It's the Little Things

Nothing major happened today.  In many ways it was like many of the other days that I've had in Haiti.  Got up, went to water therapy, worked with Chi Chi, played with the kids, did some work at night.

But, with each of those activities, something little happened that stood out to me.

Nina is a visitor who is with us just for two days before meeting up with her team on Thursday.  She is Chinese, but has been living in the States for the last 15 years.  She first came to Haiti on January 12, 2010--her team's plane landed just two hours before the earthquake.  She has been coming back even with that rocky start.

Well, she came with me to water therapy which meant that three kids could go instead of just two.  Now, for the last five weeks, Alain has cried every time.  He cries when he's in the water, and he cries when he's out of the water.  Today?  Not a peep!  No tears.  Instead we got smiles and laughs and splashing.  He liked it.  I was thinking of not bringing him any more because he didn't like it so much and I thought someone else would benefit more.  He proved me wrong.  It's a good thing I didn't do what I was thinking. Phonsley went again today for the second time.  He, too, relaxed and enjoyed himself.  At one point he splashed with me!  I know these seem like little things, but really, they're huge.

Chi Chi relaxing

Chi Chi and me

Due to traffic water therapy took up much of the morning.  We got back to the orphanage just in time to help with lunch.  Jean-Daniel continues to work on his swallowing--he's getting it!  After that I took Nina with me to visit Chedner's orphanage (that's where cute little Chi Chi lives).  Nina's foundation is interested in sponsoring children to go to school.  They really
want to match families up with a child for a long-term commitment.   I know Gertrude still has needs, but none of the kids at Chedner's go to school.  Nina met the kids, took pictures, wrote down ages.  She really wants to go back to her group and suggest starting small with the 4-5 school-aged kids at Chedner's.  How cool is that! And, she took some pictures of me working with Chi Chi, so now you all can see him again.

Just a couple more little things.

Lovely

As I mentioned, Nina was in Haiti the day of the earthquake.  Her group was evacuated soon after the airport opened again, but she felt compelled to come back quickly.  When she came back in April of 2010, she said that one of the things that she noticed right away was the number of kids flying kites.  She said that she was immediately reminded of her childhood in China.  Most kids were too poor to buy kites, so they had to make them; but, once made, the kites provided hours of fun.  She decided that she wanted to share her kite-flying passion with kids here.  Today, she got to do just that.

Kethia, Nina, and Lovely

Her 12-year-old niece who lives in China came to visit Nina in New Jersey last fall.  She brought with her three kites from China.  Nina brought those kites with her to Haiti.  This afternoon, Nina and I took the older kids to the school yard to fly the kites.  Awesome!  The kids loved it.  Nina loved it.

Kethia flying kites

The last "little thing" took place this evening.  Three brothers--Jameson, Edson, and Michael--will be adopted by a family from MN.  I met the mother last February when she came to visit, and we stay in touch on Facebook.  We decided to Skype tonight so that the boys and the family could talk.  Jameson is the oldest, and he'll be 12 in July.  We were up on the roof for privacy while they talked with the family in MN.  The boys and I were scrunched into two chairs.  During the whole conversation, Jameson sat and held my hand.  I don't know why that touched me so much, but it did.  This boy, soon to be a teenager, still wanted to hold someone's hand while talking with his new parents.  It was so cool to be a part of the conversation with the boys, their parents, and their siblings.  What an honor.

Nothing big today.  Just a whole string of "little things" that make me smile while I sit up on the roof.

Fun Days

School where the recital was held

Rosie (L) and Sofi (R)

I sort of feel guilty for not working more over the last three days, but they have been so relaxing and fun, that I push the guilt away!

Saturday I met with two people from a nearby organization, gave them a tour of our place, and then helped put ribbons in the girls' hair.  I'm finding that networking with people is much easier when it's about something that I am passionate about.  Hmm . . . . interesting the way that works.

After that I decided to spend the afternoon at the Caribbean Lodge, swimming and relaxing.  Great time.

Waiting for the recital to begin

School view

Sunday was "church" up on the roof.  I find that I really enjoy that quiet time to read Scripture, read my letter from my church, and listen to the praise music from the church across the street.  The afternoon was spent at a recital with Rosie and Sofi (Gertrude's daughter and niece, respectively).  Their teachers from their music school had a recital, and I was invited to go.  I know nothing about music, but I really enjoyed it.  And, I got to see a really cool school.

Gertrude "swimming"

Enjoying Wahoo Bay!

Today I spent at Wahoo Bay Beach and Resort.  Nothing more  relaxing than swimming in the ocean and soaking up the sun.

Tomorrow I'll start working again.  Promise.



 In the picture below people are waiting with buckets to fill up with free water.  I'm not sure where it was coming from, but people for blocks were going to different areas, running with multiple buckets to get the water.

