Graduations

All my graduations follow a similar pattern. The students sing, the "godfather" and "godmother" of the class (sort a combination of sponsors and commencement speakers) give speeches, and then I give out diplomas and honorary first scrubs.

 

 

 

 

Then all the graduates and I pose for an eternity while the spectators takes photos.

 

Then the frenzy begins. Everyone wants to take individual photos with their spouses, children, their own graduation "godparents", and of course with me, their beloved professor.
 

 

 

 

Smiling for that many photos can get quite exhausting!

 

 

The best moment during the photo-athon is this: someone I have never met before grabs me, and says, "May I have a photo with you?!" And next thing I know, I'm posing with a complete stranger. I promise you, no exaggeration, this has happened at all of my six graduations.  

 

 

My students always give me a "thank you" gift. It's generally an ugly picture frame or an ugly flower print. However, my students who graduated in May came up with something a little more creative.

 

 

I was relieved to discover that the giant present was not an enormous hideous picture frame, but a custom-made plaque which reads: "Class of 2014 - Miss Keziah, We will never forget you."

 

I think it's quite nice. But all of my Haitian friends reminded me that the students' choice of words is precisely what people put on the banners that get hung in a church or neighborhood whenever a well-known personage has died. "We will never forget you." We now refer to it as my death plaque.

 

 

The most memorable moment in any graduation thus far happened yesterday. At the end of the ceremony my students made me stand in the front of the room and they all lined up before me. One by one, they walked up to me, kissed me the ceremonial kiss on each cheek, and thanked me in their own words. It was a very sweet touch.

It generally takes me 2 months to realize that my students are no longer new, and that I actually like them a lot. By the time I have this revelation, class is almost over and graduation is bittersweet. Most of these students I will not see again, and if I do, it won't be the same because we won't be in the camaraderie of the classroom. Now I have to break in a new group of students who I most certainly do not like yet. Oh, well. Give me another 2 months and the whole cycle will repeat.

Congratulations to all my students -- to all my graduates!

Pirate Day

I bet you didn't know that pirates played a role in the history of Haiti. In fact, all those movies that show swashbuckling pirates wreaking havoc in the Caribbean and hiding out on the Island of Tortuga are based on fact. There really were French boucaniers (hence the word "buccaneers") living on Tortuga or Isle de la Tortue, in French, who made their living hunting on the island of Hispaniola, which was under Spanish control. As the wildlife grew scarce, the boucaniers switched to piracy, attacking and looting ships on the crossings between Europe and the New World. Eventually, their harassment of the waterways was a large factor in Spain relinquishing half of the island of Hispaniola to France, setting the stage for the creation of the nations we know as Haiti and the Dominican Republic.

 

In honor of our glorious and questionable history of piracy, this week the children at Jubilee School celebrated Pirate Day! Arrrrrrgh!

 

 

Everyone got costume pieces and pirate tattoos. The students made treasure maps, and crafted daggers and swords.

 

Even our Haitian teachers got into the spirit of the event! Fresnel and Wilkens had the job of giving the kids face-painted moustaches and beards. I think they got a little carried away...

 

 

Somehow moustaches and beards became Indian war paint!

 

The festivities culminated in an extensive treasure hunt, which took the pirates all over the school and clinic grounds, and finally to a long-lost treasure trove! The kids eagerly dug it out and returned triumphantly bearing a chest full of gold and jewels, which oddly enough turned out to be edible and quite delicious.  

 

I have conducted this kind of fun and games for children my whole life, so it seems quite normal to wear a silly costume or be out late at night burying treasure in preparation for the next day's activities. But for kids from Jubilee and even teachers from other parts of Gonaives, something as simple as Pirate Day opens their minds to a whole new realm of creativity. I never realized how important having an imagination was until I came to Haiti where imagination is not a common thing. The lack thereof affects everything, from the way people raise their children to the way they teach, from the way they relate to God to the way they try to make money. Some creativity and some imagination could go a long way here - fathers might find an alternative to beating their children for discipline, teachers might do more than demand memorization, young people might learn to understand the scriptures themselves, and women might choose to sell something that will actually make a profit, instead of selling the same thing that all their neighbors sell.

