had never been introduced to the Internet. How would the absence of Internet affect the way with which I communicate and interact with the world?

I faced these questions and more when I visited the epicenter of the 2010 earthquake that devastated Haiti. This speck of a town is Leoganne, and from its ashes a band of women 40 strong changed their lives by developing a skill. Artist Zeevic Peretz taught the women of Leoganne the art of papier mache, a medium long practiced by the coastal regions of Haiti. He traveled to Haiti with IsraAID: The Israel Forum for International Humanitarian Aid, and under his tutelage each woman learned that in order to succeed, they must think as a collective. Armed with their new skill they are known as the Dam Dam. They adapted to the idea of working as a cog within a well-oiled machine contributing to the whole of production.

Older women having trouble working with small designs prep glue and paper. Those with a less artistic eye collect materials, most of which originate from trash and things long forgotten on the side of the road. One woman mentions that at first, she felt she had gone mad for collecting trash. Those with a keen eye for interesting color combinations and design consume their time nimbly painting the papier mache structures.

Entering the small, dusty room where they work, it’s amazing to think many of them travel miles to use the meager supplies in what serves as a children’s classroom during the day. Their trade makes them popular in their villages and garners the respect of their children and neighbors. The Dam Dam found a way to support their families in a hopeless situation. They sit in small chairs circled in groups abuzz with wild chatter. Upon our entry into the building, a hush of curiosity temporarily subdues the women. They stare with inquisitive eyes as our group of bloggers, all women, awkwardly occupies the front of the room. After their manager Jean tells us more about the group, it is our turn to answer questions. “Why are we here? What do we do? Do we have children?” They nod solemnly as we explain our work as business owners, entrepreneurs and writers of this thing called a “blog”. A swell of conversation follows our answers, and as women, it feels as though we all understand one another.

The Dam Dam are enthralled with the idea that we all own our own piece of the Internet to tell people our stories through blogging…and perhaps they find it even more perplexing that people listen. Rather than describe her webpage, blogger Nadia Jones (JusticeJonesie) presents them with her laptop, showing them the camera feature, iTunes and her landing page. At first the older women avert their eyes and look disinterested while the younger girls sit eagerly at Nadia’s shoulder. Within 10 minutes, the whole crowd hovers over the small netbook filming themselves and whispering excitedly.

They ask if we would write of them and we agree. They ask if they could comment, if they could comment in Creole and if they could eventually have their own page to share their stories and promote their business. These women seem to be naturals at business, four steps ahead of the rest of us of in their expectations of where this endeavor could take them. Finally, they ask the translator something that hushes the crowd. The translator asks if we could get them a computer. “YES,” all of the women in our group respond simultaneously, saying yes even though we didn’t know at the time how we were going to get one. To us the need was clear and we would find a way.

Often the people in Haiti are disappointed by foreigners promising aid that never comes. Leticia Barr, writer of TechSavvyMama, brought their dream to fruition with a spare computer that would find its home with the Dam Dam. Their manager Jean promised to take the women to the Internet café so they could read and comment on our stories.

Imagine the world that unfolds in front of a woman living in these conditions when the lines of communication that surround her become untethered by circumstance. Even if the environment in Haiti isn’t ideal and certainly not convenient, it’s something. It’s a step. It’s a boundary that we were able to build a bridge across. A boundary, that for reasons too many to count, we all as businesswomen, entrepreneurs, mothers, educators and writers were meant to cross.