Journals from Haiti

Clark took us to the market down the road, which was open-air and less crowded. There was a lot of livestock, especially cattle, and food products. I saw one woman carrying a string of purplish crabs - probably mud crabs, Pat said later. We stopped in a little restaurant, basically a wooden shack, for cokes, and sat together on wooden benches at a little table with a red bandana tablecloth. I made room for Valery to sit next to me.

On the way back we met Pastor DeGonzaque (sp?) and stopped to talk. He said the injured man might be taken to the D.R., which would probably be a good thing.

Back at the clinic, I looked around and didn’t see any of the kids, but they slowly began to reappear. I passed out the bandanas, tying some around the their necks or on their heads, and gave one to a woman who seemed to be Fabienne’s mother. David passed out hair accessories to some of the girls. I took out a chocolate bar, unwrapped it, and held it out so they could break off pieces, then gave it to one of the older kids and said “separe” (share). They seemed to understand.

People here are so kind. When we share the smallest gifts, even those who don’t take anything give grateful smiles. Joell (sp?), another builder, greeting me as he passed. One small girl held on to my hand, never smiling, just gazing at me with huge, heartbreakingly beautiful brown eyes.

We said goodbye and drove away, dropping off Valery and Camila on the way. David told me that Valery wants to be a doctor, and that he would like to help with his education.

“Ki jan ou ye?” (How are you?) said Jovite when I came downstairs in the morning. “Byen,” I replied. Pat was impressed. She wanted to know if I could ask him back, and I did. I got some coffee and sat down across from Jovite, and Pat told him to practice his English with me. She told him in Creole to tell me in English that his “mennaj” (girlfriend), Mène might come over later. I was excited for her to see the curtains. Pat continued to speak to him in Creole and he replied with deep “mmhmm”s. He ate and left for seminary.

Then rest of us had breakfast - eggs, toast, and fresh papaya - and David read from a book called “So You Want to Be Like Christ?” that had very good insights about simplicity.

Several of us went back to the clinic. The men had to get their supplies and I wanted to see Valerie and the children again. We stopped on the way for some 2×4’s, I think 18 feet long, and I took a turn carrying them back to the truck. The Haitian men looked impressed that a twiggy female “blan” was helping carry lumber, and I admit I enjoyed that far too much. While we waited, David and I had an interesting conversation about photography, journalism, the Middle East, and infuriating liberal news media.

We picked up Camila and saw some U.N. vehicles (Ron waved to a soldier but I was on the other side of the car). Valerie wasn’t there at the usual spot, but we found him when we got there and he helped us unload wood.

Some little children gradually congregated by a nearby tree and began calling me by name. I soon went over and said “bonjou.” One of them took my sunglasses and they began playfully fighting over them, each wanting to try them on. Fabienne wanted to keep them but I figured I would need them, and I had something else to give her before we left.

Photo by David Clinard.

Back at Pat and Clark’s, we had a lunch of sandwiches and bananas with Enoch, then we thanked each other and he left.

I journalled a little and then sent a long update to my parents, who had each emailed me. Abby and I finished the bandanas, then worked on curtain’s for “La Kay Jovite.”

Soon we went downstairs and had a very nice dinner of salad with cucumbers and tomatoes, cheese melts, a thick soup with pumpkin broth, beef, and vegetables, crackers, and for dessert, cherry cheesecake. We had Hudson, who’d spoken at the fellowship, and his wife Lucy, as guests. Hudson told amazing stories about his family, and when we migrated to the deck to continue, he talked about their 40-some years in Haiti as missionaries. Allan told some of his story as well.

After our guests left, Enoch was downstairs eating so I went down to journal in the light. I was sad that I wouldn’t get to say goodbye to Alain, who’d been called to Port-au-Prince for some emergency. Eventually everyone trickled downstairs and we got talking.

Allan told us he’d seen a Haitian woman in the store, gesturing that he had a big nose, and he’d thought she was saying he smelled bad. I said I was surprised that no one had done that to me. My sister always makes fun of my nose because it’s pointy. Someone asked about my siblings and we discovered that Clark had gone to the same college as my brother. We talked about California and they asked about Abby’s siblings. Pat asked if I had connections in Florida because then I’d have all four corners covered. No, but I had two Army friends who’d trained in Georgia.

I saw a spider, a daddy long legs I think, and I caught it and put it outside. David lent me a headlamp for my “important rescue mission.” Everyone gradually left and I sat there writing, noticing the neighbor lady’s loud, malodorous generator. My eyelids were drooping and I eventually went to get ready for bed.