Plan UK’s Gender Equality expert Kanwal Ahluwalia will be attending Women’s Question Time on Tuesday 16th March. We know how passionate you are when it comes to issues surrounding the situation of girls and young women in the developing world.
What would you ask if you were in the audience? We’d like to find out so we’re giving you the opportunity to ask your questions through Kanwal Ahluwalia. Post your questions here, of which a few will be selected and may be put forward in front of the Question Time panel.
This is a rare chance to question all potential Women’s Ministers on their manifestos for women and girls before the General Election comes around. Confirmed candidates so far include Theresa May MP (Conservative), Lynne Featherstone MP (Liberal Democrat), Caroline Lucas MEP (Green) and the Labour Party representative is yet to be confirmed.
Questions need to be submitted as a comment to this post by 3pm tomorrow.
The 100th International Women’s Day has passed. But for the young girls and women living in some of world’s poorest countries, every day is a struggle to be heard and have the same opportunities as their male counterparts. At Plan, we believe that working together to overcome the issues surrounding gender based discrimination is critical to breaking the cycle of poverty.
We know that if given the chance, girls can improve their lives and bring about major changes in their community and society in general.
Just a few alarming facts on girls’ situation in the developing world:
• Over 41 million girls are still out of school.
• 100 million women are ‘missing’ in the developing world because they are either killed before or after birth.
• Girls are less well-nourished than boys because their brothers are often fed first.
• Pregnancy related illnesses are a leading cause of death for young women ages 15 to 19 worldwide.
• 90 per cent of child domestic workers are girls between 12 and 17 years old, and are at risk of both sexual and economic exploitation, violence and abuse.
• 60% of girls aged 15-19 in sub Saharan Africa are married.
The Because I am a Girl campaign aims to address issues of health care, social protection, and education for young girls and women in the countries we work in.
We’ve worked with young girls for over 70 years, ensuring they have the opportunities to reach their full potential. Join us and be part of this campaign.
Three simple actions you can take right now:
1. Help break the cycle of discrimination and maltreatment by sponsoring a girl with Plan.
2. Pledge your support to help ensure girls everywhere have access to a decent education.
3. Invite your friends round for dinner! Host a Girls’ Night In to raise funds which specifically support projects for young girls in Sierra Leone, Bangladesh and Liberia.
When I first in arrived in Haiti nearly two weeks ago, I was told that one of the biggest safety concerns would be the road to Jacmel from Port-au-Prince. Once the rains came, mudslides could make it impassable and therefore dangerous to anyone caught on the other side.
Plan Haiti has an office in Jacmel, a port city in the southwest region that before the quake was known for its quaint French colonial architecture and lively arts scene. I’d watched Plan’s video footage of thousands of family tents from Plan Dominican Republic coming to shore, just days after, because the town was so badly damaged and the people were cut off from the support and supplies coming through Port-au-Prince.
On Friday, I found out that Marc-Antoine Lefedor, Plan Haiti’s Information Communication Technology Manager was going to Jacmel the next day to check how things were going for his team. I asked if I could tag along. I knew it would be my last chance before leaving next week, and I wanted to see exactly what had happened to those tents.
Saturday was a clear, blue-sky day, and I gave no thought to the rain. And even though the straight road leading to the mountain was fissured and lifted up in places, I felt safe. The road was long and winding but it was well paved. We passed through the town of Leogane, the quake’s epicenter, and there were so many people shopping for fruits, vegetables, and bric-a-brac on the sides of the street, we had to honk our way through. It was market day. At some point, I looked back from the mountain and saw the wide green plain below stretching out to the sea. Meanwhile, on the sides of the road, were people getting on with the business of living. Many were just walking alone. There were many “fruit stands” along the way, with mandarins, limes, mangoes, and grapefruit for sale, usually from baskets set on the ground. I passed many children, whom without school, looked very bored.
After about three hours, along with all the colorful tap-taps and speeding motorbikes with a least two people riding precariously on board, we arrived. I saw how in Jacmel, unlike Port-au-Prince and Croix-des-Bouquets, there were no sprawling tent camps. The red and beige tents that Plan had delivered were slightly sun-bleached, but they were neatly organized in long rows, on the town’s streets and in the parks and plazas. Marc-Antoine organized for me to go to a child-friendly center in Jacmel that was on a street lined with our tents. A big group of girls and boys of all ages gathered there to meet me, so I could take their photographs, and maybe talk about life after the quake. The first question they had for me was: “What is your name?” And since the name Heidi sounds a lot like Haiti when it’s pronounced in French, we all started off with a good giggle.
