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.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, May 15, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