And even if none of that happens, at least the 45 kids who tramped around Jubilee all day yesterday looking for treasure had a good time and a full belly. That's something.

Sock Day

My favorite activity with the kids: Sock Day!

 

 

I told a made-up story about a boy who wouldn't wash his socks, and then I taught the kids a great little ditty that claims, "Black socks, they never get dirty, the longer you wear them, the stronger they get. Sometimes I think I should launder them; something keeps telling me, don't wash them yet. Not yet, not yet."

And then we made sock puppets. The older kids, ages 10-13, sewed eyes, noses, mouths, hair and clothes onto their socks using scraps of fabric and plastic sequins. The littler children, ages 5-9, used markers and pipe-cleaners to make their dolls.

 

 

 

Some of the older boys opted to make sock bombs instead. To make a sock bomb, we simply stuff the foot of a sock with old wood-shavings and then tie the ankle off. The boys then had Sock Olympics, competing in the "Underhand Sock Toss", the "Overhand Sock Toss", the "Between-the-Legs Sock Toss" and the "Facing Backwards Sock Toss." Obinio (2nd photo below) was the overall champion!

 

 

 

I had feared that it might be difficult to maintain these rowdy ghetto children's attention for an hour-long art and crafts project, but they truly enjoyed it. They also got surprisingly creative, adding things like ears, eyebrows, arms, glasses, and even one apron complete with pocket.

 

When the kids heard that it was my mom who sent the socks for them, they responded in kind. Two of the third graders immediately brought me their puppets. "Miss Keziah, I want you to give mine to your mom!" "Give the one I made to your dad!" Several kids tried to give me theirs to keep but I insisted they at least take them home to show their families first. Children in Jubilee don't have much to be proud of, and I don't want to rob them of this opportunity.

Lesson learned today: the kids love arts and crafts!

Tet bef

Earlier this summer 2 Jubilee School teachers tried to guilt-trip me into helping them with a project. I really love these guys but they were manipulative, though I'm sure they thought they were just being persuasive. After a week, I finally said "No".

 

But then things were awkward between us for weeks! Until we went to the countryside with Lala and I hid an old bull skull in their bed. They found it that night, when there was no electricity, and they both panicked. They thought a naughty orphan put it there, but I think they also were pretty scared that it was voodoo. When I confessed, the whole atmosphere changed and these two serious, professional fellows kept us in stitches for an hour as they re-enacted their terrified leaping around the room in an attempt to also get away from the thing.  

 

Our relationship is far from awkward now. Thanks to the "Tet Bef" (bull skull), we are all friends again.

Lunch time!

One of my American co-workers has been in the US for 8 months due to a family illness, so I have taken over the school lunch program in his absence.

 

 

Two Haitian women cook 2 giant vats of rice and beans every day during the school year to feed approximately 100 students and 20 staff. The children are ushered in by class, eat and then go to recess.

 

Because many of our school kids do not get reliable meals, or any meal for that matter, when they are at home, we continue the lunch program over the summer. One of our young teachers, Louis-Pierre, born and bred in Jubilee, manages the children when they come, making sure that the littlest ones eat first, that the handicapped children do not get pushed around, and that food doesn't get dropped on the clean floor to feed family dogs.

 

 

A few weeks ago, Brian and his construction crew built a new kitchen for the lunch program. It's airy, bright, and safer from potential theft. It also looks exactly like the service window at a hot dog stand or an ice cream truck in the US. Every time I walk in there, I'm tempted to ask for "one large root beer float, please!"

 

 

The other fantastic addition to the cafeteria is a child-accessible hand-washing sink! Now the children can come straight in from the schoolyard and wash their hands before they get in line for a plate of food. I call the sink "Cholera-Be-Gone!"