We never got to my questions about what it’s like to live in a tent with their parents who are constantly worrying about the rains and making ends meet. Instead, after I took some photographs, I turned my camera around. Watching them see themselves on the LCD screen made us all howl with laughter. And for that moment—before the rain fell hard later that night and the road back to Port-au-Prince was barely passable—we were in a child-friendly space, together, taking a break from the world.
Heidi Reed
Plan’s immediate focus is on protecting vulnerable children from trafficking and sexual exploitation. We have also set up temporary schools in various regions of Haiti and have implemented schemes to provide local people with income. This is only the beginning in getting Haitians back to self sustainability. Please help us reach more children by making a donation to our emergency work so we can support as many people as we can, not just now, but long-term.
All around Haiti, on the many colorful buses in all shapes and sizes called tap-taps that I’ve seen while sputtering along in traffic, hand-painted messages on all sides celebrate Haiti’s deep spiritual faith. One love. Ave Maria. L’eternal est grand. Miracles. Patience. Benediction Divine. At night, I often hear groups of people singing. Or lively dance music. It’s this infusion of love, faith, and hope that fools me into thinking everything in Haiti is fine.
Poverty does not steal dignity or joy. Nor does it keep a beautiful bride from her wedding. But it seems to create heart wrenching obstacles to the kind of peace and happiness that comes from feeling safe and secure.
Andrinette at meeting
Everyone knows that Haiti had its complex societal problems before the earthquake, but now in the sprawling and sporadic tent camps setup near the vacant communities, more than ever, nighttime is robbing women, girls, and most likely young boys of their right to personal safety.
The walk to the empty field or the port-a-potty (depending on the quality of the camp) is said to be the most terrifying. Many women and girls have taken to wearing their blue jeans at all times. The other day I spent the day with Andrinette Cadet, Plan Haiti’s health advisor, who told me that she’d been working on initiatives to protect women and girls from violence in Haiti for over twenty years.
Women's health poster
I went with her to a meeting sponsored by the Ministry of Women’s Health. The topic of discussion was how all agencies in Haiti—government, police, and NGOs—could best work together to reduce gender-based violence in the camps.
At the meeting, I noted that there was only one other NGO in attendance; but soon learned that they had not been on the ground in Haiti before the quake. Whereas Andrinette knew the situation for women in Haiti by heart—and every Haitian health expert in the room—this well-known group, no matter how well-meaning, was still in the process of making new contacts so that they could figure out how to be of service.
In the car driving back to the office from the meeting I asked Andrinette to elaborate on the nature of the violence in the camps, and she expressed her deep frustration that many men simply have the mentality that women and girls are only meant for sex. And these men are emboldened by the sad reality that most victims of sexual violence in Haiti do not speak up or stand up for themselves.
Andrinette leaving
Since the earthquake, organizations like UNICEF, Plan, World Vision and Save the Children have worked to create hundreds of child-friendly spaces throughout the affected areas to help children sing, play and facilitate the process of recovery.
For Plan, these spaces are set to be multipurpose. At times when the children are not at play, they can become drop-in community centers for women: safe places for them to share with others their truth in Haiti as only they have experienced it.
Heidi Reed
Plan’s immediate focus is on protecting vulnerable children from trafficking and sexual exploitation. We have also set up temporary schools in various regions of Haiti and have implemented schemes to provide local people with income. This is only the beginning in getting Haitians back to self sustainability. Please help us reach more children by making a donation to our emergency work so we can support as many people as we can, not just now, but long-term.
On Friday, while in Haiti, I received an unexpected phone call that I was needed in Port-au-Prince in the late afternoon. Guerdy, Plan Haiti’s HR manager was getting married, and they wanted me to help take photographs. A colleague visiting from Plan Canada was with me and together we went with another Plan Haiti colleague from the Croix-des-Bouquet office.
After a long drive through traffic, when we arrived at the church, I almost didn’t believe that we could be in the right place. Adjacent to the church was the most massive pile of rubble I’d seen yet, upwards of thirty feet of it, sloping downward to the ground. In the rubble, I saw a tangle of twisted chairs lying on top. They were only big enough for small children. That’s when I understood that the church’s school had collapsed. And in the air, was the smell of death that I’d been told would be impossible to forget.
Guerdy wasn’t there yet when we arrived. Nor were the many other Plan Haiti colleagues who were coming from the Port-au-Prince office and likely stuck in traffic. So while we waited, I took photographs of the bridesmaids dressed in their pretty white gowns looking out the church doors. Through the frame of my lens, it looked as though they could have been standing anywhere, and not to the broken world outside. When Guerdy arrived, I took a photograph of her through the car window. I knew that she’d lost relatives in the tragedy, but now she was beaming with joy. It was her day, and nothing, not even a devastating earthquake, could take that away.
