HAITI!! DAY 5

Thursday, October 29, 2009  Day 5

 

            Morning came once again, as God spared us through another night in sleeping outdoors in Haiti.  The morning was spent helping Alexandra and George get their things around before breakfast, because they were to get back to the states today, as their jobs would not allow them to stay the entire week with us.  Growing close to these people over the past few days, made it hard to say goodbye, but knew we had to. 

            We all ate the eggs for breakfast together, and then fellowshipped a bit before their ride took off for the capital city.  During the week, Alexandra had been talking of doing a tapping technique on me, that she does with her patients back home.  Being unsure if it was voodoo, I kept telling her I didn’t know if I wanted her to do it, but finally, she talked me into it and I put my trust into her.  She did her think and it relaxed me amazingly, which prepared me for the day and continuation of the day.  Through this, we conversed getting on the topic of ADHD, in which I told her I was a self diagnosed ADHD.  We talked a while about this, telling her I had never scene a doctor, because it seemed like a waste of money to be told something I already knew.  She responded with, “Well, I am an MD and I don’t even need to make an appointment for you.  I have been observing you and you are definitely ADHD!”  It was no surprise to me, but what was is what happened next.  I told her that I had always wanted to try Ritalin, the medicine that supposedly calms you down and makes you focus.  Oddly enough, she had brought some with her, but had it packed up to go home.  She pulled it out, placed a tablet in my hand, in which I popped into my mouth and swallowed.  We were experimenting!  I gave her a hug and thanked her and she went on her way with Valentine and George down the long bumpy road.

            The rest of us continued to open the clinic short two Creole speaking people.  This was a very big loss, as we now only had one bilingual person in the languages of English and Creole.  But, with a will, there is a way, and it happened.  We arranged ourselves in what we thought was the best position and opened the gates.  Once again, the clinic was rushed with people, crowding the waiting room, and a constant buzz all day.  After we decided to try and fix this major problem, Mr. Beauregard wanted me to be at the stairs which led to the waiting room, not allowing people up.  “Just stand there and when someone want up, put your hand out and say ‘tun.’  It means ‘stay.’  That is all you have to say.  If they don’t, put it up again and raise your voice.  They will know that you mean business.”  Therefore, I slowly walked down, as I hate doing this.  I am not a fan of acting like a know a language by saying one word.  Then they think I know Creole and break into conversation.

            I finally got myself in place and two ladies with a small child and a baby walked up.  I did the directed motions and words, however, the mom did not pay attention to what I said, yet, thought I was reaching for her baby.  She thrust the young girl right into my hands and continued to walk up the stairs.  Instantly, my job description went from ‘bouncer’ to ‘babysitter.’  With no other options, I sat down and put the baby on my legs, bouncing her up and down.  By this time, Mr. Beauregard sent the mom downstairs with the other child, so she came and sat by us, but did not take the baby.  I noticed the baby had a rash across her whole body that looked something like ringworm.  Quickly, I removed all skin contact, as I tried to hold this baby up with my two index fingers; one in the middle of her back and one on her sternum.  Trouble was, she was a fairly new baby and she kept letting her head fall backwards and forwards making me very nervous.  Once control was maintained, I started bouncing her again, and when I looked down, I noticed her jeans were very weird looking.  The insides of her legs were a navy color, while the outsides were light denim.  I lifted her up and noticed she had transferred the weird colors to me, making half of my shorts a very dark brown and leaving the rest a nice khaki color.  It was at this moment that I realized I had been the victim of a crime.  A crime so bad that jail time should be considered.  That mom knew exactly what had happened, and used her brain to figure out how to make it happen on someone other than her.  Of course her baby had to pee like a racehorse.  She had just fed it.  I kindly smiled and laughed, but gave the baby back and walked stiff-legged up stairs, trying not to let the wet parts touch my skin.  I changed my clothes immediately, and went back to the clinic to see how things were going. 

            I grabbed a book that I needed to read for my DOOR assignments, and sat in a rocking chair.  About this time, the meds were kicking in and I started feeling very relaxed, and focused on everything.  My constant moving around and turret-like jolts were easing as I sat still and opened my book.  About 5 short hours later, I turned the last page in the book and read the ending.  As it sounds like a read for a straight 5 hours, it is a bit deceiving.  I was also doing the work that I was in place for.  Another mission we are doing with the clinic is serving a free meal to each person who visits.  We found a company that donates as much food as we need to make sure this is possible at the clinic.  It is a simple rice meal, but one that they would not have if they didn’t come, so it is a great thing.  I was responsible for filling the bowls that came.  We are not allowed to hand out paper plates, as they will all end up on the side of the streets instead of in the proper place of the trashcan.  Today there was not many people with bowls, as we hadnt’t really advertised this much, but that was soon to change in the days to come.  While reading and jumping up every now and then to get food, it was amazing how still, focused and calm I was for the afternoon.  I love narcotics!

