It's funny all the random things I'm learning to do here. I have waded through a book on raising goats, because I had to figure out how to remove their horns. They really do get nasty with each other with those darned horns.
Not only that, but we also have this yard full of baby banana trees, which, by the way, need water by the bucket-load. . . lots of water. This means that rain is a splendid thing for those poor bananas. But since the hurricanes ceased, there hasn't been a whole lot of that. Now, everyone else is pretty thankful for this. The people who lost their stuff and/or families and/or homes and/or livelihood in the flooding in September- they fight tears and trembling fear when they see or feel a drop of rain. And at that thought, I could care less about the friggin' bananas.
The only creature indifferent to the rain, or any other circumstance for that matter, is the rat. And Haiti has more than its share of those. I am now the household pro at catching little mice. . . and quite large ones (the kind that eat poor little cats for breakfast. . .yes, quite large). One day we cleaned out a depo and there were so many, I had to give up all of my humane methods and get the machette. I told you this tool is a catch-all for Haitian work, and indeed it is. I killed ten rats that day. Wow.
And then it was back to the paperwork. The truest thing about this work is that it never, ever, ever runs out. And all the little things, like rats or goats or any of the other random things that have to be attended to, are at times a hindrance to getting the "real" work done, such as time with the kids or getting the paperwork done or contacting other churches and schools. It's truly beyond me how any of it gets done at all- petty tasks or real ones. I've never known a more perfect example of living a life that "rolls with the punches."
Random or not, I do love it. Actually, I think the random factor is what I love the most about it. The rule for my entire life has been this: I'm not great at anything, but I can do a satisfactory job at a lot of random things. Jack of all trades and expert at none. Yep, that's me.
Love.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Joy of Giving
One of the things I love most about this place and this work is the joy of giving things to people I would in no other circumstances have the ability to give. Such as . . .
The only guy who knows how to play the guitar in this joint came and tuned my guitar for me, because I still can't. I gave him, as a "thanks dude," a bottle of Tampico and some mosquito coils.
A woman came from the mountains with a genuine request. She can't afford school. Her husband left her and their boys because he was afraid of the spirit in their village (lots of people were committing suicide), she was sick and her boys needed to go to school. "Can you please help me?" she asked. Well, sure we can darlin'. Her boys are both in 2nd grade. They come every day. They take good notes. They are very well behaved. So we provide them with all that they need. And their mother smiles a little more often now.
A kid came with 3 lips. His bottom one was made into two when he fell from a coconut tree. We gave him stitches.
A young woman came to my door repeating something over and over, but I couldn't understand. I told her to sit and speak slower, but to no avail. She just kept talking. I gave her a smile, a nod, a coke and a few confusing minutes of my time. When she left, I also gave her an apology. "Sorry, lady. I still got nothin'."
TO BE CONTINUED
The only guy who knows how to play the guitar in this joint came and tuned my guitar for me, because I still can't. I gave him, as a "thanks dude," a bottle of Tampico and some mosquito coils.
A woman came from the mountains with a genuine request. She can't afford school. Her husband left her and their boys because he was afraid of the spirit in their village (lots of people were committing suicide), she was sick and her boys needed to go to school. "Can you please help me?" she asked. Well, sure we can darlin'. Her boys are both in 2nd grade. They come every day. They take good notes. They are very well behaved. So we provide them with all that they need. And their mother smiles a little more often now.
A kid came with 3 lips. His bottom one was made into two when he fell from a coconut tree. We gave him stitches.
A young woman came to my door repeating something over and over, but I couldn't understand. I told her to sit and speak slower, but to no avail. She just kept talking. I gave her a smile, a nod, a coke and a few confusing minutes of my time. When she left, I also gave her an apology. "Sorry, lady. I still got nothin'."
TO BE CONTINUED
Sunday, November 9, 2008
For Tammy
Tammy Wood, it was wonderful to speak with you. I can't wait to laugh with you like that in person. What a joy. Sorry about the blog. I do apprecate your persistence, though.
Hope you enjoy the following story. My next one is much more heart-warimng. Promise.
Much love.
Hope you enjoy the following story. My next one is much more heart-warimng. Promise.
Much love.
Rabid Dogs and Late Apologies
Second story of the random, yet oddly familiar life in Haiti:
A few weeks ago, another patient limped inside the gate with a dirty shirt wrapped around his leg and blood dripping down from the brim of it. I still didn't speak a great deal of Kreyol at the time, so I was still very ignorant of the reason for his wound.
The guy was maybe 50 years old and quite the trooper, I realized, when I took off the shirt and saw the reason he'd walked so far to get some help. He came in with a stick as his crutch and talking as if he'd just read an interesting story in the newspaper- nothing to freak out about was his motto, I guess.
He told a story I didn't "really" hear until after he'd left, but it went like this...
A rabid dog had been infected and gone about the village biting both children and adults, clearly putting everyone in danger of rabies and all the complications it comes with in a place like this. In the early morning of the day he'd come, the man was on his way to work in a field with his machete (the standard tool for any Haitian project) when the dog had wandered his direction. It lunged at a child within the man's reach and, being the hero that he knew he always was, ripped the dog by he neck from its grip and began a nasty battle.
He told us that he swung and missed several times until finally he hit the dog in the right spot to still him and finish him off. Only afterward did the guy realize that the side of his left leg had been chopped in the process.
So there was a 3-inch wound and a visible bone in front of Monique and me, waiting to be stitched up and good as new. Pretty soon it was just so.
We haven't had such a hero in our midst since then. I have to say, he's probably one of the coolest guys I know now- being the type to fight a rabid dog on a little girl's behalf and go about his normal day after a round of stitches.
And now, I must apologize for the way I've neglected my blog readers...or more like checkers (with nothing new to read). I apologize for not providing you with more entertaining stories or at least a little info.
Thank you for not giving up on me. Much love.
A few weeks ago, another patient limped inside the gate with a dirty shirt wrapped around his leg and blood dripping down from the brim of it. I still didn't speak a great deal of Kreyol at the time, so I was still very ignorant of the reason for his wound.
The guy was maybe 50 years old and quite the trooper, I realized, when I took off the shirt and saw the reason he'd walked so far to get some help. He came in with a stick as his crutch and talking as if he'd just read an interesting story in the newspaper- nothing to freak out about was his motto, I guess.
He told a story I didn't "really" hear until after he'd left, but it went like this...
A rabid dog had been infected and gone about the village biting both children and adults, clearly putting everyone in danger of rabies and all the complications it comes with in a place like this. In the early morning of the day he'd come, the man was on his way to work in a field with his machete (the standard tool for any Haitian project) when the dog had wandered his direction. It lunged at a child within the man's reach and, being the hero that he knew he always was, ripped the dog by he neck from its grip and began a nasty battle.
He told us that he swung and missed several times until finally he hit the dog in the right spot to still him and finish him off. Only afterward did the guy realize that the side of his left leg had been chopped in the process.
So there was a 3-inch wound and a visible bone in front of Monique and me, waiting to be stitched up and good as new. Pretty soon it was just so.
We haven't had such a hero in our midst since then. I have to say, he's probably one of the coolest guys I know now- being the type to fight a rabid dog on a little girl's behalf and go about his normal day after a round of stitches.
And now, I must apologize for the way I've neglected my blog readers...or more like checkers (with nothing new to read). I apologize for not providing you with more entertaining stories or at least a little info.
Thank you for not giving up on me. Much love.
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