It looks like the overly-large picture of our part of our team is the only thing that made it! So sorry. Writing a second time is never quite the same. In addition: all the other pictures posted went into some ocean. But that's not what you want to hear about..
The trips to and from Haiti were truly exhausting. To JFK one evening, up very early to the airport, flight to Santo Domingo, dinner and straight to bed. Up at 4:30 am to stand in line for the bus to Port au Prince (PaP) and then the long ride there. At PaP my ride had not arrived. I tripped and crashed into a pile of stones, tore the tip of my toe, and laying half dead next to a very dead rat didn't improve my mood. Stumbled painfully around for 3 days after which all was fine.
My next ride, due at 4, didn't arrive until 9pm which was not pleasant although many people in the dark parking lot kept me company, each worried that another would maul me. I really did feel very safe. Haiti is not as people portray it to be. (Opinion) My ride appeared (car had broken down - surprise a la Haiti) and I was taken to temporary lodging in Port au Prince, where I slept on the ground with sheets and pillow, blending into a tent city.
The lights flickered in the hot, dark evening and people spoke in low voices. It was strange to lay there, knowing all these people had lost homes, family, work, security, and I was able to just go back whenever I wished. I was glad to be there and have a small sense of their life.
Suddenly someone began to clap in a slow, deliberate pulse. Others joined in and the
sound grew more intense. Through it all began unusual, complex rhythm patterns, such as I have never heard before. And after another few minutes a voice began to sing, joined immediately, Haitian-style, by hundreds of voices when they recognized the melody. It was neither a hymn nor a chant - perhaps a folk song. It was beautiful and I will not forget. The heat did not let up and I killed tons of mosquitos, (Mustik) who were feasting on arms and ankles, before falling asleep. At some point during the night I woke up because it was raining: a soft, warm sprinkle that felt so good on my face and arms and I fell asleep again while the rain fell all over me.
I was woken up at 4 am and the fixed car was waiting in the half-dark. Roosters had been crowing already (they have NO sense of time!) and the tent city was beginning to stir.
My new-found friends (I finally got to see them!) took me on a 3hr ride to my destination in Bois Neuf where, I had been told, 2000 people were waiting desperately for help. They had no water, no food, no clothing, nothing for the babies, no toilet facilities. And I thought I was Jeane d"Arc on a wild horse, banner high. Chaaaarge!
OK. The truth. Bois Neuf is in the valley. Fatima, a religious pilgrimage retreat, is on the mountain top. Great view over the ocean and all. There were maybe 40 people there, 6 of whom were nuns and maybe 12 children and 2 babies. About 1960 people missing. There was ample water, 9 excellent water filters provided by World Aid. Plenty of food in the large kitchen and, judging by the shopping trip, ample finances.
The meals cooked by the kitchen help were excellent. It was mandatory to pray 2x/day for 1 hour each, but preferably 7x/day. Ehh...
I looked it all over for the rest of the day, hobbling around on a very sore foot, talked to some of the young people (they missed their computers etc), packed up the next morning and left at dawn for Saint Marc. Good move - wise judgment for once.
Gladys and Jean had met me at Fatima the afternoon of my arrival there. Jean ran to me, clung to my neck and more or less stayed there. Gladys had arranged a 'taxi' and we were off to Saint Marc with better things to do.
The afternoon was immediately well-spent. We went to visit the hospital, Saint Nicolas, where we met the assistant administrator. He basically, beaming, gave us free reign. Another person showed us the patients from Port au Prince/Petionville and where we should go when filling bowls with food.
The ward were crowded. Many people were on mattresses on the floors, with barely space between beds. The patients from the cities rarely had anu visitors while we were there.
In Haiti, like in most poor countries, family is expected to do everything for the patient. Bathe them, wash their clothes, change the beds and provide food. Since so many patients' families lived so many hours away (or had died), they were left on their own. Help was desperately needed for these people, about 100 in all, divided over 6 buildings. These were the amputees, severe fractures and deep wounds or complications. They were really lonesome.
We met at Gladys' house and met the whole team: six women and four men, two of whom were still in HS. We talked about the plan, the food, the needed nutrition for ill people, healthy food and equipment handling. We talked about shopping and money. I am so glad now that my Kreyol is becoming half-way decent. OK - a quarter. I did not tell them that they would get paid. Instead, I told them that volunteering for the people of their country was the right thing to do. I just wanted to see how many would stay.
We left for the market and I was particularly impressed with one woman, Malene, who took charge and know/understood exactly what needed to be done. Gladys, bossy as she is, was 2nd in command. Vegetables, beans, meat, rice, root vegetables and herbs were picked with great care. The boys carried everything to the car where our daily driver (man #4) was waiting patiently.
After returning to Glady's place, we went straight to work cooking the chicken and the beef (no refrigeration - cook it on the spot), and cutting up a bezillion vegetables.
At 6 am the next morning all was cookied gigantic pots, well-tasted by ALL involved, and finally gently put in the back of the car, which hit bottom after we all got in as well.
More tomorrow. AFter all: this story didn't happen in one day, either! Sleep well.
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