Choral clip in the video.  All the singers are teachers at Rosie's music school.  Don't worry if you don't understand it--it's in Creole!

Technically, I Was Not Lost

I have been truly lost a handful of times in my life.  A few times while backpacking through Europe I was lost.  Seriously lost.  Like no clue where I was.  A couple of times I have been lost in the Boundary Waters.  Those times were sort of scary, highly frustrating, and nerve wracking (especially because I either didn't speak the language or was responsible for teens).

 However, there have been MANY times in my life when I have taken off for a place, pretty sure I knew how to get there, but the way was hazy in my mind.  When that happens, I often have friends or others with me who may or may not appreciate the fact that I don't know the exact way to get to where we were going. Sorry to all those folks.

On those occasions, though, we weren't really lost.  We just weren't where we were supposed to be and I wasn't sure how to get to where we were going..  Yesterday for me was one of those days. 

I had to go to the store for shampoo, conditioner, lunch stuff, etc.  I have been to the Star 2000 on Delmas many times, and I know the route perfectly.  Nothing too exciting.  I decided to go to a different store in a completely different direction.  I headed out for the DeliMart near the Caribbean Lodge.  This required taking a different set of taptaps, ones I had never taken before.   I knew there was a Sol gas station on the corner, I knew it was on the way to the American embassy, and I knew it was just a short walk from the corner where I would get off to the DeliMart.  

All that knowledge was correct, and I got off the first taptap at the correct corner.  It had a Sol gas station.  It just wasn't the corner near the DeliMart.  I started walking, thinking the store was just down the road.  On was on Tabarre, so I knew where I was, I just didn't know how to get to the store from there.  After walking quite a bit it was obvious that the store was not on that road.  However, I chose to keep going because I knew the store wasn't behind; it might be in front of me still.  

I walked about two miles (in flip flops) before coming to the first intersection, which I recognized.  I turned left and saw a Sol gas station on the right a little ways up.  That was the Sol and corner I was looking for!  The DeliMart was just around the corner (if you're on the right corner!).  I did my shopping--I wasn't too impressed with this DeliMart--they are not all created equal.

Impulse purchase--$1 U.S.

I made one impulse purchase--nail polish remover.  A couple of days before leaving for Haiti, I had a manicure and pedicure.  The polish on my hands wore off quickly, but the polish on the toes has taken longer.  In fact, I still have polish on my big toe after three and a half months (I know, TMI).  I didn't think to pack polish remover, so I've just been dealing with the slow chipping off process.  The polish remover caught my eye in the store, and I thought "Why not??".  I haven't used it yet.  I'm debating whether to use it, or wait and see if, in five weeks, I still have polish on the last of my toes.  This is partly how I entertain myself in Haiti!

Getting home should have been easy.  Come out of the store, turn left, cross the street, grab a taptap, etc.  I forgot the part about turning left again at the corner after crossing the street.  Oops.  I asked the driver of the taptap I got on whether he was going to Rte. National #1.  Yes.  I hopped on.  I quickly realized that it was not the same road I had walked along.    I wasn't where I thought I was, but I knew where I was going.  So, technically still not lost.  The taptap route ended at Rte. National #1, and I started walking left (I still have a hard time with compass directions here).  About half a block later, I knew exactly where I was!  From there it was simple to grab another taptap and head home.

I feel as if I'm starting to "own" a small portion of Port-au-Prince.  I think I'm ready to branch out now.  I'd like to tackle downtown or Petionville next and see whether I can find my way around those two places!

A Day Late

          

This post is actually from yesterday--Wednesday, April 24, 2013--I couldn't get the blog to work until tonight.

Brinel was very proud of his hat!

Brilner and Milo

          Horse therapy was different again today.  One of the regulars, Rosaline, couldn't go because she has been having more and more seizures.  I understand that she had a couple of them this morning.  So, I got to pick another child to go in her stead.  I wanted to try Marvens or Catelain, but I wasn't sure how they would react, and if the reaction was negative, I knew I couldn't handle them.  I don’t even think Brinel could handle them.  Instead, I chose to have Brilner go.  I fell in love with him back in November 2009 on my first mission trip.  At the time, he couldn't walk, and he had a killer smile.  He still has the smile, he can now walk, but he can be quite the stinker.  He’s not always so cute. 

Brinel on the horse for the first time

Brinel and his "cowgirl" Christina

            However, he was a champ at horse therapy!  He sometimes pulled the “I don’t want to go where you are taking me so I’m just going to flop down” routine.  But, overall he loved it.  He wasn't afraid of the horses.  He loved riding them.  He won the hearts of the workers.  I think I fell in love with him again!  It’s so good to see the kids respond positively to new situations and new therapies.  I don’t know whether he will get to go again, but I would love to see it happen.  As long as Rosaline can keep going, too!