            I went downstairs to see what was happening, as the clinic was wrapping up for the day.  I found three boys at the gate, and decided to strike up a conversation with them.  In English.  Of course they looked at me weird, but we made signals and finally started talking.  Just very slowly.  They taught me words in Creole and I did the same for them in English.  It was fun to finally get the chance to try this, as most the adults in the clinic had no interest in it.

            After the clinic closed, since our car was with the ones in Port au Prince, we decided to walk the neighborhoods together, familiarizing ourselves with the community around us.  We walked for an hour or so, through the countryside seeing all different sorts of houses from the obvious rich to the poorest of poor.  It certainly was an amazing experience to see the people in their natural environment, instead of at a clinic or from the windows of our flying car.  Watching the kids play soccer in their backyards as their dad was mowing with a machete was a picture worth taking and remembering for eternity.  The laughter heard while passing was a sign that their worry-free life was fine for them.  They were not worried about buying bigger and better things like we all are, but were more focused on scoring a goal by their brothers and sisters and they pretended they were playing for Haiti in the World Cup.

            We returned and ate the typical fried plantains and pikliz once again.  May sound old after eating it every day, but it never does get old.  However, something was different about this batch of pikliz.  The cook had used twice the amount of habanero peppers, as Mr. Beauregard placed the order saying the others were not hot enough.  It was instant burning in the stomach, which led once again to liquefied ‘business’ (as I will call it) for the remainder of the trip.  It set my stomach for a spin for sure, but the taste was still worth what I went through.  

            Since everyone was no longer with us to have the party outside every night, I took the place of sleeping on the one bed we had upstairs inside, and stayed in away from the mosquitoes and guaranteed dew in the morning. Instead, since the mattress of the bed was outside being used, I slept on the boxspring with wooden bars going across ever foot and a half.  It made for an interesting night as I would wake up with a wooden stick in all different parts of my body, but waking up to this was a blessing to waking up with a mosquito so fat from blood that it can no longer fly, sitting on your arm.  While I didn’t get the experience of the stars sleeping inside, I did get the experience of sleeping in a bit, as the sun was finally blocked from the walls!

HAITI!! DAY 4

Wednesday, October 28, 2009  Day 4-Opening Day

 

            As it seems to happen every morning, we wake up yet again to the rays of sun striking us in the eyes as we throw the freshly wetted blankets off of us, revealing our wrinkled and soft skin to the brisk air of 80 degrees.  The morning of ritual is done consisting of brushing teeth, doing the morning business followed by the paper work (all in the dark).  However, today was different.  The toilet did not flush.  We had forgot to fill the water tank on the top of the house the evening before, so, I grabbed the trusty bucket, went to our well, got out a bucket and drug it to the third floor spilling a bit with every step.  I took it to the bathroom and slopped it in the toilet bowl, being as careful as I can with five gallons of water to not go to fast, spraying my own ‘business’ all over the floor and more importantly me.  Never did I know filling a toilet with water made it automatically flush, yet, it was an amazing sight to see it work!

            After getting everything settled up stairs and our beds back inside, we marched down the stairs in a line like the armies of ants that litter the floors anytime food is left out.  We were going straight to our feast left on the table for us: avocados, eggs, bread, juice and soda.  I could live with this tradition for the rest of my life and not complain.  We patiently ate as nerves were running through out stomachs for the first day of what we came to do.  We were only hours away from opening the gates to a free clinic in Haiti.  Of course there were going to be tons of people, all non English speakers of course.  Who wouldn’t be excited for this opportunity of looking like an idiot when they think you are the doctor cause your skin is different? 

            Eight-thirty, time to open, rolls around and no doctor.  Patients are lined up outside, but we can not let them in, because the doctor we hired was no where to be seen.  Finally, about 9 o’clock, Alexandra, the doctor from NYC said she would see patients, even though this was not the intent of having her.  But it worked, and we opened the doors.  Instantly, our small waiting room was overflowing with anxious people.  My duty was not to be anywhere near the chaos, but in charge of taking pictures from a distance, as well as managing our ‘free thrift store.’  We gave each patient a shirt or something else that we brought down from the States.  They were very pleased to receive these items, but more often than not, tried taking more than one, which was not allowed. 

