The Adventures of IronGirl

The Sleeping Program

2010-08-06T21:25:00.003-04:00

With Mackenlove, about 20 minutes into his marathon nap

Soon after the feeding program started today, Laniese's little brother Mackenlove tottered over to me and held up his arms. That's the kids' signal for "pick me up." So I held him while we sang the usual songs, even though he didn't seem too interested in the music. When we sat down to listen to Erta's Bible story, he stayed on my lap and played with my camera every so often. Soon, though, he drifted off to sleep.

He slept when it was time for the kids to line up, so I carried him to the back of the little boys' line and waited for the headcount to finish. I found a shady spot on the stairs, and we sat down to wait for his plate of rice and beans. When it arrived, I tried to wake him up. No luck. I mixed up some of the food and held a spoonful in front of his face. That didn't work either. Eventually, he opened his eyes. Mackenlove, ou vle manje? Do you want to eat? He shook his head and closed his eyes. Hm. The kids come to the feeding program because they don't have many other chances to eat, so I wasn't sure what to do. (I've actually seen Mackenlove eating rice and beans while sound asleep, but that may have been a one-time feat.)

Erta came over, gently shook him awake, and held another spoonful in front of his mouth. He didn't want that, either. So, we let him sleep. I'm glad he wasn't sitting with the other kids - sometimes they'll poke the little ones until they wake up, then force huge spoonfuls of food into their mouths.

Mackenlove snoozed for the rest of the feeding program, in spite of the rap music the boys were blasting on a speaker a few yards away. Eventually, Laniese came over to wake him and bring him home. He wrapped his arms around me and closed his eyes. So, I carried him over to the gate, set him down, and guided him toward the door. He started crying, but went along with the others.

I went out to the street a few minutes later, to make sure they were headed for home. (None of the children he was walking with could have carried him if he fell asleep again.) Mackenlove was down at the end of the street, holding on to the shirt of a small boy who lives near him. I stopped to take pictures of a few girls who were playing outside the guesthouse. While I was busy looking through the camera, I felt someone wrapping their little arms around my leg. Mackenlove was back.

I was faced with a gathering of impatient little ones who were supposed to be walking him home. I pointed him in their direction, and told him he had to go. Didn't he want to see his mother? He didn't say anything. Finally, he decided to join them, and they set off down the street once again.

Highlights from this week

2010-08-05T14:07:00.003-04:00

Emmanuel "rollerblading" at the boys' home

1. Every morning, Emmanuel hurries into school and exclaims "Good morning teacher!" He then proceeds to give each of us a hug. He hasn't yet learned that this greeting should only be used in the mornings, and only be said to teachers - he'll say it to just about anyone who walks by.

2. At the feeding program yesterday, I said hello to Merica as she arrived. She took my hand and replied "bonswa" (good afternoon). I'd never heard her talk before this.

3. Monise, one of the cooks at the guesthouse, has started bringing her year-old daughter Nolene to work. In the mornings, we can usually find Nolene crawling around the kitchen, wearing a huge smile and lots of smooshed banana.

4. School got out early today. Shortly after 10:00, the generator ran out of gas (or something like that), and a few minutes later the principal came in and whispered that we'd let kids go home at 10:20. Right after we announced this to the kids, the generator came back on. Oh well. The kids were thrilled to go early, and the teachers spent some quality time organizing the classrooms.

Our kids

2010-08-04T19:26:00.003-04:00

I can finally upload photos, so here are some of the kids living at our orphanage. They're all amazing, and it's such a privilege to work with them this summer.

Cherline and Chabine, in science class

Chedline

Daniel

Gibson, helping lead worship at Chapel

Davidson

2010-08-04T18:33:00.003-04:00

Davidson is another of the new boys at our orphanage. He's 12 years old, though he could pass for 7 or 8. He has a pretty amazing story.

Shortly after the earthquake, he came to our boys' home with his mother. They'd lost their home, and had nowhere to go. They stayed with other displaced families at The Bens, our outdoor sports area, for while. Then, the ministry helped them find a new place to live.

After they'd moved to their new home, Davidson's mother became very ill. She passed away five months after the earthquake, and was buried down at the shore near Cité Soleil, the largest slum in Port-au-Prince. Davidson didn't have any family members who could help him, so he was on his own. Immediately after his mother's burial, he walked all the way to the boys' home, because he remembered the people here had helped him. Apparently, he was still wearing his funeral clothes when he showed up at the gate. It's amazing that he found the right place on his own - Cité Soleil is several miles away.

The folks here gave him a spot at the boys' home, and he's been with us ever since. He's such a sweet little boy - he often seems sad, but he also loves to sing and dance. He comes to school every day, and is doing well in his first-grade class. Please pray for his comfort and growth - he misses his mother so much, but is adjusting to life here incredibly well.

Bon Fèt!

2010-08-03T18:19:00.006-04:00

Laniese

A group of our older kids spent Sunday afternoon baking 120 cupcakes. They wanted each kid at the feeding program to have one as a special treat. Monday afternoon, one of the leaders explained how believing in Jesus causes you to be born again. Then, all of the kids sang Happy Birthday (or Joyeux Anniversaire in French, or Bon Fèt in Creole).

I loved watching the kids’ faces. Some of the little ones dug right in:

Jessica (one of the teachers) with Jameson

Some of the others saved their dessert, and proudly carried it home:

Junior

A lot of them wanted their pictures taken. They held up the cupcakes directly in front of their faces, not realizing they were hiding their beautiful smiles. When I tried to move their hands over to the side a bit, I got looks like this:

Oh well. They’re still adorable.

Give me freedom!

2010-08-03T18:13:00.000-04:00

As I’ve mentioned before, our kids are obsessed with the World Cup theme song. They listen to it constantly, but haven’t quite learned the words yet. Most of them can manage “Give me freedom, give me fire…” but then they start to mumble. They mumble their way through the Spanish sections, too – they’re not fooling anyone.

Diene, an energetic 11-year-old, often walks into school proclaiming the opening lyrics to everyone in the building. Recently, he’s adopted “Give me freedom” as his motto when he gets in trouble. He often gets stuck inside at recess, writing sentences promising to stop complaining so much. In spite of his whining, he’s one of our favorite students. He has a huge personality, and always keeps us laughing.

Yesterday, he stomped into the principal’s office (that is, the kitchen) and sat down to begin his sentence-writing. Every so often, we’d hear his plea to “Give me freedom!” It was hard to take him seriously, since he’d keep humming the rest of the song until he remembered he was supposed to be mad. Then, the humming would abruptly stop, and the complaining would start up again. He’d always top off the complaining with the same demand for freedom, which meant the humming would start again.

This routine lasted for most of recess. We can always count on Diene for entertainment.

Thunderstorms

2010-07-30T21:38:00.003-04:00

I was expecting a calm evening tonight. After the feeding program, I came home and took a shower, and was planning to read or draw or do something low-key until dinner. The other teachers wanted to visit the boys' home, though, so I walked up the street to join them. It had been thundering for a while, and it started pouring a few minutes after I was safely inside.

I've heard that Haitians hate being out in the rain. This clearly doesn't apply to our younger boys. They were all out in the backyard pelting each other with kickballs and soccer balls. The teachers stood in the doorway and watched. I considered joining them, but I'd just taken a shower, and I was wearing a dress. The boys kept this up for a long time. One by one, they'd get tired or cold, and come inside. They had to hug us first (and transfer some of the water), before finding dry clothes and coming back to the doorway to watch their brothers.

I sat with TiBo for a while. He had played in the rain for a bit, but came inside once the thunder started to get loud. He said he was scared, so we sat in a pile of clean laundry on a bench in the hallway. Every few minutes, Lukenson would make an appearance. He'd come out of the little boys' room, patter around the corner, and watch the craziness before retreating back to bed.

One of the older boys has been sick for the past week, so he wanted to avoid the rain. The older boys live upstairs, and the staircase is outside. He stood in the downstairs doorway for a while, wrapped in a blanket, and then found a trashbag. He put this over his head, and ripped a hole to see out of. Wrapped in this makeshift poncho, he made his way upstairs. I saw him again as we were leaving much later, and he still had the trashbag on.

As the dripping little boys came inside, the tile floor in the main room downstairs started to get wet. Of course, it became a slip-n-slide. They were even bringing in buckets of water from outside to make it more slippery, and some of the big boys joined them for sliding races and Moonwalk contests. I don't think I've ever seen all of them this happy.

Of course, they realized we were all dry, so they started aiming the buckets of water at us (keep in mind that all of this is happening inside the house - at least it's tiled). I avoided most of the onslaught, as I was still sitting with TiBo in the middle of the clean and dry laundry. As I was leaving, though, the older boys noticed I didn't have much water on me. Walgens, a wonderful young man from my English classes last year, tried to get me under a massive stream of water pouring off the roof. I said he had to go under it too, and he agreed. This was a complete lie - he managed to hold me under the water and keep himself from getting any wetter. For the next five minutes, Jessica, Kamala, and I wrestled with a few of the older boys, and managed to get everyone completely drenched. If I'd known I'd end up so wet, I probably would have joined in the fun much earlier :)

Lukenson

2010-07-30T21:13:00.003-04:00

Lukenson is one of the newer boys at MdL. He's in first grade, and is the younger brother of Junior, one of the boys in my English class last year. Everyone has fallen in love with Lukenson - he's just that cute. He scrunches up his face when he smiles, and loves playing with beach balls. He doesn't really walk - he bounces.

This morning at Chapel, Lukenson got one of the Student of the Week awards. Apparently, he was the only first grader who didn't get in trouble this week. The teachers also wanted to see him smile and bounce over to pick up his certificate and medal. That's the picture above - we're not sure he understood what was going on, but he clearly enjoyed every second of it.

Some of the other young boys have a new game of sneaking up behind the teachers, poking us in the ribs, and running away before we can catch them. It's fairly painful, so I've tried to put a stop to it (at school, at least). Lukenson has started imitating the other boys, but doesn't quite get it. When the first graders pass through the area where I teach, I'll sometimes feel a light touch on my side. When I turn around, there's Lukenson grinning at me. He'll stand there until I give him a hug, and then he'll bounce through the doorway into his classroom.

The small things

2010-07-29T21:47:00.003-04:00

I get frustrated fairly easily when things don't move as quickly as I'd like. During my first session of math tutoring this summer, I asked my student what she'd like to work on for the next six weeks. She gave me an example of an addition problem with some complicated fractions, and I think she also mentioned division. Four weeks later, we're still drilling multiplication facts. We spent one entire class on 4s, and I don't think we'll ever get to 12s.

I'd probably be a little discouraged if something like this happened in the US. In Haiti, I feel like it can happen faster. Far too often, I find myself thinking, I just spent another hour teaching how to multiply by 4, while there are thousands of people living in tents two blocks away. Why am I sitting in here, when I could be doing something over there?

From a purely practical standpoint, there's not that much I could be doing in a tent city. I'm not a doctor, I don't know how to build houses, and I don't have the resources to distribute food or clothing. I can't even walk there by myself, due to security concerns. Still, it's easy to feel that working in a tent city is somehow more worthy than teaching at an orphanage. Our kids can seem so well off when compared to the people living on the street.

I'm starting to understand now about the larger work that God is doing to rebuild Haiti. It involves feeding people living in tents, and it also involves teaching the children who will be here long after all the aid workers leave. No one of us can do all of this, so we serve where He has placed us, in faith that all things will work together for His glory.

As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace: whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies—in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.

- 1 Peter 4:10-11

Mornings

2010-07-29T16:58:00.002-04:00

Last week, I realized that I'd been sleeping unusually well here in Haiti. I normally don't sleep well anyways, and the fans/bugs/heat/roosters here have always made the problem worse. When I was here last spring, it was a month before I could sleep through the night - and that was with sleep medicine. This summer, though, I've been going to bed around 9 and sleeping until 5:30. It's been wonderful.

On Saturday, a big team arrived, so there are now 10 people sleeping in my room. The extra fans and general commotion have kept me awake more than usual. Tuesday night, none of us slept, because a new air conditioner in one of the other bedrooms overloaded whatever the power system is here, and we had no electricity (= no fans) for most of the night. So, we've decided air conditioners are out - and we all slept very soundly without them last night.

Wednesday morning, though, we were all pretty tired. I decided to ignore that the temperature was quickly climbing toward 100, and made some tea. I carried the pretty pink mug over to the school with me, and drank the tea while I finished lesson plans for the day. It felt just like my morning routine at school - getting tea at Collis, wandering over to the library, and finding a spot to sit down and think about the day.

This morning, I was so excited to go over to the school with my tea that I forgot to brush my teeth before leaving. So, after first period, I ran back up the street to the guesthouse. I returned a few minutes after second period had started, but that wasn't a problem - I spend that time helping out in Alissa's science class, and the girls there are usually pretty independent.

During our break, Alissa told me what had happened while I was gone - the girls were delighted, because Miss Bethany wasn't there to translate. I was confused for a minute, then I remembered what happened a few days ago:

One of the girls was very frustrated with her assignment, and with Alissa's insistence that she continue working on it. She looked straight at Alissa and declared, "m'ap priye pou ou, paske ou mechant." Alissa asked her to repeat it in English (we technically have a rule that students must speak English in class). The girl refused, so someone sitting next to her said vaguely, "She said she'd pray for you." Hm. I watched to see how this would unfold. Girl #1 repeated her declaration to Miss Alissa, so I jumped in and told her I understood all of what she was saying (I'm praying for you, because you're mean"). She clearly wasn't expecting to hear that - I'm usually so quiet, they probably forget I'm there.

So, whenever I'm in class, the unnecessary Creole comments usually stop. (While I was away this morning, the English-only rule had to be enforced). I don't usually understand all of what they're saying, but as long as they think I do, things work fairly well.

I don't want to give the impression that our kids have bad attitudes all the time. Some of them do act up frequently, but most of their complaints stem from frustration. Many of them didn't start school until they came to live at our orphanage (so, a 13-year-old girl might be in 3rd grade), and until the earthquake they attended Haitian schools taught entirely in French. The transition to English is really difficult for them.

Recently, we learned that the MdL school will have a Haitian principal after our summer team leaves, and will be taught in French like a normal Haitian school. The kids aren't too excited about the French part of it, but it's going to be such a blessing for them. If they want any form of higher education in Haiti, or any job that pays decently, they'll need to speak French. English is a useful thing to know, but it won't give them nearly as many opportunities here.

We only have 10 school days left this summer! I'll be sad to leave the kids, but I'm looking forward to seeing friends and family back in America.

Adventures in Pétionville

2010-07-25T09:03:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, the teachers had a fun outing in the city. We're usually at home on Saturdays, because all our cars and drivers are busy bringing teams to and from the airport. We wanted to escape for a bit before this week's team arrived, so we asked around and found out that we could hire a driver for the afternoon.

We called this guy, Fritz, around 11 in the morning. He said he'd call back at 2. At 2:30, we called him again, and he said he'd be right over. He finally arrived around 3:30, and the six of us piled in to his small SUV (there were only seats for 5, so Jessica and I sat on the floor in the back).

Our principal, Kamala, is leaving next weekend, and she wanted to visit a street market before heading back to the States. Fritz drove us up to Pétionville, a comparatively wealthy area of the city, and took us down a few streets crowded with merchants selling everything from vitamins to dress shoes to suitcases. He told us this wasn't the safest area to walk around, so we stayed in the car. Eventually, he found a small fruit market on a quieter street, and we got out to wander around. Being able to wander around here is such a luxury - I usually feel so trapped by the high walls, razor wire, and armed guards at our home and school.

There were four or five little kittens sitting between the baskets of fruit, so I spent most of the time taking pictures of them while a few of the teachers bought pineapples and mangoes. Across the street, the wall was spray-painted with the message "Obama - we need change." Two goats wandered down the street and stopped right in front of it - it made quite the picture.

Next, Fritz took us to the central square, where painters and other souvenir vendors set up their displays. The small island in the center was covered with tents. There was a huge speaker set up on the side of the road, blasting the World Cup theme song. Behind one of the tents, a lady was dancing. You never know what you're going to see around here.

I love looking at Haitian paintings. The majority of them have identical styles and themes, but every so often I see something unique. You have to be careful not to look too interested, though. If you so much as point at one of them, the vendor will start following you around trying to sell it. I really liked a semi-abstract painting of fishing boats, so I casually asked how much it cost. $35 US - which quickly came down to $25 when I told him I wasn't interested, and $20 when I started to walk away. That's really not much for a piece of art, but I don't have the space at home for another painting. So, I enjoyed watching a few of the other teachers make purchases.

For dinner, we planned to visit a small Italian restaurant I'd been to a few times before. Fritz had never heard of it, so I told him it was next to the American Airlines office. He didn't seem to know where that was, either. So, I made my best guess on which street to take (I'm hopeless with directions unless I've driven there myself), and was amazed when we found it immediately. We enjoyed a meal of pasta, with coconut ice cream for dessert, and Fritz drove us home.

"This is Haiti" moment of the day: a few streets away from the guesthouse, Fritz swerved to avoid someone in the road. It was a woman walking an enormous pig.

Vini kay mwen!

2010-07-21T20:37:00.003-04:00

Here's a picture from today. The internet is slow tonight, but I'll try to upload it here eventually.

After the feeding program this afternoon, Caitlin and I went with Scottie to a nearby tent city, to walk some of the kids home. I had no idea there even was a tent city in our neighborhood. I've seen plenty of small groupings of tents in vacant lots, and there are probably several dozen in the Ravine, but the place we walked through today seemed to stretch on forever. It was fairly organized, in some sense: there were a few wide gravel roads going through the area, the tents were well-installed, and there were areas with latrines and access to water. That said, it's a tent city. People have been living here for six months. The pathways between tents are incredibly narrow, and often little more than muddy trenches (it rains almost every day now). Some of these tents have 8 or more people living inside.

We'd planned to visit Merica's family first (you can read about her here). They used to live in a small cinderblock shack, a few blocks away from us. Now, they're all in a tent. We walked quite a ways to get there - down two streets to the tent city, along the city's "main street", and through rows and rows of tents. I have no idea how the kids find their way around. Merica's mother was there, with a new baby (probably around 4 months old). Many of the feeding program kids live in this area, so they all gathered around and played, while Scottie talked to the mother and prayed for her.

The kids loved having us there. They were so eager to take our hands and lead us around - one little girl walked in front of me the whole time, pointing out every rope and tent stake so I wouldn't trip. She kept saying, vini kay mwen. Come to my house. Even though her "house" was just a tent, she was so excited that we might see it. We stopped to meet a few other families along the way. One woman, living in a slightly sturdier dwelling of scrap wood and tarps, had six kids living with her. Another had five, all staying in one small tent. I could only see one mattress inside (the little boy in the picture above is sitting inside the opening of her tent). It started to rain while we were talking to this lady. She encouraged us all to crowd in under the USAID tarp strung up in front of her home. It was obvious the rain wasn't going to stop anytime soon, so after a few minutes we said goodbye and started back toward the guesthouse.

Most of the people had gone inside their tents to escape the rain, but there was still a crowd on the main street. Some of the boys had set up a soccer game in the middle of the road, and they were still playing. All of the spectators crowded under tarps nearby, eagerly watching the competition. It was encouraging to see a little bit of fun in an otherwise dismal place.

It's been raining off and on for the past several hours. I'm sure many of the people we met today will be sleeping on the floors of their tents tonight. Please pray that they won't have to do that for much longer.

Update on school

2010-07-20T21:24:00.003-04:00

School has been a much more pleasant experience for me this week. The first few days I was here, I was a little overwhelmed by the amount of planning that needed to be done for my classes (and the frequency with which all that planning turned out entirely useless). It was frustrating to have the students I'm tutoring in math tell me they wanted to work on fractions, and then discover that they barely knew how to subtract. I'd forgotten how different Haitian education is from school in the US. Students here are used to being told precisely what to do, and rarely have the opportunity to think creatively.

My drawing class was a challenge the first few days. In most of my classes at Dartmouth, there was fairly little actual instruction (aside from learning how to use the different materials). Instead, we'd complete some project, and most of the teaching would happen after, when our professor evaluated our work and talked about what we'd done and how we could improve future efforts. This approach does not work in Haiti. One of the first assignments I gave my class was to scrunch up a piece of paper, and then draw a picture of it. This is the type of thing that could have kept a drawing class at Dartmouth busy for at least an hour. Several of my students, however, simply flattened out the paper, traced its outline, and said they were done. I've since changed my approach fairly dramatically. I look for step-by-step drawing lessons online, and then teach them to my class. As boring as it seems to me, they absolutely love it, and want to hang up their pictures when they finish.

Classroom management is also a huge challenge (and I have absolutely no training in it). Quite a few of the students are still fairly vocal about not wanting to be in summer school, and some of the younger ones whine all the time. Luckily, my largest class (beginning French) is three students. I was able to eliminate nearly all of the complaining this week, by requiring that the kids complain in French. Since they generally don't like French, they generally don't complain anymore.

All of the kids are so fun to be around, when they're behaving. One of them, Daniel, is a particularly good student. He's 11, and is in my French class and my Community Circle group. In Community Circle, the students usually read a Bible verse, respond to some questions about it, and then share their responses with the class. In spite of his studious attitude, Daniel isn't the greatest speller. His mistakes always make me smile, though. In the past week, he's produced these gems:

1. [if you're feeling frustrated] "you can pray to God and ask him to give you peas."

2. [if there were no discipline in the world] "we would all go to hail."

Daniel is also the only student who signed up to take my drawing class this week (he faithfully attended every class last week, too). Since it's just the two of us, I've been asking him what he wants to draw and making some examples before class. His taste in art is interesting. Monday, we had a choice between palm trees, a tulip, a lion, and a koala. He chose palm trees and tulips. As we finished, I asked what else he wanted to draw, and... it looks like tomorrow's lesson will be Superman and Spiderman.

My drawing class with Daniel is one of my favorite parts of the school day. I love spending time on art with the kids, and seeing them make things they're proud of. I asked Daniel if he wanted me to hold on to his drawings for him, so they wouldn't get lost. He said no - he couldn't wait to take them home and hang them up in his room.

A day at the beach

2010-07-17T12:04:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, we took all of the MdL kids to Club Indigo, a beach resort about 2 1/2 hours away from our home in Port-au-Prince. It's strange having to drive that far to the beach, since we can see the ocean from our roof. We took three cars - most of the kids rode in the back of the big white truck, some of the older boys rode in a staff member's SUV, and about 10 more of us were in the back of the Manassero family truck. The drive to the beach is beautiful - the road runs right along the coast in places (at one point, we could have jumped out of the truck and landed in the water).

Right outside Port-au-Prince, however, we saw more evidence of the earthquake. For a few miles, we drive past previously-barren hillsides now dotted with small shelters made of tarps and wooden poles. There's really nothing else in this area - no good access to water or electricity, and no reliable means of transportation back into the city.

The kids loved the beach. They usually go once every summer, as a special treat. This was our first time at Club Indigo, and they spent most of the time splashing around in the largest swimming pool in Haiti. We swam a bit in the ocean, as well. The kids also discovered the fun of burying each other in sand.

