If there were a PhD in picking up Play-Doh and LEGOs, I'd be a doctor

This post has nothing to do with the title, but it's a true statement and I'm not on social media and do occasionally miss posting the pithy little insight. So there's a freebie for you.

There is an article in Texas Monthly (a great publication to which I highly recommend that you subscribe if you live in Texas or like Texas or even want to hate-follow Texas). It's entitled "Texas Has Shifted to an 'It's Your Responsibility' Pandemic Plan." Which is another true statement. This is my favorite piece: "Responsibility may be personal—but risk is communal. Everyone can both get sick with the virus and pass it on to someone else. A person who gets infected while packed into an overcrowded bar can pass the disease to a supermarket cashier who is otherwise steadfastly avoiding high-risk situations..." I hope everyone remembers this.

We're getting out and about more, but we're also still wearing masks where applicable (inside when we can't keep a distance, or if I have to talk to someone who isn't behind plexiglass, anywhere that there are signs "strongly suggesting" masks, etc.) and keeping our distance.

During the past week, we've been able to enjoy:

1) Zilker Botanical Garden's free admission day.

They were only admitting 100 people every fifteen minutes, but we only saw two groups the whole time we were roaming the 36 acres. And there were cute little signs everywhere, reminding people to keep their distance (not that it was necessary on this day).

2) Jumpstreet, which we had all to ourselves.

I did wear a mask when checking in, and again when I went to buy Mal some apple juice. But we were literally the only patrons there.

Interestingly (to me), we were also at Jumpstreet exactly two years ago to the date.

3) The new swing set at Jones Brothers Park.

It was HOT! But what a gorgeous day!

They also just opened up the playground last weekend... However, Jones Brothers is going to be closing down every Friday-Sunday until further notice, because that place is PACKED to the gills on the weekends. I think it's because it was one of the only public places that stayed open during the Stay Home, Stay Safe orders. The police did announce at the time that they'd be patrolling it and would break up groups, but once the Governor started relaxing things, even more people showed up. And I'm sure the cops don't want to spend their weekends ticking people off, so the city just decided to shut it down. (They also closed it Memorial Day weekend, but this is going to be EVERY weekend until further notice.)

They're leaving the boat ramps open, so you can go and park if you're getting in a boat and spreading out into the lake. At $15 a pop, that makes our town a lot of money, so...

(I just drove by this spot and they now have a lighted sign instead of just this printed thing.)

Since we've been mostly home, I've started a new era in my own hair care. I saw a "Curly Girl Method" video and even though I have stick-straight hair, a couple of the procedures seemed beneficial to me. To that end, I have begun taking "Haiti showers."

In Haiti, in order not to waste water, we took showers as our host family, The Pauls, did: Turn the water on to get wet, collecting some of it in a small bucket that was also in the shower (to rinse out the wash cloth, etc.) and then turn the water off to do things like soap up, scrub down, shampoo, etc. The water is only on when you need it to actively do something. Now, our hosts were quite well-to-do (I couldn't host a team of 15-20 people in my house!) and had an on-demand water heater, which was nice... when the electricity was on, which was never a given.

Jean Alix Paul told us that when he visited the US, he still took "Haiti showers," because he couldn't stand to waste water anywhere. That stuck with me, though I obviously didn't implement it for another almost seven years.

So, combining the inappropriate Curly Girl Method and water-conserving showers, here's what I do the majority of the time when I wash my hair:

1) Turn on the water. Get a wash cloth and my hair very wet.

2) Dispense my shampoo into my hand and emulsify it between my hands in the water.

3) Put the shampoo all over my scalp.

4) Turn off the water as soon as the shampoo is off of my hands.

5) Use what is apparently a dog-scrubber (but you can get the human version everywhere) to make sure the shampoo gets all over my scalp, and use the scrubber to exfoliate my scalp.

6) Wash off my body while the shampoo is sitting there working.

7) Turn on the water to rinse my shampoo and soap.

8) Repeat the shampoo steps, usually.

9) After the second shampoo rinse, turn the water off.

10) Apply conditioner to the parts of my hair that would be in a ponytail (that is, not touching my scalp), then gently comb my hair to distribute the conditioner (if you do this and you're like me, you will lose A LOT of hair... but then it's out and doesn't fall into the food you're cooking or onto the floor to choke your vacuum's beater bar).

11) It's called "noodling," I think. Basically, run my fingers down small strands of hair to feel that it's all smooth and the conditioner has been fully distributed.

12) Shave or finish up washing or just meditate on life to kill a few minutes.

13) Turn the shower back on and rinse everything off (including the comb I used, and any product containers that have shaving cream or sticky fingerprints on the outside... I wouldn't have to do that if I had a bucket, but that is the one piece of the full experience that I have not implemented yet).

My hair has gotten SO much healthier since I started doing this. I've also been able to get one more day between washes. I was washing on every third day and now I do it ever fourth day. And I have what I would consider oily skin and an oily scalp.

But when you use a gentle cleanser (sulfate-free shampoo, or even just conditioner -- see co-wash), it doesn't strip the natural oils from your scalp. Sulfates and other harsh cleansers do, and so your scalp over-produces oil to make up for it.

Once you stop that practice, your scalp calms down and you don't get greasy after a day or two (and if you are edging toward it, dry shampoo is your friend).

Anyway, this has produced the results I really wanted to achieve when I tried using no shampoo a few years ago. By the way, James is still doing no-poo; it worked for his scalp and curls.

AND FINALLY, while we're on the subject of hygiene (yes, we were), I have to note that it's now been over a decade (it was 10 years in January) since I started using a menstrual cup. At the time, I thought it was changing my life... and it DID. I never worry about whether or not to swim or to jump on a trampoline, or to go on a vigorous walk, or whether I'm going to mess up the sheets overnight, or any of that stuff.

I AM READY for menopause. But until then, thank the lord for whomever invented the menstrual cup.

Fin.

2013 Year in Review

You can ask anyone who's known me for a while: I don't make a big to-do about New Year's Eve. I don't "do" resolutions. I'm typically at home by 7:00 PM on NYE because drunk drivers aren't my favorite. During the decade I spent in Las Vegas, I whiled away precisely one New Year's Eve on the Strip, and that thing is rife with stories, only because they were so awful and exhausting and weird.

Typically, if I make plans to attend a New Year's Eve function, unless it starts by 8:00, I'm probably going to decide at around 8:15 that I'm nice and warm and getting a little sleepy, anyway, and skip it. I had friends of friends invite my family to a really cool ranch party in Las Vegas three or four years in a row, but the party didn't start until 10:00 PM, and by then, if I haven't already started amping up, I'm winding down in a big way.

As far as resolutions, I subscribe to the philosophy that any day is a great day to start a good new habit or to ditch a bad old one. I never want to be among the full parking lot at the gym on January 2. If I ever resolve to do something, I don't want to take it so lightly. And I don't want to wait for a magic date.

For me, January 1 is the next day on the continuum after December 31. You wake up, and nothing is substantially different. So, while I like any excuse to celebrate, this isn't one of "my" holidays.

