A recent invitation to a mountain village caused us quite a bit more turmoil than we could have expected.
One Pastor Julmis works for us and has been for about six months now. He used to pastor a church in the mountains before he came here looking for work to support his family and growing children. He's been asking us to go see his church since the day he started working for us.
Well, the time had come. Last Monday Wilckly decided to take a day and go see what Julmis had been up to on his mountain. Poor Wilckly had no idea what he was getting himself, and us, into.
Here's how the day went in a nutshell:
4 am- wake up, load truck, get everyone ready
5 am- departure to a mountain I've never been to before
7 am- arrival at second leg of our journey. End truck ride, begin trek atop a donkey.
9 am- thought I would die a death by donkey
10 am- was sure I would die a death by donkey
11 am- wanted to die a death by donkey, simply to end the agony
11:30 am- arrival at the mountain village
2 pm- departure from the village
4 pm- numbness kicked in
5:30 pm- clouds hid the sunlight (darkness on a donkey)
6 pm- rain began to pour
7 pm- arrived at the truck in the yet pouring rain
8:30 pm- arrived home after driving the last leg of the journey in the back of the truck in the worst rain we've had in weeks, freezing my backside- and all my other sides- off.
Those donkeys had no compassion on us whatsoever. Neither did the terrain. I rode that donkey for as long as I could, all the while being told by our Haitian guides that, "We're almost there. We're almost there."
We were never almost there.
I finally told them to stop, that I couldn't take it anymore, and that I was walking from that point on. Half an hour later thay let me get off. It was one of the most frustrating exchanges I have had in a long while.
It took four hours one way. So eight hours of travel in order to spend three hours in a pleasant little village on none other the Haiti's Terrib Montan. (Terrible Mountain) No, I didn't make that up- that is the name of the mountian we climbed on donkeys. And I'm sure the name of my donkey was Terrib Bouwik (Terrible Donkey). I have no doubt about that.
The visit was splendid, though. Wonderful people greeted us. And they worked hard to get us there safely. One thing that stood out for me was the way the parents there treated their children. They played with them and made them smile and bounced them on their knees and joked with them. And I saw children clinging to their parents' legs for protection, both mothers and fathers. That is not common in Haiti. Not at all.
It was an adventure, for sure- one that I won't soon forget, although my back would love to forget it right now and for all time. It was hard on our bodies, but good for our spirits.
All my love,
C
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Quotable Kelsey
Many of you know who Kelsey is- Dee and Wilckly's middle child. She's four years old and at that learning stage when every fact demands a question, every question demands an answer and every answer demands an explanation followed by another question.
The questions are unending, which naturally becomes a bother after too long. But there are those gold-nugget questions that entertain us enough to make up for all the rest. Such as...
On our second day here in Haiti, we had our first official meeting to attempt to organize our thoughts, needs, goals and priorities. As Dee, Wilckly, Shaina and I sat down under the light of our brightest generator-powered light bulb, Kelsey turned to her dad and said, "Daddy, why are you having this meeting?"
His answer was billiant: "So you can exist."
It seems as though Kelsey's quotability comes from her dad's side of the family.
It's true, though. Without those meetings we are totally at a loss. We can't even eat without having a meeting to find out where the food will come from, who will cook it, where it will be cooked, when it will be cooked and what supplies are needed to cook it. It sounds complicated, but it's also necessary.
That's what life is like here. We are team in every way, and we have to be. If we weren't on the same page you would come here to find four people working harder than anyone else in the world who also happen to be getting absolutely nothing done. Granted, it's difficult to get the four of us to sit down at the same time, but we make it work.
Of course, we can't seem to have many of those sit-downs without our resident entertainer. And Kelsey tends to declare her curiosity with questions on every issue-
"Why are you giving them food?"
"Why did their house fall?"
"Why do they need a job?"
"Why is Daddy talking to that man for all day?"
"Why do mosquitoes reproduce?"
That last one was the result of one of my rants about my hatred for mosquitoes. I'm still getting the hang of having a four-year-old around. It's taking longer than it should.
In any case, we're all learning a lot about what it takes to work as a team and answer all of Kelsey's questions simultaneously. And let's be honest, when she expresses one her cute little four-year-old bits of wisdom, we can't help but melt.
I mean, what would you do if a four-year-old walked out toward the beach and upon reaching the water looked up at you and said, "This ocean is too big"?
The questions are unending, which naturally becomes a bother after too long. But there are those gold-nugget questions that entertain us enough to make up for all the rest. Such as...
On our second day here in Haiti, we had our first official meeting to attempt to organize our thoughts, needs, goals and priorities. As Dee, Wilckly, Shaina and I sat down under the light of our brightest generator-powered light bulb, Kelsey turned to her dad and said, "Daddy, why are you having this meeting?"