We all enjoyed watching Emmanuel, a little boy who's staying at MdL temporarily. He doesn't know how old he is, and he hasn't seen his parents since the earthquake. Some aid organization placed him here earlier this week, until they can find out more about his family. He had never been in a swimming pool or gone to the beach before. He doesn't have very many language skills, so he'll smile and squeal whenever he gets excited, and point at all the new things around him. Since he doesn't know how to swim (and doesn't even seem to know that it's not good to go into the water face-first), we kept a close eye on him. One of the teachers even put him in an innertube and brought him out to a raft floating a ways from the beach - we made sure that innertube stayed around him even when he was out of the water!

Our day ended a bit earlier than originally planned, as a thunderstorm came up rather quickly. I was swimming at the beach when it started to get windy, and when I got out the water was significantly warmer than the air around me. It was fun watching the clouds moving across the water and the palm trees blowing around, but the kids were a little mad when we told them to stop swimming.

The drive home was an experience. All of the cars were filled to capacity, so there were quite a few of us in the back of the Manassero's truck. It was raining pretty hard when we left, so we were covering our faces with towels - Bill was driving on the highway, and the water droplets felt like sleet. It stopped raining about 40 minutes into the drive, but by then we were all soaked - and freezing, since we were out in the wind. This was the first time I've ever been in Haiti and wanted a hot shower. Luckily, it was a bit warmer in the city, but I still put on a sweater when we got home.

The sunset last night was the most amazing I've ever seen here. The whole Western sky turned pink and orange, and the light caught on the edges of the thunderclouds over the mountains to the north. It's amazing how there can still be so much beauty in a country that sees so much pain.

Photos

2010-07-17T11:57:00.002-04:00

I'm having trouble uploading photos to my blog, so until that problem gets fixed: here's a link to an album on my Haiti pictures on Facebook.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2108418&id=513879&l=074d2268de

Back to the Ravine

2010-07-14T21:14:00.003-04:00

After the feeding program today, we visited the Ravine. Many of the kids from the program live here, and I usually went there every few weeks when I lived here last year. This was my first time back since the earthquake.

Scottie, a missionary living at another orphanage in our neighborhood, has started walking some of the kids home after they eat, to meet their families and see what the needs are in the community. He plans to take a few of the teachers with him each time, so Alissa and I joined him this afternoon. We went to see the mother of Evelyn, a beautiful little girl who's probably about 4.

Many of the homes in the Ravine were in poor condition before the earthquake. They were built of cinderblocks and corrugated tin, and sometimes the walls would move if you leaned on them too heavily. It's a fairly small community, but still very crowded - I'm not sure any of the homes had more than one room. Some of these homes were still standing, but the area we visited was essentially a tent camp. Some families had camping tents, while others had made shelters of scrap wood, salvaged tin roofing, and tarps from USAID. (I have some pictures, but they're not uploading properly tonight).

The atmosphere was very much like it was before the earthquake. There were a few men sitting around, who nodded at us when we walked in and gave us curious glances every so often. Children ran by from time to time, chasing each other and playing among the tents. The women tend to stay right by their shelters, watching over little ones or washing clothes by hand. Many of them don't have husbands or jobs. I'd expected to feel more anxious being there - you hear that tent cities can be dangerous places. I've never felt that way in the Ravine, though. The people are usually a little curious, but very tolerant. Sometimes, the women will immediately invite us into their dwelling.

Evelyn's mother lives in one of the tin-and-tarp shelters, with a sheet for a door covering. It's incredibly small - she lives there with her three children, but it was uncomfortable for more than 2 of us to go inside at a time. There aren't any windows, and there is only one bed. Scottie asked her what she needed most, and she said a house. Apparently, all the families in the Ravine have to leave next month - I'm not sure why, or where they're all going to go.

Please pray for these families as they face even more uncertainty. Many of them have made their homes under tarps since January, and they may be losing those soon. The Haitians have so much faith in spite of everything they've experienced, though. I'm praying that they continue to stay strong.

This is Haiti

2010-07-13T18:14:00.002-04:00

Three different things today reminded me what an interesting country we're living in:

1. On the road in to Port-au-Prince, we saw a pickup truck with several people sitting in the back. No big deal. We had about 10 people in the back of our truck at the time. However, these people in the other truck were sitting in folding metal chairs. In the back of the truck. None of us had ever seen that before.

2. When I visited the boys' home, they were excited to show me their "skateboard." This feat of engineering consisted of two sets of rollerblade wheels (with the bottom of the rollerblade boot still attached) tied together with wire, and topped with a seat made of cardboard and duct tape. It tended to collapse if anyone bigger than the littlest of the boys sat on it. The funny thing is, they already have a real skateboard.

3. This is a long story. We had planned a trip to the market at 3pm. I was shocked when Macorel, the driver, came in at 2:40 and said he was ready to go. Nothing ever happens on time here. We hurried outside, when we learned that the truck we were going to take was needed for something else, so we'd have to wait about 20 minutes. No problem. We played with the boys while we waited. 20 minutes later, the truck was back, so we climbed inside. Then, I noticed that the hood was up and several guys were gathered around. They grabbed some clear liquid called "battery water" (on the bottle [in French]: Water for batteries - It's the best!). They poured this miracle substance in the engine (not in any specific receptacle - all over the engine).

It seemed like we were ready to go. My fellow teacher Alissa and I rode in the back with MarcKenson, the guesthouse caretaker, while three other teachers rode inside with Macorel and Clermond, one of our boys. The truck started just fine, and we went off toward the market.

There are always three police officers hanging out at a corner along our route. I've never seen them pull anyone over. Well, today, they motioned for us to stop. Macorel showed them all the papers, then got out and had an extended conversation with them. MarcKenson listened in and reported back to us: from what we could understand, the papers for the truck said it was green and beige. The truck is actually... green and beige. I have no idea why that's a problem, but anyways.

Apparently they don't give tickets in Haiti, because we needed to settle the problem with the police before we could leave. This required contacting Fritz, the general manager of our whole operation here. Macorel didn't have any minutes left on his phone, so he set off down the street to find a phone card vendor. MarcKenson hopped on a motorcycle taxi back to the guesthouse in search of Fritz. The five of us teachers were left in a truck (which we had to keep running, due to the previously mentioned mystery mechanical problem) with only Clermond, the 12-year-old with a broken arm, to help if anything happened. It had started raining, so all of us were crowded inside. The police had wandered off somewhere, so I doubt they would have been much help.

(Interesting note about the police: one was wearing a surgical mask. One was wearing a hat. One was wearing a bulletproof vest. Between the three of them, I suppose they're fairly well prepared for whatever might happen in a day's work.)

Finally, Fritz showed up. He and Macorel talked to the police for a long while, and then Fritz came over to the car to borrow some Haitian money (about $25 US). I'm not sure if this was for a bribe, or to pay whatever the fine is for having a green-and-beige truck, but it worked.

We made it to the market about an hour later than originally planned, and bought some popsicles for the kids, a few snacks, and a can of cold soda each. I was thrilled to find Diet Coke - they're usually out.

This whole adventure took so much longer than anticipated that Marlval, who works at the boys' home, met us there to drive back to the guesthouse, so Macorel could start for home right away.

It's not even 6pm... I wonder what else might happen today :)

Six months later

2010-07-12T20:29:00.002-04:00

Returning to Haiti post-earthquake has been a little strange for me. My daily routine is much the same as it was during previous trips, when I taught in the mornings and usually went to the feeding program in the afternoons. Our street looks almost exactly the same: a few walls fell, but they've all been rebuilt. It's weird knowing that elsewhere in the city life is far from the "normal" it was before January.

I'm reminded of the earthquake every time I go up on our roof. The house behind ours partially collapsed, and has yet to be demolished or repaired. I see evidence of it every Sunday at church, when a few of the remaining patients at our pastor's field hospital sit together near the front. The young woman in front of me last week was missing her lower left arm - she was trapped under the rubble for three days. When we walk around our neighborhood, we see tents in previously-vacant lots. Up in Pétion-Ville, what used to be a pristine green lawn surrounding some government official's house is now a tent camp. It's hard to see so many tent camps six months later.

I found this article online yesterday. It gives a good perspective on life elsewhere in the city, where conditions haven't changed much from the weeks after the earthquake. So many people are still living in tents, and probably will be for quite some time. I can almost understand why there isn't more urgency to build more permanent housing (not that this is an excuse): if you were living in a one-room cinderblock shack without running water, is a tent really that much worse?

I pray that conditions in Haiti improve, dramatically. That we won't think people can live in tents forever, just because they lived in shacks before. The rebuilding process is so slow, but I pray that it continues until every person who was displaced has a safe, permanent place to live.

All of us here have hope for Haiti. Even that is a tough thing, though. Some of the kids at our orphanage become anxious and confused, since people tell them they are the only hope and future for this nation. We remind them (and ourselves) to place our hope in God, the only One who can really bring any change here. All we can do is serve where we are right now, and pray for His glory to be revealed in this country.

A reunion

2010-07-11T21:44:00.002-04:00

Over the past week, I've reconnected with most of the Haitians I got to know when I was here last year. I see the feeding program kids every other day, and I've run into most of my neighborhood friends, like Fritznaire (a local handyman and translator) and Marie-France (an adorable young lady who does laundry at the guesthouse). Today, I finally encountered Eduard, Mari's husband and Lulu's father (you can read about the family here).

We were walking home from our usual Sunday lunch at Bill and Susette's house, and I saw a man at the gate of the girls' home. As soon as I heard him mention my name, I could tell it was Eduard. Lulu must have told him that I was back.

Whoever answered the gate at the girls' home pointed in our direction, and he started toward me with the biggest smile on his face. He's missing most of his teeth, and his clothes are always several sizes too large, but he's easily the most welcoming man I've met in Haiti. Returning his hug was the best part of my day.

Our conversations usually follow the same pattern. Eduard always asks about my family, and could not be happier when I tell him they're well. He always tells me that his family is fine, too. It's a testament to his faith that he can say this so confidently: they have so little, but they love each other so much.

After we'd exchanged this information, Eduard paused and held up a finger. He was concentrating intensely, but smiling the whole time. Finally, he said in careful English: I am happy to see you. He waited for my response, and started laughing when I told him I felt exactly the same way.

We parted with promises to see each other later. I rarely visit his home anymore, but we usually pass on the street every week or so. The next time I see him, I'm sure we'll repeat the same conversation. Even if we never say anything new, our brief visits always brighten my day. I'm so thankful that this wonderfully faithful man has been part of my life in Haiti.

The boys outside

2010-07-11T09:12:00.002-04:00

One thing that hasn't changed about Haiti is the number of kids who hang around on our street. I've gotten to know quite a few of them in the months that I've been here, and all of them (even the ones I've never met) seem to know my name. Most of the time, they'll call out my name and wave when I walk by. Sometimes, they'll even try to get my attention when I'm sitting on the roof.

I really enjoy it when they actually come over to talk to me. I'm glad that I'm able to understand much of what they're saying, because they need so much love and attention. Usually, they're asking for food or water. Our ministry has a policy that we only give these out during organized outreaches like the feeding program (though we make exceptions in special circumstances). It's still so hard for me to say no. But, I always try to talk to the kids for a while, to show that we still care about their hearts even if we're not able to meet their material needs.

The other day, a few boys came up to me and Jessica, one of the other teachers, after the feeding program. They wanted hugs, so we just stood there and held them for a while. Then, they started asking about our names and how old we were. One of them pointed at me and said to his friends, Li te vini la le maman Lulu te mouri. She's the one who came here when Lulu's mother died. I was a little surprised that they remembered this, more than a year later. I replied, Wi, mwen te vini le maman Lulu te mouri. Yes, I came when Lulu's mother died. The boys all laughed - I don't think they'd expected me to understand their conversation.

They're quite the little comedians. With huge smiles on their faces, they pointed to a little girl standing with us. That's Lulu, they told me. No, that must be another Lulu. They laughed. I'm Eduardo, and that's Especial [Lulu's brothers], he claimed. I told them they were too little. They stood on their toes and tried to look older. It was obvious they were having fun with this little game, and they loved having someone to watch them.

Too soon, we had to walk back to our house. They tagged along the whole way, chattering in Creole and holding our hands. They looked so sad when we broke away to go inside, and asked again for water. I had to say no, and gave them all one last hug. The littlest one looked up at me, and asked, m' tann ou? Should I wait for you?

I'm glad I understood him enough to give an answer, even if it wasn't the one I wanted to give. Please pray for these little ones, that their material needs might be fulfilled, and they might receive the attention and respect they deserve.

M'ap volé!

2010-07-10T17:23:00.003-04:00

This is my little friend Laniese. They don't come any cuter.

She's probably five years old by now. I first met her last spring, at our feeding program. She still comes three times a week, with her little brother Mackenlove (another cutie) in tow. These two have twin younger siblings, as well: Adriano and Adriana, who were born shortly before the earthquake. Adriano is the the States right now, awaiting treatment for some sort of heart problem that was keeping him from growing.

Laniese knows she's cute, and she takes advantage of it. She's rarely sitting on a bench at the feeding program, because she's always looking for a spot in someone's arms. The other day, I was holding her (of course), and said:

Laniese, tout moun pense ou bel. Ou konnen sa? Laniese, everyone thinks you're beautiful. Did you know that?

She nods her head knowingly. M' konnen. I know.

I learned a lot of Creole from Laniese. Since she's young, she speaks simply. She doesn't get tired of repeating things if I don't understand, though she usually giggles quite a bit. She likes to comment on what's going on around her. Sometimes, she'll look at Mackenlove, shake her head, and sigh:

Bebe pa manje vit. The baby doesn't eat very fast.

She loves to dance. They usually play music over speakers at the feeding program, and you can usually see Laniese bopping away at a table in the corner, arms outstretched. She thinks it's fantastic if someone picks her up and sways around to the music. Yesterday, we were doing just that when the music abruptly stopped. Laniese halted mid-bounce, looked up at me with her huge, serious brown eyes, and declared: uh oh. Some words are the same in every language.

After the feeding program, her mother is usually waiting to take her two kids home. Laniese and Mackenlove clearly adore her. The minute she comes in to view, they point in her direction and run over to hold her hand. Their mother sometimes stays to talk to a staff person, for an update on her littlest boy. I can't imagine what it's like to send such a young child to another country, and only hear second- or third-hand reports about him.

Yesterday, at the end of the feeding program, I took Mackenlove and Laniese outside to meet their mother. Laniese stayed in my arms, and Mackenlove tottered along holding my hand. His other hand was wrapped around a lollipop stick. He was intent on sharing this treat with his sister, but she didn't want to get down and he didn't want to hand it over. So, every so often, we'd stop, Laniese would lean over precariously, and Mackenlove would stick the lollipop into her mouth. When she'd had enough, she'd wrap her arms back around me, and we'd set off down the street.

Their mother wasn't waiting, and I didn't want to leave two of the cutest kids in Haiti unaccompanied on the side of the road. Laniese got down to check inside a nearby house, and I sat on a cinderblock to wait. Mackenlove promptly installed himself on my lap, and we watched a few other kids playing. Laniese didn't find her mother, so she contented herself with running around the street. She'd go up on a pile of gravel, hold out her arms, and run down as fast as she could. As she passed us, she exclaimed, M'ap volé! I'm flying!

Their mother arrived soon after, and the kids took her hands and started off towards home. I don't know what home means for them - I didn't even know where they lived before the earthquake. Perhaps they all live in a small cinderblock room, or maybe they're sleeping in a tent right now. They certainly aren't wealthy in the material sense. The kids, however, have so much joy. Seeing the two of them always makes me incredibly happy, and incredibly thankful to have them in my life. They're such a good example of how to be joyful despite the circumstances: a pile of dirt is all one little girl needs to dream of flying.

The First Day of School

2010-07-10T16:36:00.002-04:00

Tuesday was the first day of summer session at Maison de Lumiere school. That morning, I was up on the roof with my computer at 5:30, finishing up individual schedules for the kids and teachers. As the other teachers got up and started preparing for the day, we discovered that none of us had slept the night before, from the combination of nervousness and excitement.

Our school is located just around the corner for the guesthouse and kids' homes, in a building that also houses our clinic. We'd spent most of the day before setting things up, which was a bit of a challenge: we had several more teachers than classrooms! 5 of the inside classrooms are used by Haitian teachers, so we created a few new spaces. Alissa's science classes meet on the back patio area, under a tarp for shade. Caitlin's math classes are in the area beside the kitchen. Jessica, who teaches second grade, has a room in the clinic downstairs. I'm mostly doing individual tutoring, so I work with students on the front porch, or accompany them to their classes. I also teach a beginning French class, which meets in Caitlin's room. The kitchen itself serves as our office: all of our supplies are stored in the cabinets, and the counters are covered with piles of notebooks and folders.

On Tuesday morning, the kids arrived at 7:45, and we had a brief assembly to introduce the teachers and schedule. Mr. Renal, one of the Haitian teachers, let the students in singing the national anthem and doing a flag salute. Then, we went to our first class. I was doing individual math tutoring with one of our girls, so we sat on the porch and I gave her some problems to practice with. I didn't have anything planned for the first day - we weren't quite sure why she was assigned to tutoring rather than a regular class, so I just wanted to get an idea of her level. It went quite well - she's a very sweet girl, and she speaks enough English to allow us to communicate easily.

Next, I was supposed to help out in a science class. But, since the schedule had been put together rather hastily, our Bible teacher couldn't come. So, I taught for a class of several older girls. This was quite the challenge, since they're used to having Bible taught in Creole. I can usually teach in French fairly easily, but I didn't have a French Bible with me and I hadn't had any time to prepare. So, I read the story of the Prodigal Son, had one of the girls read it in Creole, and then did a short discussion about the characters in the story.

My French class later in the day went as well as I'd expected. Most of our kids really don't like French: many of them want to go to the US instead of staying in Haiti, so they don't see any need to learn it. Teaching the beginners is an additional challenge, because they understand quite a bit but have never had formal instruction. For instance, numbers are pronounced the same in French and Creole, but spelled completely differently.

For the last period of the morning, I went to one of Caitlin's math classes, to help a few of the girls who have trouble understanding English. Christella, who has only lived at the girls' home for a few months, speaks very little English or French. I'm not very good at math anyways, so attempting to explain it in Creole was nearly impossible. We changed strategy after the first day, so I'm now tutoring her individually. She's extremely good at math (if she can understand the instructions), so I'm trying to work purely in numbers as much as possible.

The teachers went home for lunch at 1:00, and had a brief discussion about how things went. Many of the kids were having a bit of a struggle adjusting to the schedule of summer school, and we were all pretty exhausted from the first day. We'd scheduled electives (drawing, photography, crafts, and poetry) for 2:00, but these were (fortunately?) cancelled...

While we were sitting around the table at the guesthouse, another staff member came in and told us we couldn't go back to school. Apparently, some men who may have been kidnappers had been on our street all morning, watching everyone go back and forth between the homes and the school. So, the guesthouse and kids' homes went into lockdown until the police could come and see what was up. Our principal decided to cancel school for the afternoon, so electives didn't happen. Everyone was safe, and whatever the situation was down the street, it was taken care of within an hour or two.

The rest of the week went much more smoothly: no kidnapping scares, no last-minute Bible lessons in another language, and the kids have been much more excited about learning. Praise God!

Back in Haiti!

2010-07-08T17:45:00.002-04:00

I'm back in Haiti for the summer! I'll be here for six weeks, teaching French and math at Maison de Lumiere's summer school program. It's so wonderful to be back with all the kids here, though the adjustment back to school has been a bit tough on most of us.

I'm really excited to be part of a team this time, even though I didn't meet my fellow teachers until the night before we arrived. They're all from California, so our team planning meetings were done via Skype. We finally met at the Miami airport on Friday night, and spent the night in a hotel before flying in to Port-au-Prince Saturday afternoon.

I always seem to have interesting experiences in Miami. Being with people made my layover there so much better. The four of us had over 500 pounds of luggage in total (I'm not kidding), but at least we were able to laugh with each other as we wrestled it from the baggage claim, to the hotel shuttle, and into our room on the 8th floor. We really enjoyed our last night in the States, especially since the hotel had an outdoor pool that was open all night.

In the morning, the airport was crazy, as always. All flights for Haiti leave from a different location from other American Airlines flights, so we navigated through all the construction, checked in, and wandered off to in search of breakfast. As we walked through the terminal, we heard a huge cheer coming from somewhere a ways away - everyone was watching the World Cup. There were hundreds of people gathered in front of one coffee bar we passed, just because it had a TV. It was so nice to see a cheerful mood in a usually dismal airport.

I'll write soon about our arrival and first few days in Port-au-Prince.

News from Haiti

2010-01-14T01:44:00.001-05:00

It's so difficult to look at the news and see the suffering in the city where I spent nearly four months of last year. There is so much pain in Port-au-Prince on a normal day... I can't imagine what it's like now. And yet there's always hope. I was so thankful today to learn that, aside from one broken leg, everyone at the orphanage where I worked is fine. The staff and a missions team from California are doing everything they can to help those who've been hurt. Their update is below; please continue to pray for them. Pray that their medical supplies will not run out, that they'll have enough food and water to provide for the kids at the orphanage and families in the neighborhood, that the staff and children will find the strength to continue their ministry. And pray that the Lord would work many miracles in Haiti in the days to come.

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Update from the Manasseros in Haiti 1/13/2010

Just got Internet --- and wanted to send a quick note to let you know we are alright. Please post where you can to let people know.

We have had very serious damage to the homes, the girls home being the worse. But, praise God, no injuries to the kids have occured outside of Daphne who had a wall fall on her and is currently in traction awaiting treatment by a pediatric surgeon due to a broken leg.

We set up the boys home as a medical relief center for the area because the hospitals are not receiving new patients. Hundreds of victims of the earthquake have been through the center and we have been going non-stop, 24-hours-a-day. Many serious injuries. The most recent being people who were dug out of colapsed buildings. We have been blessed with steady flow of nurses, local doctors and others that have assisted us. And, of course, Brooke and Ashley have been working very hard. Also, many of the MDL kids are putting in a lot of time to care for the injured.

Unfortunately, we are running seriously low on med supplies, food and other items to help care for the injured and their families. We cannot even conceive how we will make the building repairs needed.

All our children are sleeping outside in "the bins" (our sports center) because they are afraid of the aftershocks. The Mission Viejo team has been great at working with the kids and assisting with the med care center.

Please pray that we can hold up through the crisis and that we can get the supplies we need. Also, please pray for the many families who have lost family members or have family members that are suffering from injuries, as well as those left without homes.

Thank you for your prayers.

God bless.

bill and susette

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If you feel led to contribute to earthquake relief, and would like to help this ministry specifically, please visit their website: childhope.org

'Tis the season...

2009-12-06T22:25:00.005-05:00

A snowy midnight on the Green

... for Advent celebrations, final exams, and scraping the ice off the car. Here's a peek into the last few days of life in Hanover! :)

Yesterday (Saturday), I spent the morning reviewing notes for my Biological Anthropology final exam. I don't find the subject matter terribly interesting, but it's probably the last science class I'll ever have to take, so I'm not complaining too much. This was one of those frustrating classes where the professor claims he wants you to learn to think about the material, not just memorize it. When we get exams, though, it usually turns out we just needed to memorize everything. That's never been difficult for me, but I just wish these supposedly interesting classes would actually be interesting every once in a while.

