My Toilet Paper is a Blanket

After dismounting the plane from Port-au-Prince, Haiti to Newark, New Jersey:

I’m standing in line to go to the immigration desk I see a lady directing people to their corresponding line.  My first thought: “She looks like a clown”, with her heavy eye makeup and 5-tones-too-dark lipstick. As I looked at her I saw that she had both fake eyelashes and fake hair. This is America? No. America can’t be summed up in one artificial woman.

Fast forward a few more hours. I’m sitting at the toilet. My arm reaches for the toilet paper; I grab a hold of it, “Gosh! I’m about to wipe with a blanket!” The toilet paper was so thick, full and plush I didn’t know what to do. I rerolled it and ripped off two dainty squares, one. by. one.  

Looks like I’ve come to a land where we have more than enough…and maybe, sometimes, too much; too much makeup, too much synthetic stuff and even too much toilet paper. 

He Just Can't Say It...

Today was spent finishing up some things; getting things packed (and not taking them back out of the bag because it needs to be used for another few days). I mean zipping-up-the-bag kind of packing, inventory of supplies for after we leave and making sure everyone is prepared for our departure.

Finishing.

On an unrelated, yet related note, there is a word that Leonard (4) has never been able to utter in his own native tongue. We have tried on multiple occasions to have him say it but to no avail. He persistently can’t say the word “fini”. Instead he says, “finish” - its English translation. The Haitian born, Creole speakin’ little boy can’t say “fini”.

For example he'd say:

“Nou finish manje” (We’re done eating)

Or

“Film la finish” (The movie is over)

The dominant language spoken here is Creole, not English, yet he still manages to say, “finish”.  It’s a curious situation.  It’s something about Leonard that’s special that we’ll miss as we finish our job at this orphanage. 

"Out of the Same Cup"

We had just finished talking to the staff about our moving back to the United States. We talked rules, expectations, and guidelines.

There were tears in some eyes.

"Nou bwe nan memm gode a" (We drink out of the same cup) is what she said as we were finishing up the meeting.


In translation, she continued and she laid a hand on my waist: "When I came to work here I was prepared for anything. I didn't know the type of treatment I would receive. Later, I learned. Haitians and Whites sit together, eat together, live together. Even if I worked for a Haitian family doing the work I do (she takes care of children) I wouldn't be allowed to sit at this table with them.

Our eyes grew wet with tears.

Another spoke up: "I remember I had to cook the rice, Elijah (my ten year old brother) came and helped me cook rice. I remember him saying, 'I can do this, I won't get burned.' we work together. I'm going to miss this family very much.....I'll miss you all very much.

The other: "I will pray God's will for your lives..."

Encouragement and unity flooded the room. We had become a family here. A lovely mixture of Haitians and Americans, working together to serve the children. As the days grow shorter we have found "our greatest victory" and passing the baton is made easy, through trust in God and one another.

Haiti Made Me:

laugh

cry

sing

dance

reflect

run

fall

hold on

let go

grow

learn

strong

compare

change

trust

contrast

think

forget

confused

remember

fight

understand

give up

confront

hide

joke

contemplate

realize

decide

choose

bold

brave

appreciative

ambitious

cautious

free.

Just doing some reflecting....

5 more days. 

Over Sentimental

Letting the kids know we are leaving

Tomorrow begins the one week count down to my move back to the good ol' United States. Packing, is a funny task. I still need to use the stuff that I should be packing, so really, packing will never be completely done until the day I leave. I have begun the task of sorting through my belongings into two categories; things to take right away and things I can wait a few months to see again. I look through my stuff and decide what items hold memories and what is just a little souvenir. The whole thing has its emotional moments. I've got that shoe box stuffed with all the little "Mesi" notes and pictures of flowers. That pink-construction-paper-heart that reads "I love you" in glitter glue. The rubber band that was intended to be a gift. Ah! I glare at my memories and (instead of crying my eyes out) I say to myself,
       "Gosh, girl, you are way too sentimental."
But, no, honestly, these girls and boys are so strong, independent, and have been taught the best. I know very well that they can and will make it without me waking them up every morning to go to school and, at meal times, telling them to go wash their hands. In fact, they might feel a little bit relieved after I head out! Plus they know, Estherline, Gladimy, Leonard and James know, without a shadow of a doubt, that they are loved. Thus the "mission" is complete, there is peace and it's time to go back to America.