            I have grown in my respect for P.T.’s and O.T.’s while I've been here.  Today, my respect for them has reached new heights.  A couple of therapists were here Monday and Tuesday through Healing Hands for Haiti.  They taught me some tricks for teaching kids how to eat and develop mouth muscles.  They made it look so easy.  It’s not.  It’s hard.  It’s messy. 

            I started last night working with Jean-Daniel on how to drink from a bottle.  He has never learned how to suck, which means that his mouth muscles are weak.  This weakness leads to lots of drooling.  He wanted to chew on the nipple instead of sucking at it to get water out.  I just about lost it last night.  However, I learned that the cheap baby bottles I had purchased didn't have holes in the nipples (maybe that’s how they all come?  I don’t know.)  No wonder the poor kid couldn't get any water out!  Even after poking a whole in the nipple he still struggled to get water out.  He just couldn't figure out how to suck.  I did everything the therapist showed me, but no luck.  I finally gave up.

            This morning at horse therapy I tried again with the eating and drinking from the bottle.  Jean-Daniel did great with the eating.  I held his mouth closed and ran my finger down his throat to induce swallowing.  It worked!  He ate without much drooling.  He was only able to drink a little bit; he continued to chew on the nipple instead of sucking.  Let me tell you, it’s hard to hold the bottle, keep his head upright (not tilted totally back like a baby bird), and stroke the throat so that he will swallow.  In about 15 minutes he managed to swallow about ½ ounce of water. 

            Lunch was just messy.  Sloppy.  Drooly.  I decided I could work with both Jean-Daniel and Phonsley at the same time.  Big mistake.  I had them sit at the same small table—mistake number one.  Phonsley doesn't have the core strength to sit up and feed himself.  He fed himself just fine yesterday, but he was sitting in a wheelchair that gave support so that all he had to do was focus on feeding himself.  Today, he had a hard time finding his mouth; some of the food first went toward his eye and then slowly made its way to his mouth.  The poor boy would've starved to death if I hadn't helped at times.  As it was, much of the food landed on the floor, on him, in his hair, anywhere but his mouth.

            Jean-Daniel just about caused me to lose it.  It started okay, but as we went I had a harder and harder time doing everything I needed to: hold the head up, get the food into his mouth, hold the mouth closed so that the food stays in, and then stroke the throat so that he would swallow.  Again, as much food was on him, on the floor, or on the table as in him.  It’s a good thing I had the boys take off their shirts before we started or they would have needed whole new outfits.  They just needed to put on new shorts due to the mess.  I didn't have the patience to work with Jean-Daniel again on the drinking.  I was whooped just after the eating portion of lunch.  

My practice field for driving my motorcycle

            The people who do this time of therapy for a living have my utmost respect.  It’s hard, messy work, and I think the rewards of seeing progress are off in the distance.

            I practiced with the motorcycle again today.  Tomorrow Sony is going to go to the police station to apply for a license for the bike.  Hopefully, they will give some sort of temporary license plate so that I can start driving on the roads!  I can hardly wait to go out on my own.  I don’t have to go fast or far.  I just want the freedom to head out on my own. 

          I"ll attach today's updates to this post.  I spent the day working with the kids on therapy.  Breakfast with Jean-Daniel went better.  I think more breakfast went into him instead of on him.  Phonsley did okay sitting in his wheelchair and eating at the table in the kitchen, but I think the nannies cheated and helped him along.  I know they helped him at lunch.  Phonsley really does make a mess when he eats rice and beans (it's probably not the best food to work with when trying to teach a kid how to feed himself).  The nannies did get a bit upset with me because he was making a mess and taking so long.  One started to feed him just as I was finishing up with Jean-Daniel.  I told her I would take over and help him, but she said that he wasn't doing a very good job.  I just replied that he needed to practice.  

          Jean-Daniel did a great job at lunch!  Hardly a mess at all.  A big part of the success goes to him, but I'm also getting better at helping him.  This morning when I tried the bottle again with Jean-Daniel he managed to drink about an ounce of water.  It's like he gets it for a few seconds and then goes right back to biting on the nipple.  The drinking part frustrates me.  But, at least it's less messy than the beans and rice!

          Sister Emma, Gertrude's real sister, called today to ask whether I would be willing to do some therapy with a one-year-old girl.  Somehow the baby's mother is connected to the school/work program run by Sister Emma's convent.  I said sure; I mean, I'm not going to say no.  However, I'm concerned that people think I know more than I do.  I've learned a lot since I've been here, but I'm no expert.  If this keeps up I may need to look into training as a P.T./O.T.!

Missionary

Over the years I've often wondered about the word "missionary."  What does it mean exactly?  What does it mean to be a missionary?  Am I one?