In the afternoon, it finally started snowing! Diane and I went over to our campus ministers' house to babysit for the three oldest of their four daughters - ages 5, 3, and 22 months. I'm always a little overwhelmed in these situations, since I was never really around little kids when I was growing up. These girls are so fun, though! They make up the silliest games, and even the littlest plays along.

Around 7, we drove back to campus (still snowing!) and headed over to Abar's apartment for a "Secret Sinterklaas" party. Sinterklaas is apparently some Dutch Santa-type character, but completely separate from Christmas. So we exchanged gifts, ate chocolate cake, and wandered home around 9:30.

There were several inches of snow on the ground by now, so we started to anticipate the annual Midnight Snowball Fight on the Green - it always happens the first night there's enough snow to make snowballs. Since I had an exam at 8 this morning, I didn't want to get too involved. Diane and I walked up to campus, wandered around the outside of the Green, and took some pictures - it was by far the largest crowd I've ever seen at this event!

Back at home, we ate a quick snack of fresh snow and maple syrup, and headed for bed. I was up at 6:45 this morning, so I'd have time to get breakfast on my way to my exam (on the far side of campus, no less). It wasn't a terribly pleasant walk, on the first really icy day of the season. I was finished with the exam by 9:30, and went back to the Hop to meet the usual crowd for the walk to church.

After church, we hung around for a bit while I talked to Thea, the middle sister we babysat yesterday. She was wearing a new purple velvet dress, but was conspicuously walking around without shoes on.

Now Miss Thea, where are your shoes?

I don't have shoes!

What? Why don't you have shoes? (I should have known better...)

I have BOOTS!

Ah, yes - the season for toddlers in snowsuits has begun. :) All of the parents had arms full of fluffy coats and tiny boots, and were attempting to get the right clothes on the right children. With so many little kids running around, this can be quite the challenge! The minute one kid gets outfitted, the parent turns to the next one, the first kid runs off with their friends, takes off their hat to play, etc. etc...

After church, it was back to the Hop for lunch. There was a bigger-than-usual crowd today, and it was nice to see everyone before they start heading home for winter break. We wandered home around 1, Diane made cinnamon rolls, and I went to the library around 2:30 to work on my Greek paper. I made some good progress (I didn't actually write any more, but I figured out what more I needed to write, so I'm mostly set), but my work period was cut short.

Tony and Kaylene, our other campus ministers, host a dinner and discussion at 5:30 every Sunday. I was planning to go, but when I checked my email around 4 Kaylene had let us know they'd just bought a Christmas tree and wanted help decorating. Of course, I took this excuse to pack up my work and go celebrate.

I've never decorated a tree with four kids 8 and under, but it's a challenge! Kaylene appointed me the manager, so I did my best. Between untangling the lights, keeping track of wayward ornament hooks, and making sure the breakable ornaments went up high enough that 2-year-old John Mark couldn't get to them, I was busy! We had everything decorated by the time the other dinner guests arrived - including several other students and our pastor.

After dinner, I hurried home to scrape the ice off my car - I'm not looking forward to a winter of doing that! One of my roommates, Annie, had invited us to her family Advent celebration in Lebanon, so I was heading over for that. (It's always a little strange going over to her house, because her father is a former professor of mine!) We enjoyed some scripture readings and discussion, and were joined via iChat by Annie's sister and her roommate at college in North Carolina.

And now, finally, I'm home for the night. Tomorrow, I'm hoping to finish up my Greek paper (thought it's not really due until Tuesday), and I'm working at my ironing job (really!) for a few hours. And that's Finals Week at Dartmouth!

Homecoming

2009-10-29T22:33:00.005-04:00

Last weekend, we celebrated our final Homecoming as Dartmouth undergraduates. It was wonderful to see some alumni friends back on campus, but so strange to think that the '10s will be alums after this year.

I love the traditions of Homecoming. A few days before the festivities begin, the freshman class starts constructing a massive bonfire in the center of the Green. We always wonder if they'll finish it in time - somehow, it's always completed on Friday afternoon. I spent most of that afternoon at home, since we were hosting Christian Impact's Family Night that evening. Usually, we meet in a dorm lounge on campus, but all of those were being used as gathering spots for freshmen. Since the freshmen don't usually come to the Homecoming Family Night anyways, we usually do something really low-key. This year, it was just dinner. I planned for far more people than had responded to our invitation, which was a good thing - we had more than 30 students, staff, and alums at our house! Annie and I kept busy making corn chowder, cheese biscuits, salad, and cake. I didn't get as much time to visit as I'd hoped, but it was still a great time.

Around 8, a group of us walked up to the Green to watch the Dartmouth Night ceremonies and the bonfire. There are always several speakers, introductions of the sports teams, and some music by the Glee Club. It's a good program, but it was rather chilly and starting to rain. We were anxious for the bonfire to be lit. The freshmen were especially anxious. Following tradition, they were gathered in a circle around the fire, ready to run around once it was lit. Every freshman is supposed to run the number of laps of their class year - so some of the '13s were aiming for 113. My freshman year, I lost count around 30, but kept running for a while longer. Each year since, I've run at least 10 more - so I should have completed 110 now! It's quite a feat - some of the '13s who ran all 113 calculated that they'd run more than 10 miles.

Once the bonfire died down, I headed home to prepare for the "Early '80s" dance party at Sigma Nu. A big group from Ci / Navigators always goes together (for most of us, it's the only time we go out to the frats). Of course, one must dress up for this occasion. I borrowed a ridiculous '80s prom dress from some friends (who had their own ridiculous outfits), and we took plenty of pictures before walking over to Webster Avenue. '80s can get a little crowded and sketchy, so I'm always glad that we go in a big group with several guys. We ended up staying until 2am - and then walked back to School St. in cold, pouring rain.

It was still pouring when the football game began Saturday afternoon. I didn't go to the first half - our football team hadn't won a game in almost 2 years, and I didn't see the point of getting soaked unnecessarily. We followed the webcast from home for a while. At halftime, we were ahead 14-0, and I wanted to see my roommate Diane perform in the marching band, so I walked up to the stadium and found a few brave (and wet) friends in the stands. Since the game was going well and it wasn't raining too hard, I stayed for the second half. This was easily the most exciting football game I've ever been to. Every time our team made a good play, the players on the sideline would go crazy. At one point, they even got a penalty for "excessive celebration." No one cared, though - because we finally won. We even rushed the field - an activity which normally gets you arrested, but the security folks just joined the celebration. I was so glad that our last homecoming as Dartmouth undergrads ended on such a happy note!

Another day in the life

2009-10-05T22:58:00.002-04:00

I've been back at school for about three weeks now, and I'm starting to settle into my routine for the term. I'm living off-campus this year, which is a major change. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about it. As much as I love sharing a huge house with four of my closest friends, it's easy to feel isolated here. We're only a five-minute walk from the college green, but we just don't see as many people when we eat and study at home. I try to spend as much of my spare time on campus as possible to make up for this!

A day at school is much more predictable than a day in Haiti. I'm grateful for the consistency, but I miss my hectic life in Port-au-Prince so much.

At college, "early" is a relative term. I try to get up at 7, which puts me far ahead of most other people on campus. By 7:45, I've gathered up my supplies for the day and started the walk to campus. I usually stop at Collis, our student center, for a breakfast of a muffin and tea, and then wander over to the library.

I love studying in the library, but it can get so crowded! In the morning, though, it's always empty. I try not to leave any of my homework for this time in the morning - I'd much rather use it as a chance to review what I've done the night before.

My first class on MWF - Biological Anthropology - meets at 8:45. It's an interesting class, though I'm not sure I agree with all of the professor's opinions. I needed a science course to fulfill my final distributive requirement for my degree, and I've enjoyed other anthropology courses in the past. I think I'll survive :-)

When Anthro is over, I go back to the library. My 10:00 Greek class meets on the third floor. This is definitely my challenge course for the term. Though I'm majoring in Classical Languages, I haven't taken a Greek class since last fall. All the French- and Creole-speaking in between has made things a little fuzzy. We're translating selections from Plato's Republic. After a week and a half, I'm finally starting to get back up to speed.

After Greek, I might sit in the library and start the translation for the next class, or stop at Collis and pick up a salad for lunch. In the afternoon, I usually head to the painting studio. Painting II is my third class, which meets two mornings a week. Again, things are coming along slowly - I haven't taken painting since last fall, either. One of my favorite things about this class is that we each get our own section of the classroom as our studio for the term. I have a spot in the corner by a window, which is just about all I need! Our first assignment was to paint something outside - on perhaps the coldest day of the fall so far. We've moved back inside now. This afternoon, I did several progressively abstract paintings of fall foliage and power lines. It was a productive time.

I supposedly take a tennis class two afternoons a week. It's been raining fairly often, so we haven't played yet. Perhaps tomorrow?

Monday evenings are wonderful. At 5:30, we journey to Food Court for MATCHING MONDAY. This is another enduring Dartmouth institution, founded by Emily and me last fall. One dreary evening, Emily wanted to wear her zebra skirt to dinner. We decided I should wear a black and white skirt, too. Then, we discovered we both owned bright orange button-down sweaters. The tradition was born. We now have 8 to 10 regular attendees, many of whom join in on the weekly theme (unless it involves dresses, skirts, or the color pink - about half of these regular attendees are male).

After MATCHING MONDAY (always in all-caps. ALWAYS), we have our weekly Christian Impact Family Meeting. This is a sort of open leadership meeting, where about 15 of us get together to share what's going on in our lives, pray for any concerns, and make some plans for the ministry. It's such a wonderful way to end an often-crazy Monday.

Saturday morning

2009-09-12T12:12:00.002-04:00

It's a cold and rainy day in Maine - so different from Haiti! I'm settled in a new coffeeshop in South Berwick, enjoying the warmth and the free internet. I find it a little odd that I have better internet access when I'm in Haiti than I do when I'm at home. Here, I have venture to Panera, the library, or even the hospital to get a wireless connection. I often wonder what would happen if we took all the money I spent on coffee and tea and invested in a good internet setup at home :-)

I just uploaded a few more of my Haiti pictures to my Flickr page. Please check them out - www.flickr.com/photos/millzes. Enjoy!

The Origin of IronGirl

2009-09-11T10:24:00.006-04:00

ZebraGirl and IronGirl, ready to take on the world

Now that I'm back in Maine and thinking a bit more clearly, I've realized that some people may be wondering about IronGirl. You probably know that I don't run triathlons or any such "IronMan" events, but that I really (really, really) enjoy ironing. Still, I think everyone should hear the exciting story of how IronGirl came to be. You'll learn a lot about Dartmouth traditions, too. It all started almost exactly one year ago...

You might think that Dartmouth students stay far away from school during the few weeks between terms. For those of us who live close by, that's not usually the case. After Sophomore Summer, my roommate Emily and I decided to participate in the time-honored tradition of "raiding Trips." The vast majority of Dartmouth freshmen go on these Trips, student-led adventures in the wilderness of Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont. Many upperclassmen, in turn, go to great lengths to "raid" the Trips with crazy costumes, funny situations, and often a much-needed snack.

Back in 2006, I braved the "Psycho Hiking" trip over 20-odd miles of the Appalachian Trail. I still remember the afternoon we were raided: our group was leaving the parking lot at the bottom of the Beaver Brook trail, trying not to think about the 2-hour climb up a jumble of steep rocks. We paused before crossing a footbridge, and I turned around and looked back over the road we'd just taken into the woods. Imagine my surprise when I see not a fellow hiker, not a bunch of trees, but a guy in a blue fuzzy bathrobe, with neon pink hair, skipping towards us. He invited us back to the parking lot, where we met two more characters like him. One was wearing leiderhosen. My confused Trippees (fellow freshmen) and I played some strange version of "The Dating Game" with the raiders, and then sat in their van where they gave us some wonderfully warm hot chocolate. One of them drove around in circles while the others introduced themselves and shared a bit about their Dartmouth experiences. Our trip leaders wanted us to get hiking, though - the raid had taken time, and it was getting dark and rainy. These wonderful raiders decided to help us out a bit - they hiked up the trail (practically running) in front of us, carrying our unwieldy backpacks all the way to the shelter at the top. So this was my first experience with raiders. I thought they were pretty cool, though a little crazy. I'd certainly never be like that.

Fall 2008: I realize that last statement was entirely false. Over a brief two days, Emily and I raided no less than four trips (actually, five: one of them was a mistake). We drove to campus together from Emily's house in southern NH, and set up camp in our new dorm room. This was an experience in itself: Wheeler 212 consisted of one, 187-square foot room. In this room were two beds (at least we'd bunked them), two desks, two bookcases, half of my school stuff, half of Emily's school stuff, and miscellaneous other stuff we were storing for people. None of it was unpacked. To this mess we added a huge box of flair (crazy attire Dartmouth students pull out for a variety of special occasions), baking supplies, hiking gear, and two sleeping bags. We sat on the floor amidst all the boxes, got out some trail maps, and started planning our strategy.

Raid #1: A friend of ours was leading an "Easy Hiking" trip in Norwich, just across the border in VT. Several people we were somewhat acquainted with also wanted to raid this trip, so we coordinated. Emily and I baked cookies, put on some ridiculous outfits, and went to meet up with our fellow raiders late in the afternoon. We all drove to Norwich, found the trailhead without much difficulty, and started the hike. This raid wasn't terribly well-planned: our best idea was to send a guy in a Pikachu costume running through the campsite when we arrived. We would all chase him, disappear into the woods, and return with a small stereo to have a dance party. We hadn't counted on the 4-mile hike to the campsite, so we arrived just at dusk. The raid went well, though we cut the dance party a bit short since we didn't have many flashlights. We hiked the four miles back in the dark, and had only two close encounters with porcupines. Emily and I were exhausted, but we needed to prepare for the next day's two planned raids. We drove to West Lebanon, ate dinner at Wendy's (with everyone staring at our ridiculous clothing), and then went to the 24-hour PriceChopper to buy supplies. We wanted to start the next day bright and early with a breakfast raid on a hiking trip up in the mountains.

Raid #2: We woke up at 4 AM, after only a few hours of sleep, and wandered down to the Wheeler kitchen to begin preparations. I baked scones, Emily made scrambled eggs, and then we packed everything up and climbed into the car. The drive to this trip's campsite took about an hour, through beautiful rural NH. We parked on a narrow dirt road, put on zebra costumes, and started walking in with our food. Our plan was to wake up the Trippees (including the younger sister of a good friend) and surprise them with breakfast. Nothing ever goes according to plan: an "official" raid from the Dartmouth Outing Club had already arrived, and the raiders were attempting to cook pancakes. So we wandered up in our zebra costumes, confusing everyone for a little while, and then pulled out the food. The Trippees and raiders were glad we'd come: their pancakes were not turning out too well, and we'd brought scones, eggs, sausage, orange juice, and fresh fruit. We enjoyed a wonderful breakfast with our new freshmen friends, and headed for campus after about an hour. On our way out, we had a brief conversation with a guy who was hiking alone, headed south on the AT. He seemed a little overwhelmed by all the strange costumes and crazy energy in this quiet section of the White Mountains.

Raid #3: Another "Easy Hiking" trip, on the same trail we'd raided the night before. One of Emily's friend's friends was a Trippee on this section. We worked on this raid alone, too: things are far less complicated that way. We decided to be eccentric old-lady gardeners, who would set up along the trail and invite an unsuspecting Trippee to pull up the rare "Canadian Groundfruit." The "Canadian Groundfruit" is an old trick: you bury a pineapple so only the top is showing, and have someone unearth it. It's surprising how many people will fall for it, I've heard. Anyway, we wanted to avoid another 8-mile hike, so we consulted some maps and found a side trail that would put us right where we wanted to be, after only a 10-minute walk. So off we went, burying the pineapple, arranging some bananas and strawberries on various bushes, and making nonsense Latin-sounding signs for everything. Finally, we heard the group approaching. We hid farther up the trail, then went down to greet them, skipping over the rocks and carrying on in ridiculous voices. We invited everyone to look at our garden, and gave Emily's friend's friend, Liz, the honor of pulling up the rare Canadian Groundfruit. Sadly, they weren't fooled. We hiked with them the rest of the way to their shelter, cleaned up our garden, and drove back to campus. What a day!

If you've read this far, you're probably wondering where IronGirl comes in. Never fear! There's still one more raid (and one accidental raid) to go, remember? The next day...

Raid #4: One of Emily's Trippees from 2007 was leading a trip just north of campus, at the Dartmouth Skiway. We knew this needed to be a good raid, but we were running short of ideas. We'd already worn our zebra costumes, we'd already used the "Canadian Groundfruit" trick... what could we do? Then, it dawned on us: superheroes. Emily, of course, would be ZebraGirl. I looked around our half-unpacked dorm room for inspiration. That's when I saw it: my iron. I'd been wanting to use it on a raid. If Emily could be ZebraGirl, why couldn't I be IronGirl? It was perfect. We both suited up in super-hero capes (made from bathrobes and scarves), packed the iron, some brownies, and various random cooking utensils (you never know...), and went to get lunch. By this time, I was entirely comfortable walking around campus in ostentatious clothing. To get to Emily's car, though, we had to walk down Main Street. One little girl was staring at us with obvious curiosity - any perhaps a little admiration :-)

There's an easy trail up the back of the skiway, so we followed that for a 20-minute hike to the top. We tiptoed around a corner at the top of the hill, and saw a pile of hiking packs. We snuck a little further, and decided that the voices we were hearing were the Trippees (though we hadn't expected them to be there already). So, we hid our packs in some bushes (taking only the iron, and a kitchen utensil each) and bushwhacked around for a while. Finally, we emerged on a ski slope slightly below where the group was gathered. We hid in the grass and observed for a while: we didn't see the trip leader we were expecting, but we were fairly sure this was the right group. So, after a few minutes, we began our act.

IronGirl: AHHHHHHHHHH! (runs across the ski slope)

ZebraGirl: IronGirl, come back here and fight like a man! (follows, brandishing a wooden spoon)

IronGirl: But my super hero cape is getting wrinkled... (sits down and attempts to iron super hero cape)

ZebraGirl: You're just jealous because I made better brownies.

IronGirl: NO I'M NOT! (start whacking each other with wooden spoons)

Once we had the Trippees' attention, we "noticed" them for the first time and decided to stop fighting. And fed them brownies. They were totally confused, and with good reason: this was not the trip we were supposed to raid. Oh well - now 10 more freshmen think Emily and I are totally insane.

So, we headed down the trail to wait for the other trip. We found a likely spot, and sat down. For a while, we tried to hide, but as it became obvious that we'd be there a while, we gave up. All of a sudden, from the opposite direction, a hiker appears. It was the same guy we'd spoken to the morning before, during the breakfast raid 30 miles or so to the north. He didn't seem too surprised that the crazy zebras had turned into super heroes. We gave him some brownies and a bag of M&Ms, which made him very happy. He went on, promising not to tell any Trippees he encountered about our plan.

Finally, we saw some Trippee-type people trudging up the trail - they'd been going uphill for a very long time. I jumped out from behind a rock, and ran toward them.

IronGirl: ZebraGirl, STOP IT!!!!

ZebraGirl: IronGirl, come back here and fight like a man! (in close pursuit)

IronGirl: But my cape is getting wrinkled...

ZebraGirl: You're just jealous of my brownies!

IronGirl: I AM NOT! (and the whacking-with-spoons commences)

These poor trippees looked fairly stunned. Finally, we introduced ourselves as important super heroes who needed the trippees to decide whose brownies were better. I even tried to iron their very wrinkly clothes, but they weren't too excited about that. Once they got over the shock, they decided that all the brownies were equally good. We hiked up to the top with them, and then turned around to head home. Though our days of raiding were over, the legacy of Dartmouth's two super heroes would endure...

Heading home...

2009-09-01T10:11:00.002-04:00

In about two hours, I'm going to the airport to start my journey home. It's really hard to leave this time. Port-au-Prince has been, essentially, my home since the end of March. I've gone back to America twice in that time, but both times I've left Haiti knowing the date of my return. This time, I can't tell the kids when I'll be back. And believe me, they keep asking. But the Lord knows - I'm sure I'll see them again someday.

Yesterday at the feeding program, Erta told the 70-plus kids that I was leaving. Then, she told them all to come give me a hug. Of course, some of the little ones were a little too eager, and I nearly fell on top of them. I was standing at the edge of a three-foot drop in our sports area, and a few of the kids almost went over. Luckily, everyone was smiling when they got up! I love helping kids in the clinic, but I didn't want my last time in there to be bandaging up kids I'd accidentally fallen on. Some of the kiddos weren't there yesterday - little Laniese and Makenlove didn't come. An older girl usually brings them, because their mother leaves them alone at home all day. That older girl didn't come, so they didn't make it, either. In spite of that, I had a great time playing with Merica, holding some of the kids who were too small for a dodgeball game, and finding prospects for the clinic afterward. It was so sad to say goodbye to everyone as they left for home - Lovely, Johnny, Junior, Lulu, Merica, Donaldson, Ensise and Venette, Roseline, Samson... so many precious little children of God.

Last night, Bill and Susette took me out for dinner. We drove around Petion-Ville in the dark for a while, looking for a restaurant that no longer existed. So we ended up at a beautiful old hotel, which to my delight had cats running around the dining room. Susette and I ordered fish, so we had an instant friend. Only in Haiti can you get away with feeding a kitty from the table at a fancy restaurant...

I'm always amazed at how blessed I've been to have Bill and Susette and all their kids as a family in Haiti. After all, these are people I found after Googling "haiti orphanage" back in the fall of 2008. Isn't it wonderful how God brings people together?

I'm planning to keep writing this blog once I return to America. There are still so many stories of Haiti to share, and of course, there's whatever senior year at Dartmouth will bring. Thank you all for your prayers and encouragement during this season of my life. Please continue to join me in praying for this beautiful country and its amazing people.

Merica

2009-08-28T22:34:00.003-04:00

This precious little girl is named Merica. She lives in our neighborhood with her mother and three siblings, and she's been on our hearts a lot lately. Merica is six years old, and has some sort of developmental disability. Her mother has an extremely hard time caring for all her children, and will let us take Merica into our girls' home. As much as we want to accept, the staff here are taking time to pray before making any decisions. We want to provide the best possible environment for Merica - which would mean hiring and training a staff member to look after her exclusively, and considering carefully how the other girls will accept her.

Merica was born with a twin, who died during or shortly after the birth. An American doctor on a missions team did the delivery, so her mother named the baby girl after America. She's been severely malnourished, and didn't start to walk until last year. She has started to talk a little bit, but hasn't gotten beyond a few words. She understands Creole fairly well, though. When I ask her questions, she'll usually respond by nodding, shaking her head, or smiling. We wonder to what extent her problems are worsened by the malnutrition - if she ate three full meals a day, how much more would she develop? Right now, she probably weighs less than 25 pounds.

Her family situation is very sad. Her two older siblings, Mari and Duprenne, attend an English school in the neighborhood, so they can communicate with us. Both of them are extremely small for their age, and often come to our house saying they're hungry. Mari, who is only 12, gets left with a lot of the responsibility for Merica and two-year-old Jameson. The four children are part of our feeding program, but sometimes Merica and Jameson don't show up. When someone goes to their house to see what happened, they'll often find Merica sitting in the dirt, without clothes on, completely alone. I'm not sure where the mother goes during the day. In the past, we've given her some food to cook for her family, but the children still show up hungry. Apparently, their mother will sometimes sell the donated food - I'm not sure what she hopes to gain from that.

