And sometimes, it floods.
On my little street, all the rain water from the neighborhood runs down the road, past my front door, and then down the little path that lies between my Shoebox and St Joseph's. Until the demolition crew starts dumping thousands of pounds of rubble into that little path. Then the water does something different.
I was sitting on my porch after a delicious dinner of pancakes with my friend Patricia, and my neighbor kids, Emerson, Manezda, and Camille. Manezda stuck her head out of my door to look at the rain that was pouring down. "Kez," she said very matter-of-factly. "Your house is going to flood in about 2 minutes." I jumped up and sure enough, the water was rushing down the hill in front of my door, as usual, but with the path blocked, it was simply staying there, in front of my door! I stepped outside and it was higher than my ankles and lapping over my stoop. And the rain was still coming down in buckets!
I think I screamed.
Patricia, Emerson, and I grabbed brooms and shovels and buckets. We went to work against the elements, trying to redirect the water to the slightly uphill other side of the Shoebox. From there, it could run down a little path and into the abandonned homes of my neighbors. We were soaked to the bone in about 12 seconds and working like crazy to save my home. Manezda stayed inside and used a basket of dirty towels and sheets to barricade the water that had already entered the porch, to keep it from reaching the kitchen. Outside, we continued paddling.
It was a losing battle.
Reinforcements arrived in the form of the 15 year old child slave from next door. I tell you, it pays to be kind to the slaves in the neighborhood! Over at St Joe's, a major leak was flooding one of their rooms, but once they had things under control, the boys came to help us too. For two and a half hours, the rain played games with us, slowing to a drizzle and just as we were beginning to breathe, drenching us once more. Finally, it stopped, and we retired to our respective homes, exhausted, wet, and very proud.
And this is why living in Haiti is never ever boring.