Being an English teacher, I think of both the denotation (dictionary definition) and the connotation (emotional response) of the word.  Webster says that a missionary is a person undertaking a mission and especially a religious mission.  Webster didn't necessarily clear it up for me, so I looked at the definition given for English language learners--a person who is sent to a foreign country to do religious work (such as to convince people to join a religion or to help people who are sick, poor, etc.).  That was a little better, except for the part about "[convincing] people to join a religion."  

I then looked up the definition of "mission" to see whether that would help me. Here's what Webster had to say: a ministry commissioned by a religious organization to propagate its faith or carry on humanitarian work.  Again, I struggled with the "commissioned by a religious organization to propagate its faith."  

According to the dictionary definition of the words, I am a missionary.  I have gone to a foreign country to undertake a religious work that is to help people who are sick, poor; to carry on a humanitarian work.  However, it's the connotative meaning that I struggle with.  

A "missionary" often has a negative connotation.  Early Christian missionaries did great damage to every culture they encountered.  It was only the humblest of them who could see that their work was about serving God, not about imposing a more "civilized" culture upon those with whom they were working.  I know missionaries have learned lots since the "bad old days."  But, that doesn't mean that people's reaction to the word itself has changed.  My "religious work" has nothing to do with propagating the Christian faith; the religious work is being done within me.  I am growing in my faith every day.  I am learning to rely on God in more ways than I could ever imagine.  Haiti is working on me as much, if not more so, as I am working on Haiti.  If that makes sense.

My efforts in carrying "on a humanitarian work" often run headlong into my own arrogance.  My belief that I know what is best.  My attitude that I should/could/can change a system in a matter of months that has developed--for good or bad--over decades.  And why would my system be better?  Why, because it's my system!  How arrogant of me to think that way.  But, I confess, I do think that way.  I think if Gertrude, Suse, the nannies just bought into my way of doing things, then all would function just fine.  I won't be here forever, though.  When I leave, they will still be here.  In Haiti.  With all the cultural pressures and expectations that come with living in this society.  My job as a "missionary" is to humble myself and learn what is good about Haitian culture/systems, celebrate those, listen to learn what changes are being sought, and then work with the folks here to bring about change that is sustainable whether I am here or not.

I don't know how some of you may react to the word "missionary," but my gut reaction is that I don't know whether I am worthy of that designation.  For me, a missionary is one who humbles herself to God's will and strives to serve others; one who sees value in the culture of those being served; one who lets others see her faith in her actions not her words; one who sees "the big picture," not just what is in the immediate present; one who can let go of her own ego.  

Yesterday I used the term "missionary" to refer to myself for the first time.  I shared with a visiting group of P.T.'s that I was here at Gertrude's as a long-term missionary.  I have hesitated to describe myself as such for all the reasons/thoughts stated above.  I am trying on the word for size.  Seeing how it feels.  Seeing whether I can own that word.  I'm working on it.  It, too, will be a journey.

Tablet Kokoye

            Back in February I had tablet kokoye, a delightful concoction of sugar, coconut, cinnamon, vanilla, and other spices.  I loved it, and I've been wanting to try making it myself ever since.  Well, I only have about five (5) more weeks here, so today I decided that I better make it pretty darn quick or it won’t get done. 

Some flooding in the market

            We had most of the ingredients here (the three coconuts needed came straight from the trees in compound— doesn't get much fresher!), but I had to go to the market for the sitwon (limes).  I also needed ginger, but I was told there was none in the market.  I had to ask Makila to go find that and some cinnamon sticks for me.  She found both, but I don’t know where.

Fresh coconut, ginger root, and limes

            Gertrude is one of those cooks who doesn’t follow a recipe. I had found a recipe online in early February, so I pulled it up on my computer.  Gertrude read through it, and then promptly pretty much ignored it.  When I cook, I have to follow the recipe otherwise what I make just doesn't turn out.  I trusted Gertrude because she has made it many more times than I.  I think the only thing we measured was the sugar; everything else she just added by eyeballing it.

            I got to do some “firsts” today—picking fresh coconuts off the tree, drinking fresh coconut milk, buying produce in the market (as versus Coca Cola and Prestige).  I had hoped to have the older girls help me make it, but Gertrude wasn't sure they could handle the knives safely.  Maybe next when I know what I’m doing more they can help.  My mom used to let best friend Leslie Hanson and me make chocolate chip cookies at our house.  I have great memories of that; I’d like the girls here to experience the fun of baking with friends and learning how to function in a kitchen. 

Slaving over a hot flame

Constant stirring!

