Travel Day in Haiti- An Original

Travel Day

If we plan to leave at five

For this departure we will strive

But don’t freak out if we are late

‘Cause we’ll probably leave at eight

You can stand or you can sit

Either way it’s a bumpy trip

Expect trauma to your calves

And for the bench to break in half

The bumps will turn to craters

And the pain will become greater

Your stride will turn to limping

And you’ll need ice for your bruised kidneys

But fear not for tomorrow

For the fun surpasses sorrow

When we reach our destination

You’ll have an angelic sensation

You will sing and you will dance

And laugh so you’ll wet your pants

But the happiness won’t last

Because that truck will take us back

So through the bumps we’ll ride again

As if the pain will never end

But at last we’ll reach the beach

Where there are cushions for our cheeks

So sleep tight and like a baby

For tomorrow will be waiting

And the bumps haven’t gone away

So our calluses will stay

Amen.

My new title: Windshield Wiper

I had to make a trip to the bank the other day to take out some money. It was one of those rare days that I got to drive the truck rather than being driven by my chauffer. Yes, I have one of those.

My record continues in the context of my very presence destroying every working part of the vehicles I drive. Although it is NOT yet rainy season, it poured cats and dogs that day and alas, my wipers would not turn on. I had to take off the shorts I had on under my skirt and stop every 50 yards to wipe the windshield. Then I tried to have one of my Haitian workers lean over the cab and wipe it while I drove......with my shorts. That didn't make things any easier because he could only reach the top four inches.

So I stopped in the middle of who-knows-where with Haitians in a dirt-and-stick hut all yelling "Give me one dolla! Give me one dolla!" at me. They laughed as I ripped a bush from the ground, stripped it bare and tied my detached wiper blade to it with my key lanyard.

I drove for an hour wiping the rain from my own windshield with my left arm out the window, shifting up and down over the "roads", steering and honking as I passed the other trucks, which is a must here in Haitiland.

I was just waiting til we hit the paved road and I could stop shifting so often, but as soon as we hit the paved road, and I mean the VERY SECOND we hit it, God had a good laugh and stopped the rain.

Hilarious.

What would you do?

What would YOU do for a plate of rice and beans (rather than a klondike bar)?

I would…

Upon landing in Haiti, spend four consecutive days at the airport and UN compound looking for someone who had an extra few plates of food for my friends.

After not receiving anything, I would get on the phone and computer every day for hours on end trying to find anyone who had a few extra plates of food for my friends.

After two weeks of that, I would say yes to an offer to go the north coast of the island in the Dominican to pick up enough food for my friends.

A couple of days later I would drive (peppered with sitting and waiting every now and then) for two whole days to get to the food.

Then I would spend four hours waiting at the border to get to the food.

Then I would reach the food, load it up and try to cross the border to go home, but then I would be told that it was too late to cross back over, so then I would sleep at a friend’s house (source of food) with my travelling companions for the night to cross in the morning.

Then I would wake up before dawn to get in line at the border to cross as early as possible, but then I would wait four more hours for a fax that would eventually never come.

Then I would cross the border to get the food to its sorting location by way of another two-day road trip which may or may not include the truck(s) breaking down for the fourth and fifth times in the last three days.

That’s what I would do for some rice and beans.

Plus, I would get lost in Gonaive.

You know you're in Haiti when...

I feel the need to mix in a little humor with this next post. I’m not trying to rescue any delicate feelings or anything. Nor do I want to take any gravity away from our situation. But every once in a while, like now, the stress needs to be dulled a bit with a healthy dose of laughter.

For this purpose I have put together a list of sorts to give you a better idea of the funny and the real things that go on in a situation like ours. Haiti is in a bad way- a very bad way. But the people here still appreciate life for what it is. Haitians know more than most that life needs to be lived even in the midst all of its rubble. At this time and in this condition, Haiti is like this:

You know you’re in Haiti when the way to get the kids to take a bath is to say, “Come take a bath before the next earthquake!” It works.

You know you’re in Haiti when the first thing you see when you wake up is a blue tarp hanging 2 inches from your face.

You know you’re in Haiti when to earn a few bucks a teenage boy runs to you with an oily rag and starts to wipe the dirt from your sandals. Happened to me on Saturday.

You know you’re in Haiti when the answer to “Where’s the toilet paper?” is “In the freezer.”

You know you’re in Haiti when the solution to several of your problems is diapers and/or duct tape.

You know you’re in Haiti when the theme song for the morning church service is “You don’t have time- you’re already dead.”