That said, this year, I am looking back over the past twelve months and am more than a little awed about everything that has happened. This time last year, I was in a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend of six months; I was one month into what would be a full-on half-year battle with chronic pain; I was living in an RV, my home for nearly two years, on the east side of Austin... And there's so much more.

So, in no particular order, here's my 2013:

1. I got married! James moved to Austin in early February. He said that he wanted to be in town for at least a month to see if we could live in the same place without driving each other crazy. I might have been driven a little crazy. I was concerned that he might fall in love with downtown Austin and the lifestyle and not be in any hurry to "make it official." But at the end of February, when he'd come over for dinner, he mentioned off-handedly, "I was thinking about when we should get married, and April 1st seems like a good date." If you haven't seen our wedding video, here:



While I think this is the most raw and sincere expression of a love that leaves my man absolutely speechless, our officiant told James that he might want to write "actual" vows. He said that, no matter how "cool" I was, women want something different (maybe "normal"?) for their wedding. I'm so glad James didn't listen to him! James knows me. I knew exactly what he meant. He told me later that he knew I'd write something poignant (and, likely, verbose) and that he wasn't about to try to "compete" with that, so he went his own direction. I love his direction.

As to people who think this is just another weird Austin thing or that we're mocking marriage... Lots of people have fun at their weddings. This wedding was "us." My husband has never been married before because he never met anyone else he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He was very serious. I was very serious. But we can be serious in our intent and still have a good time carrying it out. In fact, this is how we live our lives.

Photo credit Alec Hilliard

The past nine months of marriage have been like nothing I could ever have imagined. James and I love and appreciate each other. He makes my life so much brighter, and I try to employ Dr. Laura's advice constantly: "When you wake up in the morning, ask yourself, 'What can I do to make him happy that he's alive? And what can I do to make him happy that he married me?'"

My best friend lives in the same house with me. His company is a pleasure, and loving him is easy. I am blessed, and sometimes challenged, and head-over-heels in love.

2. Chronic pain defined the first half of 2013. The process of trying to treat my back pain (chiropractic, my first involvement with acupuncture, lots and lots of NSAIDS), then getting a diagnosis (thanks to the Volunteer Health Clinic) including my first (and scary!) MRI, to the hopelessness of months of only two hours of sleep at a time, to feeling very much like I was going crazy even to the point of giving my then-fiance an out... I have a much more compassionate view of people who deal with their bodies' unrelenting attack on themselves. It is honestly the worst thing that I have ever experienced, and I'm very sad that it colored so much of both of James' family's visits (for his birthday in December 2012, when it was first starting, and then our wedding weekend). I hate that my daughter woke up so many nights to my crying and felt like she needed to check on me, even though there was nothing to be done for it. But I absolutely adore my family's patience and long-suffering with me. I hope I didn't make it too awful for them; I tried not to. I felt so respected and "heard" by the entirely volunteer staff at the health clinic that it was a blessing to interact with them.

Starting in mid-June and proceeding on to the end of summer, the pain started abating. There are still ways my body tells me not to sit for a long time, but it tells me in soreness and stiffness, not shooting, searing pain. The last time I hurt myself was playing laser tag a couple of months ago, when I accidentally bent over with my left leg hyper-extended. However, a few weeks ago, when I flipped my head over to dry my hair, I noticed that my left leg didn't automatically kick out behind me or fold into my right leg. Testing, I was able to touch my toes keeping my leg mostly straight (it's a little rickety from non-use). Although my disc will always be ruptured, I consider myself "healed" from this episode right now. I am at about 90% of where I used to be, and could probably be closer to 98% if I pushed myself... but having pushed myself on the front end, trying to do push-ups and sit-ups and "bicycles" while I bawled in the floor, and probably making the problem worse... I'm not pushing myself. I'm being grateful for the slow advances in recovery. Unspeakably grateful.

3. The Nuthaus. Living this close to downtown has opened up so many opportunities. First of all, I can either walk or bike almost everywhere. If I run out of eggs or butter or just need an emergency cheap soda, they're all right up the road. If I want nice flip-flops, or fro-yo, or bubble tea, or kitschy Austin weird-wear: can walk. If I want to see what's going on at the Capitol, or enjoy one of the best Indian restaurants in Las Vegas, or have sushi or an incredible pear cider on tap: boom. Done. I can ride my bike to the library, to get the fancy cat food that we have to feed all of the cats because Aish only gets the best but she will eat garbage if that's what the other cats are eating. I rode my bike to the courthouse to file my name change request. I've ridden to book group, to church, mystery shops. We walk to meals, to sight-see, and to run errands.

But there's something else: If you've been paying attention, you know that we see a lot of super eccentric stuff around here. Beyond that, though, living this close to an urban center has given me the opportunity to get to know some of "those people" you might pass in a car and feel sorry for, but not be able to connect with. (Yes, I just ended a sentence in a preposition. To do otherwise sounded awkward.)

Yes, there are the people who have touched us and passed by, like Vanessa and Kenneth, the expecting couple James met when he first moved in. There is the guy playing guitar to whom James stopped to listen, and genuinely chat up, before offering him and his friends dinner. I have to say that in this regard, James is such an example and so convicting to me. He does not see the street people as a group of down-on-their-luck people. He sees them as individuals. People he'd probably like if he got to know them. And he's interested in them and their stories. He's concerned.

We have spent great chunks of time talking to the vendors on 23rd Street. There have been people who want to tell us their stories, even if they aren't asking for help. Our porch is a comfortable invitation, a place to rest. But there are people resting on the steps of the churches on Guadalupe, too, and they want to be heard. Just last night, Daphne and I talked to a couple who said they were in danger of homelessness. The wife had all of the work receipts that her husband had from working for a day labor service. There was one man who told me that the meal from Potbelly and the chat was worth so much more than when people just give him money.

People like that come and go, and it's incredible to get to interact with them on a minuscule level. But there are others we see more frequently.

There's "Grandpa," the man who looks barely older than my own dad, and sometimes not much rougher (though yesterday when I saw him, he had a great bruise over his left eye, as though someone had kicked him when he was sleeping). I know where he usually sleeps, and in the morning, he walks past the Nuthaus to Taco Cabana. He sits in the dining room and drinks a water, then he makes himself a lemonade. I have chatted with him once, and he is mostly "there." He just has that lost look of someone who doesn't have an anchor.

There's another man we call alternately "our neighbor" and "crazy guy," because he has two different personalities. When he's lucid, he's friendly and wishes us well. He will say, "Jesus loves you," and if you say, "Thanks," he'll usually stop and say, "Seriously. I mean it. He really does." He doesn't think we're taking it seriously enough. Other times, he's back in the alley, swearing at someone we can't see. Or at life. Who knows? Recently, he seems to have acquired a wheel-chair bound friend. Now, sometimes he'll be hollering and cursing, but still carefully pushing his friend.

And there's also a very sweet old lady who isn't homeless. She lives somewhere down the street from us, though I don't know exactly where. But she walks all the time. She has a walker, and her hair is always in a perfect bun. It might be 49 degrees outside, windy, and sprinkling, and she'll have on her shawl and plastic rain hat, walking with her walker. I officially met her about a week after James moved in, when I was working at the Nuthaus and saw her standing on the sidewalk, looking at the house. She said that she was so glad to see people living in these long-vacant properties. We haven't had a chance to chat again, but every time I see her, I feel like we're... well, neighbors.