In spite of all this, Merica always finds something to smile about. She loves the people involved in our ministry. When she arrives at the feeding program, she'll find each one of us, reach out, and give us a hug. She'll laugh when we let her try on our glasses, or help her play with a ball. We drove her family home after the feeding program today - I've never seen her so happy as when she got to sit in the front seat of the truck with Susette, proudly wearing Bill's sunglasses. When we arrived and told her to go with Mommy, she giggled and didn't want to get out. Her presence is always such a blessing for us. Please pray for wisdom as we decide how we can best help this amazing little girl, and that the Lord will comfort and provide for her and her family.

Loose ends

2009-08-26T21:10:00.004-04:00

I think this is a good time to give an update on some things that I've mentioned recently, just in case people have been wondering!

Monise, our guesthouse cook, had her baby girl last night. She left work at 5 pm, went home, went to the hospital, and the baby was born around 8 - wow! Her cousin is filling in for her until she's ready to come back to work. I hope I get to see Monise and the little girl before I come home!

Venette, the girl with malaria, is still sick. According to her older sister, she has a fever every night. She's certainly improved, though. She doesn't feel as warm, is behaving normally, and ate a full meal at the feeding program today. For now, we're giving her some fever medicine as needing and making sure she drinks enough water.

Julie, one of the girls rescued from across the street, went home yesterday with a sister. Jacqueline is still living at the girls' home until we can contact her family. This may be a very complicated process - I think we have to contact someone in Canada who can give us the contact information of her family in another part of Haiti.

My fingers are completely better. Whatever happened to them healed fairly quickly. I still have two little bruises, but I've been playing basketball with no problems whatsoever.

I'm coming home on Tuesday, September 1st. It will be tough to leave... the other two times I've left Haiti, I've known the date I'll be returning. This time, I have no idea when that will be. I'm trying to make the most of my last few days here!

Throwing rocks

2009-08-26T20:30:00.003-04:00

Today started off calmly, a blessing after all that's happened in the past week. I spent a good part of the morning at home, studying Greek, and listening to the first-graders downstairs practicing addition. Things were quiet when I arrived at the orphanages, too. Since summer classes have ended and Haitian school hasn't started yet, many of the children used this week to go spend time with family members. (I've probably mentioned it before, but most of our kids aren't actually orphans. They just come from families that can't support them.)

I spent the hours before lunch at the girls' home, reading with Keso. He was in trouble, which was why he wasn't at his first-grade class, or with the other boys. A lot of the time, he just wants attention. He never does anything really terribly bad, but he does talk back whenever people try to correct him. He loves to read, though. He sometimes has trouble in school, so I try to work with him whenever possible. We've gotten to the point now where he will attempt to read easy books, rather than insisting I read to him.

I ate lunch at the girls' home, which I hadn't done in a while. As soon as I started eating, I remembered why. The mosquitoes there are horrible. I had at least twenty bites on one leg by the time I was finished. Tomorrow, it will be back to the boys' home!

After lunch, we started preparing for the feeding program. For the past few days, I've gone out on the street half an hour before to greet the kids as they gather. This is a good time to hear about all their medical needs. They aren't rushing to find a spot at a table, so I can take the time to look them over and see if they really need attention. The ones who do are told to come to the clinic as soon as they finish eating - unless they're bleeding, in which case I take them right in.

There were the usual minor wounds. Little Norvelie had scraped the front of one toe pretty badly, and a makeshift bandage was wrapped around it. Usually, she's one of the lucky ones, because she has sneakers instead of sandals. Today, she was barefoot: her shoes probably made her foot hurt more.

For once, no one needed anything urgently. I considered staying out with the kids until the program started - Laniese did not want me to set her down. But then, I noticed some of the older boys were starting to fight. There are a few who've caused a lot of trouble in the past, and they are no longer allowed to come to our feeding program. They still hang around on the street with the other kids, though. As soon as I sensed there might be trouble, I headed inside, glad to see that the guard from the boys' home was standing outside keeping an eye on the situation.

I had just locked my purse and camera in the clinic, and was walking out to where the tables were set up, when I heard kids screaming outside and banging on our gate. I figured this meant someone was hurt, so I was standing right there when the guard opened the door. He pulled little Donaldson inside. This beautiful little boy is only about five, but his head was covered in blood and he was screaming. I led him into the clinic, sat him down, and called in Fritz to find out what happened while I went to get a basin of water. By the time I got back, Fritz had the name of the child who had hurt him (I assume it was by throwing a rock), and was out at the gate telling that child he was no longer welcome at our program. I have no idea why one of the boys would hurt Donaldson - it's quite possible he got hit by a rock intended for someone else. The older kids frequently throw rocks, bottles, or anything else they can pick up off the street when they get upset.

Luckily, head wounds usually look worse than they actually are. By the time I got the blood off of Donaldson's head, neck, and hands (sadly, I didn't have a clean shirt to give him), the bleeding had stopped. There was a pretty big bump where he'd been hit, but the skin was only broken a little bit. So I cleaned it up, put on some Neosporin, and taped on some gauze. (Again, it looked worse than it was - you have to use so much tape to stick to little boys' hair!) I told him to come back tomorrow so we could change the bandage, and made sure he still wanted to eat. He made his way out of the clinic and found a spot at a table. He looked really tired, but he started singing with all the other kids.

TiBo and Diene

2009-08-25T22:43:00.003-04:00

TiBo at the pool, deep in thought

Diene, keeping cool in the back of the truck

I love spending time with the little boys at our orphanage. They always find a way to make me smile! Today, I thought I'd write about two of them. TiBo and Diene are brothers - TiBo just turned 7, and Diene is 10. They've been living at Maison de Lumiere for about 2 1/2 years.

When they arrived, they were in pretty desperate condition. Their father, a poor farmer, was attempting to care for all of his children (I think there were about 7) by himself. TiBo was 4 1/2 at that time, and he only weighed 12 pounds. Today, he's still really tiny, but you'd never guess that he was once struggling to survive.

These two boys started first grade today, along with most of our other young children who attend an in-house English school. It actually isn't that unusual for kids of different ages to be in the same class, because many of them didn't have a chance to start school on time. TiBo is the least behind of all our kids here - if he keeps doing as well as he has been (he was first in his kindergarten class last year), he'll finish high school only a year later than the typical student.

TiBo loves to laugh, loves to practice his English, and loves to eat (most of the time). He can be shy if he knows people are watching him. One evening this summer, we'd taken several of the little kids to Epi-D'or to celebrate Kenny's 6th birthday. We'd ordered chicken nuggets and french fries for all of the kids, but TiBo was eyeing Susette's chicken sandwich. She traded with him, and we all started to wonder how this kid would eat a sandwich the size of his head. He realized we were all watching, smiled, grabbed the sandwich, and dove under the table. We finally convinced him to come out, but only after we had put away the camera. Then, he methodically finished the sandwich, ate a serving of french fries, and eagerly took everyone's left-over chicken nuggets and stacked them on his plate. He was half-way through the pile when he ran out of ketchup and finally started to feel full. We don't know where any of the food goes! He never seems to get any bigger...

Today, TiBo arrived home from school and, to our amazement, was not hungry. He revealed they'd eaten cookies for a snack. So, he hopped around the dining area at the boys' home and eventually climbed up on a wall, announcing, "Mwen ti makak!" "I am a little monkey," he translated for my benefit.

Diene is a wonderful big brother. He's always looking out for TiBo (though the little guy can hold his own pretty well). Diene also speaks wonderful English, though he has pioneered a new pronunciation of my name. Most Haitians have a hard time with the th sound, so they pronounce my name as if the h weren't there. Diene, however, manages the th, but also sticks in an f. I often walk into the boys' home to be greeted by Diene's enthusiastic "Befthany!"

The little boys are always trying to prove how strong they are. One day, I was giving Diene a hug, and I lifted him off the ground. When I put him down, he put his hands on his hips and informed me that he could pick me up. I told him no way. So, he promptly wrapped his arms around me and lifted me several inches off the floor. In case there was any doubt, he repeated this feat a few minutes later. I don't mind arm-wrestling with the boys, but I've tried my best to discourage this new game!

Jacqueline and Julie

2009-08-24T21:32:00.002-04:00

Julie

Strange things have been happening on our street the past few days. On Friday afternoon, before our feeding program, word reached the boys' home that there was a "crazy lady" outside. She was dancing in the middle of the street, doing some sort of Voodoo ritual. She spoke very strangely to the few people who tried to approach her. After about an hour, though, she had gone into the home directly across from our guesthouse. We learned that she owns this property.

After the feeding program, I went back up the street for dinner. Several girls (family and visitors) walked up a bit later to join us, and they had some disturbing news. Some of our kids and staff members had seen this lady in her yard with two young girls. She was attempting to strangle one of them, and was stomping on the other one's neck, all while shouting "Strength!" One of our boys ran up to the boys' home to get help, and a staff member there called the police. By the time the police arrived, the lady had locked herself and the two girls inside. Haitian police apparently don't have the same authority that American police do. They explained to the witnesses that they were not able to enter private property after hours, regardless of what was going on inside. All we could do was pray that the two little girls would be alive the next morning.

I spent Saturday at our house, preparing two of the rooms for our English school which opens on Monday. That evening, I learned that the girls had been rescued and were safe at our girls' home. The lady had thrown five-year-old Julie onto the street with all of her belongings. Some of our staff saw this happen and immediately brought her inside. A while later, eleven-year-old Jacqueline, her cousin, also escaped. Jacqueline had been locked inside, so she had to climb up over the gate (which is topped with metal spikes) to get out. We brought her inside, too.

Our girls immediately started taking care of these two beautiful children - feeding them, giving them baths, and finding new dresses for them to wear. I met them early that evening, and was amazed to see how happy they looked. They were bruised quite badly, but they were smiling at everyone. Gradually, we found out what had happened to them.

The two girls were living in the countryside when this lady (a godmother to one of them) came to visit, and said she'd like to bring the girls back to the city to live with her for the summer. In the last few days, her bizarre behavior began. The girls had only cooked cornmeal to eat, which tasted so bad they couldn't finish it. So the lady heated up some hair product, mixed it with the uneaten cornmeal, and smeared it all over their heads. They still had cornmeal in their hair when they escaped. Neither of them had eaten for the past two days.

Saturday night, Susette and Zachary took the girls to the police station, where they got permission to keep them at the girls' home until they can contact their mothers. The girls have adjusted beautifully. Our kids are so eager to share the love of Christ with them, and you can tell that the two of them are really happy to be there. They play with the girls, ask us to take their pictures, and smile the whole time. Praise God that they're both safe!

Meanwhile, the situation with the lady across the street has not been resolved. Some of our staff managed to talk to her today, and she was apparently quite combative and not terribly in touch with reality. Please pray for her and everyone involved with these events.

Mwen fe mal

2009-08-23T23:28:00.005-04:00

Venette

I am sick.

Far too often, this is the first thing a child at our feeding program tells me when I ask how he or she is doing. Since we don't have a nurse on staff now, I'm always at the feeding program, I speak some Creole, and I know where the clinic key is, the kids will often come to me for help.

On any given day, we have about a dozen of the most common complaints. Kids have stomach aches - probably because they've just eaten a huge meal after going hungry for a day or two. Kids have fevers. At least, they tell us they do. When a child here feels a little sick and isn't sure why, they usually assume it's a fever. Then, there are the injuries. Kids are always coming in with scrapes and bumps. It's not surprising, seeing as their shoes are hardly adequate and they often throw rocks and bottles at each other. Some of them come in still bleeding, and we treat them right away. Other times, we'll notice an old scrape that the child isn't even aware of. If we have time, we bring them to the clinic afterwards to clean it up a bit.

Then, there are the serious illnesses. Most often, we're alerted by an older sibling. Wednesday, I jumped out of the truck in front of the boys' home about an hour before the feeding program, and immediately had three kids trying to talk to me. One boy claimed to have a fever. This same boy "has a fever" every day, so I felt his forehead and sent him on his way. (Incidentally, he *actually did* have a fever on Friday. He's lucky I took him for a second opinion that day.) Then, Johnny (brother to Norvelie and Junior) told me that Junior was sick. I saw the poor toddler sitting against the wall with a bandage wrapped around his head. I guessed he'd caught Johnny's case of the mumps, so I told Johnny to bring him in after for some pain medicine.

The third child was Ensise, telling me her younger sister Venette was sick. She seemed desperate, and she grabbed my hand and pulled me down the street. A few other girls were holding six-year-old Venette. She looked extremely weak, and couldn't sit up on her own. I felt her forehead, and the poor child was burning. (In the vast majority of cases, I can't determine anything from the forehead test - so I knew Venette needed help.) Lauren, one of our visitors who's been helping with the clinic, was standing right there, so I carried Venette in and we immediately gave her some Motrin and tried to make her drink some water. Lauren held Venette for the next hour or so. Even when her mother came with a 7up, she didn't want to drink anything. She couldn't eat her meal, either.

Friday, I arrived at the feeding program and again saw Ensise. This time, she was saying something about Venette being at home and not able to walk. Susette had a meeting right then, so I was preparing to go check on Venette. I recruited two older boys from my English class to walk with me and translate when we got there, took a bottle of Motrin from the clinic, filled up a water bottle, and asked Susette what to do when I got there. We decided I should assess the situation, and bring Venette back to the clinic if she seemed like she needed treatment. I quickly prayed that I'd be able to manage, and then I walked out the gate with our boys. And what a surprise - Venette was sitting on a rock across the street. So we started asking Ensise some questions.

Is this the sister who's sick?

Yes.

There's no one sick at your house right now?

No.

So why do we need to come to your house?

Because Venette's sick.

Hmm. We told Ensise we weren't going to her house, and asked her a few more questions. From what I could understand, they'd taken Venette to a clinic the day before. She'd tested positive for malaria. Something happened with the medicine - either they didn't get it, or they got some and spilled it, or they lost the prescription... In any case, Venette wasn't taking her medicine. So, we brought her inside. Her mother was doing some work at the boys' home, so we found her and asked the same questions, this time with Zachary, a staff member, translating. (My boys are wonderful, but they don't usually translate for me when I'm doing medical stuff.)

What's wrong with Venette?

She has malaria.

You took her to a clinic and they told you that?

Yes.

Did you get the medicine?

Yes.

Is she taking it?

Yes.

What medicine did you get?

Syrup [for fever] and malaria medicine.

And you're giving her both?

Yes.

You got the malaria medicine?

We got the syrup.

So she's not taking the malaria medicine?

No.

Why didn't you get the malaria medicine?

I didn't have the money.

Sadly, this is the way many conversations go here. I'm always glad when Zachary translates for us. He knows exactly how to ask each question so people answer honestly. We reminded Venette's mom that malaria wouldn't go away without the medicine, and told her we'd supply it. So, we brought out a scale to weigh Venette and figure out the proper dosage. This little girl is six years old, and weighs slightly under 30 pounds. While we were discussing her care, she tried to sleep on a concrete ledge. Her mother kept putting capfuls of 7up in her mouth, and she cried every time. She didn't like the taste of the malaria medicine, either. We carefully explained the dosing schedule for the rest of the pills, and reminded her mother that she needs to keep the girl hydrated.

I haven't seen Venette this weekend. I pray that she'll be smiling once again on Monday.

(And a word about Junior: after I have him his pain medicine, he mumbled something in Creole. Johnny didn't know how to translate it. Thinking it could be important, I called in one of our staff. It turns out Junior was asking for candy - he'd remembered the lollipop we gave him when Johnny had the mumps. I figure if he's well enough to ask for candy, he probably isn't feeling too bad.)

Jacmel

2009-08-16T17:12:00.002-04:00

Driving across a river!

Our trip to Jacmel was really wonderful. We spent a fair amount of time relaxing on the beach or at the pool, having good conversations, or catching up on all the reading we never have time to do in the city. All 11 of us gathered together for each meal - always a great time of fellowship.

Still, I'm the type of person who can only do so much relaxing before I want to go somewhere or do something. Our last day in Jacmel, some of us went on an adventure to Bassin Bleu, in the mountains outside the city. Getting there was tricky. First, we had to drive across a riverbed (luckily, it hadn't rained much in the days before). Our guide wasn't entirely sure how to do this, so we tried a few different routes and prayed that the truck wouldn't float away on us. Finally, we made it safely to the other side, where we drove for a while through a forest of banana trees and other tropical vegetation.

Then, we had to drive into the mountains. This time, the road wasn't paved, and was one lane wide at best. Luckily, we didn't meet any other vehicle traffic. There were quite a few people making the trek on foot. Sometimes we stopped to pick up anyone who wanted a ride to the top.

Bassin Bleu caters to tourists, but there aren't many tourists in Haiti. When we arrived, the guides swarmed over to the truck, hoping to be hired for our trip. Since Bill had done this before, he went inside the office and made sure the management understood that we were only paying two guides. Several others followed us up anyways. To reach the basin, we had to go on a short hike. The scenery in this part of Haiti is beautiful! We walked through the woods, climbed down a set of steps cut into the rock, and waded through a pool before we made it to the swimming area.
And here it is! The water was freezing cold and totally clear, and it felt so good to jump in after our hike in the sun. In a nice change from the beach at our hotel, the rocks on the bottom were completely smooth (though it was far too deep to touch the bottom in most places). We had a great time swimming around, climbing up the rocks, and jumping through the waterfall. The Haitian guides swam for a little while, too, but most of them got out very quickly and stayed far away from the waterfall. They tend to be superstitious, and are wary of a mermaid or spirit who's said to live under the waterfall, waiting to pull people under.

Roadtrip

2009-08-14T21:24:00.004-04:00

Vacations are always fun, but I'm usually ready to come home at the end. I spent the past three days in Jacmel, on Haiti's south coast, on a family vacation with the Manasseros and a few other summer visitors. This afternoon, we made it back to our neighborhood in Port-au-Prince. I'm too tired to write much, but I wanted to give you an idea of what went into this short trip.

We planned to leave Tuesday morning at nine. Some of us wanted to go earlier, but Bill was worried that the traffic would be too crazy when we went through downtown. The trip to Jacmel takes "anywhere from two to four hours." Leaving at nine would, theoretically, get us there in time for lunch.

Nothing ever happens on time here. Shortly before nine, I was sitting on the floor reading a book (when I have nothing else to do, I'm always sitting on the floor reading a book). I'd finished packing almost an hour earlier. Bill went down to the truck - I think he needed to drive down to the orphanages for a quick talk with some staff before he left. The truck wouldn't start.

For nearly two hours, three guys from the boys' home tinkered around with the engine. Finally, the truck started and we loaded everything in the back. Then, we drove down to the guesthouse, to pick up a few girls who had slept there the night before. We also brought along James, one of the older boys at the boys' home. Eventually, we got everyone (11 people and a dog) inside, and headed out toward Delmas.

Since it was nearing lunchtime, we stopped at the supermarket to pick up some food to eat on the way. Whatever the guys had done to the truck, we weren't supposed to shut it off until we got to Jacmel, so most of us stayed out in the parking lot. Finally, Susette and Ari came out with a box of food and drinks. Then, they came up to James. "So, do you know how to get to Jacmel?" Not the most promising start.

I looked at a map today when we got back, and Jacmel is less than 50 miles away, if you travel in a straight line. Of course, you can't do that. There are mountains in the middle. You have to drive all the way downtown (via a different route than usual), drive along the coast for a while, then cut across a terribly steep, narrow mountain road. The drive is beautiful, but a little terrifying: the truck and bus drivers rarely stay on the correct side of the road. Several times, we'd round a bend to see a truck broken down exactly in the middle of the road. The passengers all wait patiently off to the side while a few men attempt to fix the truck (but never attempt to move it out of the way).

For the first part of the journey, I rode in the back of the truck. I usually prefer this for driving around town: you can see so much more of your surroundings. With five people and a lot of luggage in the back, though, it can be a little crowded. Susette made us peanut butter sandwiches for lunch and passed them out the window. If you've never tried to eat a peanut-butter sandwich while sitting in the back of a truck that's going 60 miles an hour, I can tell you it's pretty difficult. The crumbs go everywhere.

After about two hours, we pulled over for a minute (leaving the truck on, of course) and I switched spots with Ari, who'd been sitting inside. She wanted to talk to some folks in the back, and I wanted to get out of the sun, so it worked out perfectly. Now, though, I was sitting in the back seat with three kids (six, nine, and nine) and a dog (at least he's small). I was glad Angelo came along with us. A family roadtrip with the dog seems almost like an American rite of passage. Granted, I'm in another country, and neither the family nor the dog is mine, but it was still fun.

More about Jacmel soon!

A day in the life

2009-08-09T20:09:00.006-04:00

Keso, during coloring time

Things are slightly crazy here right now. There's a meeting of all the boys' home residents going on upstairs at the house, so there are five little kids running around the apartment downstairs I usually have to myself. Two kids are sitting on the porch wildly strumming a guitar and singing something that vaguely resembles the "Chicken Dance" - "I don't want to be a chicken if I grow up" or something like that. Our cook's four-year-old son keeps running into my room, jumping on my bed to look out the window, and attempting to sing along with them. Angelo the crazy chihuahua is on the loose, as well. Two other kids just attempted to feed him my teddy bear.

Um, yeah. In the midst of all this, I thought I'd write about a "typical" day here. Not that there is any such thing... and now there are five kids jumping on my bed!

I always get up early. Haiti is an hour behind Eastern Standard time, so the sun rises early. When I get out of bed at 5:30, it's completely light outside. I take my Bible and head up to our balcony overlooking the ravine. Usually, Susette is already there. We spend some time reading, praying, and leaning over the edge watching dozens of lizards sunning themselves twenty feet below. After this, we go inside for breakfast. Our kitchen has almost everything you'd find in America, except a microwave. I usually eat toast with peanut butter, or scrambled eggs. (Cereal is tricky. To keep the ants out of it, I sometimes leave the box in the fridge.)

Around 7:30, we gather up any of the kids who are ready and head down the street, to the guesthouse between our two orphanages. The guesthouse is a great facility - I lived there for part of my first stay in Haiti. I prefer living with Bill and Susette, though. In spite of the crazy kids in the apartment every so often, it's quieter here. There are also fewer mosquitoes :-)

The first thing I do when I walk into the guesthouse is go toward the kitchen, where I say hello to Monise and Jeanette, our two wonderful cooks. In some mix of English, French, and Creole, we make sure everyone slept well the night before and is having a good morning. I love these two ladies. They work incredibly hard: each day, they prepare three meals for the guests, mop all the floors, and make time to go to a market to find fresh produce. And Monise has a baby due next month!

During the week, the guests and interns and some of the staff meet together on the guesthouse porch to check in and discuss prayer needs. Then, I usually go to the office for the hour or so before my English class. I read over students' writing assignments, or look online for good activities to try. Teaching the class is far more challenging than it was this spring, because of the schedule. I used to teach for one hour, twice a week. Now, I teach for an hour and a half, Monday-Thursday. This does give me the chance to cover a lot more material, though. I even have enough time to give the students a test each week, so I can keep track of how everyone is progressing.