The wedding inside the enormous church hall, with its safe tin and steel-beamed ceilings, was lovely. Plan staff finally made it to the church, all wearing their blue Plan T-shirts. They filled two long pews.
This is what I love most about Plan: knowing that the great majority of our staff in the country offices are actually from the countries where we work. In this case, Plan Haiti staff members have been particularly empathetic to the children in the communities where we work, because they have been experiencing similar emotions and fears. Even though I could not quite understand each word the preacher said in French through the echoing microphone at Guerdy’s wedding, I think I heard him say that when life can change in an instant, it is important for us to cherish the time we have with each other and to appreciate the love we are able to share.
Looking over at my Plan Haiti colleagues, I couldn’t quite fathom what they’d been through together since January 12th, but I knew it was something important to see them smiling, with their arms around each other’s shoulders, supporting Guerdy, their friend.
Heidi Reed
Plan’s immediate focus is on protecting vulnerable children from trafficking and sexual exploitation. We have also set up temporary schools in various regions of Haiti and have implemented schemes to provide local people with income. This is only the beginning in getting Haitians back to self sustainability. Please help us reach more children by making a donation to our emergency work so we can support as many people as we can, not just now, but long-term.
Myriam Valme Joseph
I first met Myriam Valme Joseph from the Plan Haiti office two northern hemisphere summers ago when she was working for short time in the Plan US office in Rhode Island. I had the chance to interview her to learn more about the perplexing challenges facing Haiti’s children. When we said our goodbyes in the office, as much as I would have wanted to, I never imagined that I’d have the chance to see her again.
After hearing the news of the earthquake, my first thought was for Myriam. As I sat in my living room, watching the news on TV, Twittering and following Facebook updates from my laptop, I wondered what she and her family might be experiencing. I knew that Myriam was a strong Haitian woman, who’d earned her Masters degree in Europe and returned home to help strengthen the country that she loved. And so I wasn’t surprised when I saw her on a Plan International video coordinating food and family kit distributions from the parking lot of Plan’s Port-au-Prince badly damaged office, while she told the story of how she rushed home after the quake and witnessed her husband rescuing her family from the rubble, including her young daughter.
On my first full day in Haiti, I ran into Myriam again somewhat by chance at the Croix-des-Bouquets program office. She was behind a laptop computer working alongside her colleagues, many of whom had lost their homes, friends, and relatives—and sadly, one Plan colleague. I didn’t even know if she would remember me, but I rushed to give her a hug anyway—and passed along the regards from my colleagues back in Warwick. The Plan Haiti community center behind her was barely standing with rubble pouring out of its front door.
Yesterday, I returned to see Myriam again in that same courtyard. She had helped me organize a conversation with five youths who had agreed to share their feelings about life before and after the quake. With one of my Plan colleagues from Ecuador, Santiago Davila, an expert in child participation and protection, we sat under the shade of a large tree in a circle on folding chairs with three teen girls and two teen boys.
Instead of me filming them, I handed them my Flip video camera so that they could be the journalists in their own lives. They had never used one before, so after a quick training, they took turns asking and answering the questions in Creole that they had for each other, and a community volunteer translated their words into French and English. At one point, one of the boys shared that before the earthquake he wanted to be a pilot, but now, after the events, his dreams were broken, and that he would have to rethink the future because his dreams might not come true.
“What do you need to dream again?” I asked him and the others later on, after a long discussion about what they thought Haiti needed to be whole again. The consensus was clear: they all wanted a place to go to school. That will give us hope, they said, that the future is still there.
Heidi Reed
Plan’s immediate focus is on protecting vulnerable children from trafficking and sexual exploitation. We have also set up temporary schools in various regions of Haiti and have implemented schemes to provide local people with income. This is only the beginning in getting Haitians back to self sustainability. Please help us reach more children by making a donation to our emergency work so we can support as many people as we can, not just now, but long-term.
Plan are really excited to announce that we will be fundraising in style at this year’s London Fashion Week.
We are involved in an event with a difference compared with the catwalks and canapees you would usually expect at Fashion Week, and we’re hoping to raise lots of money to fund our emergency work in Haiti, following the disastrous earthquake last month.
On|Off and The Convenience Store present Thought Of The Day, a temporary, stripped back space – with a conscience.