            My other job, taking pictures seemed awesome at first.  It gave me a chance to try and get some good snap shots, and for more of a purpose than for my own entertainment, but for the University.  However, I felt necessary to ask for permission before throwing a camera in someone’s face because they are at the doctor.  Once again, the language barrier made this difficult, therefore, I put my sign language into use.  It worked a bit, as I would hold a camera up and make the sign for please and take a picture.  Some people agreed, but most seemed to rather not have their face plastered around the States. 

            As far s the clinic went, the real doctor showed up around 10 in the morning, after Valentine, our official chauffer (who was born on February 14, and his name reflects it) took out to find the doctor, and did just that.  He brought him straight to work, and that is what he did.  From 10 o’clock to 4 o’clock, he had straight patients, without a water break or food break.  He is a trooper.  Especially since he was in the hotbox of a room without electricity, yet, never complained.  Through all the chaos we saw (I believe) 63 patients the first day with one doctor.  I thought it was successful with numbers like that.  And everyone, more importantly, left with a smile on their face and with a dose of hope!

            We broke for lunch about noon, which was prepared by our own cook the entire morning.  We watched her start our lunch at 7 in the morning, which, by the way wasn’t cooking.  She started lunch by gathering up the two roosters responsible for keeping us all awake all night, and bent the neck backwards.  She was nice enough to let me photograph and video her butchering both chickens.  What an awesome sight, watching the future food that would be giving us nutrients.  During the night when I told myself I wanted those chickens dead, I never thought it was going to happen, especially in my honor.  The cook prepared them with the typical rice and beans, sided with avocado and plantains.  An amazing Haitian tradition.

            After we all ate lunch, the crowd started to slow down.  We shifted around our positions, and taking picture in such a small clinic, I felt I had about every shot possible, but now it would just be with new people.  Quickly, I felt it my responsibility to get out of the way and retired to the back porch for a little shut-eye.  I awoke to the sound of Alicia tapping me and saying my name.  I had no idea I had slept that much.  It was beautiful!  But word was we were going to the beach for the evening and for supper, so I sprung to life, getting the proper attire on.  It was weird to walk through the waiting room to find that no one was there.  Last I had seen it, it looked like what I would think of the slave ships.  (This may sound awful, but it is true.  There were tons of people shoved into a tiny spot, all shoving and trying to get in.  This is not a racist comment, but true.) 

            When we arrived at the beach, it wasn’t like the ones I have grown accustomed to here in Miami.  Yet, it was very beautiful in its own way, as the sun was setting on the Eastern part.  Directly below the sun, the mountains sat with the silhouettes of about 10 naked Haitian boys playing soccer with a little ball and a homemade goal made from two sticks with a string going across the top.  My camera instantly came out as it was one of the most beautiful scenes I had ever scene.  It looked like something from a picture magazine.  After taking about 100 pictures, trying to get the perfect one, I let it rest and walked into the water.  Haitian beaches are very dangerous, as the riptide is extremely powerful.  The waves were enormous and very powerful.  Only the brave dared walk into the water, so I stayed on the beach.  Not because I wasn’t brave, but because I wasn’t in my suit.  I came for food, not for swimming.

            All I had heard about Haiti was the conch that was served on this particular beach.  We all put in our orders and waited about an hour over great conversation about how the first day went, and what we can do to make it better.  Finally the food came out, and sat on the plate looking as good as anything I had ever looked at food wise. We all enjoyed the wonderful taste of the grilled conch, as well as the fried plantains and pikliz, which you will soon learn is my new favorite food.  This combination was like eating a party in your mouth.  It was an instant circus dancing around your taste buds, all the way down to your stomach, and then the party continued.  Only this is when the party went downhill.  Figuratively speaking and naturally, downhill.  While the vibrations continued in the stomach, it was vibrations of being upset, which eventually led do the puking part of the party, or, in the case of this party, something much like puking.  To spare the details, I will just say my stomach juices churned this stuff into instant diarrhea, but I will leave out the color and all the information that makes it good.

            After sipping on a bit of Haitian whiskey and sharing more stories, we quickly paid and left to escape the bites of mosquitoes.  Not knowing if I would be back to the beach, I grabbed a bottle from the trash and filled with sand to return to dad for his collection back home.

            Arriving home, we pulled all the mattresses back outside, and took the necessary precaution of the biting terrors that were sure to come out for the night.  Wrapped up in a blanket and closed my eyes.  The dreams of AC and my bed didn’t come fast enough, but eventually did.

