refrigerator,

blue jeans,

knowing it’s okay to drink water from the tap…

Weird.

And Fantastic.

thinking in Creole in my head,

passing people in the street and no words are exchanged,

feeling a pang when I see dark skin…

Weirder.

Haiti, I miss you.

To get to this particular beach, you have to take a moto on a 30 minute ride up, through and down the mountain. Good times.

the fueling and airing station

we could have fit one more...

And what to do when you arrive at the beach and there’s nowhere to change into your suit? Well, you undress behind a flapping towel of course. Complete with Haitian spectators. One more reason for them to say that foreigners are crazy. 

mad skillz

And now I’ve had the privilege to see another side of Haiti – the natural beauty side. Michella made a comment at the beach that has really stuck with me. She said to me, “Amy, when I’m at places like this, I don’t understand why my country is poor.”

There’s a lot of answers to that. Most of them have to do with foreign policy, rumors that depleted tourism in Haiti, and slanted journalism coverage, etc. But answers aren’t why she said that. She said that because she loves her country and longs for it to be whole again. But I don’t think her comment needs analysis, I think it’s a statement better left open to interpretation. Why indeed?

All in all, it was a beautiful weekend away. And thanks to Reed for being born.

I leave in less than 2 weeks. Time has gone by quickly, and seems to be speeding up as my departure nears. It always happens that way, huh?

I have fallen in love with so many people in Haiti. And I have been so welcomed and embraced. Many of the guys in SODA feel like my brothers, and the kids have become my norm. When I think about leaving Haiti, it’s breaking my heart. Saying goodbye to my family when I return to CA feels somehow different than saying goodbye to my Haitian friends when I return to CA. The distance is farther – in all senses of the word.

But I will not talk about this today. Today, an update.

For three weeks I have been meeting with the youth in the neighborhood about what they want the community center to be about. This process has been long, operating on “Haitian time,” and it’s been an exercise for me in teaching how to do something, vs. doing it myself. Last week we began to put many of the things we dreamed up into action. We painted the space to be used for the center, we wrote rules and codes for the center, had a meeting with adults who will volunteer with the center, and began to institute a schedule of sorts – operating hours, if you will. It’s been really fun to see everyone in action, and I feel a lucky gal that I get to see the fruition of some of my work.

the paint crew

I also began the art project in Solino. Solino is one of many poor slums in Port-au-Prince, and another location for a SODA school. In previous weeks, I had several meetings with people in Solino to brainstorm about projects. After several canceled start dates due to illness or a missing translator, I made it over to Solino and we began our project. I love Solino. The people in Solino have a different spirit than the people in Jake, more open, more friendly. Today I am headed out to Solino again to hopefully finish the projects and take lots of photos. I have been working with the students in Solino to create art and visual aids for their school. We have created posters with each letter of the Creole alphabet and an accompanying picture that begins with the corresponding letter. The kids have loved it. Today if we finish that, we will begin to paint some Haitian images on the walls of the school.

So those are the projects. This past weekend we also celebrated Reed’s birthday. In the morning Reed and I cooked a “big breakfast” American style, complete with pancakes, omelettes, bacon, and juice. Everyone at the house in the morning got to try it, and most people thought it was grand.

two kids from AVT feeding me pancakes, courtesy of "big breakfast"

Later in the day Lolo and I went on a secret adventure to find a birthday cake. Lolo took it to my house and I distracted Reed until later, as everyone finished preparing my house for his birthday party. It was a big success.

the Haitians know how to cook up some party food

The past weekend also included a tropical storm that flooded the island and caused most everything to shut down for a good part of the day Saturday. I was lucky enough to have a fabulous roommate with a computer and movie, so we spent a wonderful afternoon chilling.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet that I’m learning Creole. I have many teachers, and have been studying hard. The other day I had a 1 hour conversation in Creole. Way to go me.

This is just the tip of the iceberg. How do you explain your life with words? Hopefully the photos help.

Oh crème mayi, how I love you! Your creamy goodness, your frozen delight, your sweetness that dribbles down my chin. You are a thing to behold! In the heat of the Haitian sun, you enliven my tatse buds and lift my spirits. When I hold you crème mayi, I cannot help but smile.

Crème Mayi on the left, Chocolat on the right

Crème mayi is a coveted treat among the kids, and they love it just as much as me. In fact, they’ve started using it as slang. Anytime something is really delicious or really fantastic, the kids will smile, nod and knowingly utter, “crème mayi.”

Crème mayi basically translates to Creamy Corn. Imagine my surprise my when I looked at the ingredients and saw that corn was nowhere to be found! When I informed my Haitian friends of this, they didn’t believe me, explaining that the tiny yellow flecks in the ice cream bar were in fact pieces of corn. I disagreed. I think they are what the label refers to as “Stabilizer.” The jury is still out.

On the other hand, I was not surprised to find that sugar was number two on the ingredient list. There’s a reason it tastes so good…

So, tonight I will leave you with some photos. Not so much explanation, but we’ll see if that old saying really holds up…

Cite de Soleil team

Jake team

SODA has started a soccer program among the neighborhood assemblies. What started as a fun way for the kids to get out and move around has evolved into a wonderful springboard for getting people involved. Many of the soccer programs have jumpstarted other neighborhood projects, spearheaded by neighborhood locals . The soccer teams have also served as a great way for kids from different neighborhoods to have some interaction with one another, breaking down biases about “other slums” and the people who live there. At the soccer matches, everyone is the same. Soccer is such a universal language.

