Peaches

The students in 3rd grade at Jubilee School speak English very well but they struggle with French, the professional language of Haiti. Every week, thanks to my friends at Chop Point School who provided me with a whole library of children's books in French, I do story hour with them in an attempt to pique their interest and expand their vocabularies.

 

We recently finished the book James and the Giant Peach, by Roald Dahl. There was only one problem: these kids had never seen a peach before! When I explained what the fruit was, they all thought I meant a mango. So finally, I got a friend to bring me a peach all the way from America, and each student got to touch, smell, and taste a real peach.

 

I wish you could have seen how excited they were!

 

 

 

“The walls were wet and sticky, and peach juice was dripping from the ceiling. James opened his mouth and caught some of it on his tongue. It tasted delicious.”
       - Roald Dahl, James and the Giant Peach

Birth control

One of my students owns a pharmacy. He told me this story.

"A few days ago, a man came to my pharmacy and bought birth control pills. I thought that was a little odd, but I asked him if the pills were for his wife or girlfriend. He responded that they were indeed for his wife. 'But she doesn't like to take them,' he explained. 'She says they make her feel sick. So I take them for her.'"

Opening day

Our new clinic building is ready.

 

 

The children from Jubilee School came and prayed over it.

 

 

Grace and I had a team huddle with our staff.

 

 

JB gave a speech.

 

 

We cut the ugly official ribbon.

 

 

And for the first time, patients were welcomed into our pristine new clinic...

 

 

...painted in the Haitian white and green that signifies "medical institution"...

 

...with plenty of space to work comfortably, even when visiting doctors come to town.

 

And a good time was had by all!

 

 

Let it rain

This is the sight that I wake up to every morning.

 

 

One of the blessings of living in Haiti is that the sun shines every single day. But the curse of living in Gonaives is that it doesn't rain most evenings like it does in Port-au-Prince and other parts of Haiti. Last year's raining season was exceptionally dry and the whole city has suffered, with thick dust that settles on everything overnight, and with rivers and wells drying up. 

 

I posted last month that we were overjoyed to finally have running water. Well, that lasted about 2 1/2 weeks. Then the water in our well got so low that our pipes don't reach, so we are back to pumping by hand and carrying 5 gallon buckets of water upstairs.

I honestly don't mind the hand-pumping. It's rhythmic and almost soothing, not to mention, it's a great way to be chummy with the neighbors. But there's a little problem: the low water level affects the hand pump too. It is becoming increasingly difficult to get water, and if we don't start having some rain, our well is at risk of drying up. Don't ask me what we will do if that happens. I have no idea.

So please join me in praying for rain. Lots and lots of rain.

Statue of Liberty?

I discovered recently that Haitians call the Statue of Liberty "Columbia". I was puzzled. Where did this name come from? What connection do Haitians see between the Statue of Liberty and Columbia?

Then one of the 3rd graders explained.

 

Oh. Now I get it. Do you?

Friendship and theft

Poor Haitians are not bad people. They are simply poor. They are needy, and years of hunger, counterproductive NGO efforts, and destructive patterns have taught some of them that if they do not lie or steal, they will not survive. The general belief is that blan yo, the white people, have seemingly endless amounts of funds. I imagine that some justify their actions by saying “Surely, if my problem is big enough, it wouldn’t be wrong to take some of the foreigners’ money. They can simply call America and get more.” Thus time and time again, I have seen money disappear. I’ve had toys, clothes, and jewelry stolen from my home. I’ve had staff members turn in receipts that appear altered. Sometimes I know clearly who the culprit is; sometimes, I simply know that something is missing.

Theft is primarily a loss of material goods, most of them replaceable. But the secondary and far worse effect of this frequent dishonesty is the nagging fear in the back of my mind that no Haitian is trustworthy. I have not found it easy to be true friends with poor Haitians, so the few friends I do have are very special to me. And I despise the fact that whenever I think about these friends, there is always the shadow of doubt: “How long will it be before this one breaks my trust?” I don’t have proof, but I have many reasons to believe that two of my good friends in Port-au-Prince were stealing from me the entire time that we worked together. And here in Gonaives, a friend who I have trusted more than any other Haitian, recently admitted to stealing from us.

It is a terrible fear - that the ones we trust, the ones who have been with us during the greatest and worst moments of our lives here – that they will betray us. I try to ignore it but always, always that fear is there. It weighs on me and it makes me hold myself back in these friendships. I truly believe that those who have stolen from me still care about me, and that to them, the act of thievery did not diminish their affection for me or their loyalty to me. But something in me changes when that trust is broken, and a person who steals from me, especially those who lie about it, cannot stay in the same category of true friends.

Last week, my friend Christine visited me with her 5 children. Her teenage daughter cut her leg getting out of the taptap so I took care of it, and left the bag of Band-Aids on the table. I didn’t see what happened later; all I knew was that the teenage girl came back to the living room after a trip to the bathroom and Christine said sharply, “Put those back right now. They are not yours.” And the girl placed 2 Band-Aids back on the table.

Sometimes I am haunted by the fear that my friends will steal. Other times, there’s Christine. She reminds me that I can and should trust my Haitian friends. And my hope in humanity is restored.

Simple joys

When your stove stops working and after 2 weeks, a simple repair makes it work again, that is a simple joy.

 

 

When an electrician removes the flimsy little wires that gave your apartment power and replaces them with thick, safe wires that are completely enclosed in a breaker box, that is a simple joy.

 

 

When the newly strengthened electricity allows you get your pump primed and pumping so that you have running water for the first time in 3 months, that is a simple joy.

 

 

When all three of those things happen in the same day, that's a pretty hefty dose of simple joy! And when you get into bed that night and it's cold enough to sleep under your cozy comforter, it's almost too much simple joy to handle.