Tofu in this American Paradise

What do a U.S. congressman, a weapon-designing chemical engineer, an American general and a Disney executive have in common? Aside from a slew of impressive accomplishments to their names, they all immigrated to the United States, eventually naturalized and, today, they received "Outstanding Americans by Choice" awards.

The event was held at the White House in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building (formerly the Old Executive Office Building) - incidentally, a building designed by an immigrant - where 25 other immigrants from 18 different nations became American citizens. Among nationalities represented were Afghanis, French, Brits, Filipinos, Peruvians, Iraqis, Chinese and a large handful of Pakistanis. Men, some dressed in service uniforms, women, young and old stood to pledge their allegiance to the flag. In his remarks, the director of US Citizenship and Immigration services mentioned that 650,000 immigrants naturalized in 2007. In 2008, he expects the number to be much higher. Each one of these, he pointed out, has his/her own unique story. Some of these stories are breathtakingly remarkable.
Living in Washington, D.C. affords easy access to the random events that occur only in the capital at places like national monuments, government buildings, and association headquarters. Today, when I went to lunch with the woman under whom I served as a White House intern, I was asked if I would like to tag along for a naturalization ceremony at which some fairly impressive Americans would be receiving awards. Field trip to the EEOB? You bet I wanted to go!

There is just something so cool about being "cleared" into a government building and handing your ID to secret service agents before walking around enormous halls that have seen some major history. So that alone would have been enough to make my afternoon. But what I witnessed today in one of the rooms off the high-ceilinged corridors stirred renewed pride in my country.

A marine sang the anthem while the Color Guard stood in rigid attention. Everyone said the pledge of allegiance. Then, after America's 25 newest citizens promised to defend and uphold, etc. etc., the US Bureau of Citizenship and Immigration Services recognized four outstanding Americans. First, a Cuban-American U.S. congressman, who fled Castro with his parents in an early wave of refugees, told the room that they could accomplish anything they wished in this country. Next, a Vietnamese-American woman, with a series of accomplishments in science advising and weapons design that seemed incongruous with her slight frame, stood to dazzle the room with her eloquent and patriotic remarks. Following her, a Chinese-American general spoke of fleeing China in the 1950's and of rising ranks in the Army, in which he proudly served for a career. Finally, a English-American businessman thanked the director and Bureau for his award, saying that he and his Mexican wife had found the opportunity and diversity in America unique and necessary to realizing their dreams together.

Each one of the award recipients positively exuded pride in their citizenship and in the accomplishments that have served their adopted country. As the Vietnamese-American chemical engineer said, "America is a stir-fry. In a stir-fry, you want each ingredient to retain its flavor. You want the tofu to taste like tofu and the carrots like carrots. That's what makes it great. I will continue being tofu and doing all I can to help make this great American stir-fry the paradise - I repeat, paradise - it is."

embracing my inner newcomer

Sometimes it takes a little extra push to engage one's "hometown" like a newcomer. The transients, expatriates, exchange students, etc. often take more energetic and aggressive attitudes toward meeting people, visiting places, seeing attractions and generally enjoying the town. In every major metropolitan area, there are publications, lists, books, sites and newspaper sections dedicated to highlighting the good stuff to do in town. Now that I am back in Washington DC (if for only for a year or two), I feel as though I must learn to engage the city of my birth like a spunky, native mid-westerner might -- embrace my inner newcomer, if you will.

In an effort to effect the latter, I called a college buddy, and incidentally a Washington transplant, to discuss/complain about my semi-self-imposed isolation in Chevy Chase. When I left for Haiti over eight months ago, I had friends and relatives who just moved down to the area in the last year. They were getting their bearings still when I left. Upon my return, I find them completely entrenched in all things Washington. And truthfully, I feel more admiration than surprise because I can easily see how this is analogous to building communities and friendships in Wells, England, Granada, Spain, and Les Cayes, Haiti, which I did without so much as a thought.