You know you’re in Haiti when your new office is located directly below the tree that sheds the most leaves and happens to also contain the most ants which constantly fall on you like rain.

You know you’re in Haiti when your indoor office gets fleas, your outdoor office gets wasps and
your bedroom is outdoors with every dog and baby in the neighborhood NOT sleeping right next to you.

You know you’re in Haiti when you get yelled at for staying inside the building for more than 7.5 minutes.

You know you’re in Haiti when the only qualification for a pleasant conversation is that the other person doesn’t beg you for something.

You know you’re in Haiti when your satellite phone’s guarantee of 98% no-drop calls turns into 98% of calls are dropped.

You know you’re in Haiti when you are more likely to have a helicopter drop supplies onto your property than to eat a pizza.

You know you’re in Haiti when climbing on and off of 20 ft containers for miscellaneous reasons is one of your daily chores.

You know you’re in Haiti when you have to put “Take a bath” on your to-do list.

You know you’re in Haiti when “Count dogs” and “Count goats” are also on your to-do list.

You know you’re in Haiti when you’re throwing rocks at your own dogs.

You know you’re in Haiti when the locals respect you more now because “You die the same that we die.” One of my workers told me that the day after I got here.

You know you’re in Haiti when everything is tentative, everyone is afraid, every place is desolate except the airport and everything takes longer than it takes.

Love you all. More soon.
C

The New Haiti

It’s quite odd to drive down the same roads and see a totally different place than before. This is what the people of New York felt like on 9/11 for sure- total disaster that changes the course of a country and a people, and even their landscape.

Poverty set upon poverty. That is the only way I can think to describe it.

Driving through the city for the first time the other day showed me things that I never thought I’d see. Mass graves were one of them. Coffins are being made everywhere that the tools to do so are available. Buildings are damaged or fallen all over the place. We drove by tent cities that had signs outside of them on the road that read “NEED FOOD AND WATER” in French, Creole and English and others that said simply, “NEED HELP”.

We stopped at one tent city to take pictures and found out that no help had come to them yet. None whatsoever. The camp was empty save a few markers where families had marked where they would put their sheets that night to sleep. Everyone had gone to find work or food or water or something. A group gathered around us nonetheless. One always does.

In that specific camp we found that not one single family had been spared the grief of losing at least one of its members. Most of them had lost many more than one and all of their few possessions on top of that.

It is easy to be intimidated by the task ahead. We are trying to start the best way we can to prepare for long-term aid for those we can help. It is overwhelming. We (the mission’s leadership) haven’t even had the chance to mention the damage to our buildings yet. Though the damage is not immense, it is significant to say the least. But there are PEOPLE with bigger issues and emergencies at hand.

Their emergencies are our emergencies and so first things come first. We are here for them. But we need help. We don’t have nearly enough to provide for all of them. I am running around like crazy walking miles and miles around these UN and airport compounds trying to find some food to distribute. But everyone else is doing the same. Every missionary in this country has an emergency that needs to be tended to and the organizations in charge are overwhelmed.

Everything that was difficult in Haiti just became much more so. For everyone. Around everyone. To everyone’s dismay.

But we continue. And we will continue to continue. Don’t ask me what I get done every day. I don’t have time to remember. Shaina and Dee and Wilckly are working equally hard and more so.

Progress will be made. It must be.

Work with me. This is not something that is done by anyone alone. We appreciate and depend on your help.

In it to win it,
C

Reaction to Disaster

I'm sorry I've not been on here. I've been overrun with e-mails and phone calls.

We've received word from Dee in Haiti and Carries is still standing with no significant damage. We are sending people to Port au Prince to try to track down our people. We have one school and at least 3 and up to 5 churches in or near the epicenter. Waiting to find out what their status is. Wilckly's family is slowly being accounted for. But still looking for several members.

We're getting supplies and funds gathered to take with us next thrusday and send next week in the container. Contact me for more details. 573 822 8018.

Crying out,
C

Almost There

Last week I told you about all the exams we were dealing with. Well, we're still in that stage. And now I have to edit, print, stamp and copy three more tests with one broken printer and no paper by tomorrow!

No worries, though. We have a back-up printer and we're making a trip to town tomorrow to get the paper. Very solvable problems. We deal with lots of these kinds of things in Haiti. So goes life.

Tomorrow is also my last day here before my Stateside visit. I have nearly finished all of my goal projects. I spent most of my day today making admission badges for our women's conference in January. It's great to get those things done ahead of time and they look really great. Everything I have left to do is quite minor, Thank God.

I hope I'll get to see most of you while I'm around. It really is a privilege to have you on my team.