Sometimes it's heart-breaking to see life as up-close as we get to see it living here. But I love it. I don't want to be blind. I want to know. And, if I can, I want to help. Even if that just means sitting on the curb with my arm around a girl I don't know, while she works through a panic attack. I love the Nuthaus.

4. The Pregnancy. Almost immediately after James and I got married, I got pregnant. Obviously, it didn't result in our having a baby, but I credit the pregnancy hormones with pushing forward my pain diminishing. When I found out that I was pregnant, I weaned off of the Gabapentin and Naprosyn as quickly as I felt was safe. And even though I'd found both to be a miracle for which I'd been desperate a mere two or three weeks earlier, I didn't need them anymore. When I was pregnant with Daphne, and again this time, my asthma abated. My mom has a friend whose intense rheumatoid arthritis goes away when she's carrying a baby. I am certain that I was pushed forward months of recovery time due to the brief influx of hormones.

5. Four Awesome Organizations. This year, I had the privilege of bumping up against four organizations whose work I so earnestly believe in that I'm trying to help in the small ways I have available to me. I want to share what they do with others, too, in case anyone else is moved to pitch in. These are also in no particular order:

Help One Now
James and I traveled to Haiti with Help One Now, and I can't even begin to describe what an eye- and heart-opening trip that was for us. Help One Now has been working in Uganda, Haiti, and Zimbabwe for some time, and they're just kicking off work in Ethiopia. The cool thing about Help One Now is that they don't go in and try to assert their presence or their way of "fixing" local issues. They work with established leadership, people who live in the countries, and who are already doing their part to tackle a problem that they see.

In Haiti specifically, we got to meet three such leaders. The first was Jean Alix Paul, a pastor/businessman at whose home we stayed. An orphanage, a school, a children's home, and a business incubation program are all under his supervision... and I think he probably does a lot of other stuff about which I have no idea. Also, he and his family and household graciously host visitors to Haiti. In 2014, the visiting teams will stay in a guest house closer to work sites, a project Jean Alix has also overseen.

The second was Pastor St. Cyr, who had a church and school in the urban city of Port au Prince before the 2010 earthquake. After that disaster struck, he planted a church in the biggest tent city, a place of otherwise darkness, where children were at risk for trafficking, where the was violence and desperation. He made it his goal to hold worship services every single day, to have some hope and singing and light in the makeshift neighborhood. Since then, he has build a much safer church building than the one damaged in the earthquake, and has been able to move the school there. They are very close to opening a medical clinic in the same building.

The third pastor we met was Gaetan Alcegaire. He moved back to Haiti (having come to the US with very many opportunities to work) specifically to start an orphanage on some family land. Immediately, the children came. For a long time, every day, all day, his goal was to find enough food to feed his kids. After the earthquake, things became even more desperate, and American groups would come, promise help, and disappear. Through a partnership with Help One Now, Pastor Gaetan has built dorms for his children, with whom he was sleeping outside under tarps because he explained that a shepherd doesn't leave his sheep. He has built a two-story school building that now houses 400 children, including all of the kids in his home as well as children from the surrounding area, many of whom cannot pay the $25 a year fee to attend. They are not turned away.

The children at Yahve Shemma, Pastor Gaetan's home. They had never
had pizza before and weren't sure what to do with it. Also, they are taught
not to eat with their hands, but to use utensils. Whoops! We meant well. :)

These three men all work in and around Port au Prince, Petionville, Guibert, and Kenscoff. There is a newer initiative in Ferrier, an anti-trafficking house where children who are basically caught at the border, as they're being attempted-smuggled out of the country. We sponsor a beautiful 8-year-old girl who was a house slave, and has probably lived a harder life in her 8 years than I have in my 40. It is my hope that they can find her family, and that she is able to get an education and grow up knowing the love and security that kids deserve. If you're interested in helping sponsor an orphan or at-risk child, or a teacher (remember those kids who don't have the ability to pay the fee for their schooling?) you can find out how here.

Homes 4 Vets
We first encountered Homes 4 Vets at a re-enactment event at Camp Mabry. This group seeks to provide housing and job/life training for homeless veterans. The details of the program are on their website. They have just submitted the paperwork to become a 501(c)3 charitable organization, and need $6 million to start on the rec center and infrastructure. They need $23 million to build out the whole community and to put all of the program into place.

They chose the dome shape for the single-family properties because of the durability of such structures. After the rec center and single-family domes go up, they have plans for family housing, four sets of townhouses each with a common courtyard and playground accessible only to the residents from those houses.

The residents will have two years to complete job training and life skills training, and the board plans to use their contacts to help them find employment.

It's an ambitious plan, and it's been started and is spearheaded by a retired dual-service Veteran, a young architect who caught the Veteran's dream, and the owner of a construction company. Since that time, a CPA has joined the board, and these four men are pushing forward this ambitious program. I'm excited to see what happens! If you know anyone in central Texas who has land they'd like to donate, or if you'd like to donate funds or time, let me know and I can pass your information along to them.

Rework Project

The Rework Project is also a local service to the homeless and those transitioning out of homelessness. The "Reworkers" learn wood-working skills by building and selling five awesome products: bird-houses, tree swings, huge tabletop Jenga-style games, bean-bag toss/cornhole games, and my favorite, picnic tables. They will personalize these to your specifications, and even with customization, they are incredibly affordable. Especially the picnic table!

The Reworkers learn how to and then build these products, then they are able to keep the majority of the profits for themselves. If you'd like to read one of their success stories that it near and dear to my heart, go here, and scroll down (better yet, just read it all) to the part about Anthony. Anthony isn't just the guy who lives in the same RV spot where I used to live. He's in our small group, and I consider him to be my friend. I'm so proud of Allison and of him and of this entire program.

Having lost 100% of their funding for 2014, Allison had to decide whether to pack it up or try to raise the $40k that Rework needs herself. In under a month, they've already gotten $36,000. If you can help, either in a one-time gift or a monthly contribution, go to here.

Mobile Loaves and Fishes
When I lived in the RV park, I saw Mobile Loaves and Fishes trailers. They also sponsored one community barbecue. Other than that, I didn't really know much about them until this year. They serve the street community extensively, with food, clothes, and shelter. Their most recent project here in Austin is best explained in this video.



Included in that video is a gentleman named Glenn who is familiar to me from church and Rework, too. Also, Anthony (mentioned above) has been doing a lot of work at the garden (included being stung right in the face by a bee; I guess that's part of it: beekeeping) and learning to can to use any bounty from the garden.

When James and I got married, we donated the RV to Mobile Loaves and Fishes. I hope it's going to be used in this community! Also, I did a dunder-headed thing and never got the trailer re-titled in my name, so they're having to do all of that, and they're so gracious about the whole thing.

So, basically, my life has been enriched a great deal by knowing that these four organizations exist. I mentioned Volunteer Health Clinic above, and that's one that actually benefited ME. I couldn't have afforded the MRI I got on my own. It's awesome to me to know that there are people who care, and who are out there doing the stuff, and who love and want to bring the marginalized into the circle of light most of us occupy.