            Anyway, after about 30 minutes of cutting, chopping, and grating, I was ready to put the big pan on the stove and stir.  For TWO hours I stirred.  And sweated over the pot.  And stirred some more.  The flame was too hot at one point because the sugar was bubbling up, but it was hard to adjust the heat because it was similar to cooking over a blow torch.  I am way impressed with the ladies who cook huge meals for the kids without burning much of it.  I digress.  I continued to stir.  Finally Gertrude said the concoction was the right consistency.  The other downside of cooking in this kitchen is that it is downstairs while the “salamanje” (where you eat) is upstairs.  By the time I got the pan upstairs, the liquid had already started to congeal.  Instead of dainty little tablet kokoye circles I ended up with big blobs.  They may not have looked pretty enough to submit to the 4-H fair, but they were edible.  The kids certainly didn't complain as they wolfed them down (of course, these kids eat just about anything!).  I’ll work on presentation next time. 

Tablet Kokoye

            All in all, it was a good day.  The whole weekend has been relaxing, and I’m ready for the week to begin.

Just Wanna Blend In

          Today I had my fill of being stared at and having comments made about me.  I go out in the neighborhood, which I've been doing for three months now, and everyone still stares.  It's as if people have not seen a white person (or me) before.  What really got to me, though, were the comments and stares when I took the boys to see the road construction.  Everyone (okay, not everyone, just the vast majority of the men) had something to say.  Some of it I understood; some of it I didn't (but I got the meaning just fine).  I felt bad for the boys because they had to listen to the stuff.
          Then, when I go out on the motorcycle to practice, everyone--men, women, and children--stare.  It bugs me.  I just want to be able to go out, do my thing, and not be noticed.  I don't want to have to respond to every child shouting "Hey, you" or "Blanc."  And I don't want to have to respond when the adults (mostly the men) do it.  I've gotten to the point of rudeness--I just don't respond and keep walking.  No eye contact.  No head movements.  Nothing.  Then I feel like a rude, stuck up American.

The boys watching the machine

The machine being watched!

          I feel so comfortable here, but most people still treat me as an oddity.  Then, I try to "walk around in someone else's skin" (thank you Atticus Finch!).  Is this how minorities feel in the U.S.?  Do they always feel as if people are staring at them simply because of the color of their skin?  Do they feel as if they are an oddity?   I rarely feel hostility, just like I'm an exhibit in a zoo.  Today was the only day I felt uneasiness.  That came because of the men.  The boys and I sat down on a short wall so that the boys could watch the ditch-digging machine, and some of the men came over and kept asking me to buy them something to drink.  I said no and smiled.  One of them stepped behind two of the boys and put his hands on their shoulders.  I didn't like that; it made me nervous (just like it would in the States).  I had the two boys move closer to me, and the man started in on me about how I assumed he was bad because he was black.  I said no, that I wasn't comfortable with a stranger touching the kids.  Gertrude assured me that Haitians do not feel it okay for strangers to touch their children, so I was in the right to expect him to keep his hands off.

Wolton, Edson, Jameson, Keloke

          Why did it immediately become about race?   Why not simply about respecting one's boundaries?  I wonder if in the States minorities feel hostility instead of oddity?  Do I not feel hostility because it's not there?   Or is it because I know it's a temporary situation for me?  

          The boys did enjoy themselves, though! That made all the other stuff worthwhile.  

          Yesterday a group came in to do quick blood

Marvens, nursing his "wound"

work on all the kids and staff here.  They were from International Child Care (I think), and they came with the staff from Christian Adoration School.  That's the school that the two teachers here are associated with.  It was quite the process!  First of all, some of the kids didn't know what was going on, but they didn't like the looks of things.  Those kid immediately screamed.  Some kids approached calmly, but after the finger prick they screamed.  Then there were the kids who screamed/cried for hours afterward, nursing the pricked finger as if they were near death.  The entire lab staff and the teachers have way more patience than anyone I know.  Any teachers who are reading this: please never complain about taking kids for vision/hearing screening.  That's nothing compared to this.

          I continue to improve on the motorcycle.  At this point, I just need to wait for the license so that I can go on the roads!  I'm trying to figure out where I want to go first.  Caribbean Lodge?  The beach?  Petionville?  Maybe the Sugar Cane Museum?

Updates

Cade week #1

Today is going to be mostly about updates.  Because it’s Wednesday, it means that we had horse therapy.  Last week I didn't take my camera because I didn't think much would be different; and, of course, that’s the week I rode a horse to help Cade.  I decided to take my camera this week, just in case.  I’m so glad I did. 

Cade Happy!

            No, I didn't ride the horse again.  But, I did get a picture of Cade happy on the horse!  I’m not kidding, every week he gets better and better about being around the horses.  This week, he actually rode a circuit without anyone holding onto him, and he was smiling when he finished!  I am so proud of the work he has done.  In just over two months he has gone from being terrified of horses to feeling pretty comfortable on them.