Though I am in the midst of applying for jobs, masters programs and hunting down a new place to live, there is no reason why I should not attend thematic happy hours, clubs, lunches, joining an association or two and maybe even (eep!) joining a kickball league... right? So... how to emulate those rose-colored shades and see my dear old friend, the capital of our great nation, as a recent transplant might?

Last night I joined a hill-staffer friend for dinner in Chinatown. We picked a bustling place -- one reviewed in a new, swanky Washington magazine as having excellent food. We were not spotted nor did we do much "spotting" but it felt like we were "somewhere," which is a start I think. Next I joined one of those "transplant" friends I mentioned at a thematic happy hour in Dupont. I had called him earlier and laughingly begged him to "reintroduce" me to my hometown. He did literally that -- presenting me to a wide array of his libertarian friends, many of whom write influential blogs and columns for local and national media engines and have a lot to say about national policy... how Washington.

One would think that it would be easier to assert oneself into an American community rather than a foreign community where language and many other things present constant barriers. Strangely, I feel more at home confronting those (usually artificially) boundaries as a transplant, no matter where, than I do learning to relearn my hometown. This time, though, I have decided to take it on as a challenge.

Watch out Washington, Portia's back!

bye bye bros... and stuff

Is it strange to have a "clique" of friends that consists primarily of family members? Faces and names in the periphery change slightly from year to year but the ever-constant, related core remains the same? Perhaps it's odd, un-American (I hear it's a more a Latin sort of thing), out of vogue or what have you. Cool or not, that's the way it is in my family...Though I feel I must return to Haiti - even WANT to return to Haiti (this shocks some people, I know) - I will desperately miss this trio. One brother will move to the Left Coast this August, another to Europe and, as I'm off to the Caribbean again, it's clear that we all must and will go our own ways. But still, it's too fun to pretend that if I stayed in the District, time would stand still and we'd continue our time together.
Thursday it's back to Haiti. No more salads, no more cool evenings, no more hanging with the brothers.

It's tragic, growing up.

a brief (if vapid) interlude

"Inside the Frame" intends to shed a spotlight on and provide the occasional snap-shot of life in the region of the world where I experience it. This Friday I'll be back in Haiti and posting and observing from there. For the moment, however, I am in the United States of America. Some of my behavior and choices may seem superficial to the less-than-dedicated reader, but they serve to lend a stark contrast to my everyday life in the Les Cayes area. Forgive me if I offend.

California sunset

So pardon my long absence from the blog-o-sphere. It's not like interesting or remarkable things stop happening the second I land on U.S. soil. On the contrary.

The New York City bars, several weeks ago, were quite a trip (skinny drunk girls in $500 dresses, long flat hair swinging as they rocked to the rap music) after a 7 hour lay-over in the Port-au-Prince airport. In fact, now having traveled a bit more (but no where near as much as this guy), I agree that "Airports themselves are unexceptionally unexacting, unhappy, unsanitary, unpleasant places of waiting." Toussaint Louverture International is no different.

Unfortunately, I spent my first week back in the States battling a mean little Haitian germ. I guess it stowed away somewhere in my GI track for a while and reared its ugly head only when my immune system was debilitated from travel and irregularly late nights. This episode over-lapped with my eldest little brother's (take a minute to figure it out) graduation from Cornell. So instead of romping around campus and reliving the glory days, I lay in a hospital bed clutching my stomach and moaning in agony. I didn't even get to see Soledad speak. :-(

After New York City and Ithaca, I got to hang out in the Washington-Baltimore area for a few days where I marveled at my friend's close relationship with her huge Bengali-Tiger cat named "Baby Cat" (below). Baby-Cat is 4 times the size of my sweet little Teelees and I think they're the same age.

Tilees

Their markings are strangely similar despite obvious physical and temperamental differences. They both like to stalk though.