I will say that being Facebook friends with some of our new Haitian friends is a little surreal. The other day when one of the pastors "liked" my post about the entire Firefly collection being on sale for $5 on Amazon.com, I felt like I needed to explain that I hadn't bought it myself... But then maybe he's a Firefly fan. I have no idea. But sometimes, it throws into stark relief the contrast between what occupies our day-to-day lives. And yet, because of Help One Now, we are friends. He can message me when he needs prayer for something. I am honored to be on the fringes of his life and the lives of others I admire. It is an inspiration to be in the orbit of these people who are serving orphans, and the homeless, and Veterans. It is an honor.

6. Life as Usual. Then there's the every day stuff, and that's just about as incredible as the extra-ordinary stuff, too.

First there's my job. Yes, I'm an insurance agent (with Hejny Insurance Agency). Yes, I find that every bit as funny as when I was a property manager. No, I don't think I'm awesome at it, but I can administrate stuff, and people seem to like to talk to me on the phone. Moses and Lisa offered me a job, and a spare office for my daughter to do school, at a time when I desperately needed an income, and was trying to figure out how to keep from sending Daphne to school (I don't think that there's anything wrong with school, and it might be an option in the future; but I didn't want my divorce and financial issues to force my hand). THEN when I wanted to move to Austin, they let me stay with them, working remotely... even though, technically, my job was, um, reception. So. I'm continually grateful for how they've accommodated my "special needs" time and again.

Then there's my daughter. As she matures, I see her becoming this young woman who both amazes and terrifies me. I think that it's probably normal to feel like you're "losing" your kid sometimes. And I am. She doesn't think what I think just because I think it and wish she did. She's becoming this person who is totally separate from me, and I am excited to see what she does with her life. She is clever and talented. She is a born leader. She is so much more secure than I was at her age. I love her with everything that I am. (And, yes, there's also an "everything" for my husband. Love is pretty awesome like that.)

And also, there is a group of  friends from church who have really lived out what it means to be community to me this year. We've had game nights, and shared meals, and evenings out, and birthday parties. We've laughed and cried together. We've shared concerns and hopes and ideas and pop culture. I've been confronted and counseled and supported and encouraged... and it's been fun and hard and purposeful. It's what this is supposed to be like.

D and I re-started BSF this year, and she's already made a new friend we're supposed to get together with this week. I'm still doing mystery shopping, and we've gotten to putt at a sports club, play laser tag, go bowling, see movies, eat at an awesome local sports bar a whole lot, and have all sorts of fun in exchange for paperwork. I'm comfortably settling back into Astro-owning. And all of the "normalcy" is pretty great.

Suffice it to say, 2013 has easily been the best year of my life. I'm eagerly looking forward to 2014. Hope you are, too.

An amazing girl and a tired way of thinking...

Last week, my parents told James and me about a spectacular young woman named Victoria, who decided to go one year without wearing shoes in order to raise awareness about the need for shoes in Haiti and money to purchase 365 pair of Crocs to send over.

This girl's heart humbles me. I wish I'd been as aware of the whole wide world as she is at her age. I covet her spirit to do something, and to sacrifice herself to draw attention to a need. She is absolutely ahead of the game when it comes to loving others and wanting to serve humanity. I admire her, and I can't wait to see what she will accomplish with her life.

There is a side to this story, however, that is a little disheartening. First, watch this video so you can just totally fall in love with Victoria. Especially, I adore and identify with what she says at the very end. I'm sure that almost everyone who has been to Haiti can say the same thing, if not with such simple eloquence.



Haiti Follow-Up Shoot from Alex Jeffries on Vimeo.

To recap: Between the Jeff Probst show, this sweet girl, and Crocs, they sent and distributed 730 pair of shoes. This is great for the 730 recipients of the shoes; it's great for the economies in which these Crocs are manufactured; it's great for whatever shipping service was used to move all of those shoes; and, of course, it's great Crocs and the Jeff Probst show (PR-wise)...

But what about the Haitian economy? Are there no shoe-makers in Haiti? Although it would take more time and effort to partner with local artisans in order to perform a large-scale give-away like this, ultimately, it would be better for the country this girl wants to much to help.

We get so caught up in the "we rich Americans are going to send some cool stuff to those impoverished people" that we run the risk of doing a thing that looks great on television and makes us feel like we've done something, but if we could just slow down and try to involve the people we're trying to help in the decision-making and implementation processes, we could actually make a long term difference for a lot of people.

It's a little ridiculous, but sometimes I get the feeling that this is how we might come off to other people.

Leaving Haiti

Saturday morning was difficult. We were up and ready to go by 6:00 AM. We drove into town and picked up Dario, who asked James if he was Haiti-sick. James answered that he already was. It was true. Leaving was not easy. I missed my girl all week, and James had started missing her at some point (he's a very in-the-moment guy), but if she'd been there, it would have been tempting to "accidentally" oversleep and miss the transport to the airport.

Just to give you a little taste of the ride from the hills of Kenscoff into the city to the airport, there are four videos. I didn't spend much time editing them at all; I just overlaid a song because some of the conversations in the van were pretty private. But feel free to turn down your sound altogether if having the same song over and over bothers you. ;) (P.S. This was pre-7:00 AM on a Saturday; otherwise, the streets would have been a LOT busier!)

So, that's Kenscoff to Port au Prince.

After having spent a whole week in Haiti, even brushing our teeth with the sink water (gasp!) and not having gotten sick, we showed up in Fort Lauderdale to find that they were under a boil water notice since e. coli (fecal matter) had been found in the water supply. It was tainted. Lit'rally tainted. (Bonus points if you get that reference.)

Besides James getting selected for a "random" pat-down three times that day, and some pretty loud-mouthed airport employees, and that whole "Welcome to Chili's, you can only order a burger and hope you didn't want any iced tea" stuff, the day's travel was pretty stressful, and a startling departure from our beloved Haiti experience.

Seeing Daphne at the airport made up for all of it (even though she did run to James first), and the rest of my immediate family was there, as well. It was a sweet welcome.

We appreciated everything that my parents did when they were here (opossum-running-off aside, they also made sure Daphne had a busy and productive week, they did laundry and cleaned the house, and even left us some food so that I didn't have to buy groceries for nearly a week after we returned). We were so moved and impressed with everyone whom we met in Haiti. I loved getting to know some of my church friends (and other-church friend!) better.

Here I am a week after we returned, and I'm still trying to parse everything out. What do I do with this new corner of my heart that belongs to and in Haiti? How do I try to get other people on board effectively, without overwhelming anyone and "talking" so much that they just shut me down? I know that there will be more in the days and weeks and months to come, and I'm just extremely humbled and privileged to have this Haiti experience to carry with me now.

Thanks for coming along on the journey.

Haiti, Day Seven: Yahve Shamma

We spent most of our last full day in Haiti at the Yahve Shamma orphanage. School was out for the summer at 11:30, so we headed over there as soon as the school kids had left.

They're a little more serious about guarding
their pizza outlets than we are.