 

 

School lunch consists of fortified rice, shipped in from supporters in the US, and Haitian brown beans. I've tried to assure that the kids also get fruit with their meal at least twice a week. During mango season, it was mangos on Friday and bananas on Monday. And since July is the beginning of avocado season, now the kids get slices of avocado with their rice, an excellent nutritional boost: protein, potassium, iron, folic acid, and good fats.

 

 

You should see those kids shovel piles of rice into their mouths. I like sitting there and just watching them eat with gusto. Happy lunch, kiddos!

Summer in Haiti

Summer in Haiti is a lot like the rest of the year. I teach community health to adults and high school students.

 

 

I go everywhere on my bike. I pump water. I meet with former students for advanced training. I do my laundry by hand on the porch. Normal life, just like the other 9 months of the year.

 

There are, however, a few differences. It's always hot in Gonaives, but summer in Gonaives is stifling. From the moment I wake up at 7am until the moment I fall asleep at 11pm, I am sweaty. Actually, I'm often sweaty all night too. Being sweaty all the time makes me dehydrated; despite all my best efforts, I cannot drink enough water to keep myself from being light-headed and fatigued most days.

 

The heat is paralyzing. I'm an active person. I love biking and exploring, taking long walks around town, even just cleaning house. But in this kind of heat, I am exhausted by noon most days and I barely have energy to prepare a cold lunch for myself before I collapse.

 

When we have electricity, I can run a fan. When we don't have electricity - most afternoons and some evenings - my favorite place to be is the narrow hall leading to my bedroom. It becomes a miniature wind tunnel (except on days when there's no wind!). I have spent many hours in that corridor, reading or watching movies or sleeping on the cool tile floor.

 

 

Fortunately, there have been things to distract me from the incessant heat. First, I fell into a decrepit tomb when I was walking Tug in the cemetery. I was lucky: I only bruised my ribs, and there was no corpse in that particular grave. But I was stiff and pained for a while...actually, I'm still in some pain. I also got the chicken fever a week after my near-death experience (near-death, cuz I fell in a tomb, get it?), but I seem to have recovered nicely. 

 

 

The World Cup was another excellent form of distraction. For a month, there were games nearly every day, and I would watch them on the porch of my neighbor's house with a dozen kids and adults. I was the only white person. Making friends with neighbors isn't something that just happens naturally. In Port, it was an earthquake that bonded me with the neighborhood; here in G-town, it was the World Cup. Now that it's over, I still go sit on my neighbor's stoop and just chat with people. We go to concerts all together, and sit in the plaza in the evenings and people-watch.

 

 

Probably 20% of Haitians root for Argentina; everyone else wildly supports Brazil. The last game was 2 weeks ago, but you can still see Brazil flags on many of the motorcycles, cars and buildings around town. People celebrated each goal and each Brazil victory like it was Boston winning the World Series for the first time in 86 years - parades, drumming, music, dancing, and lots of screaming. I'm not a Brazil fan, but I got into the party atmosphere too: Brazil-themed cupcakes for my little neighbor's second birthday!

 

 

 

The other uniquely summer activity is "Club", a sort of day camp program that I am running with a few of the Jubilee School teachers. Most of our elementary students spend the summer bored in Jubilee. Bored children usually become mischievous children and mischievous children can often become trouble children. So we combat boredom and trouble by having activities for them several times a week. Last week, we read the story of God calling the boy Samuel. We learned a song about the story, and we played a "Marco Polo" style game. We've done other stories from history or the Bible and linked them to games such as bowling, limbo, and musical chairs. My favorite was when we learned about the Holocaust and played a hide-and-seek game called Sardines.  

 

I've really enjoyed getting to know the kids better, and bringing a taste of camp to Jubilee. It's been a while since I worked with elementary aged children, and it's been a nice challenge. I've also really appreciated the time I've spent with the Jubilee School teachers. Each conversation, however simple, opens my eyes more to Haitian culture and to the things that make them tick. It seems like the longer I'm here, the more I realize how much I don't understand.

So what can I say? Summer in Haiti. I'm still praying for the thermostat to get turned down, but other than that, I'm glad I'm here.