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.

Haiti, Day Two: Church, Local Flavor, Sabbath

6/9/13, Sunday 6:30 AM
We were supposed to be up and ready to go at 6:15 but... well, the ladies were. :) There were some issues with some of our phones adjusting to the time zone, and our driver and interpreters had to wait patiently for us to get ready.

The church service we were attending in Petionville started at 6:00 AM and was over at 8:00 AM. Dario, our go-to interpreter and guide, assured us that arrival at 7:00 would be fine.

Our host home provided us with a "quick" breakfast on this early start day: Rebo coffee, many cereals, a variety of breads including a pull-apart cinnamon roll, and fresh bananas. Oh, man, I love local fruit.

Sleeping upstairs in the girls' bunk room wasn't bad. We slept with the windows open, and the sounds of nature were a nice departure from the urban sounds to which I am accustomed. It also helped that I'd had some pre-bed couch time with my honey, and we were both extremely exhausted by the time we called it a night and went our separate ways.

Church Service
There was a whole lot of singing going on by the time we arrived at the church service. Although most of it was in Creole, they did sing a few familiar songs, like "Hallelujah/The Lord God Almighty Reigns," and, I believe "Angry Words" at the close of the service.

Jacob spoke very briefly, which caught Pastor Gaetan Alcegaire off guard because he'd allotted Jacob half an hour and had just neglected to tell him. Pastor Gaetan finished up, then dismissed the service.

This church building in progress is located at the Yahve Shamma orphanage. During the service, a couple of the resident dogs walked in, hoping someone might drop food. It was obvious that the mentality toward wee puppies is different with Haitians than it is with Americans. We were smitten by the little guys; they were just an annoyance to everyone else.

There was a young girl, perhaps 12 - 14, ushering the entire service. When someone would walk in, she would disappear and come back with another chair. If one of our men gave his chair to a woman, the girl would again take off and return five minutes later with a replacement chair.

After church was dismissed, many congregants came to us to shake our hands and wish us blessings for the day. Once they'd greeted us, though, the children stayed. I looked over to see James holding hands with a young man named Marceylle. According to the website, he is nearly exactly one year younger than Daphne. Marceylle has beautiful wide eyes that seem to take everything in, and he had a more serious aspect than some of the other children.

Samantha and Manitha were the first to stick to me. Manitha is a very poised and charming teenager, who clearly adores Jacob and who is also apparently a quick friend-maker, as noted in this blog post (which I highly recommend that you read for a little background of Pastor Gaetan and the orphanage. My favorite quote: "Thanks be to God who moves mountains. And thanks be to God for men and women who pick up the stones, one after another, until the mountain moves."). I also met Lina, a girl about 3 months younger than Daphne, who is not technically an orpan, but whose family cannot afford to take care of her.

At first, it was tempting to feel awkward. There we were: holding hands with these kids, not speaking the same language, just... standing there. Holding hands. And then, once I got over that initial catch, I realized that it wasn't awkward at all. It wasn't any more awkward than sitting around holding hands with my daughter or my husband, and not having to talk, but still communicating.

Sabbath Afternoon

About a half hour later, Jacob had our interpreters tell the kids that we would return the next day, and we left to go get a farther-off perspective on the city of Port au Prince.

While we waited for access to the look-out, we met some local vendors who wanted very much for us to buy their works of art and jewelry. If we insisted that we weren't buying today, they would cajole, "It doesn't cost anything to look!" And when James mentioned that he'd forgotten his money (we did have that rushed start to the day) they suggested that he "ask your friend to loan it to you."

Looking over the city was my first real feel for how populous this area is. The density is a bit staggering. I never felt claustrophobic in the streets (though that might be different if I were having to drive!), but those houses represent a whole load of people.

After the overlook, we headed back to Jean Alix's home. We didn't have much planned for this day, because this was the Sabbath and our host takes the mandate to rest seriously. (Which is ironic, considering that I rarely saw him sitting down for more than as long as it took to consume a meal or to politely visit with us in the morning or evening for a bit.)

