This is Maxonn. I call him my “Bonus Son”. I think he likes when I call him that, as he excitedly calls me “mom” in return each time.
We have communicated with, and sponsored him, since he was 3. He was born on the exact same day that our Daniel was. They both just celebrated their 21st birthdays a few days ago.
He will graduate with a professional degree in accounting/bookkeeping from his college on December 20th. He speaks, reads, and writes 3 languages – Haitian Creole, French, and English. He sings and plays piano. He gardens and grows his own food. He has a strong faith. He is extremely honest and kind. He is hard-working and motivated and loves to learn.
He lives alone in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. He and his family lost everything but survived the earthquake in 2010. He literally risks his life each time that he leaves his apartment, each time that he travels to school, every time he attempts to pursue a future for himself. Yet, he continues. By age 20, he had already had to flee his home, and his country, alone, to escape the gang violence which was overrunning the city.
When the violence was at its worst recently, he would
message me at night, lying in bed, praying for sleep to escape the overwhelming
fear and anxiety he was feeling. He
would describe to me seeing classmates dead in the street that day. He would be unable to contact his family or
friends in country for weeks at a time. Stores,
banks, governments offices, hospitals – everything was closed.
Sometimes he has food.
Sometimes he doesn’t. He doesn’t
complain, but sometimes he mentions that school was not great because his
stomach was hurting because he hadn’t eaten in day or two. He enjoys teaching me how to use, cook, and garden
vegetables, and laughs at my pathetic attempts to garden. He worries about me and asks me if I have eaten
when I am traveling.
He was hit by a motorcycle a few months back. He suffered significant road burns across his
arms and shoulders. The driver who hit
him didn’t stop. All the medical centers
and hospitals have been burned by the gangs, so there was nowhere for him to
receive treatment. His neighbor tried to
clean his wounds at home with soap and water as best she could, and he used
herbs to treat himself. Again, he would
message me at night, as he lay in bed, praying for sleep to come so he could escape
the pain.
He had a bad urinary tract infection a while back that
required antibiotics. He went to the one
remaining medical center, very ill, waited in line for an entire day, only to
be seen for triage and told that yes, he qualified to be seen, but that he
would have to come back in 4 days for the appointment. They sent him home with electrolyte tea. Thankfully, he made it to the appointment –
though much sicker – and was able to finally get medicine and relief.
I don’t know how he endures as he does, but each morning, he
texts me a cheery “good morning”. He
worries that I don’t rest enough and that I work too much. He sends pictures of flowers and animals there and I do the same for him. We talk and share and laugh about life. He thinks
our chicken coop is hilariously ridiculous, as his chickens do not live in such
luxury. I gripe about raccoons, and he
gripes about goats.
We both love to learn from one another. We can go deep in our discussions, it seems at times, because we know going into them, that our communication is going to require work. Always. If we want to accurately communicate a message, we expect that there may be effort involved in it. Therefore, we aren’t easily offended or defensive with one another. Instead of assuming the worst, we assume that we have probably misunderstood and need to ask more questions. (Side note – we would ALL do well in relationships to operate this way more. Don’t get offended. Seek to understand.)
So, he asks me honestly, and I must consider, why it is that I am able to take multiple week-long vacations from work each year, but his friends who have immigrated to the US are working three jobs and can barely survive and never get to take time off of work.
I can explain to him why I do not believe that it is sinful
to get a tattoo or to curse, and why it is ok, and I am safe to be a woman at
home alone all day, and he can listen without immediately getting triggered.
His life has always been hard. He has no physical help where he is. He reports that we are his only
emotional/spiritual support. When your
entire nation is living in fight-flight, always, it is hard to survive; let
alone, thrive. Hope is in short-supply. Frankly, as I see it, America isn’t far from
that place now.
Despite all this, his greatest desire for his life is to
somehow work and earn money to help care for his family. He reports no hope for this to ever be
possible for him in Haiti, and we see truth in what he shares.
When he doesn’t hear from me for a day or two, he worries that I have forgotten him.
When I don’t hear from him for a day or two, I worry that he
is dead.
(There’s something striking to me about the similarity of
effect in our lives between those two situations. The panic that they create within each of us. Love and Connection matter…. just as much as
the physical provisions. Anyway…)
We met with an immigration attorney a while back, did all
the research, considered all the costs, and applied to serve as a sponsor for
Maxonn to apply to come to the U.S. under current legal provisions for him to
do so. The hoops to jump through were
many. They are complex. It is a teeny-tiny shot in the dark that it
will ever happen – even though we were required to assume legal and financial
responsibility for him to come; even though we have housing and all necessary
provisions for him to come; even though he speaks the language and has skills
to offer; even though we, as a family, have been through the immigration process
before with our adoption and we were licensed foster parents for years and have
all the security clearances.
It isn’t a simple thing to do. It’s a desperate, last-ditch effort that people take to save their own lives or the lives of their family members, to escape poverty and violence and war and a life of hardship and pain. And it is LEGAL. They are doing what they are asked to do in an attempt to find help, any help.
These are people.
They are sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. They are friends and family. They are not monsters or rapists or murderers. They are human beings.
It is sad to see and hear some of the hateful things that
people are saying about Haitian Immigrants.
It is terrifying for me to think that if Maxonn is approved
and gets to come and live with us for a bit, that we might be facing a repeat
of the experiences that we had when we brought Markos here.
More racism. More
hate. More ignorance. More fear.
Frankly, I don’t know if my heart can take that
again. Yet, it is also terrifying for me
to think of Maxonn dying before he ever has a chance to live.
So, we choose Love.
We choose Hope. We choose to
focus on learning and growing and sharing.
We can work together.
There are solutions. Choose to be
a part of them.
Stop spreading lies and hate. Please. For my Bonus Son.
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