The Thought Of The Day project presents an exclusive pop up shop, selling a selection of limited edition t-shirts, kindly donated by Edun, printed with a “thought of the day” from ten different designers, including Bora Aksu, Jasper Conran, Todd Lynn and Camilla Skovgaard.
The really exciting bit is that the designers of each t-shirt will not be identified, so anyone purchasing will be drawn to the thought that appeals to them the most – not to the label!
In addition to this, the space will host a series of live acoustic perfomances from musicians and performers, who are yet to be revealed. The Convenience Store will also be displaying a specially curated exhibition of contemporary fashion.
All profits from the Thought Of The Day event will be going to Plan UK, to help with our emergency and restoration work folllowing the Haiti disaster. Plan has worked in the country since 1973, and our focus is on responding to the needs of children and families.
Over a month on the from the earthquake, healthcare and distribution of food and water is continuing to improve. Shops and banks have reopened, although their provisions are still out of reach for many Haitians. Plan is currently prioritising child protection, water and sanitation, and health, as well as education and psycho-social support for children in various towns of Haiti.
The project opens on Friday 19th February, so if you are attending London Fashion Week, head down to Thought Of The Day, at Unit 6, 37 – 63 Southampton Row London WC1B 4DA (click here for a map)
Opening Hours:
Fri 19 Feb: 12.00 – 19.00
Sat 20 Feb: 10.00 – 19.00
Sun 21 Feb: 10.00 – 16.00
Mon 22 Feb: 10.00 – 19.00
We hope to see you there!
Heidi Reed is the Program Communications Writer for Plan.
The bus ride over to Haiti from the Dominican Republic turned out to be a long, yet fascinating eight-hour drive. The air-conditioned bus with one toilet in the back was mostly packed with Haitians travelling home to see family they hadn’t been able to visit since the earthquake. Free ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches and baguettes were handed out. The drinks service involved passengers passing plastic cups filled with ice to each other starting from the back of the bus, which the bus attendant later filled with Pepsi.
I felt a mixture of fear and excitement for all that the unknowns I was about to experience in Haiti on behalf of Plan’s global communications team. I passed the time by chatting to a Haitian-American family from Brooklyn, New York who told me about the sister who was on top of her roof with her child when the earthquake hit, and how they both rode down with the three-story building and walked away without a scratch.
The lush green and valley landscapes of the Dominican Republic changed dramatically once we crossed into Haiti. Just after the border, limestone from the nearby mines, kicked up by all the passing vehicles, had powdered the trees beside the road pure white, so it looked like a winter wonderland. There was a large lake to our right that sparkled in the afternoon sun. Soon the roadsides became more crowded. At first glance, poverty looks tattered and chaotic. Throngs of people. Small goods for sale. Kids loitering on motorbikes. Giant bags of rice sold from the back of trucks. But then there was that knowing serene smile I exchanged with a woman who had stopped to watch us pass. And the baby goat following its mother. And the yellow butterfly flitting past. Signs of life’s continuity and constant renewal.
Today, on my first full day in Haiti, I went with a Plan International staffer who specializes in child protection to a tent city in Croix-des-Bouquets where Plan is building another child-friendly center with the help and partnership of the community members that live there. At the entrance to the camp, I was greeted warmly. We spoke in French and some Creole that I am figuring out as I go. I asked if they would be willing to show me around, and they were happy to show me everything. The tents had been placed close together, but there was a wide main road and meandering side streets. Not a city or a camp really. More like a town.
Before I took any photos, I asked for permission. I could tell that they appreciated the dignity that came along with my asking. Many said no. But soon I couldn’t keep up with the special requests from those who did want their photo taken. Especially from the women. Many wanted me to take their photo right in front of their own unique tent. Some tents had little flourishes, like a small section of a sheet that said “Happy Holidays.” A homemade crocheted blanket had become an attractive side wall. A woman can make a home anywhere, I thought. And yet every woman deserves a home that protects her and her family from harm. This is Haiti’s great need.
Just before it was time for me to go, a little boy passed me. In his hand was a well-made geometric kite that he’d made from some sticks and string. In a sprawling tent community that from a distance looks like a heap of rubbish he had made something beautiful that could fly.
Heidi Reed
Plan’s immediate focus is on protecting vulnerable children from trafficking and sexual exploitation. We have also set up temporary schools in various regions of Haiti and have implemented schemes to provide local people with income. This is only the beginning in getting Haitians back to self sustainability. Please help us reach more children by making a donation to our emergency work so we can support as many people as we can, not just now, but long-term.
A Swedish journalist asked me what it would take to get tourists to come to Haiti.
It was a fine question, and one that betrayed the fact he arrived in this country filled with prejudices created by years of disturbing headlines and photos. He was surprised at what he found here and immediately saw the potential.