After English class, the kids have free time until lunch. Since my English class meets at the boys' home, I usually stay there. The little boys always want someone to read to them or watch them color; sometimes a student from my class wants extra help. Next week, I may also start tutoring some of our youngest kids who will be transitioning from French-speaking Haitian school to an in-house English school next year.

We eat lunch at 1. I decided it would be fun to eat my meals with the kids, instead of going home in the middle of the day. The cooks are always willing to make any of the interns a plate, and the food is surprisingly good. It's always some combination of rice, beans, and a sauce with some vegetables and meat. Once, we even had fish! I usually sit at the table with the little boys, where I have to keep alert to avoid wayward elbows and lots of spilled bean sauce.

After lunch, the older kids have Bible studies led by other interns. I usually spend this time back in the office, working on plans for English class. Lately, I've started reading the little boys their naptime story. None of them really nap - they'll climb onto each other's beds, or snuggle up on the floor next to me to look at the pictures. Spending time with these kids is one of my favorite things to do here - they can use all the love we can give them. Today at church, I had four of them vying for a spot on my lap :-)

One of the beautiful girls at the feeding program

Three afternoons a week, we have the feeding program. I never miss this, even though the older kids at our homes run the whole thing by themselves. I love visiting with these kids who spend so much of their time on the street. I always try to have a conversation with Lulu, and my little love Laniese will often find her way into my arms. She's about three, and loves to make faces at me and try on my glasses. She's never too happy when I set her at a table and remind her, "ou bezwen chita pou manje." You need to sit down to eat!

After the feeding program, I'll help out in the clinic (bathing kids with scabies, bandaging scraped feet, and giving Motrin to the kids who actually have fevers) or play with our kids. The playing has been limited in recent weeks, due to my fingers. I'm happy to report that the bruises have almost gone away, and I can bend them without pain. I'm still trying to be careful around basketball games, though.

At the end of the day, we drive back up the street toward home. If we're early, I help Saintamen finish up the dinner preparations. Her Haitian food is amazing, but she cooks typical American food for us most of the time. Last night, it was homemade pizza with salad. When everyone sits down for dinner, there's quite a crowd. Bill and Susette, four or five of their kids, me, Saintamen's son, and the occasional kid or two from the orphanage (or even from the street). Lately, we've been bringing TiBo home fairly often - he's so tiny, but usually polishes off two or three plates of food. TiBo's comments always brighten the mood. His English is wonderful, and he's always so sincere. A few days ago, Susette was explaining that the kids couldn't have leftover chocolate cake because it was too late at night. TiBo wanders in, hears her remark about the sugar, and earnestly agrees, "It turns you into a little monkey." Then he asks for more juice and wanders back toward the kitchen. I love that kid.

After dinner, I help clean up, then find a book and settle on the couch. Later, I'll usually go sit on the balcony and stare across the ravine. Before long, it's 9:00, time to take a shower and go to bed.

They grow up too fast

2009-08-04T10:00:00.003-04:00

Whenever we hear that phrase in America, it's usually referring to some kid who's gotten so much bigger since the last time we saw them. In Haiti, it has a different meaning. So many of the children here never get the chance to be kids: as soon as they are able, they're taking care of their younger siblings or trying to provide for their family.

This is the case with many of the little ones who come to our feeding program. Older brothers will carry toddlers, and feed those who can't reach the table. Afterwards, a six-year-old girl will take the hand of her four-year-old brother and lead him towards home. I don't know where the parents are. Many of the fathers are gone, some mothers work during the day so they might buy some food. Other mothers are pregnant with another child, or caring for a newborn baby. In some cases, the parents just don't seem to care.

One family who comes to our feeding program is a particularly sad example. The children are Johnny (12), Norvelie (5) and Junior (probably about 3). Norvelie is the little girl in the picture above. (For the longest time, we thought her name was Lovely. We still call her that on occasion, because it just fits so well.) Their father died from AIDS a while ago, and their mother currently suffers from the disease. I'm not sure if she's unable or unwilling to care for them, but we often see Johnny out on the street taking care of his younger siblings.

Junior is a really cute kid. He's a little chubby, but used to be very listless. When I first met him, he couldn't feed himself. Now, he eagerly scoops huge spoonfulls into his mouth, and always cleans his plate. A fair amount of rice and beans ends up on his face, but he's always smiling afterwards. Sometimes, I'll catch him staring at me. The minute he sees that I've noticed, he'll smirk and try to hide his face. Yesterday, I heard him talk for the first time. Whenever I go out on the street, there will be kids calling my name. I heard the familiar chorus before the feeding program, and walked toward the assembled group. It was a huge surprise to see that Junior was making most of the noise. He seemed very proud that he could now shout my name along with the older kids.

Johnny has the mumps now. We noticed him on the street last week with a cloth wrapped around his head, so we brought him into the clinic yesterday. There's not much you can do to treat mumps, so we gave him some Children's Motrin. We asked how he'd been eating. The rice and beans he'd just had at the feeding program had been his only meal of the day. He should really be lying down and resting, but it seems the responsibility for his younger siblings always falls on him. He never complains, though.

Norvelie has the most beautiful smile. She lost a front tooth recently, which makes her even more adorable. During the school year, she attends a special English school for street kids, where she gets at least one good meal a day. She always used to come to the feeding program proudly bearing a coloring sheet, showing me the letters and words she'd learned that day. She's very quiet, but she likes to practice her English. One day, I was sitting next to her waiting for the feeding program to start. Suddenly she looks at me: "Do you love Jesus?" I told her yes, I do; I asked her the same question. "Yes." She giggles and swings her legs. I wish she were like that all the time.

Yesterday, Johnny brought Junior into the clinic with him. I went out to find Norvelie, so she wouldn't wonder where her brothers had gone (and so she could come get a lollipop.) Lately, she's brought a purse to the feeding program with her - it's a small denim bag that zips on the top. I never thought much of it. Maybe someone had given it to her as a gift, and she was so proud she wanted to carry it everywhere. Or maybe there was a small toy inside that she didn't want to leave at home. Yesterday, I learned why she really brings it. Most of the children had left the feeding program, but Norvelie was crouched under one of the tables. She was emptying a bowl of rice with bean sauce (the consistency of soup or stew) into the purse, which she hurriedly zipped up and brought along with her. Maybe she wanted food for her mother. Maybe that little bit would be the three children's only food for tomorrow. What happened to my little girl who likes to giggle and talk about Jesus?

Band-Aids and Hot Dogs

2009-08-01T13:40:00.004-04:00

Since I've been in Haiti, I've done many things I never thought I'd do. I certainly never thought I'd be taking care of the kids who come to our small medical clinic by myself. I've helped out there in the past: holding bandages or searching for Tylenol while Susette cleans up scrapes and tries to figure out what's wrong. We don't have any nurses here right now, so this is the best we can manage.

Earlier this week, two little girls came up to me after the feeding program. The older one, Ensise, was telling me that Susette had told her to wait around after, because she was sick. Alas, Susette was nowhere to be found. Finally, I saw her going into the clinic, and she told me to bring Ensise inside. She came along with her two younger sisters: Venette, and Maliaka. We started with the oldest first. Ensise had a headache, so she got a Children's Tylenol. Venette said her stomach hurt, probably from eating her rice and beans too quickly. We gave her Tums (we give lots of people Tums - I think the little ones like the way they taste.) Next, we saw that little Maliaka had a terrible case of scabies. Since the scabies treatment must be washed off precisely 24 hours after it's applied, and Maliaka is only three years old, Susette told the older sisters they needed to bring their mother to talk to us. Fortunately, she was right outside the gate. Susette had somewhere else to be soon after, so she taught me and a member of the visiting team how to do the treatment.

Little Maliaka didn't mind the bath, or the medicated shampoo we put in her hair. She started crying when we put the scabies medicine on her skin, though. We wear gloves to do this, because it can really sting. It must be even worse if you've been scratching a lot. We sent Maliaka out to her mother, and Susette carefully explained the instructions for giving her a bath the next day. Next, we treated Venette for a milder case. And then little Karina, the daughter of a woman who helps with the feeding program.

We went back to the clinic to find Susette bandaging up the thumb of a little boy - a girl on the street had hit him with a bottle, which shattered. Then, another little boy showed up. This one had a big gash on his foot from a falling block (at least, we think that's what he said). Jean-bo was extremely brave as we took off the bandage, cleaned up the wound, and taped him up again. He even smiled and said thank you as he left.

The next day, I found myself in the clinic trying to treat myself. It's been very windy here, which keeps the temperature down, but also causes doors to slam shut without warning. I was heading out to play basketball with my buddy Daniel, when one of these metal doors caught two of the fingers on my left hand. I figured I should find some ice, so I ran inside, got someone to open the clinic for me, and began searching in vain for a cold pack. Then, I ran down the street to the guesthouse, and searched through both freezers. No ice there. By this time, I could at least bend my fingers, so I figured it wasn't too serious, but it was still swelling quite a bit. So, back up to the boys' home, where I found a boy to walk me home. To my dismay, Bill and Susette were not home. However, Saintamen, our cook (who does not speak English or French), was sitting at the kitchen table folding laundry. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, I held out my hand and asked, "Sainta, eske ou gen... um... glace?" She understood, and immediately asked what happened. I managed something about a door closing, and she responded, "m' pa gen glace, men... hotdog!" She opens up the freezer and pulls out some frozen hotdogs, which I gratefully accepted. These worked just fine until Bill and Susette got home from the market and found me a coldpack.

Four days later, my fingers still hurt, and we're starting to wonder if they might be fractured. So I'm keeping them taped together (typing is really interesting right now!) and hoping for the best. But I have to take the tape off every time I put on gloves to help someone in the clinic.

Thursday, another little girl came in who needed scabies treatment. I managed this all by myself, though the poor little girl screamed the whole time. Afterwards, I cleaned up the clinic, put the soap and shampoo away, taped my fingers together again, and wandered back outside. A few minutes later, Jean-bo comes back for a bandage change. Since I'd done this before with Susette watching, she let me take care of it on my own. Of course, everything in Haiti is more difficult than it should be. We don't have running water in the clinic, so I had one of the boys draw a bucket from the cistern. I washed Jean-bo's foot as carefully as I could, and then wondered how I should dry it off. We don't have paper towels, and the only other towel in the room was the one I'd just used for the little girl with scabies. Not the best idea. So I cut a length of cloth bandage and used that instead. I cleaned up the wound (it doesn't look infected, but it's also not getting any better), taped on some gauze, and covered his foot with a length of stockinette. Jean-bo slipped back into his worn-out plastic sandals and said goodbye.

I cleaned up the clinic and re-taped my fingers again, and wandered down to the guesthouse to watch the end of a shoe distribution. The last little boy to get shoes had a fresh scrape on his head, so Susette asked if I could take care of it. She also mentioned a man who was out on the street with some sort of big cut on his foot. I'd seem him walking by earlier, and it had looked pretty bad. He didn't come back, so it wasn't an issue for me (though I certainly hope he found help somewhere). The little boy, though, bravely took my hand and walked up the street. I didn't realize his mother was there until a lady followed us through the gate at the boys' home. She joined us in the clinic, along with her other little son. The little boy cried a little while I cleaned him up, but in about 5 minutes he was on his way with a big white Band-Aid on his forehead.

Though I'm certainly not a medical person (I've never even taken a first aid class), it's really rewarding to help kids in this way. Of course, it can also be a bit overwhelming. As always, though, the Lord provides us with the strength to meet whatever challenges come our way. And in Haiti, the challenges keep coming!

The problem with Pixar

2009-07-26T00:07:00.002-04:00

In theory, I am not afraid of cockroaches.

I spent the first 18 years of my life in pristine rural Maine, so my first encounter (if you could call it that) with a cockroach occurred when I watched Wall-E last summer. Watching the loyal little cockroach gliding along behind his lonely robot friend, springing back to life whenever he got run over, I decided that cockroaches couldn't be all that bad. In fact, they were almost cute.

When I arrived in Haiti this spring, I paid little attention to the tiny bugs crawling around on our kitchen counter. They looked like the sort of thing that just happened to wander in an open window on a warm summer day. It wasn't until some other people started complaining about how gross it was to have roaches on our counter that I wondered if I should start worrying. There didn't seem to be a point: if I started squishing them, there would be bug guts all over the counter. And more cockroaches would certainly crawl out to replace the ones that had passed on. So I happily found a (somewhat) clean spot to make my sandwiches, and hoped nothing made its way into the peanut butter when I wasn't looking.

Then, I moved to a different house. I wandered into the bathroom one evening to brush my teeth, and was greeted by a 4-inch-long something scattering across the floor. Not knowing what else to do, I jumped up on the edge of the bathtub and balanced there for a few minutes to observe. Apparently, this thing was a cockroach, as well. Contrary to my expectations, the bigger they get, the faster they move. And they also climb up walls. While I'm trying not to fall off of (or into) the bathtub, I noticed the not-so-friendly bug moving towards the door. Hmm. If I timed it just right, I could swing the door shut and squish it. All without moving from my tub-top perch. Alas, I timed it just wrong. But at least the cockroach was outside the bathroom now. It must have gone off to some dark corner, as it was gone when I cautiously opened the door (still standing on the bathtub, of course) and went back to my room. The next morning, there was a large dead cockroach on the floor in the hall. This must have been the same one, I decided. They still show up occasionally... I wonder if they really jump right back up if you run them over.

In theory, I am also not afraid of rats. Anyone who watched Ratatouille can understand why. Cute little rodents who live in Paris and know how to cook? I certainly wouldn't object to crossing paths with one of these. Alas, the real world is different.

I was sitting out on our balcony one evening, watching the little boy tending his sheep down in the ravine. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some long-tailed brown thing scampering across the side of our house. Um, what was that? Oh, that's a rat. We have big ones here.

I'll say they're big. I doubt my seventeen-pound cat Thelma Louise could catch one of these, and she's pretty tough. They probably weigh several pounds each. I've seen full-grown cats that are smaller. This is why we always shut the screen door to the downstairs portion of the house. And why we always, always take a flashlight when going into the backyard at night to turn on the generator.

I've gotten used to it, though. As long as Pixar doesn't make a movie trying to convince me that spiders deserve a chance, too.

To Haiti and back

2009-07-22T16:06:00.002-04:00

Last Sunday, I packed all of my summer clothes, several French textbooks, and a very large quantity of sunscreen and began my journey back to Haiti. It was a surprisingly uneventful trip: both of my checked bags were just under the weight limit, and my flight from Boston departed only twenty minutes late. I even had a hotel room in Miami, so I didn't have to spend the night wandering the terminal and braving its overabundant air-conditioning. The next morning, I was up early, made it through security, and enjoyed a cup of coffee before boarding the plane to Port-au-Prince. This flight arrived an hour late, and it took me nearly as long to retrieve my bags, but my hosts were waiting for me right outside.

I was back in Haiti - it was far hotter than before, but the streets were just as crowded. Soon, I was back at our orphanages, saying hello to all the kids I'd missed so much over the six weeks prior. Lulu had remembered exactly what day I was to return, and was at the gate asking for me scarcely an hour after I'd arrived.

Almost immediately, I needed to recall all the Creole I'd learned. Susette needed to go to the store, so she left me with 10 pairs of sneakers to distribute to the "most needy" of the sixty or so who come to our feeding program. There's no good way to do this. I started off my taking Johnny - it was his 13th birthday - inside the guesthouse gate and letting him pick a pair that fit him. Once he returned to the street, word quickly got around. It was terrible having to decide which kids to bring in - all of them need shoes, but we simply didn't have enough in the right sizes. So I'd quickly scan the crowd at the gate, select two or three who seemed about the right size, and have them come back to try on a few pairs. I saw rather quickly that size doesn't matter to these kids. Many of them came in and immediately started squishing their feet into sneakers a few sizes too small. If the child says they fit, how can you tell them no? With the help of an older girl who speaks a little English, I told all of them that I didn't have enough for everyone today. Eventually, those who didn't get shoes dispersed, but they still ask for them every day. So we tell them we know they need shoes, that we don't have any today, but that we still love them very much. I hope they believe us.

As excited as I was to be back with these kids, I wasn't very happy those first few days. Part of it was the change in staff: three of the women I'd become good friends with were back in America. The other interns had all been at camp with the kids the two weeks before, so they knew each other quite well. To add to it, Angelo, my hosts' adorable-but-neurotic little dog, was back in California. His vet certificate hadn't been current enough to get him back into Haiti. Since I don't have cats in Haiti, I've become far too attached to this strange little chihuahua. Mostly, though, I just wanted to be home. My grandfather had been in the hospital in failing health for several weeks before I left. I was blessed to be able to visit him during that time, and I'd said goodbye a few days before. Still, I wasn't sure that I should have left my family at a time like that.

Two days after I'd arrived, I learned that grampa had passed away peacefully. The service wasn't until early this week, so I decided to come home for a few days. Leaving Haiti so soon after I'd arrived was a bit chaotic, but I was so grateful to be home and to spend time with my family. I'm here until Saturday, when I go back to Haiti again, where I'll remain (I hope!) until September 1st.

Home, for a time

2009-05-30T12:05:00.003-04:00

Tuesday afternoon, after a sleepless night in Miami, a turbulent flight to Boston, and a 2-hour bus ride to Dover, I finally made it home! I was amazed by how things have changed: when I left, the ground was covered in snow. Now, it's still a little chilly, but there's just so much green. The last of the lilacs are still on the trees, the lawn needs to be mowed, and the air is wonderfully fresh. Such a change from hot, dusty Haiti!

Adjusting to life at home hasn't been as hard as I thought. I've managed to drive again without incident (I hate driving in the rain, at night, or on highways. So that's a big accomplishment!) Hot water is definitely appreciated, since it's been in the 40's every night. It does seem a little strange, though, how empty the streets are - we walked out of a restaurant in Dover on Thursday night, and there were no people on the street, in either direction. It's easy to feel disconnected here - the streets are so wide, and there are so few people on them. I can walk or drive quite a ways without really seeing anyone.

Yesterday afternoon, I drove up to Dartmouth to visit for the last week of Spring term. It felt just like home pretty quickly - Diane was cooking for our Christian Impact meeting this week, so I spent the afternoon in the kitchen working on chicken and rice casserole for sixty. Gradually, my amazing friends started to show up, and it was a really wonderful time reconnecting with them. I hadn't realized just how much I'd missed everyone! The crazy '12s were decorating a cake in the kitchen, people were asking me if everything was under control, Abar led worship, Andrew got confused about the announcements, and the Bouton kids wanted to play hide & seek - it's great to be home! It's sad that the term will be ending so soon and we'll all be going our separate ways for a while, but it's a huge blessing to share even this short time with my family at Dartmouth.

So I'll be here for the next week, living with Diane and Rebecca (and Emily, when she returns from Argentina on Tuesday). It will be the first time the four of us are together since August, when we parted ways at Emily's house, after Summer term. I'm helping coordinate the cooking for our big end-of-year banquet, then heading a little farther north to spend the weekend with my parents in my mom's hometown. Then, it's back to Hanover for a few days, up to Vermont for our end-of-year retreat, and home to Maine for a month. I'll be working part-time at my mom's office, and then returning to Haiti from July 13th-September 1st. After that? Two weeks at home, back to Hanover for the beginning-of-year retreat, and senior year begins!

Mice in Miami

2009-05-25T23:57:00.003-04:00

This afternoon, I said my goodbyes to the kids and staff at MdL, and Bill drove me to the airport to catch my early evening flight to Miami. It was tough to leave, but I've already booked my plane tickets for this summer: I'll be seeing everyone again on July 13th.

I navigated the Port-au-Prince airport on my own, though it was a little trickier than I expected. My bags were x-rayed twice, hand searched once, and I had to go through three metal detectors. At least six different people needed to see my passport, and there weren't any signs or computer displays directing me to the gate. Luckily, there's only one flight to Miami that late in the day. The airport also lost power twice - I was glad to be all the way through check-in and security when that happened.

I always love flights where you can see the sunset. As we flew in to Miami, the sky was a brilliant orange, and the clouds were purple. The streets looked so straight and perfect compared to Haiti. I glanced out over the wing, and saw an amazing double rainbow in the sky. The flight went smoothly, my bags were some of the first to show up at the baggage claim, and I headed off towards customs.

A few customs officers were standing around the checkpoint, and were happy to hear that my next flight wasn't until 7:30 in the morning - they'd needed to do a "random" search, and the lady in front of me was about to miss her connection. I'm impressed with how thorough they are - the customs officer unpacked everything in each of my three bags, felt around the linings, and asked lots of questions. After about 20 minutes, I was free to go. I made the last-minute decision to take my jacket before re-checking my bags, just in case it was really cold during the night. I'm extremely glad I thought of this!

After going back through security (I'd forgotten you have to take off your shoes and unpack your computer - they don't make you do that in Haiti), I ran around the terminal for about half an hour trying to find food before everything closed for the night. I gathered some apples and fruit juice, peanut M&Ms, and then started the search for Starbucks. I'd managed to read the terminal map wrong, so it took me a while and I arrived just as it was closing. It was for the better, though - I found a little Cuban café upstairs that served cafe con leche almost as good as the stuff Susette often made us at night.

Coffee in hand, I settled in near an outlet and skyped home, wasted time on Facebook, and downloaded some new music. Then, I ventured out in search of a quieter place to spend the night.

I found a nice waiting area of the main terminal, where the lights and TVs were already turned off. It was a little cold, but I settled in on the floor with my blanket and started listening to my iPod. I was thinking about how lovely it was to be in America, where everything is so clean and you don't have to worry about mutant spiders and giant rats. Five minutes later, two little mice pop around the corner and race along the wall, nearly colliding with my legs in the process. Now, mice are cute, but not when I'm alone in an airport terminal trying to sleep. So now I'm back in the main waiting area, gladly accepting the lights and TV noise in exchange for a lack of rodent friends.

Truth

2009-05-18T21:38:00.004-04:00

I was thinking about my last post, and realized it probably sounded far more pessimistic than I intended. It's true that some of the children here have learned to be dishonest to get what they need, but I don't believe that all of them are like that, or that there's no hope for them. You just have to try really hard to understand how different their situation is from your own.

I saw Lulu at the feeding program today, and she initially seemed quite upset with me. Last night, when I left her outside our gate, I told her not to wait for me if I wasn't back within a minute or two. Apparently she hadn't understood this: she'd been waiting and waiting in the rain, and why didn't I come back? I talked to her for a while and explained that I just can't come every time she calls me, and that I can't be giving her food every day, especially with other children around. She understood, and was cheered up considerably when a few of our girls invited her to play for a while at the girls' home. I'm glad she's building relationships with them, because they'll still be living on this street long after I'm gone.

Tonight while I was sitting up on the roof enjoying the sunset, and talking to a member of the team that just arrived today, the typical group of street kids began to congregate around Bill's truck, parked just outside our gate. They seemed far more enthralled by us than usual - since they didn't recognize the new girl, they wanted to know her name. After she went inside, the kids were still there - one of them started motioning for me to come down. My Creole has reached the point where I can successfully carry on a conversation between roof and street:

Mwen dwe vini? Pouki sa?

Mwen fe mal.

Ou fe mal? Tout moun?

Wi, tout moun.

Mwen pa gen medikama kunye a... desole!

(rough translation)

I should come down? Why?

I'm sick.

You're sick? All of you?

Yes, all of us.