Horse pen

Jean-Daniel and his new friend

            Jean-Daniel is another therapy recipient who is flourishing.  He is much more inquisitive and is no longer content to sit in a wheelchair (which he doesn't need because he can now walk on his own!).  This morning at therapy he couldn't wait to get to the white horse in the pen.  He quickly figured out that if he walked a few steps around the pen, the horse would follow and then nuzzle him.  Jean-Daniel kept this up for a couple of laps around.  It was so cool to see horse and boy become friends. 

            Now an update on me.  I can officially drive the motorcycle!  I took it out earlier today to an empty field not far from here and practiced for about an hour.  No stalls.  I can now shift into 2^nd and 3^rd gear and go back down to 1^st gear.  It’s not a whole lot different from driving a 4-wheeler (except the motorcycle only has 2 wheels).  Now I just have to wait to register the bike and get a license plate so that I can take it out on the road. 

Wood Contraption

Broken-down car

            I saw something this morning on the way to horse therapy that totally blew me away.  Check out the picture on the left.  These contraptions are not uncommon along the roads, and I've seen a variety of things being transported on them.  Now check out the picture on the right.  This is just one of many broken down cars to be found around town.  What I saw this morning was one of those broken down cars on the contraption.  And, it was being pulled/pushed by just three men!  The ability and willingness of Haitians to tackle any problem never ceases to amaze me.  It’s like a whole country of MacGyver’s!  

Honking

          Horns.  

          They honk constantly here in Haiti, much more so than in the States.  In the States, drivers honk for one of two reasons: to get your attention because the driver knows you OR to tell you to get moving!  The first one is usually a quick little beep followed by a wave.  The second one is a nasty honk that sounds mean.

Flowers at Gertrude's

            Here, though, honks are a language unto themselves.  Vehicles honk once or twice politely to announce that they are coming around a corner (very important on roads that have virtually no stop signs).  They also honk briefly to say “Thank you” for letting me slide into traffic.  This honk is often accompanied by a brief wave.  Multiple quick honks in a row often indicate that the driver is passing.  They do have the quick, loud honk to indicate “Hey, get moving” if a driver is caught daydreaming when traffic was stopped (I can’t imagine daydreaming while driving—or stopping—in PAP traffic.  As a passenger, I don’t stop looking around to make sure that we aren’t going to be hit).  Most of these honks make sense to me because they help keep traffic moving.  And, most drivers are quite polite about it.  The one honk that does not make sense to me is the H-O-N-K in the middle of a major traffic jam (“blokis”).  This honk is loud and obnoxious.  Drivers lay on the horn and blare it as loudly and as long as possible.  It’s like a car’s screaming until it’s out of breath.  It’s not as if the traffic can move.  And not every as every car needs to scream honk like that to let drivers know that traffic isn’t going anywhere.  Heck, no honking is necessary to clue drivers in that they are in the midst of a “blokis.”

Gertrude with her first lesson!

            I did go out on the motorcycle again tonight.  Alexi, my driving instructor, didn’t show up tonight, so I decided to practice on my own.  After a few missteps, I was doing just fine.  Okay, so I was doing alright.  By the time I went around the block once, Jude—another of Gertrude’s brothers—had come out to watch and help.  I know I promised video of me driving, but Gertrude forgot to start the camera when I drove by.  We’ll try again tomorrow night! 

            

Eclectic Day

First of all--my prayers are extended to everyone affected by the bombings in Boston today.  I'm not getting much coverage here--just what I can read on CNN--but I've read/seen enough to know it was bad.  A big shout out again to first responders (trained and untrained) who stepped up to help others and give comfort.  

Speaking of prayers--they are answered with "yeses."  I heard from Dr. John today about Marie Claude's progress.  She is doing better, but is not out of the woods yet.  She has been on an ecmo maching (a bedside bypass machine) for the last three days.  During that time her heart as gradually become stronger, so tomorrow she goes in for another surgery to remove the ecmo "stuff" and to close up the heart.  Please continue to pray for her continued improved health.

My day started with opening birthday cards/presents that friends and my parents had thought to send back in March when Susan and Rhonda came to visit.  After that, I did a little bit of everything.  I worked on therapy this morning with a handful of the kids.  

Then I ran out to DHL to mail off sponsor letters/photos/drawings to England for the group People Against Poverty.  Through their organization about 11 of our children our sponsored.  It was quite the shock to have to pay $62 American to mail the stuff.  Nothing is cheap here in Haiti.  Then I had to run to the Star 2000, a grocery store.  I was looking for rat/mice poison.  Those are words that I do not know in Creole (or French for that matter).  So, I improvised. I asked where to find the "food that you give to mice so that they die."  It worked; they knew what I was looking for and took me right to it!