We'd decided to throw the kids a pizza party in honor of summer break starting, having passed a Domino's Pizza in Port au Prince. But guess what? They don't have the $7 medium carryout special there like they do here. But we all chipped in and it was so worth it to see the kids' reactions!

Many of them had never had pizza before, and while at first we were impressed that all thirty of them waited while we handed out slices and drinks, we realized after the blessing that many of them had no idea how to eat the pizza. Later, we learned from Jean Alix that they are taught at the orphanage not to use their hands when they eat (I imagine this is a huge change-over for a kid used to living on the street). But even considering that, our interpreters had to show many of the kids how to hold the pizza on the crust side and go at it from the point.

After lunch, we did crafts with them, and most of us walked away with pictures created for us by our friends, complete with our names spelled correctly and everything! Lina painted me a picture, while James got artwork from Marceylle and Naderson and several other boys.

Photos from this day start here; click on the picture to go to the album:

Lina took my camera and was snapping pictures of James, me, her friends, and eventually disappeared into her room. She took a picture of her bed because she wanted me to see it, and also of her door. When she saw that other girls were getting their hair done, she sat me down and pulled my straight hair back into a very tidy ponytail, pinning down the short, stray hairs that kept blowing in the wind.

When it was James' turn to have his hair put in corn rows, Lina acted as an assistant to the girl who was braiding, and held the comb when it wasn't in use. James' friend Marceylle watched with no small amount of skepticism.

Again, the kids honed in on James' tongue ring. They also wondered about the earring Andrea has in her upper earlobe. It might be the voodoo influence, but they were quite concerned that either might have sinister connotations. Both our interpreter Dario and their pastor Gaetan assured them that the piercings were fine and not indicative of anything dark.

At one point, James was carrying a little boy around and walked him up a hill near the edge of the property. The little boy indicated that they should just keep walking, out of the orphanage and on. James said that that was a bit poignant for him. All of the kids I saw appeared happy and well-adjusted, they were charming and endearing. But I can imagine some just want to be in a small family and even though Help One Now has assured Pastor Gaetan that no one is coming to fish for adoptable kids, I can't help but wonder whether the kids themselves hold out some hope of that.


Legacy Project from Help One Now on Vimeo.

This project was actually funded and the school building is mostly up. It will be an awesome resource for the kids and the community. Help One Now constantly has projects in the works to work with Haitians to improve their lives. If you are at all inspired by these stories, then you should go read about Ferrier Villiage and think about making a donation. I will always want to be a part of what's going on here, now that I've seen it for myself. And I'd love to have as many friends on board with me as possible.

A Break In the Action: Haiti Observations

I'll get to Friday, our last full day in Haiti, soon. But today, I wanted to jot down some observations from Haiti that don't necessarily fit anywhere else.

1) Privacy: Privacy takes second place to ventilation and airflow, in regards to being able to shut oneself off completely from anyone else. In the house where we stayed, every door had a three- to five-foot open area above it. So even though you could close and lock the door to the bathroom, for instance, whatever you did in there was plainly heard by everyone else in the house. Even the upstairs bathroom, because the upstairs was open by a courtyard atrium to the bottom floor. I won't tell anything too personal or embarrassing, except to say that one member of our travel team reacted quite vocally to the cold water of the shower. It made me smile, and I'm extremely glad that he didn't hold back.

The same held true in the public restrooms. Door for privacy, but there was still an opening on top. Also, our bedrooms. The "honeymoon suite" had the opening slightly "boarded up," but it was a thin piece of frosted plastic similar to plexiglass, and we could hear everything going on in the rest of the house, so I can only assume that they could hear us, too.

2) Showers: Speaking of showers: the majority of our showers were cold, although the family with whom we stayed does have one of those awesome on-demand water heaters in the upstairs bathroom. However, often when we got home in the afternoon, city power would be off and there wasn't really any justification for turning on the generator until it was later and darker and almost time for dinner. Also, sometimes the city power was still on, but only powering minimal things like lights and wi-fi, but not the freezer or the water heater.

Whether the shower was hot or cold, it went like this: get wet, turn off the water, soap up, then rinse off. Jean Alix said that even when he visits the US, he takes "Haiti showers," because he cannot bear to waste water, regardless of where he is.

Sometimes, the plumbing would peter out during our afternoon shower sessions, and then it was necessary to take a "bucket shower." This is what your mom did to you when you were a baby: Collect water in a container, then use a cup to pour the water over you, recollecting it and reusing it to rinse off. This happened once in the middle of Rachel's shower, after the conditioner application. So she got to have the beauty parlor treatment while Julia rinsed her hair out with the "bucket."

As I mentioned, the woman in Guibert with whom we had the privilege of helping with her house took a full-out (but clothed) shower when it was raining. She was very efficient and it made sense to take advantage of the pouring down on our heads.

3) Religious phrases. There were a lot of religious phrases everywhere. Many vehicles had personalized messages applied to the front windshield, a la this one:

Many, however, would say Exodus 12:12-14, Grace of God, or Jesus Saves. The tap-taps had a lot of this, as did, inexplicably, the lottery kiosks. There were many lotto shops called Fils de Jah or Fiels de Dieu, or Grace Eternelle, etc. The motorcycles had vanity plates mounted long-ways on the fender of the front tire. Many of these had religious messages, such as Merci, Jezi or even headlight appliques like this one:

There was one beauty parlor called "Blood of Jesus Boutique." Someone pointed out that it might have been a voodoo shop. My thought is just that it's in English, and maybe the cultural significance of what the blood of Jesus represents versus getting ones hair did simply does not translate.

4) Singing. We heard lots of it. I played you the mid-day church service and the lady in the garden. Here's another, taken from the courtyard of the place where we were staying. We heard them singing a few times during the week.

5) English T-shirts. There were lots of Christmas-themed and "Let It Snow" type shirts sported in the upper-80s weather, though seasonal appropriateness is probably not on the average villager's list of important priorities. One boy had on a shirt that said, "Brownies can do anything," which I totally wanted to steal for my nieces and nephews, but beyond that, I wasn't sure what it was supposed to have meant. Another little boy had on a bright pink shirt that said, "Broncos cheerleading." I also saw a lady with a shirt that said something like "Whale kiss ocean love," and it reminded me of Engrish.com.

6) Friendliness! Everyone we passed when we were walking either greeted us, or, if they didn't get to it first, responded very brightly to our "bonjou!" Else they'd snicker and reply with "bonswa," letting us know that, to them, morning was over and we needed to check our expression. I will say that several people greeted me in the evening with, "Good morning!" but I thought it was awesome that they were trying out their English, so I just "Good morning"ed them back. :) 

One lady went so far as to greet me with, "Bonjou, cherie," which I found charming and motherly, even though she was probably my age (although she could have been 60; Haitians seem to age slowly and well).

A couple of times when James and I were walking off to ourselves (we always stayed togetherish, but because of the accordion effect would occasionally be on our own at the middle of the pack), we attracted groups of boys who were probably 10-13 and who were very tickled about trying out every single English phrase that they knew. They'd walk with us for ten minutes, saying, "Good morning... How are you?... Let's go!" and other random phrases. They'd giggle, which is something I got used to and stopped wondering if they were mocking us (sometimes they definitely were, but it was never mean-spirited). We would answer, "Good morning! We are fine; how are you?" and compliment their wonderful English.

