Hello All - great to hear from some of you in the past few days. Very encouraging and heartening to know that your thoughts and prayers have been with us.
Friday was an incredible day of extremes...
We start out the day (our team of six and the 15 Haitian teachers and principal) heading out on a "taptap" - the preferred mode of transportation. A taptap is a converted Toyota with two rows of benches in the back and a roof of sorts. People jump off and on the taptaps and it stops when someone taps on the window behind the driver -thus the name taptap. Any trip costs a gourd - about 39 cents US. The buses here are called "Obamas" because the US supplied them after the earthquake. Obama is loved here. "Obama We need change" is often sprayed painted on walls. But most people are afraid to ride on them because they go too fast.
We arrive at our destination for the morning - Mother Theresa's Sisters of Mercy Hospital for children and babies. The hospital is run by nuns and is in a compound which feeds and houses many people. The hospital did not fall in the earthquake but was damaged so now the hospital is housed in 4 large UNICEF tents. We make our way up the winding walkway. I did not realize how very hilly Port au Prince is. Very few streets are flat. Most wind up a hill and then snake their way down. Add to that huge ruts, potholes and heaved ground, and you are in for quite a bumpy ride.
On our way up to the hospital we pass by a long line of people patiently waiting for their allotted food for the day. Most are happy to see us and we hear many "bonjou blancs" - the Haitian term for whites.
As we approach the tents that house the hospital we can hear the crying babies. We get right to it as soon as we enter and start holding sick, sick babies and toddlers. We bring toys and bears to cuddle and the children start to smile through their tears. The sisters are glad to see us - 20+ people to help relieve them of the burden for a while. Most of the Haitian teachers have never done anything like this before but they begin to calm the children and start to sing Creole songs to them. It is beautiful.
I hold two little girls on my lap. They are lethargic and very hot. I too start to sing little nursery songs and when I sing "Frere Jacques" they look at me with big eyes. They recognize the song coming out of this big white woman. I start to laugh and amazingly so do they.
We help to feed lunch and every child eats up every last bit. It is heartbreaking to leave as the children start to cry again. We realize there has been no crying for the few hours we have been there.
So from one extreme to the other - the crazy reality of Haiti - we head back with the teachers to a favourite restaurant frequented by foreigners and more wealthy Haitians. We are treating them to pizza and cake to celebrate one of the teacher's birthday in air conditioned luxury... most of the teachers have never entered this restaurant. They hold back until we reassure them it is our treat and we want to do this for them. The AC hits us like a Mack truck - such a pleasant relief from the constant blanket of heat. Most eat a small portion of their pizza and cake, packing it up to take back to their children or to eat for later. This reality does not stop slapping me in the face. I forget about it for a few minutes - having lunch with these women - talking and laughing and then "WHAM" I remember that what I take for granted - having a treat - is not a part of their lives. It is all so very humbling.
Today is Saturday - we have the day off so we do some tourist type things. With our translator we head off to the market. The sights, sounds and smells are overwhelming. We do not know which way to look as every space is filled with something to sell. "Madam only a US dollar" or "Bonjou blancs - would you like to buy" Thankfully one of us speaks fluent french, so she barters for things on our behalf. Our translator also is very helpful and laughs at our silly antics as we ooh and aah over severed pigs' heads and bags of spices.
We then head to the Tin Market near the airport and pass by the US embassy and the UN compound. Both are a constant presence in the city. We see UN trucks patrolling the streets, a constant reminder of the unrest here. People are very disgusted with the present government because they know that the world has poured out relief to them but they are not seeing any of it. The only buildings that are being cleaned up are the ones privately owned. After six months there are still 1000s and 1000s of people living in tents. Most of the teachers at the school live in tents. Their houses have either been destroyed or are too damaged to live in.
This evening we head off to a very rich resort in the mountains for dinner. As we snake our way up we pass by tents and lean-tos somehow impossibly clinging to the side of steep hills. We enter the gated complex and are instantly aware of the eerie quiet. We head through the lobby past armed guards to enter a paradise complete with huge pool, tennis courts, patios, palm trees. Bill Clinton and Michelle Jean have both been here in the past few months. We have a lovely dinner and feel like we could be anywhere other than here.
As we drive home, we hit reality full force as in the pitch blackness the city is alive with the bustle and hustle of a Saturday night. This is the strangest feeling I have ever had - the constant juxtaposition of what is here and what we have ...I am constantly aware that what I am seeing and experiencing I cannot fully reconcile or understand.
So after this lengthy account, good night from Haiti, have a lovely weekend and we will touch base next week.
Connie
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