I tagged along for “training” and to take some photos of the teams in action. Soccer in Haiti makes me hot.

These are some of the kids of AVT (neighborhood assembly of children). This has beccome my most ambitious project, attempting to set up a youth community center, complete with English, reading, art, and computer stations. More on that later. For now, the faces that you can’t help but love..

the boy who will always help clean, cook, wash...

infectious smile

my constant escorts

building with jenga blocks

this could go on and on…

I’ll save some for later.

Wish I could be there with you – Bon Fete pou Ayiti!

Deep within me is the desire to go go go! and be productive and do it all now and give it your best and work until you see something…etc., etc. But that’s not always how things work. And that’s almost never how big changes work. Time is the marker, and one cannot rush time.

So, there’s a lot of work to be done here. Haiti and it’s people have a lot of work to do. SODA and it’s people have a lot of work to do. And I have a lot of work to do. But it cannot all be accomplished in one day. It cannot all be accomplished in 7 weeks. But it can be started. And that’s enough.

I was talking with Lolo last night, hearing about his journey and his dreams in life. He spent several years in an orphanage here started and run by Aristide and is now studying law with the pursuit of becoming a pro bono lawyer. He’s really an amazing guy, as are many of the leaders among SODA. As I heard his story and we talked of the story of Haiti, I was weighted by the disparity and injustice practiced and maintained in the world. I told him I tried to be an optimist, but sometimes the facts turned me in the opposite direction. He reminded me that there is a lot of work to be done, here and elsewhere, but that it is possible. He knows that it will happen and believes the people can do it. His is a spirit that can’t help but to inspire you.

It’s become a little joke with Lolo, Jeremy and the kids to ask me if I’m angry (Amy, Ou fache?) I’m always surprised by this and answer, “No! Mwen pa fache!” Apparentely, they see me looking all serious and focused, and assume I’m upset. When you wear your emotions on your sleeve it’s understood in any language, yeah? The last couple days I’ve been smiling a lot more, a little easier. I blame it on finding my stride. It’s a good feeling.

Let’s hope it sticks.

TUESDAY

I arrived in Haiti early Tuesday morning after a long night’s flight across the US and through Miami. From the door of the plane I’m greeted by the heat and hold tightly to the railing as we descend the steep aircarft stairs. I manage to follow the crowd across the runway and enter the Port-au-Prince (PAP) airport. Once inside, everyone lines up at customs. Because I don’t have my Haitian address on me, I’m escorted to wait in the customs office. After a silent 30 minutes, it’s communicated that I have a ride waiting for me outside and I’m escorted to retrieve my address from him. I look into a sea of Haitian faces and see a tall dreaded man smile and wave at me. I’m the only blan (foreigner) at the door, so Pouchan finds me easily. He gives my address to the officer and back inside I go. After going through customs I wait for my luggage with the crowd, while the electricity blinks off and on. Pouchan greets me with a kiss, throws my bags into the car, and away we go. As we leave the airport, I reach for my seatbelt – yeah right. The drive from the airport gives an up-close introduction to some of the poorer parts of PAP. I see shanty houses and children begging in the street. As we approach the heart of the city I get my first taste of Haitian traffic, literally. When the streets are full and the heat is thick, exhaust fills the air. It’s stop and go and swerve and stop and go. This is something I will become familiar with in the days to come. I will prefer walking.

I drop off my bags at Reed’s house (kai Reed) and Pouchan asks me if I want to go to seminary. I’m more than a little confused, and then I finally understand he means the seminar. Apparentley, Susie has called it seminary on accident and the name has stuck with the students. We will refer to it as such for the rest of their stay, and always with a smile.

When I arrive at the school, I finally meet Reed, the phantom that I’ve been communicating with via email for weeks. I also meet Susie and Lynn, two other foreigners who have come to teach a 2-week seminar on the basics of teaching. These women warmly welcome me and will become my Haitian mothers for the next week. I sit at the seminar for the rest of the morning and soak it in. After my first Haitian lunch – rice with bean sauce – I am taken by Lolo via moto to the house I will be staying at. I crash for 2 hours and awake to my cell phone singing. Susie and Lynn have invited me over for dinner. My Haitian escorts, Mito and Jamison, walk me to their abode, and we spend the evening talking Haiti and SODA. These women are a hoot and I feel so thankful they have taken me under their wing. It is late and I am invited to spend the night. I sleep on the roof with Susie. She warns me about the rooster wake up call and I drift away. She teases me later that I sleep like a corpse. Day 1 – completed, survived.

The chorus sings, afternoons and Sunday

Honking horns of motos, tap-taps, cars-

warn you to get out of the way.

Creole fills the air.

The water seller cries “Dlo! Dlo!”

Timounn greet me, “Bon jou, en femme?”

Marchon announce their wares for sale

Stones rattle underfoot.

The wind blows,

and the tin roofs come alive

Evening looms and music blares

a Haitian remix of American style songs

Darkness falls, electricity buzzes on

off

on

off

A mosquito buzzes in my ear,

barking dogs lull me to sleep

The fan kicks on and mutes the heat

“Listen well,” Haiti whispers to me.

It’s enough to fill your ears and move your feet for days