When we were in the van, travelling en masse, especially through marketplaces or in narrow streets where there were a lot of pedestrians, people would stare... until one of us smiled and waved. Then the entire aspect changed, and we'd get big smiles and waves.

When I was working on the bricks at the build site, I felt something on my hat and leaned up. A lady was just trying to get a good look at me, so when I stopped what I was doing and smiled, she hugged me and went on her way.

We pass a lot of people walking around here in downtown Austin. I'm trying to keep this openness and friendly outreach in my heart strongly enough to be cordial to everyone, even if they ignore me.

7) Animals. When we met Gene St. Cyr, Junior, he asked us if any of us liked animals and mentioned that there was no such thing as PETA in Haiti. Now, I think PETA is an organization with largely wacko ideas (though I feel that ethically treating animals is our responsibility as humans; PETA and I just differ on what "ethical" entails), I cringed a little to watch the village women throw rocks at the wild dogs to get them away from their houses. The wild dogs are clearly not pets. They were very well-behaved, though. They might beg with their eyes, but they did not try to steal our food from us. When we'd throw them (mostly the obviously prolific mamas) a few scraps, they'd happily take them. If we approached them, though, they were uncertain.

I was sitting there petting one of the sand-colored dogs when a little girl walked around the corner and watched me as though I were trying to kiss a frog. This was clearly an oddity for her, watching a human give affection to this animal.

There were a few dogs and cats at the Yahve Shamma orphanage. They very smartly hung out around the kitchen while the women were preparing chicken. James observed one of the cats begging and one of the women in the kitchen finally dripping some water onto the floor for the cat to drink. When she did that, a tiny baby came out of hiding and lapped a bunch of it up.

I never saw overt cruelty, but it seems like the animals are just there and largely ignored, though I suspect that in the village, some of them probably end up as dinner. They were good guard dogs, too, though. I saw them barking at someone they didn't think looked "right" coming down the walk toward the build site. I guess they thought we were okay, though, because they never gave us a hard time.

One of Jean Alix's dogs often ran out of the gate when there was traffic and would end up spending most of the day sitting outside of the walls until we got home. I suppose he's a deterrent to would-be thieves, too, but, again, it's difficult to imagine why. He's not vicious at all. According to this blog, a past president told the Haitians that he would come back as a dog and kill them. Here's an entry about Haitian dogs by a person who lives there.

8) Dress code. Almost without exception, everyone we saw was dressed nicely. That guy throwing concrete up onto a wall to reinforce the rebar? Well, he took his dress shirt off, but he's still wearing his khaki slacks. The lady whose house we were working on? The first day, she wore a denim shirt and nice blouse the whole day, while she shoveled and carried and ran around. Ladies walking down impossible hills from the market, carrying a laden basket on their heads, were doing so in dresses and three inch heels! Some of the people had clothes that were torn, but they were very clean and very dressy, as a whole.

I'll probably think of more later, but those were some of the interesting ones that stand out in my brain. :)

Haiti, Days Five and Six: Building in Guibert

June 12, 2013: Wednesday; and June 13, 2013: Thursday
We got up and made sandwiches for our lunches, then headed to Guibert to do what we could to help with the construction on the house being built there in the village.

When we got to the site, we separated and worked on two different things: some of us hammered (and rocked) at cinder blocks to open up any filled-in parts so that rebar and cement could go through them. The rest of us went up a hill to sift rocks from pebbles and transport the sandier stuff down the hill to be used in the concrete mix.

Our teammate Jerry Espinosa captured this video, which is from the second day. It pretty much sums up our activities.



The lady in the pink slacks is the homeowner. She was a machine. The first day, she shoveled and shoveled and directed everyone else's activities as they sifted and hauled. Her two kids ran wheelbarrows down the hill, often with sound effects, and at speeds that caused us leery grown-ups to cringe. But even when they wiped out, they were smiling, then back up and back at the running with a load of "sand."

So, the homeowner would shovel these giant loads into the pails and wheelbarrow if her kids or other Haitians were hauling. When it was the Americans' turn, she would do half loads and then smile and chuckle when we asked for more. If we did something that was less efficient than it could have been, she let us know by directing our feet or moving buckets or taking over. Her work ethic, like all we encountered during the week, was humbling.

On the first day, at around 11:00 AM, women from the village started bringing the men working on the house their food. We took that as our cue to go to lunch, also. We walked about a mile to the school to eat lunch at tables. It was beautiful. I love the Guibert countryside.

There were several dogs at the school who kept us company during lunch. They were polite but pitiful. I mentioned that we'd made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but one of the sammies that I made him was peanut butter, bacon, and banana. I think it gave him the necessary energy to make it through the afternoon that was shortened by a rainstorm, which turned into a thunderstorm, which meant we all huddled inside an enclosed porch until we were relatively confident that we wouldn't be struck by lightning before walking another mile in the opposite direction to get to the van.

By the way, a couple of the best "honeymoon" moments happened on the walk back. Everyone had handed their precious electronics over to Kendi, who was the only one of us bright enough to bring a poncho. As we headed up the hill to the main road, it was still pouring, and I was more than a little nervous about slipping (which I didn't, and a much younger man than I am did, but he made it look good). Once we got to the road, though, it was a gorgeous walk. At one point, Rachel pointed out a "mudfall" to our left. Earlier in the day and the week, we'd seen a trickling waterfall where the team had hiked last year. But now, with the rain, it looked like a chocolate waterfall straight out of Willy Wonka. It was beautiful, but you'll have to take my word for it since my camera was a quarter mile up the road in Kendi's pack. Stunning. James and I both just stood and started at it for a few moments.

Then, a bit further down the road, we got to a little clearing where water was running off of the road and down the side of the hill we were on. I stopped and made some joke about it being our own personal mudfall, and then we just stood there watching the water rush down in front of us, a light rain falling, and we kissed under our hats (my big ugly one, I left in Haiti; thanks again, Jadey! I loved it!). I told James that we could not have had a more romantic honeymoon.

The next day, we went back to the same site. We'd busted up all of the blocks, so we mostly worked with sifting and hauling. The house went up very quickly, and it seemed like after a third day, all of the walls should have been done. The actual construction is done by paid Haitian workers. Of the $2000 we had to raise for the trip, $500 went into the local economy directly, much of it to pay for these supplies and craftsmen. We tried to find a balance between helping them expedite the work for the family and not taking billable hours away from them.

On the second day at the build site, the first time we saw the homeowner, she was running a long bent piece of rebar down the road (as shown at the end of the video above). That encounter left mud on my shoe, and it  was tempting not to wash it when I got home. She did supervise some of our sifting that day, but she also ran more rebar and apparently had to work in her garden, so we didn't see as much of her. Although we didn't see her in her garden, we did have the privilege of working next to this lady. I was shoveling, and James was trying to be surreptitious, but you still get the general idea.