Much love. See you in America.

C

Exams, exams, and more exams!

We've been typing exams for a week now. Last year I cried more than once because this time is so stressful. But, as with everything else this year, there is a team within which we can distribute the work.

We took a bit of a break today, though, and swam in the ocean for several hours, catching starfish for a UN group of Jordanian SWAT team members. No, I'm not kidding.

But now I'm back to trying to cross some things of the list. I'm having a hard time finding any motivation today. I must have lost it last night when I stayed up until midnight typing exams. I tend to lose quite a few things in that context.

I'm headed back to the States in a bit more than a week. I'll miss the ocean, warmth and work while I'm gone. I haven't seen or felt winter for awhile, though, either. So I'll take the good with the not-as-good.

Hopefully we'll get everything done that we need to get done before the end of next week. I'll let you know.

Much love.

Another Saturday in Haiti

For today's post, I thought I'd give you an account of normal Saturday activities. I think that the best way to do so is to give you my to-do list for the day. This is what is written on it for today:

1) Sort clothes. (Sometimes they pile up if they aren't ironed. I just toss them in a pile.) Check.

2) Organize grocery store. (Our grocery store consists of three suitcases under my bed. Aisle one is food products. Aisle two is non-food products. And aisle three is bulk food products.) Check.

3) Sweep under beds. (There is a lot of dust and dirt in Haiti that accumulates. We need to do this often.) Check.

4) Clean corners. (Another habit of mine is to lose control of the odds and ends that build up. In America, you have junk drawers. In Haiti, we have corners.) Check.

5) Send 2nd e-mails. (This is a must for communicating with people Stateside. I have to stay disciplined about this or things could go wrong.) Check.

6) Update blog again. (Another communication must. I wanted to make up for the huge intermission between my last few entries.) In Process.

7) Attempt to measure boys. (Sounds odd, I know. I need to measure them for dress pants and shirts. I want to bring them new sets of nice clothes to wear to church. The hard part is that because I don't have measuring tape I have to measure them with a child's toy measuring tape that only extends to 24 inches. No check yet.

8) Clean bureau. (Bureau is the creole word for office. I have to organize that as well because it gets a little out of hand by the end of each week.) No check yet.

9) Scrub down bathroom. (This one is self-explanatory. The only Haitian hiccup was that I only had a 4 oz bottle of Lysol to scrub the whole bathroom down. I successfully stretched it out. Check.

10) Make Bed. (I put this one on there just so I had one to cross off right away. Made me feel better.) Check twice.

11) Clean on and under table. (Had to add this one because it was full of crumbs and dust. I couldn't have a clean room with a dirty table.) Check.

12) Start organizing file cabinet. (Got ambitious. Probably won't conquer that today. p.s. I keep this cabinet-with all the mission's files- behind my door.) No check....yet.

13) Clean safe. (Our "bank" is kept under my table. It need a once-over as well.) Check.

14) Cobwebs. (I feel so much better without those little webs all over my ceiling.) Check.

So, now I have to go back to work. Must complete the to-do list!

Happy birthday, Misty and Grandma!

Baptist Revival- Haitian Style

The local baptist church held a revival that was led by our Berea staff last night.

Usually I don't like to go to these things because I'm not a huge fan of "revivals," but this one turned out to be pretty fun.

The first thing I noticed as I sat down was the wall on the other side of the building which was lined with the school's chalkboards. Like our, and most, churches which also run schools, the same building is used for either purpose interchangeably. Only today was this a somewhat uncomfortable issue.

It wasn't that the boards were taking up too much space. The problem was that yesterday's lesson, immediately previous to the service, was one on STD's. That's right- not only did we get a great Biblical lesson from a sound preacher, but we also had wonderful reading material on the causes, symptoms and treatments of AIDS, gonorrhea and syphilis. What a well-rounded service!

The service was loads of fun. We danced to awesome music and listened to a few solos. Then we danced some more. Haitians love when white people dance. They always assume that we lack rhythm. But boy did we teach them a lesson! I cut the concrete, raised the roof, and shook my booty like no one has ever dared to do in any baptist church.

Needless to say, Haitian church services are much more fun than any I've been to in America. Nothing intimidates these people. They sing solo even though they're not the best at it. They dance in the aisles even if everyone else is in their seats. They clap whether they're supposed to or not.

I like it. A lot.

You should come enjoy a Haitian church service sometime. I promise you won't be disappointed. Whether it's by STD lessons, naked children or a contagious beat, you are sure to be surprised at one point or another.

Much love.