Then came a California voyage. I landed in Oakland, rented the ritziest SUV in the Enterprise lot, and drove south to Santa Cruz. In retrospect, I should have noted the warning label on the sun visor: "high roll-over risk. Avoid fast maneuvers and high speeds" given that a majority of my drive down the peninsula was on winding mountain roads. The purpose of my voyage? A wedding. Yes, the first of my good friends took the dive. It was a "do-it-yourself" wedding. All those present for the entire weekend stayed in cabins nestled in the redwoods. This select, cabin-bunking crowd, who participated in the bachelor/bachelorette parties, rehearsal dinners and Capitola Beach lunches, chipped in by flower arranging, giving facials, running errands and cooking late-night batches of macaroni.

I returned late last Monday to the District of Columbia with bright pink, California-esque nail polish on my toes and fingers. The Washington, DC area is so boringly conservative at times. At my regular DC-area spa, a manicurist looked down at my vibrant nails with a disapproving frown and said "ve-dy Cal-ee-fo-rrrr-nia."

Sound superficial yet? I even exchanged Brothers Karamazov for The Debutante Divorcée during my stay on the Left Coast. It was a delightfully vapid read.

Since returning to the capital area, I have made it my business to do all the things that are so very Washington: Drinks on the Georgetown waterfront, Latin dancing at Citrón and Rhumba, over-priced dinners comprised of "tasters" and tapas, shopping in Friendship Heights, trips to the Baltimore waterfront, backyard barbecues, and downtown lunches with folks of stature.

On the 14th, I head back to Haiti. Not sure if I am ready yet, but here I go! There are some cool projects coming up and I'll be doing most of the photography for Espwa now that Nick has left, so keep reading for more pics and more on the happenings of this volunteer in le Departement du Sud.

I am looking forward to a hot, sweaty summer in the Caribbean and to you living it vicariously through me via the blog.

it's a small world after all! it's a small world...

Every Friday night at the farm, we have a small party. A couple weeks ago, volunteers, upper management, Fr. Marc and Charlie, MaTante and some of our kids enjoyed food, drink and some impromptu entertainment. After two kids performed a traditional Haitian dance, everyone seated around the table took a turn singing. Now, as I sit freezing in Washington, DC, I can only imagine what my dear friends are doing out at the farm this night.

This week, I've sent some emails, pleaded with some folks for help and done some other logistical planning and organizing. In my free time, I had coffee with Nick's older brother (Nick's my friend who was in the accident with me) who lives in DC. In addition, I had a drink with some friends at the Tabard Inn where my friend Alex's old friend works (Alex is the UN worker who lives with Nick and cleaned our wounds the night of the accident). Though I am far from where I want to be and from people about whom I have grown to care, I marvel at how small this world really is.

new bearings

After the accident, we could not walk (or hobble) literally one step in Haiti without people staring and someone spontaneously exclaiming:

“Are you ok?”
“What happened?”
“Motorcycle accident?”
“God protected you!”
“It hurts me that you’re hurt.”
“I heard what happened, are you OK?”

While telling the story over and again and straightening out rumors got a bit tiresome, it certainly beat the alternative. Friends and strangers in Haiti really seemed to care about our wellbeing and had no qualms expressing it. While my American friends and family have been wonderfully supportive and sweet – I must remark on a profound cultural difference between Haiti and the more developed Western World:

From the moment I left the Toussant Louverture Airport, the questions stopped. On the plane back to Miami, I sat unmolested by fellow passengers who neither took great notice of me nor thought to say anything when they did. In Miami, I learned what it must feel like (on some small level) to be confined to a wheelchair; I was completely at the mercy of a kind Dominican lady who worked for American Airlines and served as my assistant for about an hour. I got bumped and almost knocked over a couple times but was otherwise invisible to fellow travelers.

On the plane to DC, one man asked me, “I saw you on the plane from Port au Prince. What happened, are you OK?” Aside from him, one other man, recognizing the injuries, asked, “motorcycle accident?” Two major airports, two 737s, hundreds of passengers and a packed restaurant downtown last night only two comments – pretty amazing, eh?