HAITI!! DAY 3

Tuesday, October 27, 2009  Day 3

 

            As reliable as clockwork, we wake up drenched in liquids, whether it is sweat or due we are unsure, but either way it is very uncomfortable as the blankets and your clothes are sticking to your hydrated skin.  We know that today must be a very productive day as we have lots to do to the building before we have the grand opening on Wednesday.  We get around in the darkness of the lightless house and check in at the breakfast table to find the cook not there, nor anyone else.  Why not?  It is still 5:45 in the morning! We stand in shock, but get to work anyways. 

            On the trip down, everyone carried everything personal in a carryon, yet, checked two bags each full of hospital and office supplies for the clinic.  Therefore, we had all those things to organize and get ready for the arrival of the new doctor.  We break into each bag, shocked to see how much stuff is in there and that they is absolutely no order to it whatsoever.  The very first bag I open, I stare down to find my toiletry bag.  I could not carry it on due to the liquids, so I put it in the checked bags, but it got moved around to fit more things in and we could not find it for the first two days.  I used a Haitian toothbrush and women’s deodorant for those days, and smelt wonderful.  But now I had my bag, with all my stuff including my glasses and extra contacts, which I definitely needed due to the dust content of Haiti. 

            In the middle of organizing the clinic, we stop for the typical Haitian breakfast then get back to work.  We hear news that the doctor we thought we found the day before has fell through and now, the day before opening we are now doctor-less.  The leaders know of a hospital ran by Cubans, but they are very hesitant to talk to us about giving names of doctors needing jobs.  Thank God we had a Cuban on our team, so we sent him to talk with them.  Of course they complied perfectly, and gave us a list, one man which we called up, and who is now the first doctor at the HIU Clinic in Jacmel, Haiti.  A great gift from God at a time we were very desperate. 

            After sweating all morning in the clinic with no breeze, fan or electricity, I went upstairs to get a shower.  Well, I guess you would call it getting clean in a I drop per second stream.  However, with no electricity and no water in the bin for the house that gives us the water, I have to take my bucket to our well, fill it up with the cold water, and take it back to the shower.  I successfully took a shower in less than a gallon of water, but felt very awkward doing it.  After I tried every possible way to fit my large frame of a body into that tiny little bucket, I finally realized it wasn’t used like a bath, but I was to use a bottle to get the water out and dump it on me.  It worked much better and I was clean. 

            When I went back outside, there were signs of storms, which was a relief.  It meant cooler weather was coming in, but mosquitoes as well.  With one good always comes one bad.  I went straight down stairs as I received word that lunch was ready.  When I got my plate and handed it to the cook, she threw a fish out of the pot and onto my plate.  Not a fillet, but an entire fish giant squishy eyeball and all.  She then gave me some boiled plantains and sweet yam followed by rice and beans.  While I love Haitian food and believe it to be some of the best tasting things ever, this meal I will have to disagree with.  My life would still be complete if I never eat, see, or dream of that again. 

            As far as the rest of the day and evening went, it was a lot of wondering what to do, and waiting to be told, which never happened.  Lots of being disorganized and no order in place.  It was really frustrating as we would try to do something, then get told not to for no reason, keeping things we felt important from getting done.  Finally, after nothing continued to happen, the NYC doctor asked me to shave her head.  Her hair was already very short, but she wanted it as short as my clippers would go.  It was my first time to cut a black person’s hair, and first to shave a woman’s.  Two great experiences in one action.  Shortly after, everyone came together for one last meeting and discussion before the opening.  It was great to hear everyone’s expectations for opening day as I really had no idea what to expect for a turnout.

            Finally, just like every other day, the worst part of the day came.  Night time.  Feasting time for the bugs and no electricity.  Yet, we all still braved mother nature and slept outside, keeping open skin covered for protection.  I could feel my fat melting through my skin and into my blanket.  Were my clothes going to be hanging off to me when I got back to the states?  I sure sweat enough each night to lose an inch off of my waste.  

HAITI!! DAY 2

Monday, October 26, 2009  Day 2

 

            As the sun broke over the horizon, it shone in our faces as we were sleeping facing the East.  We really never knew what direction we were facing until that moment.  We were unaware, but later found out it was about 5:45 in the morning, but we weren’t tired.  We greeted the day anyways.  We all looked at our fans sitting still and the rooms still dark.  We flipped light switches but nothing happened.  We turned water knobs to shower, but nothing came out.  It was as if everything was dead.  It was!

            Being the poor country that Haiti is, they do not have electricity around the country 24/7.  In Jacmel, electricity is only used from 1 PM until 1 AM.  Therefore, every morning there was no electricity.  Even into the noon hours, it was blazing hot, and no relief was offered by a fan.  No need to mention from an AC because I do not think they exist in Haiti.  Only in the extreme rich parts, which still is not that wealthy. 