When I returned to Notre Maison, it was just about time to set up for our weekly Skype session with a group in Florida.  A Dr. Dan Devito, who teaches children with handicaps in the States to play percussion, is teaching our special-needs kids to play the drums!  We were able to purchase two drums last week with donated money from Dr. Devito, so today was our first lesson.  Cracks me up that I'm in charge of this because I have no rhythm, can't carry a tune, can't dance, and, to be honest, don't really like music all that much.  But, the kids love it; so, I fake that I know what I'm doing!

Then I headed out to visit my new little friend Chi Chi.  Each time I knock on the orphanage door I hear a chorus "Blanc!  Blanc!" as the kids let the nannies know that I have arrived.  

"Sewer" filled with water and garbage

After about 40 minutes with him, I headed back.  I stopped for my customary Prestige for my walk back.  I continued to explore the neighborhood by taking a different route home.  I figure the more I explore the less likely I will to ever be lost.  Besides, I like walking and seeing new areas.  Haitians don't seem to comprehend my desire to walk.  In their minds, why walk if you can ride?  The driver for the guesthouse, Sony, honked as he went by me and saw me buying my Prestige.  I waved him off and indicated that I would walk.  A lady asked me why I would walk when it was so hot.  I said that I liked to walk.  She looked at me as if I had three heads!

"Sewer" after the garbage has been taken out

There are parts of Port-au-Prince that are looking better.  There is occasionally trash pick up (especially on main routes), lots of new road construction, recycling efforts, etc.  But, there is still lots of garbage.  I took a couple of pictures of the equivalent of our sewers.  However, these "sewers" are open to the air and often get clogged with garbage.  Then the water becomes stagnant and smells.  I have seen people who live in the area shovel the garbage out of the sewer ditches to try to get the water moving, but the garbage is simply piled on the road.  The water might move, but the garbage is still there.  

The "piece de resistance" to my day was my first motorcycle driving lessons!  Yea for me!  Just like driving a manual transmission in my truck, getting started in first gear was the hardest.  Alexi, Gertrude's brother who was teaching me, wouldn't let me out of first gear.  I tried to explain to him that I understand the concept of a clutch and shifting, but he still didn't think it was safe for me to do anymore than first gear.  He was a big scaredy cat!  Actually, there's probably nothing wrong with starting out slow (literally and figuratively!).  Everyone kept staring at me (again).  I think it was a combination of seeing a white person driving a motorcycle and seeing a woman driving a motorcycle.  Whatever; they alternated being cheering me on and laughing when I made a mistake.

I couldn't get any pictures of my actually riding the bike, but I did take a picture of all the safety gear and other stuff that came with the bike.  In the coming days I'll try to get a picture or video of me riding!

Day of Relaxation

I think I owe today to my friend Marg from Canada.  She had written a very nice e-mail to Gertrude stating that she (Marg) thought I was doing amazing work here, that I was working very hard for the kids, and that Gertrude should take good care of me.  I think the result of that e-mail was Gertrude asking whether I wanted to go to the beach today.  YES!  No need to ask me twice.

"Fwi de Mer"--so didn't eat it!

We left around 10:30 and arrived at Wahoo Beach around 11:30.  There were hardly any people there.  We pretty much had the beach to ourselves for the first hour, and even after that few people showed up.  I loved it.  The ocean view was like something out of a movie: sandy beaches, sun, aquamarine water out to the buoys,  being able to see clearly 10-12 feet down.  I couldn't have asked for a better day.  I was in and out of the water, read a bit, worked on my Creole homework, spoke Creole, and had some good talks with Gertrude.

I even had a marriage proposal today!  I don't think he really loved me.  He just wanted to use my American citizenship to get himself into the States.  I didn't fall for it.  You can rest assured that I won't be coming back with a husband (maybe some other souvenirs, but no husband).

Wahoo view

I could live on the ocean.  I love the water--swimming, boating, canoeing.  I just need to also have mountains nearby so that I can hike.  That is so not Chicago.

Hydroponics growing area

Talapia in the "fish farm" barrel

After a most relaxing day at the beach, we headed back, planning to stop in at Grace Village.  Grace Village is an orphanage in Titanyen run by Healing Haiti.  This place is amazing!  A friend of mine, Kathy A., whom I met on first mission trip back in 2009, is a long-term missionary there.  She invited us to concert there today, but it started late.  We didn't stay for the music, but we did get a tour of the facility.  That is a top-notch place that is well run.  If it weren't so far out of the way and if I wouldn't have to give up so much independence, I wouldn't mind working there.  They have only 58 kids and five times the space as at Gertrude's.  There is a school for the orphans and the kids in Titanyen (about 250 total students), a fish farm, playground, hydroponics area, and they are building a dental clinic.  Pretty cool.

I'm pretty beat tonight.  All that sun and swimming really takes it out of you!  Tomorrow I will  be back at work with the kids, but today was a great break.  Thanks Marg!