I am home and recovering and FREEZING but continuing my work. Washington D.C. is THE place to go to find tons of NGOs and non-profits. I’m hoping to take advantage of this recovery time for the benefit of Pwoje Espwa and some specific projects. More details to come of the specifics of these projects…

Typical DC Night

The suitcases are packed. There is an incredible sense of finality that comes with closing a suitcase -- especially if it closes on about 20 of your favorite books, some cool tank tops, hundreds of dollars of medical supplies and about 6 months of your life. Now I understand why I procrastinated so long.

Since I have finished the actual act of packing my suitcases (I've been in preparatory/purchasing mode for over a month), I feel as though I can really relax and enjoy my time left in DC. Granted, I've only got about 30 hours to play now but I'm sure it'll be great. Actually, I'm off to a good start.

Tonight we went to McFaddan's. I'd never been before, but heard it's a cool place to hang. To give you an idea, it's a true DC scene: All the preppies come out to play (pink popped collars and all) while the DJ rocks some rap and hip hop. For whatever reason, perhaps because everyone's still home for Christmas holidays or perhaps because of random coincidence, I saw many friends from elementary school, middle school, high school and college. People I haven't seen in over 5 years, in some cases, were just chilling out and having $1 drafts at a Foggy Bottom bar tonight.

On a quiet evening such as this, all the reasons why I love DC and would never want to leave become apparent.

Random Christmas Thoughts

Merry Christmas everyone! Washington, DC has enjoyed warm days this winter. Imagine a Christmas during which flip flops make comfortable last minute shopping shoes. This isn't California!

This morning I'm reminded of bright and raucous college parties that my room mates and I threw my junior and senior year. We boogied to the sounds of Sinatra, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, and the requisite James Brown. This morning I'm saddened to learn that the "Godfather of Soul" has passed at 73 of uncertain causes. Mr. Brown will be sorely missed; whenever I hear his sound I'll think of my happiest college days.

About a month ago, I made the irreversible decision to forgo the giving of gifts. In order to save a buck, I bought cards for all my family and wrote a Christmas thought in each. In return, I had hoped my family would simply give any money they normally spend on gifts to Theo's Work. While I'm ready with my cards this morning, my family seems to be ready with gifts. Eek.

Finally, as I sit blogging this Christmas morning, my family debates the good, the bad and the evil of electronic communication. I have obvious biases and happen to believe that, if used correctly, the Internet enhances certain aspects of life. The conversation now moves to how modernity has screwed everything up -- from personal communication, church, music, and so-forth. I surrounded by GRINCHES!

Merry Christmas. Enjoy the turkey and the gifting.

this bumpy, rutted road I travel

The incredible thing about transplanting for 6 months to a year is that in no way can one prepare for such a move. To-do lists just get longer as days go by. Purchasing necessities and last minute doctor's appointments fill my remaining days here in our Nation's capital. Unfortunately, my new Macbook Pro died yesterday, so that'll have to be taken care of as well.

Hmmm... Let's talk about the latter for a moment, shall we?

My last laptop had died, as you may recall, under random and untimely circumstances. The hard drive was replaced so now it works as good as new. But recently, oh say, two weeks ago, I purchased a brand spanking new, 17" Macbook Pro. I got a good deal on it and thought, "why not? The next several months of my life are going to entail some serious work on the computer and I should have a good one." Right.

Over the last two weeks I've been loading software programs, new music (20 CDs in total) and uploading literally hundreds of photographs taken on my new D-SLR. Those are now all gone. Sadly, this includes pictures of taken of the Heartland and of my lovely nieces. If you were looking forward to shots of the mechanical bull at that bar in Kansas, please, stop waiting. They're lost in oblivion.

As I cry into my Wheaties, I'm reminded that everything works out for the best so I'm bucking up and trying to get on with my days. After all, I've only one week left to enjoy the city, my friends and my family. Please don't think I'm being melodramatic. I truly have no idea what will happen when I get back from Haiti -- whether I'll live here or in another place, whether I'll travel, return to school, go back to Haiti. This is, in every way, a pivotal point in my life.