After working our second day, we went to a convenience store for some world-famous Prestige beer (winner of the World Beer Cup!). Fortunately for James, I don't like beer. I did order one and tried it, and guess what? Really good beer is still beer and it's not my favorite. So, James got two beers for the price of one. :) We had to drink it in the parking lot of the convenience store (which, fortunately, had a gorgeous overlook, so it's not as ghetto as it sounds) since our hosts are not imbibers of alcohol.

The store was interesting. There was an armed security guard at the front door, for starters. The products inside were fun to try to decipher. There were a bunch of bags of differently-flavored farina (like Malt-o-Meal) that was designed to be baby food, but that also said it was good for "ages 1 to 100." I was interested in the banana meal, but it was pretty expensive. Most of their "typical American" items were a lot more expensive there than here in the US.

We did end up buying a bag of Caribbean-produced Oreo-like sandwich cookies, except that the cookies weren't as dark and they were square, and the filling was peanut butter. Also, they were wrapped in 4-cookie packs. They cost over $4, even though the price tag in gourdes would have translated into closer to $3... but maybe that was also for tax. Now, too, I feel like a goober for eating them all and not having taken a picture!

When I was in the back of the store, a young man working in produce noticed that I had a camera and asked me to take his photo. I did, showed him, he thanked me, and that was it. People love having and then seeing their pictures made.

Which reminds me of something else: When we'd pass anyone on the street, we'd say "bon jour" or "bon soir." Actually, in Creole, it's "bonjou" and "bonswa" but, of course, those sounds the exact same; they're just spelled phonetically. In fact, if you look at this list, it's very easy to see the French spelled as it sounds. Interestingly, to me, I see that there's a different phrase asking where the bathroom is, but I was able to ask with "Ou est la toilette?" and the lady at the orphanage understood me. :) I guess "toilet" is pretty universal, too, though. Also, I did hear our interpreters asking "Ca va?" so I did that, too, and the response was usually "Yes, well, thank you. And you?" So I'm assuming that means more, "You're doing well, yes?" than "How are you?"

Wednesday and Thursday, James and I did stay up to play games. Something about being very active during the day gives me more energy at night.

I got a slight sun... I hesitate to say "burn," so will just say "kiss" on Thursday, and it's a total farmer's thing, but the sun was not as bad as I had expected it to be. I only applied sunscreen in the morning, but it didn't ever feel like it was bearing down on me. I credit the hat, too, of course.

Only one full day left in Haiti. Thanks for traveling with me!

Haiti, Day Four: Guibert and the "Tent City Church"

6/11/13 - Tuesday

The third day of our Haiti trip, we traveled first to Guibert to officially tour the build site where we'd be working the next couple of days. We also saw a bunch of houses that had already been build through the 100 Homes Project.

Here's a video about the first home (the background music is a little loud, so you might have to really listen to understand the spoken audio):

Kenscoff Interview from Help One Now on Vimeo.

As we were walking past the soccer fields, not for the first time, I heard singing.

After we saw a few of the houses, we went over to see the new guest house near Pastor Jean Alix's church. While we were there, some of the little kids were apparently on recess. The kids ran out of the building, spotted us, and started yelling, "Blanc! Blanc!" These kids had apparently zero boundaries, as they darted toward us, jumped into our arms, pulled at our skin, opened our mouths and pushed their fingers in to separate our teeth, attempted to get up under or go down our shirts to see whether there was any part of us that wasn't white, tried to pick-pocket phones to play with, took hats, and shared with each other, "Blanc est gross!" The mole beside my belly button was of particular interest to them, despite my protests, and James was soon on the ground with children climbing all over him, pulling on his hair, and trying to dismantle his Camelback.

After the kids went back in, we visited with Richard Cadet, a local artist who also had a home built through the 100 Homes Project. If you look here, you can see at the time of this blog that he was in the process of adding on to the original structure (you'll also see a picture of him with his work). It's finished now, and is his studio.

From Haiti 2013

(If you click on that picture, go back a few frames to see some of his work and the interior of his studio.) You can purchase some of his work and read his story here. Richard Cadet has won Haitian art prizes and been featured in magazines. He teaches local kids how to paint, as well.

For lunch, we headed to the Tea Terrace at the Baptist Mission, which has been in Kenscoff for a long time and I know they do great work, but, bless them, it's hopelessly American and there were more white people there (many with new Haitian babies) than anywhere else except for the airport. One upshot of a distinctively USA place? They had Diet Coke! My sole diet soda of the week! While we waited for all of our orders to be correctly filled, James had kibby, something Dario could only describe as, "Sort of a meat thing. You should try it." It was actually pretty yummy. Also, the dining area is totally open to the mountains, and we had a gorgeous view of the rain storm that hit while we were in there.

We spent the afternoon and evening in Petionville, visiting with Pastor St. Cyr, who has ministered to the Haitians in the biggest tent city for the past three years. He has a church, in which he also lived, before the earthquake and was home when the earthquake hit. After the tremors ended, he attempted to take an injured person into town to the hospital, but the roads were just jammed with people in confusion. By the time he reached the main road, he had seven injured people with him, and then he ran out of gas. People had to push his truck back to his home, where he and his wife tried to tend to the injuries as best they could.

Three days later, fuel was finally available. He showed up at the gas station at 4:30 AM and by 3:30 PM was finally able to get fuel, which he used to power his generator and hold a worship service. He felt that the people needed this, and he held services nightly, continuously, for months. Many people have come to work with him (including famous people, there long enough for photo ops), and he has always welcomed any help, but with one caveat: Anyone who wanted to speak to his church had to agree never to tell the people to whom he ministers that the earthquake was God's judgement on them. He said that his people had suffered enough, and the message that they needed to hear was that God loved them and that God was with them in their struggles.

Pastor St. Cyr also hosts a school at the same site as the church/home that was damaged in the earthquake. The school is presently outside, but thanks to donations and Pastor St. Cyr's drive, he has just completed building a new, safe church building with a school downstairs, which will open in September. Additionally, there is a corner of the building reserved for a walk-in clinic; the pastor only needs volunteers and supplies. 

The pastor's son, Jean, just moved back to Haiti from the United States three months ago. He spent time in Haiti when he was 10-15, but then went back to go to school and to work. His father has asked him numerous times to return, but it has only been recently that he felt the call to take this request seriously. He does have fond memories of his childhood in Haiti, though at first he was a bit put off by the fact that they didn't have consistent electricity for his video games. He said that he learned to entertain himself, and recalls sitting around with friends telling riddles to pass the time. As we walked with him to see the rental where his family is currently staying (a safe place, as opposed to the damaged home), he pointed out a tall pink structure and said, "That used to be a parking lot. I learned how to fly a kite there. I never flew a kite in the States. I never needed to."

We were able to attend mid-week services at the Compassion of God Baptist Church. Afterward, James and I were standing outside on a porch when a couple of girls below on the street noticed my camera hanging on my arm. They had an old, taped-up, non-functioning film camera with which they mimicked taking my picture. After I posed for them, I asked if they wanted me to take their picture. They did. I walked down the stairs to show them the result, and they giggled. I went back upstairs, they got my attention again, and the older girl asked for another picture. This time, she brought on the full model action. When I went down to show her, she was even more tickled. She tried to get the little boy who was with them to pose, but he didn't understand what was going on. Then both of the girls posed for one more picture, and it was time to go. As we were leaving, I saw the older girl with her mom, explaining that I was the one who'd taken a picture of her. I feel like we're all friends now, and we didn't exchange much at all by way of language. 