Moto taxi

                                                                                        You will notice in the picture of the "moto taxi" that there are four people, a white bag of who knows what, and a branch of plantains.  The poor guy squished in the middle of it all is the driver.  He doesn't get paid enough!  Just so you know--my motorcycle will NOT be carrying that many people/items at one time.                                                                                            

Taking Care of Business

Today was productive.  I spent the day doing paperwork type things.  I am trying to get sponsorship letters off to the sponsors from People against Poverty in England.  I finally finished the last letter from one of the kids, took a video of another child, and organized the photos.  I then had to go out to print the photos and buy some envelopes.

I headed up Delmas to the photo printing place (GaMa) which is up on Delmas 62--pretty close to Petionville.  I had never been that far up Delmas on my own and only knew a couple of landmarks to look for.  I actually overshot my stop and had to walk back down the mountain a couple of blocks.  I didn't mind; the exercise is good, and it gives me a chance to see the area.

With the photos printed, I decided to keep walking down the mountain.  I'm glad  I decided to hoof it because I saw an office supply store.  I needed envelopes, and I wasn't sure whether a grocery store would have any.  Turns out the office supply store only sells white envelopes in boxes of 100+; I only needed about 25.  Instead of white envelopes I opted for the golden-colored mailing envelopes.  They'll work just fine.

My friends know that I LOVE office supply stores in the states; turns out, I find them just as fascinating in Haiti!  There's just something about office supplies that works for me.  I asked whether I could take a couple of pictures, and the nice ladies said yes, but they did think I was a bit strange!

 I also learned that grocery stores don't sell envelopes, so it's doubly good that I decided to walk.  I walked quite a few more blocks down the mountain before grabbing a taptap around Delmas 75.  A mother stood next to me with her special-needs daughter in her arms.  The little girl had an enlarged head and a small body.  Most people around us moved away as if they didn't want to be too close to the mother and child.  Broke my heart.  The little girl was adorable, and the mother looked exhausted.  I wondered how long she would continue to be able to care for her, transport her.  What will happen when the girl becomes too big to hold and carry?  What kind, if any, medical treatment is she receiving?

I haven't ridden my motorcycle yet--no gas.  Really.  Little to no gas to found in the surrounding area.  I'm not sure what that's about, but Gertrude sent the driver out yesterday and today to look for gas, and he couldn't find any.  I was hoping that my first lesson on driving would be tomorrow, but that may have to wait until Sunday.

Tomorrow Gertrude and I are headed to the beach again.  I'm looking forward to a day or relaxing in the sun, sand, and surf!

Well, I didn't buy the the motorcycle from yesterday.

I bought . . .

. . . this cool red one instead!

It comes with a red helmet, elbow and shin guards, and red riding gloves.  My plan is to donate it to the orphanage so that it then becomes a tax deduction (kind of like Cars for Kids . . . betcha can't get the tune out of your head now!)

I plan to learn how to drive it in the next couple of days and will practice in the neighborhood.  I won't take it out on a main road until it has a licence plate and I feel comfortable on it.  Or never.  I really would be okay with someone else driving and me being the passenger.  I just like the idea of the orphanage having another mode of transportation.  Of course, it helps that it's a cool red motorcycle!

"The government is working for a more beautiful Haiti."

Ditch digging

I did some walking this afternoon in the neighborhood.  I stopped by a local shop and purchased a Prestige to go.  The ice cold (literally, ice cold) Prestige wet my whistle as I walked.  I headed out to one of the main roads heading toward Rte. National #1 because I had seen some road construction going on.  Took some pictures.  Rumor has it that the government plans to pave the road.  For those of you familiar with the area, if you are heading out from Gertrude's, you take a right at the Sejour bottling company.  When that road ends in a "T," take a left.  This is the road being paved.  It takes you out to Rte. National #1.  

Construction traffic

I walked through the construction site just to see what it was like.  I spotted this young boy in the picture below (9-11) climbing on top of the dirt to get a closer look while the big 

Young boy getting a closer look!

earth-moving machine was working!  No one seemed to notice/care.  I like exploring to see what's happening in the area.  When I take my walks, I get to meet people and practice my language skills.  Today I spoke with August Watson in French for about 10 minutes--that was on my way to work with Chi Chi.  On my way back from the construction site I had to take a new route, and I surprised a girl by buying her friend and her some "creme" (sort of like ice cream).

She jokingly asked me whether I would buy her some.  I said, "Ah, ou vle ke mwen achete ou kek creme?" (You want me to buy you some ice cream?).  "Yes" was her response.  I then asked, "Ki sa ou pral achete pou mwen?" (What are you going to buy me?).  She laughed.  I took that as "Nothing."

I bought three ice creams for a total of 30 gourdes (just under $1), and I got to enjoy a new Haitian treat for me on my way back to Gertrude's.