I just wish my computer could accompany me at times like this.

Historic Moment on the Senate Floor

On Friday my friend arrived from Seattle for a visit. We dropped in on another friend at the Senate. She wanted to take us on a tour but since time was tight we opted to view the Senate floor. Having been on a few Capitol tours but never having seen the floor, this was a treat.

The usual friendly guards must have been on break, because we got the third degree from every single one -- regarding our ID tags, their location on our clothes, our bags (mine had a computer in it and was unceremoniously flopped on a marble counter), what we could and couldn't bring into the viewing balcony and so forth. The searing attendants then chewed us out for sitting in the front row of the balcony -- but everyone was doing it! Finally, seated in the cramped, velvet-lined seats of the second row, we watched the Senators vote. Every man and woman that walked unto the floor voted "yay" so the vote must have been for something extremely uncontroversial, like a pay raise.

We saw the usual suspects - Kerry, Clinton, Obama, Byrd. Then we saw something profoundly historic: Senate Majority Leader Frist standing on the floor for the last time and speaking to incoming Senate Minority Leader Lott. Living in DC means you get to see stuff like this from time to time and it's cool to remark upon and remember. Living here also means that you get to see how these so-called rival party members act when they are on their home turf. Talk about good old boys -- they're all buddy-buddy, index-finger-pointing and back thumping. It's a bit ridiculous.

There is something about this city though -- I'll miss it.

as a White House Intern...

The 60 Minutes interview of David Kuo last night was embarrassing. Embarrassing because Kuo should know better and embarrassing because the interviewing media should certainly know better. I watched this pathetic interview with incredulity trying to make sense of what a whining former junior staffer at the Office of Faith-Based and Community Initiatives had to say.

I was born and raised in Washington, DC. I went to Catholic church every Sunday as a kid - sat listening to homilies with major politicians and talking heads from both the left and right. I studied at a liberal Episcopal high school and attended an even more liberal university in the north. My only exposure to the Christian right, even after Bush and his constituency took over the capital, was an occasional visit with my distant southern cousins. From my limited experience, I formed an idea of what to expect from the Christian right - kind and carefully thought out words, a humble attitude and speech laced with phrases like "God willing" and "I was so blessed."

In the fall of 2005, I served as a White House intern at the USA Freedom Corps Office, a political office located right next to the Faith-Based office on Lafayette Park. The first few days, all the interns sat through talks by various directors and senior staff. The bottom line of all these lectures was - act respectfully and in accordance with the position of privilege to serve in the White House. One director told us that we would now be appealing subjects for reporters because of our proximity to the West Wing. For some of my fellow interns from the mid-west, Utah, and central Texas, this "Washington Post test" was a totally new thing - so this was an important point to make.

I don't know what parallel universe Kuo occupied during his time at the White House but my limited exposure to the people on every level of the Bush Administration was completely different than his. My colleagues spoke of being "blessed" by good fortune, exclaimed "good NIGHT!" when surprised, showed discretion and a deep understanding that their position at the White House meant they were serving the American people. I was constantly reminded that my colleagues and fellow interns came from a different background than I. For the most part, they came from the Christian right and acted just as I expected they would.

Kuo certainly does not exhibit the behavior I witnessed in my semester at the White House. He does not exhibit the humility and discretion I found in those I worked with. 60 Minutes leaped at the story of one of hundreds and hundreds of people who have served this administration - most of whom have known better than Kuo. His book(though perhaps not his moral fiber) ranks with that of Jessica Cutler who wrote Washintonienne - a steamy best seller based on her explicit blogs. Both he and Cutler did the easy thing, made their 15 minutes of fame by depending on their Washington insider advantage.

In Kuo's case, not only do I find him totally reprehensible for playing into the hands of a media eager to say ANYTHING bad about the Bush White House, even if it is contradictory (they're in bed with the Christian right, they mock the Christian right... blah blah blah) but I found him out to lunch in his observations.