I don't have medicine right now... I'm sorry!

You might wonder why I'm not more concerned that everyone's sick... maybe it's a swine flu outbreak or something. But these are the kids who were just at the feeding program, who ask for medicine every day, and who were smiling and laughing while shouting up at the roof. They really just want attention - so talking to them for a few minutes and giving them a big smile was the perfect cure.

Anyways, I wanted to write a little more about our feeding program. It's actually called "MUTCH" - Meals of Uncompromised Truth for the Children of Haiti. That might sound a little lofty, but it's a reflection of our belief that these kids need spiritual as well as physical nourishment. I strongly believe that the only solution to the problems in Haiti is Jesus. You could feed kids every day, but how would they learn about integrity? You could give them all new clothes, but when would they learn about true love? Sometimes, I wonder what the secular charities here are really hoping to accomplish: lasting change requires so much more than what mere people have the power to give.

Each time these kids come to eat a meal with us, they sing songs about Jesus and hear a Bible story. I don't know how many of them truly embrace it, but at least they're learning. This might be the only exposure to true Christianity they have. And maybe next time they need something, they'll remember what Jesus taught them: to love their neighbors, and trust in Him to provide. Maybe they'll grow up knowing the importance of being good parents, and wanting to make a difference in their amazing country.

When helping doesn't help

2009-05-17T22:18:00.002-04:00

About a month ago, I wrote about our journey to Cité Soleil to assess the situation of the mom of one of our boys. The visiting team had considered raising support to find her a job here, but weren't pursuing it too urgently because her situation seemed relatively stable. We thought there was plenty of time to consider what job she could do, where she could live, and how we could support her.

A few days ago, this woman showed up and needed to talk with Bill. Apparently, our visit to Cité Soleil had some unwanted effects. She wasn't paying rent on the room she and her two children lived in; a friend had been concerned enough about their safety to provide it for them free. A few days ago, this friend decided that she should be paying rent, since she now has "rich American friends." Since we hadn't given her any money at the time, there was nothing she could do about this, and may be homeless in a few days.

Also, the charcoal vendors who'd previously extended her credit heard about the situation, and now will not sell her charcoal unless she has the cash to pay for it. Reselling the charcoal was her only source of income, so now she has no way to support her two kids. So, we've started fundraising efforts in earnest, found a promising home for her in our area, and hope to have her start working soon.

I've also started to run into some trying situations with the street kids in our area. As a general rule, we don't give handouts when they ask - they have the feeding program three times a week, and we'll occasionally use that as a place to distribute shoes, clothes, or energy bars if we have enough for everyone. Also, if a child approaches us and we know enough about their situation to see they honestly need help, we'll usually go and make them a sandwich or give them a drink. We just need to find an appropriate balance: for children with parents at home, we don't want to start providing for all of their needs and encourage the parents to stop supporting them. That's the main reason our feeding program is three times a week. If it were seven, many of the parents wouldn't feed their kids at all.

We've found extra food several times for Lulu and her siblings. Now, we're providing the family with food, but while Marie was still living they didn't really have anything. The day Marie died, we gave Lulu and her brother sandals, because theirs both had holes in the bottom. If Lulu is alone and asks me for a drink of water, I'll usually give it to her.

Of course, the neighborhood children have figured this out. They also know that I now live up the street at Bill and Susette's house. This afternoon, I was in my room reading when Susette called me to say Lulu was at the gate and wanted to see me. I thought perhaps she just wanted to say hi, so I went out. Lulu was there with 3 other children, which was unusual. Two of them are kids who are known for asking for things. Every time they saw Brooke, they would have a fever or an upset stomach. One of them even took my bag from me at church and took out a granola bar, asking if it was for her. First, Lulu asked if I could come see her family - I couldn't, since there was no one to escort me, and I'd been in her neighborhood all afternoon without seeing her. Usually, I'll go a few times a week after the feeding program, so I told her I'd try to come tomorrow. Then, she asked for food - since the food in my refrigerator is the family's, not stuff I buy myself, I went inside to ask. It seemed a little strange, though - Lulu knows I don't give her food when there are other children around. It turns out that Susette had seen this other little girl talking to Lulu before, trying to get her to ask me for food for all of them. That made more sense to me - Lulu had never seemed as uncomfortable asking me for food. Unfortunately, that meant we couldn't give them anything.

Some of the kids will lie to us about their needs. Last week, a little boy we know quite well approached Lisa and told her he was leaving the next day to spend two months with family in Jacmel, and didn't have any shoes to take with him. We'd been considering a shoe distribution anyways, so Lisa saw no problem with helping him. Apparently, before Lisa had the chance to tell us this, the boy approached Susette and told her the same story. We don't know what happened to the first pair of shoes - and this boy has yet to leave for Jacmel. The biggest problem is, when kids see that this can work, others will start trying it. Now we've had at least two others claiming they're going to Jacmel the next day - none of them have left yet.

These situations are frustrating at first, but they ultimately make me really sad. These kids really are needy, and they've learned in their life that being dishonest can often get them ahead. This mindset is even taught in the schools. Many textbooks here have stories about two brothers, one of whom cheats and usually wins, while the other is honest but unintelligent. The students can easily end up believing that any means are acceptable to reach a "successful" end. Given their situations, I can understand how easy it is to embrace this. If you hadn't eaten for two days, how far would you go for a meal?

Shopping and Street Kids

2009-05-16T23:09:00.002-04:00

There are many times in Haiti when I feel a little guilty going along on errands. After all, I'm not the one who can drive, so my presence there is rarely essential. And aren't there other more valuable things I could be doing with my time? Often, though, the little break is almost necessary. It's so easy to feel trapped here: especially when I was living at the guesthouse, there were plenty of days when I never made it off our section of the street. Even when I'm happily occupied at home, I don't always like the fact that there's a high wall and an armed guard between me and life elsewhere in the city. So today, after a morning of assessing kids who're failing at school and need individual tutoring, I jumped at the chance to go on a trip to buy a few more plastic chairs for the guesthouse. For once, though, our trip also gave us the chance to encourage one of the many, many kids living on the street here.

Any shopping trip that involves someplace other than the supermarket is an ordeal. Most items can be bought from street vendors, which means you have to bargain. Which means the only way to get a fair price is to have a Haitian do the bargaining. You also have to know where to go: if I wanted plastic chairs in the States, I'd go to WalMart or Home Depot. No such thing here. Apparently, if someone in Port-au-Prince needs a plastic deck chair, they go to a street vendor near Delmas 31. We brought Zachary along with us, because he's the best bargainer and knows exactly what a fair price would be.

We left from the guesthouse and drove up to Susette's house, when we realized we should probably eat lunch (it was after 1:30). So we ran inside, and hastily made peanut-butter sandwiches on some slightly stale rolls. Then, Bill told Zachary he had to go talk to the boss constructing a chicken coop at the girls' home, because he was doing it all wrong. So back down the street we went, Zachary told the boss to stop working, and then we left. We actually had to stop at the supermarket, too, to get snacks for a youth group that some of our older boys attend. We stood in the cookie aisle for a long time trying to figure out just how many cookies feed 50 hungry teenagers, which wasn't the best idea considering we'd barely eaten lunch. So we bought a few candy bars for ourselves, piled the cookies and soda into the truck, and went back to Bill and Susette's to drop them off.

Finally, we began the drive to Delmas 31, which is quite far downtown from where we live. Zachary remembered right where the plastic-chair vendor would be, and instructed us to park at a nearby gas station and "hide." If the vendor saw him with us, it would be much harder for him to get the price he wanted. So Susette and I sat in the truck and talked, and about 20 minutes later Zachary reappears with 8 plastic chairs, bought for just the price he'd expected them to be.

As we pulled out onto Delmas (one of the busiest main roads running through the city), we discussed which route to take home. Usually, we'd cut down Delmas 33 and take back roads (they look like main roads on any map, but in truth you practically need 4-wheel drive to make it) up to our neighborhood. Susette wanted to take the main road all the way - they used to work downtown, and she "hadn't seen any street kids in a while." Zachary estimated it would take 40 minutes, with the traffic, but we decided to go for it. I'm glad we did.

I was a little confused by her comment about the street kids - aren't the kids who come to our feeding program "street kids"? Some of them live in shacks or the shells of abandoned houses, and they spend most of their time on the streets of our neighborhood. They have nothing better to do - so often, I find them just sitting outside our gate. Unless they have sponsors, they can't afford school. Their parents are either not in the picture or trying to work all day. One thing these kids have going for them, though, is that they're relatively safe. There's little violence or random crime in our neighborhood, and little vehicle traffic. If they want to play in the street, they're probably not going to get hit by a car.

This existence seems so much better than the life of the street kids on lower Delmas. Every few hundred feet, you'll see one of them standing against the median, inches from the traffic, holding a dirty rag. They'll approach stopped vehicles and wipe down the windows, hoping the driver will give them a few coins for their efforts. Most people ignore, them, though. I wonder if the average driver here would stop if they hit one of them. Several of the boys living at our boys' home were out on the street doing this when Bill and Susette took them in.

We were prepared with some coins for them - when Susette waved at a very sad looking boy holding his dustcloth, he ran next to the traffic until we came to the next stoplight, and gratefully accepted a few gourdes and a pat on the head. A bit farther up, we were stopped for a while longer, and Susette and Zachary started to talk to one of the boys. His name was Charlie, and he told us he was 13 years old. His mother couldn't support him, so she sent him to the city with some friends to try to make a living. Now, he spends his days darting through the traffic on lower Delmas. You could tell he'd been through a lot, from his dusty hair and the scars and scratches on his face. He wanted to keep talking, though - we kept the window rolled down for a while, and each time we had to drive forward, he'd hang on to the side of the car and run alongside us. It turned out he was from the same area as some of our own boys. We asked, but he didn't know them. He had the most beautiful of spirits - he kept smiling, and Susette kept reaching out and putting her arm around him. He didn't seem sullen, withdrawn, or angry, like so many of the other children living on the street here. We were talking afterwards about how we wished we had more room - he's just the type we'd take in, but there's simply no room at the boys' home until some of the oldest begin to transition out. It seems like we did so little for him, since the coins we had left to give him certainly weren't enough for a meal. But at least Charlie knows today that someone out there loves him. I wonder how long it's been since he's thought of that.

Extreme Tennis

2009-05-16T22:45:00.002-04:00

This afternoon, we decided it would be fun to play tennis with some of the kids at the homes. A team that visited a while back brought a net, balls, and plenty of racquets, and some of the younger boys are surprisingly good players. Nothing is ever as easy as it should be, though - after all, we're in Haiti.

To begin the setup, we had to convince the boys playing soccer on the combination soccer field / tennis court that they should let us play tennis. This wasn't terribly difficult: their game was at a standstill because the ball had gone over the wall, onto a neighbor's roof, and off the roof into the next neighbor's walled and razor-wired yard. This neighbor was not answering the knocks at their gate, so the boys were kicking goals with a volleyball for the time being. It only took about 5 of us to get the net stretched out and secured, and then Susette and I left to get the racquets and balls.

This equipment is stored in the basement of the guesthouse, which is secured by a padlock. The only key to the padlock is stored in the guesthouse office, which has another padlock on it. The guesthouse is always locked, too. Susette didn't have any keys with her, so we drove back to her house and picked up a set which supposedly contained keys to the guesthouse and the office. We drove back down, let ourselves in the front door, and found that the office key was missing. So Susette drove back to her house, and returned with the office key. Luckily, the basement key was right where it was supposed to be in the office (Susette took it with her so this won't happen again) and we dug out the tennis equipment. By the time we got it to the boys' home, the kids had been waiting quite a while.

Immediately, most of the 13 racquets and 25 balls were in use. This is where the "extreme" part begins. The soccer-playing boys were still practicing their kicks, so half of us had to play around them. Most of the kids with tennis racquets are quite good at hitting, though not terribly accurate. They also seem to feel that the best hit is the one that goes highest and farthest. The boy I was playing with was a good exception to this, which made me happy. Still, there were several times when I'd be preparing to return a shot and have to duck out of the way of another oncoming ball. At one point, I managed to get hit in the forehead. I'm starting to think protective eyewear should be required for tennis. Or maybe even helmets.

After about 40 minutes of dodging wayward tennis balls and trying not to trample the 6-year-olds, most of the kids got tired and the court cleared out. Then, little Ti-Bo runs up and asks me to play with him. Ti-Bo is adorable: he's six and a half but looks about 4. When he came to this home 2 years ago, he only weighed 12 pounds. Thanks to a lot of love and a can of Ensure every day, he's closer to 40 pounds now, and one of the most energetic kids here. I wondered just how Ti-Bo would play tennis, since we don't have any kid-sized equipment. The racquet is almost as tall as he is, and the top of the net is just below his eye level.

Ti-Bo solved this problem well: he approached the game like baseball. Every time he'd retrieve the ball, he'd throw it to an older boy standing on the side. The boy would toss the ball over, and Ti-Bo would wind up and swing. Of course, the ball almost never landed on the court when he did this. It usually flew over and hit the wall of the basketball court. Once, it landed on the roof. Still, he's made great progress on the impossible-to-return serve!

Moving day

2009-05-12T22:20:00.003-04:00

This morning, we were all up early to help Brooke finish packing and drive her to the airport. It was really sad to see her go, and it will be strange now trying to deal with all the people who come by looking for medicine. Apparently a few women showed up this afternoon while I was teaching, and told the guard that I had medicine to fill the prescriptions they'd gotten from the doctor. Hmm...

Since the guesthouse is a little big for just one person, I moved in downstairs at the Manassero's today. I have my own room, and it's much cooler and less mosquito-filled than the guesthouse, so it should be a nice place to spend the next few weeks (though I've heard rumors of rat-sized spiders in our bathroom). It's also nice to be back in contact with the rest of the world - the guesthouse internet died during a rainstorm last week, and has been out ever since. Of course, we had an actual power outage here tonight. The batteries died during dinner, and the generator needs oil. Luckily, city power came on early and we only needed the kerosene lamps for about an hour.

Lulu joined us for dinner tonight. She'd ridden up the street in the back of the truck when Susette and I went home, and nervously told us she was hungry. We brought her inside and were planning to make her a sandwich or something, but there was plenty of food and we thought it would be nice to spend some time with her. We chatted in French while we waited for the tacos to be ready. It amazes me how well Lulu can communicate in a language she's only been learning for a few years. She'll look at the family photos around the house and ask about all the people in them, or describe in detail the different things she studies in school. She even went on for a few minutes about how some things and people are easy to remember, while less important things you forget quickly. She's quit the little philosopher!

Speaking of French: today, I started working with some of the MdL kids who are struggling in school. They just got report cards recently, and quite a few of them are failing or dangerously close to doing so. School is incredibly difficult for some of them, because they started so late and it's in a language they don't speak (some of the 15-year-old boys are in 3rd grade). I discussed this for a bit with one of the Haitian staff here, who attended both Haitian and American-style schools when he was younger. The students are never really "learn" French - the classes are in French right from the beginning, and the focus is not on understanding the language. Instead, they start by memorizing sentences from a reader and repeating them back to the teacher. Most of them can read quite well, but they have no idea what it is they're saying. Of course, this makes it much more difficult to enjoy school. That's why Lulu has always seemed so exceptional to me. She loves the language, and can use it perfectly well in non-school situations. For all the others, I wonder how much different their experience would be if they could receive an education in their native language.

Most people here don't really learn to read or write in Creole, and their knowledge of French is limited to the little they learned to read and write in school. For so many people, there is no one language with which they're entirely comfortable: the language they speak, they cannot write; the language they can read has no relevance to their day-to-day experience.

One day, part two

2009-05-07T21:54:00.005-04:00

Marie's two little sons, Especial and Eduardo, were waiting by the truck in their somber black suits. They looked so incredibly brave - they're only 10 and 12 years old. Then, all of the relatives came up the street and started climbing into our truck. This truck gets crowded with 30 kids in the back, but there must have been at least 40 adults who went inside. There were children, too - Lulu ran up to me, in a black dress, black hair-ribbons, and black high-heeled shoes, to give me a hug before she climbed inside. After seeing the tap-tap accident, I was glad they all had another way to get to Cité Soleil.

Eleven of us (staff, a few of the girls who'd visited Marie regularly, and two of our older boys) followed the truck in Lisa's small SUV, which seats five under normal circumstances. The drive to Cité Soleil was mercifully short - I can't imagine what it must have been like for all those people crowded in the big truck. We parked on the crowded street outside the funeral chapel, and started to walk inside. We were still far from the entrance when I started to hear the screaming. I'd been expecting this, after what I'd experienced at Marie's house the morning she died. The situation inside the funeral chapel, though, was far worse.

For almost an hour, the screaming didn't stop. Some of the women would throw themselves on the floor, knocking over pews and kicking anyone in the way. Our guys (two from the boys' home, Zachary, and MarcKenson) spent the entire time trying to restrain them. It would take two or three of them to carry a woman to the back of the room, where they'd pin her to the floor with her hands behind her back, and hold her there for as long as necessary until she stopped. Some of the guys showed us their arms afterwards - they were covered in scratches. It was all we could do to stay out of the way - I wasn't anywhere near the middle of things, and I still got kicked a few times.

The situation was most chaotic when they brought in Marie's casket. They opened it for a few minutes, but the women got so violent that they had to close it. Lisa had been holding little Especial in the back, trying to keep him safe. He'd wanted to see his mother one last time, but there were so many people in the way that he never made it to the front. I tried to stay off to the side, with Lulu. She started to cry, and I had to keep her from sliding onto the floor. But she's eight years old - an eight-year-old should be able cry like that at her mother's funeral.

Finally, things calmed down enough for the service to start. Our guys stayed in the back, holding down three or four women. I sat near the back, with Lulu on my lap. That was when the emotion of the situation hit me - I wondered why this little girl had chosen me. Why wasn't there a sister or an aunt to hold her hand at her mother's funeral, instead of an American she'd met only a month before? But Lulu's sisters were being restrained at the back of the room, and she never pointed out any other female relatives to me. I'm so thankful I was able to be there for her - Marie's other young children all speak English, so our staff can communicate with them. I'm the only American working here who speaks French. It must have been a God thing, that I would arrive here just in time to meet this amazing little girl with whom our other staff can't really communicate.

As we got up to leave, Lulu was pulling me toward the door. On the way, a woman stopped us to give her a hug. Then, she started wailing, still holding on to Lulu. I didn't feel it was my place to step in - who am I to tell some relative that she can't hug this little girl? But Lulu looked terrified, and another woman stepped in and motioned for me to help. So I wrestled Lulu out of her arms, and we went outside. Just as I was about to go looking for Lisa, she showed up and said Lulu was welcome to ride with us during the procession to the cemetery, rather than walking with the procession or crowding back into the truck.

The procession was a long one - some people walked behind the hearse from the middle of Cité Soleil, through some of the worst areas of the city, all the way to a cemetery near the airport. I heard that the situation inside the big truck was awful - some of the women were wailing and screaming, crowded in there with about 50 other people. I was so glad Lulu didn't have to be there. She sat quietly on our laps in the backseat, staring out the window most of the time.

By the time we parked on the sidewalk outside the cemetery, they'd already carried the casket inside. Lulu grabbed my hand and started heading in, but I hesitated when I saw all the other staff standing around Lisa's car. I went over and asked if I could go in with Lulu, or if I should send her with one of her brothers. Luckily, Eduardo was nearby, because Zachary was telling us to wait. At first, he wouldn't even let us go inside - he was convinced that someone would get hurt, if the women started acting up in such a confined area. Then, we found out that our boys had kept the most emotional of the women inside the truck, and weren't planning to let them out. Zachary decided it was probably safe, so we carefully made our way inside at the very back of the group.

The cemetery was another bizarre experience. In spite of the Bible verses painted over the entrance, there was a large voodoo cross in a prominent location. The crypts are packed in tightly, with tall weeds growing up between them. We had to stand on the top of one of the crypts to watch. Thankfully, the group was peaceful. Marie's husband had decided to stay in the truck with his two eldest daughters, but his brother was there making sure everything went smoothly. The children who wanted to were able to stand near the front and watch, though Lulu soon came back and stood with me. There wasn't much to watch - a workman was slowly mixing cement and sealing up the crypt where they'd placed Marie's casket. So we started to look around, which is when things got weird.

Very few people in Haiti have the money to purchase a burial space. So, they rent them for six months or a year. This is apparently what Marie's family had done. In the tall grass off to the side, we saw a broken, overturned coffin. We asked a few people, and confirmed that this was probably the casket they'd taken out of the crypt where Marie had been placed. Why was the casket broken? They always break them here before sealing them inside - so no one will try to steal them. What about the body? There was a shallow depression in the ground right in front of the crypt...

The walk out was a quiet one. Lulu had wanted to leave as soon as the crypt was sealed, so I went with her. We made it out before the rest of the staff, so I had the strange experience of being relatively alone on the street here. It certainly wasn't the best of neighborhoods, but I didn't feel the least bit afraid, because Lulu was there, too. We were looking at the sun, peeking out from behind a cloud - the start of another brilliant sunset. Lulu pointed up at it, and took my hand. "Ma mère n'est pas sous la terre... elle est au ciel, oui?"

One day

2009-05-07T21:21:00.004-04:00

Things have been pretty hectic this week. Tuesday was probably one of the most challenging days of my life, but I came out of it with a renewed confidence in God's absolute control over all situations.

The day started out normally enough. A team from California is staying at the guesthouse this week, and one of their projects was to work on our rooftop garden. In the morning, we all piled into the big orphanage truck and drove a ways out of the city, to a ministry called Double Harvest. This place is really incredible. To reach it, you drive through acres and acres of dusty, poor farmland dotted with small cinder-block huts. Then, the landscape changes. The fields of crops look well-kept, obviously plowed and irrigated. The plants are flourishing, and the workers seem more energetic. Double Harvest does more than support local agriculture - they also have an excellent clinic, and a school for area children. We ended up buying several dozen vegetable plants, some mango trees, and four palm trees. All of this ended up in the back of the orphanage truck, so I rode back with some other staff women in Susette's truck. A few of the team members rode outside in the back. The ride back to Port-au-Prince was uneventful - we shared two sodas bought from a street vendor and enjoyed some good conversation as we followed the orphanage truck.

At a traffic circle near the airport, Susette took a wrong turn. We realized it immediately, and started back in the right direction as soon as there was a place to make a u-turn. I was glad we'd found a solution so quickly - we needed to get back to the orphanage, because Marie's funeral was Tuesday afternoon in Cité Soleil, and we were driving many of her relatives there. When the folks in the big truck called to see what happened, we assured them that we were back on track and would be behind them in "like 20 seconds." As we were driving up the first big hill on Delmas 33, we notice a tap-tap (a pickup truck with a cover on the back, with benches for passengers) coming toward us, trying to pass another truck. The tap-tap swerved quickly, to avoid hitting another car. It must have been unevenly loaded and going too fast, because the driver lost control and the tap-tap flipped onto its side, and began sliding down the hill directly towards us. We could see a woman in the back trying to hold up her head, so she wouldn't be dragged along the pavement.