From Haiti 2013

That night, we had a late dinner and skipped our evening meeting. The next day was to be a work day, and we needed our rest.

Haiti, Day Three: Kids, History, and Shacking Up

June 10, 2013, Tuesday: Yahve Shamma
Monday morning, we chatted quite a while with some men who had been visiting Pastor Jean Alix's home from North Carolina. They left for the states Tuesday morning, which meant that James and I got the green light to relocate to the single private bedroom at the back of the house. Well, it was private in that it had a door that closed, however... This *is* a family's home, and the first night we were in the room, about 5 minutes after we had gotten into bed, Markley knocked on the door, waited approximately 7 seconds, then opened the door and turned on the light. He needed a heavy blanket out of the wardrobe. Most fortunately for all of us, my post-pregnancy predicament rendered marital exploits verboten, so he didn't walk in on anything more than some drowsy conversation.

But that was Monday night, which means I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's back up, shall we?

Monday morning, we went back out to Yahve Shamma, the orphanage in Petionville that is run by Pastor Gaetan. The people who had been there last year were blown away by how much work has been done in the past twelve months.

This was the property three years ago:


Their school is now in the area in back where Pastor Gaetan pictured a soccer field. They are still under tarps, but their school building is almost complete. There are dorms for the kids, and the Alcegairs are back in their house. The church building has all walls up. The next project is a suite of bathrooms.

There is a photo essay of some of the work that was going on at this site here. EDIT: The link has been removed because the website appears to have been poached. I believe that the big picture in the middle is "my" Lina!

Pastor Gaetan told us a little bit of his story... He didn't go all the way back, though. Apparently, Pastor Gaetan was an orphan himself. He had come to the United States and, in Arizona, visited a church where there were a couple of Haitian members. This church was impressed with Gaetan and offered to contribute $500 a month for him to go back to Haiti and run this orphanage.

He returned to Haiti, and took in 14 kids, and waited... then received no further support from this church. When he contacted them (repeatedly), he was told, basically, "We have our own problems. We can't help you." Over time, at least six other church or para-church organizations visited Gaetan, promising to help, and then disappeared. He spent all day every day trying to track down water and two meals for the children that he had at the time.

Help One Now was able to follow through, thanks to the support of people like YOU, and as the resources have become available, Pastor Gaetan continues to dream bigger and bigger. He told people that he wanted to have a school for 200 kids. And this seemed impossible... but it happened. I can tell you, with some embarrassment, that the trigonometry and some of the other things on those blackboards made me feel ridiculously ignorant.

Now, once the school building is completed, he wants to use it at night to host classes for adults for things like welding and masonry. He wants to see his students have access to computers to learn basic skills, and he wants to be able to use his connections to help them secure jobs when they leave the orphanage.

And unlike the American foster system, once these kids turn 18... they're still family. Pastor Gaetan envisions their returning "home" as often as they like. He wants to continue to provide support for them for the rest of their lives.

Children in the orphanage (who often aren't technically "orphans," but might have lost one parent and/or have families who simply cannot feed or care for them) are sponsored 5 times at $40 per month, to help care for their lodging, food, and school. According to the website, it looks like all of them are fully sponsored! (Don't think that lets any of us off the hook; there is so much else going on in Haiti that requires funding... In fact, all of these kids have recently been rescued from trafficking and they need sponsors!)

Children in the school are sponsored 2 times at $40 per month, to pay for their school supplies and teachers' salaries. The children have a $25 annual school fee, but many families don't pay, and Gaetan isn't going after anyone for the fee.

While we were hanging out with the kids, it became obvious that many of the boys were very interested in James' tongue ring. They pointed it out to Pastor Gaetan, who asked him whether it hurt. The boys wanted James to take the ring out, but he can't. Pastor Gaetan also asked James if he were Jewish. Maybe it was the hair and the ringlets at his temple?

Promising these loving and seemingly well-adjusted children that we'd return on Friday, our team left so that the kids could have their lunch. That's another of Gaetan's goals: He wants to be able to provide lunch for all of the school kids as well as "his" residential children. Many of the school kids probably don't eat much at all at home.

As for us, we went to lunch at Hot N Fresh. It was mostly Americanish food with a Haitian twist. Spaghetti seems to be huge in Haiti. It is served in most restaurants and at all meals. It reminds me of when I was little, and we had company, and I asked my mom why, every time we had company, we served spaghetti. She said that it was because it was inexpensive to feed a crowd. I got plain spaghetti. James got some with meat sauce. Jacob treated us to ice cream for dessert, and I loved the mango!

Next, we went up to Fort Jacques for a tour. Dario had contacted an acquaintance to be a guide, but once we started getting off of the van, men started vying for our attention. In the end, we took another gentleman on, too, and between the two guides, we got a pretty good picture of this fort's history. One of the guides kept giving us quizzes, and James was the only one who could answer all of his questions!

This was filmed shortly after the earthquake:



I am very happy to say that the fort has been restored for the most part. The cannons are now down at a lower level, but the walls have been rebuilt.

Basically, Fort Jacques and Fort Alexandre were set up to monitor activity coming into Port au Prince from the ocean. It was to protect from the French, but they never came back, anyway.

As we were leaving the site, there was an elderly man asking us to buy greeting cards made with banana leaves. I purchased one, but in hindsight wish I'd gotten one for every person who contributed toward our trip. They were lovely and much more affordable than mass-produced cards from CVS.

The gentleman vying to guide us, this card-seller, and even the young boy at the top of the fort who told me to take his picture, posed, then asked for a dollar for his troubles, all highlighted a difference to me between Haitian need and American need. Everyone who asked me for money in Haiti was asking for money IN EXCHANGE for something: either a souvenir, or a service, or artwork. There was no, "I'll take whatever you can spare." It was always, "I'll give you this in exchange for whatever you feel it's worth." Yes, some of it was pretty desperate and/or aggressive, but it was always a value-added transaction, never a charity. They want to work.

It also struck home as we were driving past the markets and even just through the streets: If someone has a plantain tree in their yard, they are bringing the fruit to town and trying to sell it. That can't happen here in the US, because to sell food, you have red tape, and I know some people are gung ho on public/food safety, but it really does prevent a lot of smaller-scale garden/farmers from entering the marketplace. (Austin with the food truck industry and tons of farmers' markets is a little friendlier.)

So, from Jean Alix's home, to Guibert, to every street we drove down, it would appear that the Haitian people are workers. Every day, the streets were packed with people selling... meat, vegetables, brooms, chairs, art, souvenirs, their services. Women walk with baskets full of groceries on their heads, wending in and out of the stalls, up hills, in heels, and they make it look easy. Men build, excavate, drive tap-taps, and ride motorcycles. They sell bracelets and paintings and carvings.

I love how someone can just walk up the sidewalk, sit down, start roasting some corn, and sell it. It give people the opportunity to succeed, if only on a small scale. Dang it. Now I want some roasted corn.