            We all got around powerless and waterless, then went to the breakfast table where the Haitian breakfast of bread, avocado and soda awaited us.  Being gluten free, the chef had kindly prepared eggs mixed with peppers, hotdogs and onions, which quickly became everyone’s favorite for breakfast.

            After the dishes were cleared, we all got back in the car and took out for Port au Prince, down the long bumpy and chopped up roads.  Remembering the experience from only hours ago, I was not excited, but we needed to go the capital city to find a doctor.  We made the trip to Haiti to open a clinic without a working doctor, only the one we recruited from New York that was leaving on Thursday.  We drove and drove until we finally reached the city again, still as dirty and smelly as we left it.  The sense of being unorganized soon began to come to our heads as no one really knew what to do.  We were crammed into a car with no breathing room and were sitting around Haiti in the hot sun.  The two native Haitian men with us were inside doing stuff we never found out, but that is not the part to take not of.  However, five of us were in the car, with it running allowing the AC to try and keep us cool for not 1, not 2 but 6 straight hours while we were unaware of where our bodyguards were.  And let me tell you, not knowing the language while sitting in a car with everyone looking at you because you are white, saying the only English word they know, “money” and getting angry when you shake your head is a kind of scary event.  To top things off, a group of men with dreads (which in Haiti means they are trouble makers) was only a short distance away harassing people as they got into their cars, were gradually creeping closer and closer.  We saw something that had to deal with drugs as they attacked a man getting into his car, and then broke in and jumped in as he drove off.  Those left behind were even madder and decided to come right next to us and yell about their problems.  As sly as I could without attracting attention, I edged my finger up ever so slowly and locked my door. 

            Finally, our guys came out, yet, stood and talked outside for about 2 hours while the dreaded men continued to meander near by.  When we all came together in the car, we headed down the street to where George grew up and he was reunited with his mother after about a year or two.  It was so fun to get to see them all so happy to hear about the arrival of the long lost son.  The hard part was, he was only allowed about 10 minutes before we had to head back toward Jacmel. 

            On the way back, we continued to see the scene of poverty and the sights that make your stomach hurt as you think back to your computer, mp3 player and water knob on your shower labeled, “hot” and wonder why God blessed you instead of these people.  Eventually, after telling the leaders that we are hungry, they pull over to the side of the road.  Out of nowhere, about 20 people come with pots and pans.  I had not seen one person there before we stopped, and how they all knew to bring food instead of souvenirs I do not know, but it is like they heard us somehow.  Maybe Haiti is super advanced, but just acting poor.  Maybe they have all the rental cars bugged to all the people in the streets, telling them everything we are saying, and then they act poor to get our money.  We will continue to pretend this isn’t true though.  The story will be better this way.  Anyways, we buy plantains, pikliz (shredded cabbage, carrots, onion, habanero peppers, lime juice and salt), raw conch, muffins and sugar cane.  It truly was a feast, filled with poisonous germs to the stomachs of Americans.  However, I ate it as if I was starving to death and then just waited for my digestive tract to notice the red flags and make me pay the price.  It never happened though amazingly. 

            Once again, we head down the bumpy road, continuously whacking our heads on the top of the car after hitting, not potholes, but large craters in the road every five feet.   Driving there truly is an experience you will not get anywhere else except in a bull riding arena.  We soon enter Jacmel in the dark, not knowing where we are due to the lack of light, but find our way home.

            For the second night in a row, we lather up in bug spray, cover up in our hot extra think blankets, and try to sweat, I mean sleep under the stars.  With five of us out there together, we try to talk and share stories, but we are super tired and have to close our eyes.  Before we do, we hear the news from Florida as Mr. Beauregard called home that it really is only 7:30, which was our bedtime every night.  But we close our eyes and go to sleep.

            Come 1 or so in the morning, the mentally handicapped roosters see the moon, believe it is the sun, and crow like crazy the remainder of the night.  Since we can’t sleep, several of us notice each other is awake, and all observe the stars together, talking about constellations.  Since they are so bright, due to no lights being present until the Dominican Republic, the stars are just glowing.  Suddenly something catches my eye.  It is like a shooting star that doesn’t go away, but I soon remember watching the stars with my father and him pointing out a satellite.  We were watching one of Earth’s satellites go right through Orion’s belt.  What an awesome sight to see.