Our interpreters had mentioned that they were going to go into town for lunch. Jacob wanted to join them, so we were all invited to go. As it happened, the famous/infamous Sunday pumpkin soup had been prepared for breakfast after we left and saved for us to have for lunch. So we did eat that as an "appetizer." There is a recipe for it here, but I wouldn't use the Whole Foods version... scroll down to the second user, who explained how to make it in more detail. Ours definitely had potatoes in it, but I'm not certain about whether or not it had meat. James really liked it, and I'll try a vegetarian version of this very soon.

Following pre-lunch, we went into town to a small restaurant which we very nearly filled. No one ordered food; we just ordered drinks and then waited for our meals. We ended up getting a varied plate with a piece of chicken, some French fries, fried plantains, a potato salad made with beets (and consequently extremely dark pink!), and very delicious pickled cabbage. It was a lot of stuff, but the portion size wasn't gigantic, so we were able to put most of it away... until about fifteen minutes later when the server brought out plates piled with rice and peas! I hope they weren't offended when most of the rice went back to the kitchen. We were just SO full!

Guibert

With a couple of hours before the afternoon church service at Jean Alix's congregation, we went ahead and drove out to Guibert. This is the village where we were to work on preparing construction materials for a house being built, and was my favorite place that we went. It is up in the hills, and there weren't any big estates with cinder-block walls to obscure the views. There was farmland impossibly situated on the side of slopes, and it was just extremely beautiful. (My pictures of that day start here.)

We saw a completed house that had been built by the 100 Homes Project, on which the group from last year got to work. There are some details about the project here:

(I LOVE THIS VIDEO! You'll see Richard Cadet, an artist we will "visit" later, and I see Lina! Also, Pastor Jean Alix is the dressed up "tour guide" for the house with the pink walls.) If you want to donate, visit Help One Now.)

We hung out near the church and rested, "visiting" with kids while we waited for services to start (taking pictures and letting them use our cameras). We also saw the progress of a guest house that is being built for future groups, so Jean Alix's family won't have to play continuous host, and they'll be closer to the community where they're working.

At church, the service was dedicated to children. They all marched in by age, dressed in red and white. The boys all had on red ties, white shirts, and black slacks. The girls were dressed more individually in red dresses with white jackets or red blouses with white skirts, white tights, and red shoes. Laurie, Jean Alix's daughter, was one of the emcees, and many of the kids presented.

Although the entire service was in Creole, again, there were elements of familiarity. We sang "Father, I Adore You" (Pere, Je T'aime) and then, after a reading from 1 John, sang "Beloved, let us love one another..." complete with the address tag of "1st John 4, 7 and 8." Except, you know, not in English.

I was taking notes during the service (it was more than two hours long, so please have mercy on me), and the boy in front of me noticed my quick scribbling. He pointed this out to two of his friends, who watched me write for some time. I was feeling a little guilty about that, so I was trying to finish up when this same boy noticed my ring finger tattoo. When he mentioned this to his friends, the woman sitting beside him made him get up and go to sit at the end of the row.

Sunday Night at "Home"
Returning to Jean Alix's, we had pasta, chicken drumsticks, eggplant, fried plantain, salad, potato salad, green beans, and some kind of meat-wrapped vegetables. At this point, I was becoming decidedly not hungry!

Once again, our evening living room wrap-up let out at about 9:00 PM and most people went in to play a game. James and I were both exhausted. I invited him up to the girls' dorm with me, and we crashed out on my bunk. It was nice to spend an hour or so with him, even though we were both completely wiped. A bit after 10, Jacob came upstairs to announce that the girls were coming up to bed, so he had to break up the "party." It was literally a slumber party, and was not too difficult for me to resume the festivities once James headed downstairs for the night.