His answer was billiant: "So you can exist."
It seems as though Kelsey's quotability comes from her dad's side of the family.
It's true, though. Without those meetings we are totally at a loss. We can't even eat without having a meeting to find out where the food will come from, who will cook it, where it will be cooked, when it will be cooked and what supplies are needed to cook it. It sounds complicated, but it's also necessary.
That's what life is like here. We are team in every way, and we have to be. If we weren't on the same page you would come here to find four people working harder than anyone else in the world who also happen to be getting absolutely nothing done. Granted, it's difficult to get the four of us to sit down at the same time, but we make it work.
Of course, we can't seem to have many of those sit-downs without our resident entertainer. And Kelsey tends to declare her curiosity with questions on every issue-
"Why are you giving them food?"
"Why did their house fall?"
"Why do they need a job?"
"Why is Daddy talking to that man for all day?"
"Why do mosquitoes reproduce?"
That last one was the result of one of my rants about my hatred for mosquitoes. I'm still getting the hang of having a four-year-old around. It's taking longer than it should.
In any case, we're all learning a lot about what it takes to work as a team and answer all of Kelsey's questions simultaneously. And let's be honest, when she expresses one her cute little four-year-old bits of wisdom, we can't help but melt.
I mean, what would you do if a four-year-old walked out toward the beach and upon reaching the water looked up at you and said, "This ocean is too big"?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
A Few of the Differences
Between this year and last, there are numerous contrasts:
This year, I take UNINTERRUPTED naps.
Last year I was an okay nurse, a poor veterinarian, an unsuccessful farmer, an inconsistent mother, a self-taught stick-shift driver, a rookie boss, a rat's worst nightmare, a frustrated school director, a mosquito's daily bread, a poor excuse for a relief worker, an almost teacher, a bad electrician, a promising mechanic and a missionary without her sanity.
This year I'm a normal administrator.
Last year I missed people so bad it hurt.
This year I have friends who live here AND speak English.
Last year I thought everyone hated me.
This year I'm planting trees with the prime minister.
Who's having a good time now?
That would be ME.
This year, I take UNINTERRUPTED naps.
Last year I was an okay nurse, a poor veterinarian, an unsuccessful farmer, an inconsistent mother, a self-taught stick-shift driver, a rookie boss, a rat's worst nightmare, a frustrated school director, a mosquito's daily bread, a poor excuse for a relief worker, an almost teacher, a bad electrician, a promising mechanic and a missionary without her sanity.
This year I'm a normal administrator.
Last year I missed people so bad it hurt.
This year I have friends who live here AND speak English.
Last year I thought everyone hated me.
This year I'm planting trees with the prime minister.
Who's having a good time now?
That would be ME.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Time passes...or does it?
I feel like I've been here for months already. We've been in full swing since the moment we landed. Already today I've been typing contracts in French, writing up payroll reports, having endless conversations with Haitian after Haitian with all the frustrations we can take in between.
Dee and Wilckly bear the brunt of it. I remember last year having to halt whatever administrative (and necessary) work I was doing so that I could talk to visitors for hours and hours. Most of the Dorce's work is done sitting in the same chair all day dealing with the dozens of people gathering at our door. It's much harder than what 'm doing now.
Every once in a while I'll have to stop and participate in the visits. I have to greet all the people that come through our doors because most of them just come to tell us hello and that they missed us when we were gone. It's actually pretty sweet. But, of course, they come hungry and in need of something. That's where the work comes in.
One of the greetings I really looked forward to when I got here was the one from Melissa. That sweet little girl was so bashful when I first saw her last Sunday. She wouldn't look at me at first, but I could tell she was holding back a smile. Then she grabbed my hand when I wasn't looking. Eventually she fell asleep in my lap. Just the way I like it.
It's difficult here, but it's nice to be back in a place where the things that should matter, do.
Dee and Wilckly bear the brunt of it. I remember last year having to halt whatever administrative (and necessary) work I was doing so that I could talk to visitors for hours and hours. Most of the Dorce's work is done sitting in the same chair all day dealing with the dozens of people gathering at our door. It's much harder than what 'm doing now.
Every once in a while I'll have to stop and participate in the visits. I have to greet all the people that come through our doors because most of them just come to tell us hello and that they missed us when we were gone. It's actually pretty sweet. But, of course, they come hungry and in need of something. That's where the work comes in.
One of the greetings I really looked forward to when I got here was the one from Melissa. That sweet little girl was so bashful when I first saw her last Sunday. She wouldn't look at me at first, but I could tell she was holding back a smile. Then she grabbed my hand when I wasn't looking. Eventually she fell asleep in my lap. Just the way I like it.
It's difficult here, but it's nice to be back in a place where the things that should matter, do.
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