 

HAITI!! DAY 1

INTRODUCTION-Haiti, the poorest of poor

The principal at my school and her husband, both MD’s, have had a vision of opening a Medical University in Haiti.  However, before doing this, they feel it necessary to start a free clinic to help those in need; a clinic that the University students can work at to build hours.  Therefore, the Hispaniola International University (HIU) was formed.  HIU asked me to go along and help open the clinic.  The group I went with consisted of 6 people: Mr. Beauregard, a Haitian man named George who lives in Miami, a Cuban man named Harold from Miami, Alicia Janzen, the administrative assistant at YLC and myself, as well as a Haitian-American woman doctor from NYC named Alexandra.  We all arrived in Port au Prince, Haiti early on Sunday morning to officially start the week.

 

A little background on Haiti before we get started.  Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  Medical issues seen that we knew we would be dealing with was mainly parasites, which come from their water, and malaria, spread by the thousands of mosquitoes that live there.  The average income per person per day is about two American dollars.  The national language is Creole, which is very much based off of French. 

 

Sunday, October 25, 2009  Day 1

 

The sound of music coming from my phone wakes me at 4:30 in the morning.  I slowly drag myself out of bed as I brush my teeth and go to the bathroom.  Everything was packed allowing me to sleep as much as possible and get the airport by 5 to meet the group.  Alicia stayed the night at the DOOR house, as we live very close to the airport.  My room mate Julie was kind enough to wake up and take us, getting us there in perfect time.  When she dropped us off, we were met by everyone except Harold, the man who planned the whole trip.  Time kept ticking by, but he was nowhere to be found.  Finally, at 5:30 George decided to call him.  Harold answered, revealing that the call woke him up.  He sprung into gear and got to the airport immediately. 

We went through the airport, getting scanned about 300 times it seems and showed off our awesome pictures on our passports the same amount of times.  Seems like showing the first person would be good enough.  Guess not.  As we sat in line for customs, we saw the parent of one of our children checking in line too.  She also was going to Haiti for the week and was on our plane.  Finally, we all got through safely without getting frisked or anything, and walked to the gate.  Mr. Beauregard went straight to a man and started talking like crazy.  He told us to come over and introduced us as the man shook each of our hands.  We later found out he was the President of the Senate in Haiti.  The fourth most powerful man on the island. 

As we boarded the plane, the flight-attendant said the typical, “Watch your head!” as if I didn’t know I was tall.  Why does everyone think they are the first person to discover this fact?  People passed and passed but no one sat by me.  I kept waiting for someone to plop down beside me, however, the announcement of the closed door came and the seat next to me was empty.  Perfect!  I closed my eyes and passed out.

While sleeping, a bright light beamed right through my eyelids, waking me quickly.  The sun had just come up over the horizon, came right through my window and woke me up.  I look out to see what was going on, and saw the eastern tip of Cuba going right below us.  What an amazing sight!  I wish I could be half the artist that God is!  The rest of the flight went as directed and we landed in Port au Prince, Haiti about 8:40.  This was the last time that I knew the correct time for the whole week.  We never knew what time zone we were in, but finally, on the last day, discovered Haiti was on Central Time, even though it was east of Miami.  Didn’t make sense to us either.

As we successfully made it through customs in Haiti, we went to the exit doors, but sat and waited until our chauffer arrived.  When we received word that he was outside, we wheeled all our backs out the door, revealing our first real glimpse of Haiti.  People EVERYWHERE.  And everyone thought their responsibility was grabbing our bags and running with them.  Talk about putting up a fight to maintain ownership of our bags.  However, no one was trying to rob us, only help.  However, any help they gave meant we owed them money, or so they thought. 

We get to our car, which long story short, ended up not being “nice” enough for us, so we sat an waited about 2 hours until they found a better one.  In the meantime, the beggars outside the fences started yelling.  One in particular was about a 6’5” man dressed in all navy with a navy stocking hat on as well.  Why he wears a hat when it is 235 degrees outside I will never know, but power to him.  This man loved to yell!  “Hey boss!  Big Boss!”  I look up, but quickly glance away.  “Yea, you!  Boss!  How about some money!”  I soon learned as I sat and listened that this was the only English he knew.  I continued to ignore him and he kindly hopped away on his one leg and one crutch. 

While we waited, the men that carried our bags also waited.  For a total of two hours, they sat there just staring, waiting for as much as a quarter to be thrown their way.  Other beggars would walk by and say, “God Bless” just trying to get a conversation started, which would lead to money.  It was unreal. 