Somehow, the tap-tap stopped sliding without hitting any other cars, or pedestrians. All of the passengers immediately jumped out the back and ran away (apparently it's fairly common for there to be an explosion or fire after the accident), as did two of the three people who'd been riding in front. Everyone on the street had been running in the opposite direction, but they turned around and came back when they realized the driver was still trapped inside. About 10 men gathered around and righted the tap-tap, but the driver was not able to get out. All this time, we're sitting in the truck wondering what to do. It looked like a mob was starting to form, so getting out to help would have been a bad idea. Traffic was stopped, so there was no way to turn around or drive away. We couldn't talk to the team members out in the back. I thought about how the night before, I'd promised 8-year-old Lulu that I would be at her mother's funeral. We were supposed to be leaving from the orphanage in 20 minutes; I didn't see how that would happen.

Then, things began to clear up. A police car arrived on the scene, and we were able to pass. We were still stunned by what we'd just seen, but Susette drove us safely back to the orphanage. As we pulled onto our street, the boys were just sweeping the last of the palm-tree soil out of the big truck, while a crowd of Marie's friends and relatives gathered in front of her house. There wasn't really time to think about what had happened. The people who'd been riding in the back of our truck were a little shaken up - suddenly, riding in the open like that didn't seem quite so harmless. We barely had a chance to talk to them, though - those of us going to the funeral had to run inside and change, and eat something to last us through the very long afternoon.

Marie

2009-04-30T14:23:00.004-04:00

"Never again will they hunger;

never again will they thirst.

The sun will not beat upon them,

nor any scorching heat.

For the Lamb at the center of the throne

will be their shepherd;

He will lead them to springs of living water.

And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."

- Revelation 7:16-17

Early yesterday morning, our beloved sister Marie passed away. It wasn't entirely unexpected: she had been unable to eat or drink for some time now. She slept through the night after Brooke gave her pain medication, and her family discovered in the morning morning that she'd passed away. We are all confident that Marie is in a better place, far from the incredible suffering she experienced here. As Susette told all of us, "Today, she's dancing with Jesus." Please be in prayer for Marie's family, especially her husband Eduard and their seven children: Edline, Guerline, Johnny, Eduardo, Lulu, Especial, and little Naika.

I went to their home yesterday morning with Brooke and spent about two hours with the family. There were many people we didn't know, and who were never introduced. Some were extended family, others seemed to be acquaintances from the neighborhood. A few children from the feeding program were there. They continued to arrive throughout the morning - after about an hour, some relatives appeared up the street carrying little Naika, from Cité Soleil. It's amazing to me how quickly everyone congregated: most have no cellphone, and none own a car. It must have been an incredibly long journey from downtown, especially since the tap-taps stop running several streets away from us. If you don't have your own car, you have to walk the last half-mile or so.

Haitians deal with death very differently than we do in the States. Instead of gathering around, hugging and quietly talking to one another, people sat silently throughout the house. Brooke and I were immediately offered two of the three chairs the family owns; everyone else sat on buckets, broken cinder-blocks, or half-built walls. Lulu never left my side. Every so often, one of the women would start screaming, and others would soon join in. Sometimes it took several men to restrain them, so that they wouldn't hurt themselves or someone else. Marie's younger children seemed remarkably brave, and didn't start to cry until the men from the "ambulance" arrived to take Marie's body away.

These younger children are truly remarkable. Many of the children living in our neighborhood ask us for food, shoes, and medicine every time we step outside the gate. Some of them will stand behind the babies at the feeding program, waiting for them to finish so they can eat whatever's left behind. This is perhaps understandable, given the situations at home that many of them deal with. Marie's children, however, rarely ask for anything, always look out for each other, and share generously. I stepped outside their house today to see Especial and Eduardo sitting along the wall, with Naika between them. Lulu went to join them, and I saw they were splitting 3 slices of bread. The boys made sure their sisters each had enough; when a piece slipped out of Lulu's hand and fell in the mud, Eduardo tore a piece from his own portion to replace it.

The question we're now pondering is, what can we do to help? We delivered some rice, beans, and charcoal to the family a few days ago, and are currently raising money to purchase food for them each month. Susette brought the youngest kids over to her house for lunch, and Fritz carried down a five-gallon container of filtered water so they wouldn't have to drink the water in the cistern. Some teams who've visited recently and met Marie are interested in contributing to her burial costs. We've discussed ideas for helping Eduard find a job that can support his family. Please pray that this beautiful family will find the comfort they need, and that we will be wise in supporting them.

Restaurant fun

2009-04-24T22:21:00.004-04:00

The past few days have been relatively quiet here in Port-au-Prince. The elections are over, the kids are all back in school, and we're in the middle of two weeks without visitors. In many ways, the quiet is a blessing. I've been using the extra time to plan for English and art classes (though it's hard to plan too far ahead, because you never know what's going to happen when you try to teach). I also enjoy being able to spend more time reading the Bible, and going through a few books about missions that I brought along with me.

Still, there's usually something going on each day - in the afternoons, we either have the feeding program or English class. I enjoy this schedule, because I get to have some contact with the kids each day. It can be hard to see them otherwise... when I'm free in the mornings, most of them are in school, and I can't exactly wander the neighborhood on my own to spend time with those who are at home. Our kids have recreation time before dinner, which is another good time to hang out with them - but there are many days when I just don't have the energy to play basketball in the 90-degree sun!

A few days a week, I usually join some of the staff on various errands around town. Even the simplest of these can be incredibly time-consuming, because the roads are bad and the traffic is generally worse. There's also the frustration of getting lost and having to make U-turns on side streets, and showing up at businesses in the middle of the day to find them closed for no apparent reason. If a meal is involved, the trip can take even longer. Tonight, I thought I'd write a bit about our restaurant adventures.

The "best" restaurant in town (meaning, it somehow manages to be fast, cheap AND good) is without a doubt Epi-D'or. Bill and Susette took me here the day I arrived, before we even went to the guesthouse. I've been back several times, and it's always been a good experience. Granted, I always order the same thing. Epi-D'or has a wide selection of McDonald's imitations, under the label "MacEpi." They even have "Super Big" value meals. I stay far, far away from these, of course. I (and most everyone else I know who goes there) always order a toasted turkey and cheese sandwich. You can have this and a soda for around $3 US, which is remarkably cheap for Haiti. The last time we went to Epi-D'or, we went out on a limb and got ice cream. Bill asked what we wanted, and we thought chocolate was a pretty safe bet. Bill came back and told us we'd need to go look for ourselves - there was something that looked like caramel, and four different tubs of rum raisin (I have no idea why, but it's incredibly popular here). Needless to say, we went with the caramel.

You quickly realize that, just because something is on the menu, does not mean the restaurant has it available. One day we were headed to Epi-D'or, but some folks wanted "real" hamburgers instead. So we drove way up into Petion-ville to a nice hotel restaurant. Only to find out that they were out of hamburgers. We decided on some alternate selections, and the meat-eaters were very happy with the vegetarian sandwiches that arrived. No sooner had we started to eat, though, when we heard the folks at the next table ordering hamburgers. Twenty minutes later, they had them on their plates. Hmm...

Deciding what language to order in is an adventure in itself. Menus are always in French or English, or sometimes a mix of the two. Almost invariably, the waiters do not speak French or English. There's always a lot of pointing involved, and we usually manage to get what we intended to order. Once, there was a funny moment when a restaurant employee approached us to ask a question. He nervously asked if any of us spoke French. Everyone pointed to me and said, "wi, li pale francais..." (yes, she speaks French). The employee had to laugh, realizing that some of us blans speak fairly good Kreyol.

Today, a simple outing with the staff women to one of the few pizza places in town was just as amusing. The menu was in French, but the extensive list of salads had no indication what each one contained. So, I was appointed to talk to the waiter and find out. He didn't really speak French, but we thought we were doing OK. At one point, he had to go back into the kitchen to ask what, exactly, was in a certain salad, but he returned immediately with the answer. It had lettuce, tomatoes, olives, and some word none of us understood. Ari thought it meant artichokes, which sounded fairly reasonable. But the word sounded suspiciously like anchovies, so we confirmed: "Ce n'est pas un poisson? C'est une legume, oui?" Wi, it was definitely a vegetable. When our salads finally arrived 30 minutes later, we were not terribly surprised to find one of them topped with anchovies.

This was also the first time I have ordered something at a restaurant and been told, simply, no. We were deciding what we wanted to drink, and pineapple juice was clearly on the menu. What's more, Brooke had already ordered papaya juice with no problem whatsoever. "Je veux le jus d'ananas, s'il vous plait." No. "No? Ou pa gen sa?" (I was hoping Kreyol might get me a better answer) No, nou pa gen sa. "OK... un citron?" I wasn't taking any chances, so I picked something two other people at our table had already ordered with success. At any rate, our meal was delicious, and we were enjoying each other's company so much that we paid no attention to how long it took to arrive.

A beautiful country

2009-04-24T21:34:00.007-04:00

Here are a few of my favorite pictures from my time in Haiti. I think you'll agree that it's a beautiful country, with beautiful people!

Ok, so maybe this isn't so beautiful. It's a view from our roof at night - it amazes me how much you can see from up there. Off in the distance, you can witness amazing sunsets, huge storm clouds over the mountains, and airplanes taking off from the Port-au-Prince airport. Closer by, it's a tangle of power lines and ragged kite-strings. Piles of garbage, often burning, line the street. Every property is surrounded by a high wall and razor-wire. But there are beautiful children down there, too. They like to call our names whenever we're sitting up there in the evenings.

This is my friend Lulu at the ravine feeding program. The little girl on the left is Laniese. She is utterly adorable, and makes me come over and give her a kiss every time I see her. She also thinks I look better without glasses, and takes great pleasure in trying to balance them on top of my head where they're out of the way. Laniese and her little brother, along with their mother, used to live in the home that Lulu and Marie's family still inhabits. They've since moved somewhere else, so now the feeding program is my only chance to see her.

On Easter Sunday, we left the home at 5 AM and drove up into the mountains to Boutillier. Here, there's a spot where you can look out over the entire city - what an amazing place to have our sunrise service!

On Easter afternoon, the visiting team from California put on a wonderful party for the children. We did an Easter egg hunt, flew kites, blew bubbles, and ate ice cream. The younger kids all had pinwheels to play with. This is Keso, who lives at the boys' home with his older brother, Daniel. They speak wonderful English, and are always among the first to run over and give me a hug when I walk in. Seeing the smiles on their faces that Sunday is one of my favorite memories from my short time here.

I always talk about how amazing the sunsets are here. It's rare, though, that I have the chance to observe them from somewhere other than our rooftop. On Easter, though, we were still at the park with the children as the sun began to go down, and I caught it shining through the windows of this unfinished home. It was a perfect end to such a happy day.

I hope you've enjoyed these snapshots of life here! I'll try to post more sometime soon.

English Class

2009-04-23T10:41:00.003-04:00

These are some pictures from my English class, which meets for an hour two times a week. There are about 18 kids in it; most of them are older and speak English fairly well. There's a huge range of ability in reading and writing, so the biggest challenge for me has been figuring out what to teach so that everyone can learn something from it.

There are a few kids in the class who are quick to speak up, and generally know the right answers. A few more are willing to ask questions if they don't understand something, but most of them seem really shy. This makes it hard for me, because I have no way to tell if they really don't understand, or if they just don't want to talk in class. Recently, I've tried to add more writing exercises each day - that way, I can walk around the room and see what each person is able to do. Also, many of them are more willing to answer questions if they're reading something they've already written down.

We've spent quite a bit of time on grammar, as well. A lot of the students know the basic concepts, but they just need more time to practice. So, we've done a class on they're vs. their vs. there, and another on adjectives and adverbs. I gave them an introduction to switching between the active and passive voice, and we spent a lot of time working on which types of past tense fit in which context.

For class today, I'm going to try something that I remember doing when I was learning French and Spanish - I call it a "Name Poem." You write your name vertically on a piece of paper, and then find a word or phrase that describes you for each letter. So I would be Blue eyes / Energetic / Terrified of spiders, etc. I've come up with three or four words that could work for every letter of the alphabet, so I'll be able to give people ideas if they're stuck. If we have the time, some students should be able to share theirs with the class - it will be a great chance for me to learn a bit more about them.

By next class, I hope they'll be ready to try an actual writing assignment. I'm hoping to have each of them write half a page or so about what they did the previous day. If they hand these in, I can read them and get a much better idea of each student's level of skill. Also, I hope it will provide some inspiration for future lessons - I'm running out of ideas, and I've only been here for a month!

I'm returning to Haiti for the summer, and I'm hoping that I'll get to work with some of the other English classes then. All of the kids in the homes here are required to attend an English class, but they all meet at the same time so I'm not always sure what the others are doing. The youngest kids actually speak English really well, because they attend an English-language primary school run by our ministry. They spend their English classes reading books with Brooke and a few other staff members. The intermediate class, which is mostly the kids who attend French school and haven't had much exposure to English, work with Mr. Mumford. He's from Haiti, but speaks excellent English and is one of the teachers at our primary school here. They work more on phonics, and beginning reading and writing skills.

One of the best things about this English instruction is that the kids can communicate with the visiting teams and staff who don't speak Creole or French. A lot of the kids are at the point where they can even read the emails that their sponsors in the US send them every so often! The younger ones, especially, are always eager to practice and love talking to any English speakers they encounter.

Boys with a blender

2009-04-21T22:29:00.002-04:00

Tonight, I though I'd write about some of the interesting encounters I've had with appliances while living in Haiti. Strange as it may seem, it's something I think about fairly often, and a few incidents today were particularly memorable.

Outside our dining room windows is a sort of raised flower-bed. It's filled with crushed stone and a few plants, but its defining feature is an electrical outlet in the exterior wall. Usually, the guard's cell phone is charging here, and our breakfast is often interrupted by a wide assortment of ring tones. Tonight, as I was walking through the dining room on my way out to visit Marie, I heard a terrible whirring noise coming from this area. I stepped out on the porch to find Patrick (one of the older residents of the boys' home) and MarcKenson (our caretaker) standing in the flower-bed, with a blender on the ground between them. Apparently, they were working on some concoction of mangoes, canned milk, and sugar. I have no idea where the blender came from - we don't even have one in our kitchen. It was all we could do to tear MarcKenson away to accompany us down the street, for "security."

Brooke helped Marie's eldest daughter administer her shots tonight, and we stayed for a while longer talking with the other children. Half an hour later, we were back at the guesthouse. Patrick was still in the flower-bed, this time crouching on the ground with a strainer and a bowl. I went inside to make a cup of tea, but Brooke tasted the finished mango product and said it was good... but needed less milk. Soon after, the boys and their blender had gone back to wherever they came from in the first place.

The guesthouse is usually the place to use such appliances, since we have the only reasonably reliable generator of our three properties on this street. Every Sunday night, several of the girls come over to iron school clothes. I'd be doing lots of ironing myself (line-drying clothes produces so many wrinkles!), but this requires turning on the generator. As much as I like ironing, I hate the noise from the generator.

This morning, I went with Bill and Susette and some friends to visit a new church and orphanage facility that one of the ministries here recently built. It's on the outskirts of Port-au-Prince, in a relatively undeveloped area. The city power there is even more unreliable than it is here, so they have two really powerful generators. The church they'd built was a sort of prefabricated steel building, complete with remote-controlled air conditioning. I never thought I'd see an air-conditioned church in Haiti... one of my main motives for going to the grocery store whenever possible is that it's one of the few air-conditioned buildings around.

The new orphanage has a wonderful setup, since it was custom-built for the ministry. The American staff family lives on the top floor, and the 36 resident children live downstairs. At one point, someone asked what sort of generator they used - it's apparently a pretty strong one, as we learned they need it for "air-conditioning and the water heater." Air-conditioning and a water heater in someone's house? This seemed like the height of luxury to me. The only time we get even warm water is in the early afternoon, when the tank on the roof has been heating up in the sun all day. Granted, you don't really need hot showers in Haiti. Still, we've been known to go to restaurants and visit the restrooms simply to see if they have hot water in the sink.

Some lucky people here also have washing machines. It's a good thing I really, really like doing laundry, because we aren't among these lucky people. There are ladies at the girls' home next door who hand-wash everyone's clothes, but I didn't bring all that many clothes with me and often needed them back before they had time to wash them. So, I found a bottle of Tide under the sink, and have learned to wash everything in a bucket in the bathtub (in the afternoon, because warm water cleans better!). This is potentially a good thing, as the house we're renting in Hanover next year does not come with a washing machine :-). I sincerely hope, however, that it has a water heater.

Update on Marie

2009-04-20T21:23:00.003-04:00

Over the past few weeks, I've continued to join Brooke on many of her visits to Marie. Marie's condition has not improved, and she seems to be in more pain as time goes on. Her son will often come to get Brooke around 9 in the evenings, because his mother can't sleep without more pain medicine. The children from the homes here still visit her often to sing songs and pray, and it's been a blessing for me to get to know many of the members of Marie's family.

Her husband, Edouard, is an incredibly faithful man. He's unemployed at the time, but this does allow him to spend nearly all of his time with his wife and family. When we arrive, he jumps up from his chair by Marie's bedside, says hello to everyone, and makes sure we all have a place to sit. If younger children come with us, he makes sure they're far enough away to not see much of what's going on. He'll stand by Marie's head and fan away the flies, spray perfumed water on her sheets, or cover her face with a cloth when Brooke starts to change her dressings. Often, he'll hold her hand and pray. When we showed up on Sunday morning, he was sitting next to her reading aloud from the Bible that's always nearby. I still worry about Edouard, though. He and Marie have seven children (the youngest lives with relatives in Cité Soleil, so only six are at home) and no real way to support them. Sometimes I'll see him wandering the street outside our house, looking distraught and lonely. When Brooke had to tell the family that Marie would become less and less responsive as her cancer advanced, Edouard broke down crying and didn't speak the rest of the time we were there. We're all praying that Edouard will be able to be strong for his family, and somehow be able to find a job and a permanent home.

Marie's family is still living in the unfinished home, which they'll probably have to vacate soon. Already, they've had to move all of their furniture to another room because the builders needed to work inside. During the day, there's a lot of commotion and dust. At night, they only have a candle for light until the unpredictable city power eventually comes on. The three youngest children (probably ages 6 - 10) share one twin-sized bed; the older sisters share another.

There have been some uncertain times, as Brooke deals with the inevitable supply shortages one encounters in Haiti. She ran out of pain medication at one point, just as Marie was needed more of it to sleep. I contributed some of my sleep medicine, and a visiting team member had brought along an old Vicodin prescription - these helped Marie through until the medicine she needed finally arrived at the pharmacy several days later.

There is more uncertainty ahead. Brooke is going home on May 4th, leaving us without a nurse. We have no idea if Marie will survive that long; if she does, we'll need to make sure she continues to receive a similar level of care. All of the American staff here are leaving at the beginning of June, but we may start learning how to give Marie shots and change her dressings if the need arises. Additionally, one of the girls' home residents wants to become a nurse. She's probably a little young for such great responsibility, but Brooke may teach her how to help out, as well.

In the meantime, all we can do is pray that Marie's suffering will be eased, and thank the Lord for the wonderful family He's given her.

Lulu

2009-04-20T20:57:00.003-04:00

This is a picture of my good friend Lulu. I mentioned before that she's one of Marie's children (the lady down the street who has breast cancer). When I first met Lulu, I was surprised to see how friendly she was. She speaks a little English, I speak a little Kreyol, so we were at least able to introduce ourselves. A few days later, though, I learned that Lulu goes to school and speaks French! She loves to practice it with me, which is pretty unique. Most of the students at the homes here speak French, but they rarely use it - I think it reminds them too much of school. Now Lulu can tell me about school, her family, and her favorite games. She almost always walks back with me when I go to visit her family, and she loves to hang around after the feeding program in the afternoons and chat.

Lulu is eight years old and in the third grade, and she seems incredibly intelligent. Often when I go to visit her family, she'll pull out a Kreyol hymnal or song she's written down and read it for me. Her French is usually even better than mine... I get so confused when I'm talking to a group of children that I pretend everything's in Kreyol and forget to conjugate my verbs. She tries to get me to read Kreyol, but I think she's decided I'm a lost cause :-) Her favorite English song is "Come, now is the time to worship," which she asks me to sing every time I visit her mom. Lulu's brothers, Eduardo and Especial, go to school as well - they're all supported by sponsors through MdL, because their family would never be able to afford the costs of books and uniforms for the three little ones. The family of 9 lives in one room, with only three beds between them.

I was always encouraged to see how happy Lulu was when I talked to her - she's always making jokes and wanting to play games. Recently, though, I've seen her outside of our gate looking very sad. When I go to give her a kiss and say hello, she'll respond quietly and not say much else. I kept asking her what was wrong, and finally she told me that she was hungry. She attends our feeding program three times a week, and her family probably can't afford to buy much food the rest of the time. Each time this happens, I run inside and bring back an energy bar or an apple, and a cup of cold water. As easy as this is to do, it's a tough situation. If other kids on the street see Lulu leaving our home with food, they could easily become jealous or start begging every time we go outside. Lulu hates to ask for food, too. I've asked her if her family needs us to help them out with food, and she always says no. I'm still going to pursue that option, though. A team that visited last month bought a good supply for their family, but we don't know how much is left. If we can purchase more for them, the whole family will have enough to eat, and Lulu won't have to come to our gate for food. If you're interested in contributing to this effort, let me know and I'll give you an update once I have more details.

Please pray that Lulu will be able to continue going to the school she loves so much, and that she'll have comfort and support as her family goes through a really tough time. She's a brilliant little girl with the most beautiful smile, and I look forward to seeing her each day.

The Church is not a building

2009-04-19T19:18:00.003-04:00

This morning, our typical Sunday routine of driving over to Port-au-Prince Fellowship was turned around completely. Haiti's senate elections were today, and we'd been told to stay away from the main roads as much as possible, due to the potential "manifestations," or protests that can quickly turn to riots. So instead of bringing all the kids to church, we brought the church to us! Bill is the worship leader there anyways, so he brought all the sound equipment with him and set up in The Bins, the sports area adjacent to the boys' home. At 9:30, all the kids, staff, and a few neighborhood friends gathered together for worship.

The boys had brought out benches from their dining room for us to sit on, but we quickly abandoned those and sat along the wall. This was one of the hottest mornings we've had since I got there, and everyone wanted to squeeze into the narrow strip of shade. It's the first time I've ever worried about wearing enough sunscreen to church!

Any discontent in the neighborhood was certainly drowned out by our praise time. I'm surprised we made it without a generator! The kids here all love to sing and worship, and it's always a pleasure to join them. As an added benefit of having our own service, Bill had Fritz (the manager of the boys' home) translate the message into Kreyol, so all the kids could understand. The one drawback of our regular service is that it's conducted entirely in English, which some of the kids have a hard time understanding.

The atmosphere surrounding the elections has been a little strange here. We live in a fairly quiet area, so there haven't been any disturbances. The streets have been a bit quieter than usual, and a few of our guards have had to work several shifts in a row because their replacements can't find transportation coming from downtown. Whatever's going on in the city seems so far away, because I can't just turn on CNN and find out the latest updates. Apparently, the downtown section of Delmas has been shut down for the past few days, and groups have been burning tires and setting up roadblocks. We've heard rumors of much worse, but there's no way to tell how reliable some of our sources are. Please pray that things are resolved quickly - one of our staff members is flying back in from the States tomorrow, and we hope she'll be able to return to her home in our neighborhood with no trouble.

