For those who don’t know much about my personal life, I am a Midwestern boy from Cincinnati, Ohio. I am married to the wonderful Senska Madgscherly O’Donnell, MBA 🇭🇹. She is a Caribbean girl who grew up in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. As we often say, we are from two different worlds! In 2021, we established Womenful Voice, a nonprofit dedicated to helping women and girls in Haiti.
I could write many articles about the work we do for our nonprofit in Haiti. However, I don’t want to focus on Haiti’s struggles; there is enough of that across every form of media. Instead, I want to take the opposite approach. I want to highlight what Haiti has done for me.
When people describe a culture, they often mention food, music, dance, clothing, holidays, and rituals. While these are certainly aspects of culture, I now see them as the most superficial. Culture runs deeper; it is woven into our very being. It shapes how we interpret the world and how we interact with it.
The first time I visited Haiti was in December 2020, during the COVID-19 pandemic. Lockdowns, masking, and social distancing were prevalent in the U.S. But when I flew into Port-au-Prince, it felt like COVID didn’t exist. In a city of roughly three million people, I saw maybe ten people wearing masks in four days. I mention this not to judge but to highlight a striking difference. While much of the world was panicking, Haiti simply wasn’t.
Another memorable moment occurred during a visit to Wanament, near the Dominican Republic. Haiti’s infrastructure is underdeveloped, especially in smaller towns like Wanament. Typically, the only cold beverage available outside of resorts is the national beer, Prestige. One day, I entered a bar to get a cold beer. The staff at the counter were three kids, probably between six and ten years old. I asked for a Prestige, they handed it to me, and I paid them. This interaction was mind-blowing. In the U.S., strict rules govern alcohol service, from age restrictions to ID checks. Here, it was different.
These experiences revealed meaningful cultural differences. They showed me that what I assumed was universal behavior was actually specific to my culture. Now, when I interact with people from different cultures, I pause. I ask myself: Do I truly understand this person’s intent? Am I interpreting it through my cultural lens? This awareness has made me less certain of my assumptions, and I am grateful for it. Ignorance can be dangerous, and understanding different perspectives is essential.
A More Communal Mindset
Human beings live with an interesting dichotomy. We are the most intelligent creatures on Earth, aware of our individuality. Yet, we are not physically imposing enough to survive alone. This reality drives us to form communities. In every society, there is a natural tension between individual needs and communal needs. The U.S. leans heavily toward individualism, while Haiti leans more toward community. Neither approach is inherently better or worse, but each has its trade-offs.
When we visit Haiti, we often stay at my father-in-law’s house in Wanament. His home is in the city’s heart, and he has many friends and family nearby. My wife, having lived there during high school, knows many people as well. Every day, there is a constant stream of visitors. It could be aunts helping to cook, relatives catching up, or neighbors dropping by to say hello. In individualist cultures, unannounced visits can feel intrusive. But in Haiti, it’s the opposite; not visiting would be seen as rude.
Though Wanament is my most frequent destination in Haiti, I have explored other areas as well. On my first trip in 2020, after spending time in Port-au-Prince, we drove toward Hinche, a small town in central Haiti. Our driver mentioned a relative lived nearby, so we made a brief stop. The main road was paved, but the side roads were not. After a detour, we reached a small house in a remote area. The man living there had a small flock of guinea fowl and cultivated fruits and vegetables. He immediately began gathering food to share with us. It didn’t matter that he only knew our driver; what mattered was making his guests feel welcome.
Now, I try to embrace a more communal mindset in my own life. I was raised with individualist tendencies, but I believe in balance. I make deliberate efforts to do more for those around me. I stop by friends’ houses unannounced, offer and accept favors, and welcome visitors without prior notice. This approach might seem chaotic, but it has brought me peace. While my plans may get disrupted, I know I have a network of goodwill to rely on when I need help.
The Ability to Appreciate Anything
I believe how we frame our experiences is crucial. The ability to quickly reframe situations can be a superpower. Reality is objective, but our interpretation of it is subjective. A classic example is the question: Is the glass half full or half empty? The amount of water remains the same, but your attitude changes based on your perspective.
As the man in the jungle gathered food for us, I realized I was experiencing fruits I had never encountered before. In U.S. supermarkets, I had only seen a few types of oranges and one kind of banana. Here, I was handed varieties I didn’t know existed. One orange was too sour for my taste, but another was delightful. Then he offered me small bananas. I had never liked bananas, so I braced myself for disappointment. But when I took a bite, I was amazed. It was one of the most delicious fruits I had ever tasted.
Despite living in what we might call poverty, that man had a wealth of delicious bananas. This experience taught me that if I can find something to appreciate in his situation, I can find value in any circumstance. Meaning and value are choices. How I feel and respond to situations is within my control.
When my infant son cries in the middle of the night, I can feel frustrated. But I can also reframe it. I can imagine him as a grown man, no longer needing my comfort. This shift transforms an irritating moment into a precious memory.
Conclusion
I have countless anecdotes from my time in Haiti that taught me valuable lessons. I chose to share those that have stuck with me the most. Although I still live in Colorado, I carry these lessons with me wherever I go. They have changed who I am for the better, and for that, I am truly thankful for Haiti. I even eat bananas on occasion now in the U.S., if I can find small, organic ones. But whether it comes to learning life lessons or enjoying bananas, in Haiti, I don’t hold back!