Finally we got the car situation figured out, loaded ourselves in one and our luggage in another, and took off.  Before we left, Mr. Beauregard instructed to lock the doors and keep the windows up.  He pulled out his wallet, rolled the window down an inch, and stuck out a 20 dollar bill.  All the men had gathered around the car, tapping and hitting on the windows just trying to get our money.  At this sign of money, they all snapped and went crazy trying to get it.  Instantly the window went up and we got out of there. 

We went directly to a Haitian restaurant and got lunch.  We all got a baked chicken with tomato sauce, fried plantains and rice.  It was a quiet lunch as everyone was still very tired from waking up so early.  We then loaded the cars and took off across the country to Jacmel.  Driving through Port au Prince was an amazing experience and something I never thought I would see.  Poverty everywhere as everyone wanted money.  We saw pigs eating trash in dirty ravines and people digging right beside them.  Many dirty markets lined the sides of the broken roads and people walking everywhere.  Streets were lined with litter of every color.  It almost seemed to be a new art form that was arising in Port au Prince, but we all knew that it really was just an environmental catastrophe in the making.  Painting the perfect picture with words is almost impossible.  The road takes us through the city, small towns, horrible road conditions, beautiful mountains, views of the ocean, small villages supported only by traffic on the road and finally to Jacmel, the sight of the clinic. 

When we arrive, it is dark outside, so the view is very select.  The few street lights illuminated reveal just a portion of the city, but the lights of cars and mostly scooters fill the streets.  The nighttime is the life in Haiti.  The population of the streets seems to double.  We arrive at the house where the clinic is an unload everything.  We settle in for a short bit, getting a tour of the house, then take off for the beach, which is the place to be at night.  Bands were playing and people were lounging, having no worries in the world.  Or so it seemed.  We got food, which was not approved by the FDA, along with everything we ate for the entire week.  It was delicious, but visions of me hovering on the toilet danced through my head for the remainder of the evening.

When we got back “home,” we blew up air mattresses and drug them out on the balcony on the third floor, under the stars.  Being this high surrounded by a locked gate with razor wire, we were “guaranteed safe” or so we were told.  With the temperatures still staying around 85 degrees, we brought two fans out on extension chords, which would be a necessity for sleeping in the harsh conditions of heat and humidity, as well as mosquitoes.  We used about 4 cans of OFF, climbed under the blankets and tried to sleep.  However, huge, heavy blankets on a hot and humid night is not your best friend.  Yet, they were protection from mosquitoes and malaria, so we deemed them as necessary.  Considering all this, I closed my eyes with a smile, for I was sleeping in HAITI!

While I thought the day was over, it really wasn’t.  I could not sleep well.  Waking about every hour do to heat stroke, I would try to cool down by getting out from under the blanket, but didn’t stay long as the humming of wings and bites of pain surrounded my body.  The deadly mosquitoes were out and hungry.  I also noticed the fans were no longer working and everything was covered in water as the due levels are very high.  I looked into the heavens to see the most beautiful sight.  The stars were brighter than anything I had ever seen in my life.  Millions of them shone above.  Even the ones millions of light years away that are never seen were very alive and brilliant in Haiti.  Once again I closed my eyes and smiled.

 

THE REAL PARENT TEACHER CONFERENCE DAY-A DAY LATE

Once again, for the second time this year, it was the day deemed Super Tuesday, in which the morning is designated for a huge worship service followed by a 'super' breakfast.  Well while these things were good, I would not put the label 'super' on anything else today.

The morning kicked off great after everyone was back in class, however, after the festivities, class was only in session for an hour before lunch.  The hour was focused on Reading, and for one reason only.  Report cards.  They were supposed to go out last night, but since no on in my class is responsible, nor their families, they all came in this morning thinking I had time in the middle of the morning to meet with them.  Lucky enough for them, it WAS Super Tuesday and the children were still outside eating, so I had a few spare minutes. 

I gave the parents the report cards, all of which were splattered with a certain letter that comes after 'E' in the alphabet.  Of course the parents were mad and their children would never ever do anything bad in class, let alone not do their homework.  Of course it was my fault and I GAVE their precious angel of a son an F in all my classes.  I gladly whipped out the grade book and flipped through each class and each student revealing that no one does homework nor completes their tests in class.  They now had nothing to argue about except the fact they don't spend enough time with their children to know they have homework, or care enough to ask.  How frustrating is that?  After two, deep conversations with parents, who tried their best to conduct the meeting on their terms in Creole, but quickly lost that battle, let upset with me, the principal, school, children and mad at each other (as in spouses).  What a great way to start MY Super Tuesday.  