God of Details

I will wait for my next entry to tell you about our visit to our school/church in the mountian village called Counol. I was going to recount it for you now, but something has taken place which is important enough to jump to first priority.

Over a series of e-mails a whole plot was unfolded which none of us expected to start our day with. It starts all the way back between 1990-96.

One of our supporters, Lola Mitchell, partnered with Dee and Wilckly in the 90's and sponsored a child named Marie Ange in their children's home.

I met Lola in the week before I came back to Haiti in September, having made a visit to New Lenox, IL to meet with her and some members of her church.

Lola heard that some youth from her church will be preparing food at the National Missionary Convention for distribution to various Haitian ministries and wanted to make sure that we were one of the recepients.

She e-mailed Shelby Baxter, a volunteer at the ministry that, among other things, distributes the food once it arrives in Haiti.

Shelby passed our information along to one Gretchen DeVoe, who is in charge of the distribution.

Gretchen replied postively stating that she is already aquainted with Dee and Wilckly from years passed. Want to know how she is aquainted with them?

It turns out that Marie Ange (Lola's sponsor child) and several other kids whom Dee and Wilckly raised are from the same area as Gretchen's ministry. Marie Ange works for her now!

So the circle is complete. One child raised by dedicated parents was sponsored by a Stateside partner and grew into a capable young woman who now works for another Christ-centered mission. And the connections between all of us will come to fruition in the form of hungry children getting food in their stomachs!

Now, it is not official that we will recieve this food, which will feed hundreds of hungry children in our schools, but I do not serve a God who teases.

I am confident of the positive result that will come of this intricate web of God's divine- and somewhat humerous- plan.

Wow. This job is so much fun!

Much love,
C

Donkey Days

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

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"?

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.

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.

Back In Haiti

What's great is that I'm back in a pace that I enjoy: easy, relatively slow, but oddly productive. In America I was going a mile a minute but I never felt like I was getting anything done. This feeling is much better. I've only been here for a couple of days and I've already alphabetized some lists, made a few lists from sratch, picked up a load of food, bought a phone (takes more work here than there), and completed a few other fine tasks.

There was a lot more familiarity coming back here than I have ever experienced coming to a foreign country. It makes sense having been here for so long and doing all the things I did before, but still I was just surprised at what didn't surprise me.

Coming back to familiarity didn't soften the blow of returning to the normal Haitian scene, which just happens to be poverty and devestation beyond what most peope ever see, much less understand. The first pictures I saw were of the headless body of a 3-year-old boy that was killed in the recent flooding right here in Carries, not more than five minutes from where I sit.

Now we do damage control. The shipment of food we just picked up will be gone momentarily. Among other tasks, we have to find more.

We're stressed, but not worrisome. This is not a job for the worrisome, it's a job for the faithful.

And so we continue.

Late nights

Having been slowly weaned out of falling asleep with the sun, I am experiencing on of my first really late nights. It feels good to work while everyone sleeps. This tends to be the only time I feel truly productive- when I know I won't be interrupted by a phone call or a house full of busybodies.

The last month has been more difficult than I expected, less productive than I expected, and altogether much slower than I expected. I feel like I'm just now able to live out a normal day of work and rest and conversation without being overwhelmed with fatigue or unexplained tension. At first, I thought it was just tightened nerves. But as time has passed I've noticed that it's simply because of what I know now.

It's hard for me to live here, to drink coffee and watch a tv show and drive to the park and eat a turkey sandwich when I know the turmoil that's out there. I have seen and experienced some of the harshest living conditions in humanity. I've known the truest of hard days. I've seen the filth of neglected children and the struggle that families go through to make it to another day.

But now I'm back to the sweet life. Structure everywhere. Enforced laws. Electricity freely flowing. Water from a faucet. Kids with sneakers on. Carpeted floors. English-speakers all over the place. And after a whole month I'm still not quite sure what to do with myself. I've never known this type of re-acclimation. I have to get used to my own country again.

It's happening, only much slower than thought.

I wonder...

if it's normal to crave salt.

if I've just gotten up from a magnificently intense dream.

why I wake up thinking that I'm still in Haiti.

whose life Dee saved today.

how I survived the last year.

if it's okay to buy cookie dough by the pound.

what the kids are doing.

how I was ever satisfied with an indifferent lifestyle.

what time it is.

why I'm not asleep.

who I might meet next.

why I seem to be the purest gravitational force of blessings beyond my wildest dreams.

how may people wore this t-shirt before I did.

how much it costs to see a movie these days.

what will happen next.

My American Firsts

I wanted to put together a little compilation of the first things I got to experience after returning to the States after a nine-month absence. Some are fun, some are awesome and the rest are simply spectacular. Enjoy.