Truth is, Haiti and its people deserve a better image.
Cowboy journalism
This isn’t paradise and the impoverished country has huge challenges ahead, but it does work its way into your heart. By putting real faces on Haiti – there is no shortage of inspiring and resilient people – the media covering the earthquake can help undo years of damage that goes beyond simply bad PR.
I’ll call it cowboy journalism. Before the quake, reporters who landed an assignment in Haiti typically have one thing in mind: head to Cité Soleil, the notorious gang-ruled section of Port-au-Prince, to earn their war zone stripes. Just ask the MINUSTAH – the UN’s peacekeeping force assigned to stabilize Haiti – how many times they have had to provide heavily armed escorts for wide-eyed reporters and camera crews determined to venture into the lion’s den.
Yes, Haiti can be a very dangerous place, thanks to years of dictatorship and a history of abuse at the hands of the world’s power brokers.
This isn’t about attracting tourists
It may seem bizarre to think about Haiti’s potential for tourism, but it actually used to attract vacationers in large numbers. It even had a Club Med, which pulled out 25 years ago. There are not many decent hotels left – owners of the destroyed landmark Hotel Montana in Port-au-Prince vow to rebuild. Perhaps entrepreneurs will see the potential, even luring back Haitians living abroad.
This country needs a strong civil society to help build the government’s ability to take care of its people. They can only do so much living in Miami or Montreal.
As for my answer to the Swedish journalist, the ingredients are here, including a rich history and culture, but visitors need to be assured that the rule of law runs through the government and police.
This isn’t about attracting tourists to Haiti. It is about making the country a place that people want to visit, and that will be good for all Haitians. It’s a tall order but the country now has a new group of advocates: legions of journalists that have seen the true Haiti. Maybe Haiti will hit the marketing jackpot and become a venue for an episode of The Amazing Race. Traveling around the place definitely poses some logistics challenges.
Most, if not all, journalists I know share the common goal of wanting to make the world a better place. Sounds sappy but it’s true.
Keeping the media spotlight on the rebuilding efforts to keep all the players honest and focused could do just that.
To support the work our team are doing out there, please donate to our Haiti appeal enabling us to assist those in need not just now, but in the long-term.
If you drive down the right street at the right time in Port-au-Prince, it’s tempting to forget last month’s earthquake even happened. Flowers are blooming, houses look fine and people are going about their everyday lives. It is an illusion, one that a recent heavy rainfall has helped wash away. Yes, the masses of beautiful blossoms spilling over high – and often crumbling – concrete walls are real, yet in a way also surreal.
The houses left standing are empty, often with small tents pitched in the yard or parking spot. The structures may be safe but few dare go inside until an expert does an analysis and gives the go-ahead.
Street markets are again teeming with vendors selling everything from fruits and vegetables to shampoo and shoes. A local knockoff version of Home Depot is fully stocked, ready for all sorts of building projects.
Post-quake downpour
Thing is, retail prices are far higher that before the quake and most people are now unemployed, so business is not exactly brisk.
According to my dusty economics textbooks, prices will eventually come down, but it takes them more time that on the way up. “Sticky prices” is the term used to rationalize the process.
Rain is not sticky. It is falling as fast as always.
The first big post-quake downpour happened the other night, reminding everyone that the start of rainy season is less than one or two months away. The parched ground almost immediately sucked up most of the moisture.
People sleeping in makeshift tents built with bed sheets and blankets got soaked if they didn’t manage to lash together pieces of tarp or plastic sheets to act as a water barrier. It didn’t take long to dry out after the sun came up, but this reality check reminded us all that hundreds of thousands of Haitians still need tents or other temporary shelters sooner rather than later.
Meantime, the term ‘temporary shelter” is being replaced by “transitional shelter” in all the tent talk. The latter can endure for at least a year.
Some sense of normal
One of our engineers, brought in from the U.S., and our head logistician, from France, are working hard to get the 500 large tents we need to build 50 transitional schools. We are aiming to get kids into these schools within a month.
The tents are coming for various sources and being shipped by an equally complex network, which includes a US research ship en route that agreed to bring along one of our packed shipping containers.
And old adage says logistics wins wars. The common enemy here is time. The clock seems to be accelerating for those scrambling to rebuild. The exact opposite is true for hundreds thousands of traumatized – and bored – children desperate to return to school and back to some sense of normal.
For them, time has never moved more slowly.
To support the work our team are doing out there, please donate to our Haiti appeal enabling us to assist those in need not just now, but in the long-term.