Therefore, as I explained to my guys that this 9-weeks would be better, I started off by talking how we were going to improve reading.  I sat them down with their books and it was silent for an hour.  I couldn't believe it.  I got to work on some of my own things on the computer, much to my surprise, getting a surprise visit from the principal, to find me on facebook, while the boys were super quiet.  "Why is everyone asleep, Isaac?"  What!!! Asleep?  I had just seem them reading and even asked them questions to which they responded, however, within two minutes of our conversation, they had fell asleep, making me look like a horrible teacher.  I couldn't believe this.  The rest of the day I was walking around with none other than a yard stick, long enough to connect with any student that dared to wink in my class.  I made sure to bring my name back up to the level I previously had it with Ms. Beauregard.  

The rest of the day was a constant fight trying to get them to do anything.  Lunch was late, making everything set back an hour, and making me sit out in the sun 3 hours instead of two.  This makes no one that I know happy to be left in the oven an hour longer than intended.  In the world of baking, your cookies are now burnt crisp black and ruined.  But, of course Mr. Isaac can withstand the heat WHILE continuously yelling at first graders who refuse to listen to anyone with the tone of white skin.  It really is getting to me, the lack of respect these students have for other races, or, maybe, other people other than the Beauregard family.  It that was my last name, it would be instant respect!

After lunch, I was determined to find a better way to keep grades, which actually worked.  Instead of doing it longhand, and not knowing exactly how to figure everything up at the end, I need something on the computer and found just that.  Thank you GOOGLE for always being there.  I just searched 'online grade book' and WHAM!  Out came the perfect software, which was downloadable and free.  After doing the tutorial, I caught the ropes of it, and got it down pat.  Putting grades and assignments in was so easy and will save so much time and reduce stress immensely.  This alone is going to help my last quarter go so much better as I will have much more time and much more information to show parents, as the program breaks down every subject and assignment for parents online.  Thank you technology!

Tonight I was interviewed by Mennonite Mission Network on the phone, as they wanted a story about the Miami DOOR program to put in Sunday School packages to try and teach people about Miami and our program.  It was an honor to talk about this, as I realized how much it really is changing me.  As questions were shot my way about things such as what I am learning from my boys instead of teaching them, it was fun to have to answer immediately, which only comes from the heart.  I really am making a difference in their lives and in mine as well.  I, slowly but surely, am shaping into the man that God intended me to be...through the help of five young Haitian men.  And I will gladly call them men, knowing exactly what these boys have been through.  Only men can go walk in their shoes and keep smiling!

THE RETURN

So today was my first full day back in the states, and my first day back at school.  I was unsure how I would be received.  While in Haiti, I kept hearing word from the principal that they boys thought I quit on them because they ran me off.  First of all, they have to be almost stupid to think they could run me off that easily.  They all even wrote me letters telling me that they promise to come back if only I would give them another chance.  One boy even said, "I don't know where you are, but I hope you are enjoying it and relaxing, because we really miss you hear and want you to come back.  I almost wonder if someone didn't write them a template and tell them to say something like theirs.  Who knows.

When I got back, the people wanted to hide me from the boys, so they thought I was still gone.  So, like a good employee, I went along with it.  I got on the phone in the office, called the back room where they were and talked to them, but told them I was in Kansas.  Then, I ran back to the room, opened the door and the whole school stood up, clapping because they were happy to see me again.  That really is a beautiful thing to see after returning.  

The day continued, but it was really hard to do anything as I had no plans, and hadn't thought about school for over a week.  But I went along with it, and had a very productive day, as the boys actually did pay good attention when I needed them to.  

After school, I was required to have grade cards done today, and stick around all evening for parents meetings.  Even though I KNEW that none of my parents would come, I still stuck around.  Much to my surprise, 2 parents came, but only one stuck around after the big meeting to talk with me.  That was the only parent that I didn't need to talk to , as his son in the best in the class.  It still is shocking to me how these people just can not get it out of their system to accept failure.  I sure learned that you can take the person out of Haiti, but you can not take Haiti out of them.

As I was in school today, I revealed to the kids that I had spent the week in Haiti.  Of course they were excited, and I showed them pictures.  We all shared stories about their homes there and what I saw.  It was a great experience to hear about how they grew up there, now that I can picture how they actually were.  Knowing what my boys went through to be where they are today just makes my heart melt.  I can't picture my boys waking up early to go to the city dump to collect scraps for the family, or hiking 3 miles to get the family water every day.  I truly do appreciate them 100 times more after experiencing their culture first hand.  

My blogs throughout the week of Haiti are still being written, as I was without power for about the whole week, and without my computer.  But the story should be worth waiting for, or at least I hope so.  If I can write it half as well as God let me experience it, then it will be worth reading!