First Meal: Turkey sandwich and coffee at Starbucks.

First Beverage: Apple Juice.

First Person I met for the First Time: My 4-month-old niece, Elliot (Woohoo!)

First Hugs: 1 of my brothers, both of my sisters and Misty.

First Drive on a Road with Lines on it: St. Louis to Quincy, just like the good ole days.

First Night's Sleep: On a cot in Elliot's room. Comfy and COLD!

First article of clothing I had to procure: Jacket. Brrrrr.

First Person I Surprised: Lindi, followed by Kelsey. Kelsey's reaction was awesome!

First time I Drove ALONE: To church on Sunday morning, 6 hrs after I got off the plane.

First Walk ALONE: Sunday afternoon in the rain. Perfect.

First Book I started Reading: "Shakespeare's Four Great Comedies". I recommend it.

First Dessert: Cheesecake on Monday. Wonderful.

First Nap: A couple days after getting here, home alone in a recliner. Doesn't get any better than that.

First "Duh!" experience: The second night, I watched a movie on my laptop because I forgot there was a tv. Near the end, the computer's battery died and I put it away, not realizing that I could just plug it in and finish the movie. Electricity . . . who knew?

Those are the good ones. All the little things may seem unimportant, but it's a comfort thing. Familiarity is nice to experience. My days are still pretty random, but in a way that's very normal and mostly unstraining- pretty much the opposite of the last nine months in Haiti.

The negative is that Dee and I are seperated again, so we're back to trying to work together while we're a couple thousand miles apart.

I'm working hard at filling my schedule now. It's working out pretty well so far. I'm making new contacts and nourishing others. It's been quite refreshing so far.

Much love and more soon,
C

Story Time 2nd Edition

After the fated mango harvest of a single tree, Crash didn't give the donated shot of Promethazine a chance to work, because, in her misery, she wanted to take as many doses as possible of anything that promised relief.

Having been told by the generous pharmacist that it was okay to take a second shot, which Crash didn't have, 4 hours after the first, Dee contacted a friend that lives near a pharmacy about 30 minutes from where they live. The pharmacy, by the grace of God, had Promethazine, but in one big bottle and no individual doses. The only solution to this problem was to open a syringe, take out a dose of the shot and send the open syringe on a tap tap Crash. So it was done.

When the opened and unlabeled syringe arrived, Crash had to wait yet another 30 or 40 minutes while her nurse, Monique, called the pharmacy to verify that the syringe contained none other than Promethazine. The pharmacist gave her guarantee, whatever THAT is, that it was the right medicine that they were about to inject into Crash. On faith, they did so and had to wait until the next morning to repeat the process.

In the morning, with no changes having occurred, Dee sent for another opened and unlabeled syringe to be brought. But there was a different pharmacist at the pharmacy that morning than was there the night before. This pharmacist insisted that the price they paid the previous night was incorrect and that they would have to pay double for it today. With an amused and understanding chuckle (because that happens a lot in Haiti), the double price was paid and the medicine brought.

After 3 shots and still worsening reactions, Crash nearly paid to have her plane ticket changed to that very day to go to America where this problem could be quickly solved, but decided to wait another day. During that day, her mom called and suggested taking a steroid to help it out. And by some more of God's grace, Dee found 5 steroid pills in a first aid kit which Crash, not sure about but totally desperate to find relief, took all at once at the suggestion of the bottle containing the pills.

She went to sleep hoping for the best, which is exactly what came piece by piece over the next week.

Crash woke up the next morning with a less-swollen face, which is the best improvement anyone had seen thus far. The day after that it looked almost its normal size. The rash persisted everywhere, but the swelling was going down and Crash could begin to move her mouth, talk more clearly and even smile a little in another day or so.

The rash went away very, very slowly and, as unpleasant as this may be, caused her face to crack and peel as it departed. The rash on her arms and chest and ears took much longer to calm down and is still irritating and itchy, but not so great a problem that she can't be thankful for this condition rather than her former one.

And let's not forget emotional damage. Crash can't so much as look at a mango without a certain terror encompassing her. She smelled some ripening mangoes in a depot and immediately ran away to wash her body, praying that the milk wasn't airborne or something. Another time, moving a playpen for the baby, a hanging mango bumped her on the head and she screamed, unhealthily afraid. Never before has a fruit drawn so much fear from a person, but she is recovering as best as can be expected.

She is thankful for those who prayed so fervently for her recovery and hopes never to encounter such a fruity disaster as this one ever again.