On the lighter side, we've had to laugh about how uptight we've gotten the past few days. Last night, Brooke and I walked down to see Marie with one of the older boys. Her son had come to our house to tell us that she was in pain, and Brooke wanted to give her another injection. It wasn't even 8:00, but the streets were deserted and dark because city power hadn't come on yet. Brooke told Eduardo, Marie's son, to be careful if he had to go out on the street again. As we were walking back to our house (only about 2 blocks away), we saw a group of men on a side street, and heard loud voices. Jocelyn, our "security guy," whispered "manifestation!" and started to run. We panicked, of course, and started to follow. Then we realized that Jocelyn had stopped running and was grinning at us. As embarrassed as we were, we had to thank him for making us laugh.

Cité Soleil

2009-04-13T22:40:00.006-04:00

Last week, the California team journeyed down to Cité Soleil, one of the worst slums in Port-au-Prince, to try to help the mother of one of our boys here. Brooke and I, Bill and Susette, several Haitian staff, and a few of the boys went along. To be honest, we were a little nervous... none of the staff had been to Cité Soleil in years, and the last time they went it was apparently pretty chaotic. We had no idea how a huge truck full of Americans would be received, but the Haitian staff assured us that things would be manageable. We stopped about halfway through the drive there, and the folks up front came into "the cage" with the rest of us to pray.

The only time I really felt nervous was when we first turned onto the main road running through the area. Coming in the other direction were three UN tanks, with soldiers in full combat gear. It really felt like we were driving into a war zone. Many of the structures in the area were destroyed in widespread riots not too long ago, so that was probably a fairly accurate impression.

A bit further down this road, we pulled over and stopped. A few of the boys got out and went to find the woman we were looking for. She lives in Cité Soleil with her teenaged son and daughter; one other son, Clifford, lives at our boys' home, and the whereabouts of another is unknown. She'd hoped we could help repair her roof, which had been damaged in the riots. However, she'd also revealed that she didn't feel safe living there. Her family had received threats (armed men were coming to their home at night), so they'd been staying in a single room with an acquaintance. We hoped to assess the situation with her roof, but we really wanted to bring her back to MdL and discuss finding a way for her family to move to this area and get jobs at the homes. The boys found her quite easily (which surprised me, given the sheer size of Cité Soleil), brought her back to the truck, and then we drove further on so she could lead us to her house.

This section of Cité Soleil was surprisingly peaceful. A few children came out to look at us, but there were no big crowds, no burning piles of garbage, no shacks made out of cardboard and tin. I don't want it to sound like conditions were good - the plight of the residents here is incredibly sad - but we all felt safe walking through there. It's the sort of place I'd even like to visit again, to meet some of the children and have a chance to talk to them.

The homes here were small, and made of cinderblocks with tin roofs. Many of them had serious structural damage, and appeared to have been abandoned long ago. When the homes were destroyed in the riots, many people moved on and didn't bother to rebuild. This probably added to the strange quiet there. If every home had a large family living in it, the area would be unbearably crowded. Clifford's mother led us through a maze of narrow paths and alleyways to her home: it had only two rooms, the roof was full of holes, and one room was completely flooded with murky water. It wouldn't have helped her to fix the home: the repairs could be accomplished quite easily, but the family would still be in danger from thieves and gang members. We went back to the room where Clifford's mother and siblings were staying, to make arrangements to bring them back with us. A few of us had to wait outside, because the room was so small and stuffy. While we were standing there, a group of about 15 children gathered. They seemed curious and quite shy, but a few came over and spoke to us. One teenaged boy seemed like the village comedian - he asked each of us what languages we spoke, compared Susette's hair to that of the little girl she was hugging, and kept everyone in a surprisingly happy mood. We met another little girl named Lovely... every Lovely I've seen captures my heart completely. Their smiles are always so beautiful.

Clifford's mother and siblings came back up to Delmas with us, and joined us for lunch. After, the staff and some of the team leaders spoke with them for a while. I think they're going to find a job for the mother at one of the homes here, so she can support her family and live in this neighborhood. They've returned to Cité Soleil in the meantime, while the details are worked out. Please pray that they'll remain safe while living there, and that they can be relocated quickly.

Quick update...

2009-04-13T22:36:00.002-04:00

Wow, it's been a while. Sorry about that!

Things around here have been pretty crazy recently. A team from California just left after spending 10 days with us at the guesthouse, so I kept busy joining them on many of their projects. It was a little tough to do updates, because of electricity issues and my own computer's difficulty connecting to the internet for a few days. Then, I got sick, then it was Easter!

Praise God - He is Risen, I'm feeling much better, and life in Port-au-Prince is moving back toward "normal"... meaning our 10-mile or so round-trip to the airport this morning to drop off the team took close to 3 hours.

Updates about lots of amazing things to come soon - hopefully with pictures!

Another trip to the ravine

2009-04-04T21:28:00.005-04:00

Today, a big group of us (staff and their kids, visitors, and a bunch of the older orphanage kids) went back to the ravine to do a feeding program and presentation for the kids there. The orphanage kids usually do some form of community service every Saturday, and there's a pastor visiting us for the week who wanted to do some outreach there. So we all walked over around 11:30. Once we were at the settlement, the orphanage kids started talking and witnessing to some of the older people there, while those of us who didn't really speak enough Creole started gathering the kids and bringing them to the church. This, at least, I can manage - Bonjou! ki gen ou rele? Ou vle veni avec mwen a legliz, pou mangé? (I'm sure that's spelled wrong, but it means, "Hi! What's your name? Do you want to come with me to the church, to eat?") I brought my camera along this time - the kids are just so beautiful.

All the children, and some of their mothers, gathered in the tiny church. The cooks from the boys' home had been there most of the morning, preparing a meal for them all. Even when all the benches were filled, we kept finding little ones outside and inviting them in. Just about every adult had a kid or two on their lap or in their arms! Above is a picture taken from inside the church (there's a roof on only the front half), looking out at some of the homes in the ravine.

The program started with music - led by some of the guys from the boys' home, and by Fritz, the house manager. I've been here long enough to start to learn the tunes and a few of the choruses, but most of the words just go by too fast! Even the smallest children seem to know them, though. It's such a wonderful thing to have a church in this terribly needy community.

Pastor Scott gave an incredibly powerful presentation for the children. He told the story of Jacob and Esau, and talked about the importance of a father's blessing on his children. Sadly, many of the children there have been hurt by their fathers, or may not even know who they are. Pastor Scott has a huge heart for people in this situation, and ended the program by giving a Father's blessing to any of the people there who wanted it. How amazing is it for these kids to learn about the love their Father in Heaven will always have for them? Pastor Scott even helped them pray for forgiveness for whatever their fathers may have done. He gave each one of them a huge hug, and made sure each one of them knew just how special and beautiful they are. How different would Haiti be if all children could be treated in this way?

After this, the children came forward for their meals. It was only rice and beans, with a little bit of sausage, but for many it was a rare chance to have a filling, nutritious meal. Many of the ravine children look so much younger than they are, because they are so malnourished. The staff here keep trying to bring more of them into our regular feeding program three times a week, but there are just so many of them... I think one of the hardest things for me will always be realizing how impossible it is to give all the children here all the help they need, all of the time. There's no limit to the love you can give them, though.

This last picture is of a little girl named Lovely. She comes to the feeding program at MdL with her older brother Johnny and her younger brother Junior, but I first met her on the playground after church on Sunday. Her smile always brightens our day; I hope she'll have the same effect on you!

Shopping Adventures

2009-04-03T19:40:00.005-04:00

There's a team of six coming in from California tomorrow, so Susette and Lisa wanted to get some supplies for the house, and most of the food. This called for a grand shopping adventure, consisting of nine women and Renald. What a sport. Susette drove the truck, so six of us were riding in the back. At least the roads in Pétion-ville are better than they are in our neighborhood. :-)

Our first stop was a store that Brooke had described as "like Wal-Mart... except nothing like Wal-Mart." It was really like a cross between Pier 1 and Off Price Outlet - those of you on the Seacoast know what I'm talking about. There was a definite sense that what was on display was the only stock they had, and some of it was certainly a little random. This store also shares a parking lot with the embassy of the Czech Republic - a little confusion on my part when we drove in... My first task was to find a tablecloth to fit an 8-foot table. I found a promising one that said $70 on the pricetag - no one seemed to know if that meant gourdes (less than $2... so probably not), Haitian dollars (which apparently don't really exist, but are equal to about 5 gourdes... I'm too tired to do the math on that), or US dollars (for a tablecloth?!). So I asked one of the many salesladies wandering around, and confirmed that this was, in fact, a $70 tablecloth. So we moved to plan B: two slightly smaller, and slightly less attractive, tablecloths, for $5.60 each. I really wanted to buy an ironing board, but it would have been tough to fit in the truck.

So we paid around $50 US for the tablecloths and a nice selection of tableware and cooking equipment, the people and the register boxed it up, and we piled back in the back of the truck to visit the Caribbean Supermarket. This is the place to find your $10 cranberry juice and $30 packages of diapers. Luckily, not everything is quite that expensive. You can also find such delicacies as "Cut-Up Chicken Parts" and a wide selection of Great Value brand granola bars. We filled two shopping carts for the guesthouse, and Brooke and I picked up some yogurt for ourselves (they've hired a cook to prepare 3 meals a day for the team, so we're eating with them). The guesthouse total came to 7000 gourdes, which is less than $200. For feeding eight people for a week, I guess that's not too terribly bad.

The drive home was fun, as there were six of us and all of the grocery bags in the back of the truck. Luckily, no one fell out, nor did any of the groceries. It's really like a roller-coaster ride, especially when you hit the dirt roads... I love it here!

Around the House

2009-04-02T23:02:00.003-04:00

Here's an update on life at the MdL guesthouse over the past few days...

Power has been on and off. For the past two nights, the batteries have given out around 5 AM, which always wakes me up because the inverter starts beeping. We live without power (but have water, thankfully) until we turn the generator on around 9, which brings the end of any attempts at quiet time. The generator's even on now - city power was on when we walked back from dinner, but the lights dimmed a while ago, so it must have gone back off. I can live without power fairly easily, but I always get worried about all the food in the refrigerator :-)

We spent a while on the roof today looking at the garden. The tomato and broccoli plants have all been pulled out, and they're planning to start some beans, basil, and more tomatoes soon. And perhaps add more flowers! It's such a lovely place, but it would be nice to cover up a bit more of the concrete and cinder-blocks.

Today, the office copier was out of paper just when I needed to make handouts for English class. Luckily, Brittany was there and offered to drive me to her house and use the copier there. Even better, her cat had kittens last night, so I got to see them! There are four of them, and they are so incredibly tiny. Some are have black and white patches, and the one has the most adorable grey stripes. They looked so healthy and full of promise compared to the puppies of the stray dog who lives outside our gate. We brought one of them into the house for a moment today, and it was already matted and full of fleas. Most people here have a hard time feeding themselves, and the dogs fare even worse.

I made cookies the other night, which was an adventure given our oven dial does not have temperatures on it - you choose a level between 1 and 5, and even those who've lived here for a while don't seem to know what those are equivalent to. The cookies were simple peanut butter - chocolate chip, since we didn't have many ingredients in the house, but they were all gone by the next morning! It makes it feel more like home if I can cook stuff like that whenever I want to. I'm really starting to love my home here.

Visiting the Ravine

2009-04-02T22:39:00.003-04:00

This morning, I went into the ravine with Susette, Zach, and a few of the older boys. We're doing a feeding program and outreach there on Saturday, and Susette wanted to let them know when we'd be there. It's really a stark place... only a few streets behind our comparatively nice neighborhood of walled homes is a jungle of cinder-block huts, with no running water, lots of tiny children and young mothers, and almost no men at all. Right outside the entrance there's a mother living with several of her kids, some of whom come to the feeding program here. The youngest girl, probably about two years old, was only wearing a shirt and was terribly thin. Her mother says she's never hungry, so she just feeds her juice all day - never thinking that the juice might be filling her up without really nourishing her. The mother didn't want her to come to the feeding program - she won't eat, she kept telling us. It's so strange to me that a mother would turn down a chance to get good food for her child. Maybe she's ashamed? Afraid?

Once we were inside, all these kids popped out of doorways to see us - everyone there knows Susette. A lot of these children come to our feeding program, and it's not hard to see how that might be the only good food they get. It always amazes me how friendly they are - I'd never even seen most of them before, but all the little girls were trying to hold my hands and wanted to walk with me wherever we went. We heard music coming from behind some of the huts, apparently from a church - so we decided to go visit.

The church in the ravine is even more makeshift than most of the dwellings. The roof is fashioned from scraps of sheet metal, and there are a few handmade benches sitting on the dirt floor. A small group was gathered there singing, so we stood in the back with "our" kids and joined them - I recognized some of the songs from things we've sang for Marie. When it was time to sit down, the pastor made Susette and I come up front. It's always so fascinating to see how hospitable the people are! They introduced us to everyone, and then the pastor asked Susette to speak. She shared her heart for seeing Christ in Haiti, while Zach translated. Then, the pastor asked me to talk. I was really hesitant at first, but I also felt so welcome and encouraged by the group gathered there. So I stood in front and said a few words about who I was and why I'd come to Haiti, and how it was such a blessing to see the Lord being praised there. We needed to move soon after... I wish I could have stayed for the whole service, sitting in that tiny church with little children crowded around me. They are all so incredibly beautiful, and so greatly in need of a savior.

On the way out of the ravine settlement, we stopped to see another family. The single mother has four children, and another on the way. One of her daughters is six, I believe, but looks about three. Her hair is discolored from malnutrition, and she has scabies on her hands. It's so hard to see families like this - no father in the picture, and a mother who can't really work because she's taking care of so many children. It makes me so grateful to see the boys at the orphanage taking their faith seriously. Perhaps they can lead the way to a culture where all fathers are loving, responsible, and serious about raising their families.

Going to Church

2009-03-29T22:07:00.004-04:00

This morning before church, Brooke and I walked down to see Marie again. It was a bit of a lonely walk, since all of the girls were busy getting ready for church. Marie's family is really amazing. Every time we visit, several of them greet us, and bring in chairs for us to sit down. Over the past few days, I've gotten to know one of Marie's younger children, Lulu. She's a beautiful little girl, probably about 8 or 9, whom I often see walking down the street in front of our home. I was surprised that Lulu speaks very good English, at least enough to introduce herself and have a brief conversation. She's a pretty quiet girl, but very trusting: before she even really knew who I was, she grabbed my hand and walked with me to her house. While Marie was getting her medicine last night, Lulu sat on the bed next to me and sang along with the girls. She's so brave, to keep smiling through all that her family is facing. Please pray that Lulu and her family will find strength and comfort as they deal with Marie's terrible suffering.

When we got back to the orphanage, it was time to go to church. Zack, one of the employees, drove us in the orphanage truck. The back is lined with benches, and can fit all 45 or so of the kids here! Brooke and I rode up front, but the back definitely looked more fun. We arrived at Port-au-Prince Fellowship just as the service was starting, and it was so crowded that we had to sit on folding chairs outside. What an inspiration, though, to see a church in Haiti filled like this! It was a little hard for the younger kids, especially, to pay attention without anything to look at, though. Keso sat on my lap for a while, and enjoyed playing with my watch and glasses a great deal. Luckily, they have children's church during the sermon, so I was able to move in a bit closer and hear Brittany's husband Rod give the sermon. Afterwards, some little girls from our neighborhood came over and pulled me towards the playground - even though I'd never met them before! None of them spoke English or French, so this was an excellent opportunity to see just how much Creole I actually know. It was actually fairly successful - we navigated the swingset, jungle gym, and a little conflict about how I couldn't play with everyone at the same time with no major misunderstandings. Now, if only I could be so fluent in non-playground situations!

After church, Bill, Susette, and four of the five kids they have in Haiti took Brooke and I out to lunch. We went to a lovely restaurant in Pétion-Ville, the "wealthy" area of the city. It was quite the drive to get there, but most of the roads were paved this time! It was quite the adventure, as I joined Ari and Vienna in the back of the truck. Apparently this is perfectly legal in Haiti, and you definitely get a better view this way. I also have a new appreciation for Bill's driving skills. I would not want to be behind the wheel here!

The restaurant was a big change from what we see every day. It was in a quiet corner of a shopping plaza, the menus were in French, and the food was excellent. It definitely seems like there's a divide between races here, though. Almost every customer at the restaurant was white, or had extremely light skin. It was a little disconcerting how different things felt from the Haiti I've come to know over the past few days.

Nothing much happens here on Sunday afternoons. I sat on the roof for a while, then walked up to the Manassero's and watched The Incredibles with a group of the younger kids (we lost power in the middle and had to break while the generator was turned on). When I got home at 7:30, we didn't feel like cooking, so I ate grilled cheese on the porch to escape the mosquitos inside, and spent the rest of the evening listening to MarcKenson (an orphanage "graduate" who now acts as caretaker) singing up on the roof. He's being entertaining the neighborhood for well over an hour now :-)

The good and the bad...

2009-03-27T20:51:00.005-04:00

I've only been here for two full days, but I'm feeling quite at home here. I've figured out the complex system of what type of water (straight from the tap, stuff we filter ourselves, or purified water that we buy) can be used for what activity. I no longer get lost in the maze of hallways in the guesthouse, and I finally got the nerve to walk from here to the boys' home (up the street about 50 yards) by myself. I even went to the grocery store today! At the same time, I'm starting to see some really sad situations.

Brooke, who's a nurse back in the States, has been taking care of a woman down the street who has breast cancer. Her name is Marie, and about two months ago she was given two months to live. Brooke goes twice every day, once to change the bandages on the open sores on her chest, and at night to give her morphine shots. I went along today, along with a few of the girls from the home. Marie's situation is just so hard to watch: she has seven children, and they're all living in a few rooms of a half-built house. She fell last week and broke her femur, so she's confined to her bed now - one of three in a dark, cramped room. The girls sing to her while Brooke changes her dressings, and one of them prays for her before we leave. It's so hard to realize there's really not that much that can be done to prolong her life, or even to make her more comfortable. There are always small blessings, though. Marie's husband is still with the family, and obviously loves and her and the children very much (sadly, this is rare in Haiti). They don't own the house they live in, but it's solid and surrounded by a locked gate. Marie and her family are Christians, and the girls' visits, songs, and prayers comfort her a great deal. It's still so incredibly difficult to watch her suffering so much.

It's also tough to see what education is like here. The kids at the orphanage all go to schools, but not necessarily Christian schools. Some of them started so late, though, that they're having a really hard time. One of the boys who is "graduating" from the orphanage, and now works as a caretaker at the guesthouse, is 21 but only finished the equivalent of third grade, because he started so late. I was trying to have the girls explain their French homework to me (school is taught entirely in French), and they have long lists of words to memorize but don't learn the meanings. To practice, they read their words aloud, then spell them, then have a friend read to them while they try to write them down. When I asked what they were writing, though, they didn't really know.

I started teaching an art class for the older kids today. It was a bit of a slow start, but I think it has potential. I was at a loss for how, exactly, to teach "drawing," since my professor at Dartmouth really never "taught" us how to draw. Suzette found a beginning art book for me, though, and that helped a great deal. We started with light and dark, so I decided to talk about shading and different types of marks. I taped a piece of paper up to the board, drew a few basic shapes on it, and told them to draw something like that, but whatever shapes they wanted. Most of them are so used to copying what the teacher writes on the board that they drew exactly what I had, even trying to erase stuff that wasn't just right. It's so different from home, where they don't give you an eraser for the first few weeks and encourage creativity. So many of the kids in my class seemed afraid to draw anything new - each of the girls drew a flower, and they all looked almost identical. Some of the boys traced pictures from books. I wish I could show them how different this can be from the school that they're used to, that I don't care how many mistakes they make and that I want them to take chances. A few of them are really starting to get it, though. I'm excited to work with them again, and I'll keep working toward finding a good balance of structure and freedom for their lessons.

I was definitely busy today. In the morning, I started the massive project of organizing the room where all the donations are stored. There's some really strange stuff down there - who would think to send snow boots and Uggs to Haiti? - and it's all just thrown in bins. Today I only managed to re-pack the notebooks and paper, and barely began to dig through the bin of pens, pencils, and erasers. It's a great thing to do in my free time, though! It can get really quiet in the mornings when the kids are all at school.

For lunch, I joined an amazing women's group that Susette, Brooke, and Lisa (one of the other staff members) are part of. Three other American women, who work at another orphanage in the city, came over to the guesthouse for lunch. It's such a blessing to have something like this! I was a little worried about living basically on my own and not having connections with older Christian women.

After this group (everyone calls it a Bible study, but all we did was talk about life for two hours), Brittany (the third American staff woman here) took Brooke and I to the grocery store. The drive over was an experience in itself, since the unpaved roads are horrible and the paved ones are choked with traffic. The grocery store was a bit further up on Delmas (a main road that runs from the shore up into the hills - conditions improve as you go up). It was somewhat surprising, as it looked a lot like an American grocery store, though smaller. And more expensive. I guess you have to pay for the imports. I have a grocery allowance, but it was still a little shocking to spend the equivalent of $4 US on a can of black beans. It was also interesting to see the UN soldiers with guns in their belts pushing shopping carts and carefully considering the yogurt selections. But now we have a fully-stocked fridge, and we made pizza for supper. We ate up on the roof, in the dark, staring at the lights further up in the hills and far-away on the shore, and listening to the singing drifting across the road from the boys' home.

Greetings from Haiti!

2009-03-26T11:44:00.004-04:00

I arrived in Haiti yesterday afternoon, and it's already been a great experience! Bill and Susette, the missionaries who run the orphanage I'm working at, met me at the airport. It was wonderful to finally meet them after a long day of traveling. They drove me around the Delmas neighborhood a bit, then took me to the guesthouse where I'll be staying. It's right next to the girls' home, and across the street from the boys' home. At the moment, I'm sharing it with Brooke, a nurse who's working here as an intern for a year. When short-term teams come in, they'll be staying here, too. We even have a garden up on the roof! It's a beautiful spot to sit - you can look down over the city and see the ocean! I've heard the view of the sunset is spectacular from up there.

I haven't really figured out what sorts of work I'll be doing here, yet, so I'm just hanging around meeting people for now... it's a challenge to remember names! There are about 30 boys and 15 girls, and more than 20 people who work here in some capacity.

I was looking forward to a good night's sleep after getting up at 1 AM to go to the airport, but I didn't sleep as much as I'd hoped... we can go to bed really early, since there's not much to do at night, but it's really really hot in our room (not surprising, since it's about 90 degrees here in the afternoon). We had a fan to help move the air around and drown out some of the noise (they raise roosters at the girls' home next door), but it made enough noise to keep me awake for a few hours :) When I woke up at 5:30, it was already starting to get light out, so I got up soon after.

This morning, Brooke and I went for a "run." One of the guys went with us, since we were going a ways away from the home. It was so different from running in New Hampshire! Even though it was 9 AM, it was extremely hot, and the roads are really rough gravel with lots of big rocks. We also had to avoid the various chickens and goats we saw. It was really interesting to see the neighborhood, though.

I think I'm going to wander up to the roof and see if there's anyone around. So far, I haven't had much to do, with the kids at school during the day. I'll try to post pictures soon!