Day #2, October 30th, 2008

I write as Patrick does jumping jacks on his yoga mat, preparing for his evening workout of yoga and sit-ups.  If I motivate, I'll pull out my workout DVD and do a 10-20 minutes of aerobics.  Last night I managed 8 1/2 minutes before the day's heat fatigue got the best of me.  It was either stop or barf.  I chose stop.  We are trying to get into a good routine during these early days of living in Haiti.  Evening walk, language lessons, exercise, journaling and reflection.  TV only frustrates us as we can't understand the rapid-fire Creole narrating each program.  The quite is nice after a day of talking and thinking and learning, learning, learning. 

 

This morning we both woke up feeling more well rested. The power in Port-Au-Prince stayed on long enough last night to sufficiently cool the room, and we slept like pampered babies.  This morning's breakfast was peanut butter (gold!), bread and a bowl of cornflakes.  We had two cans of milk--full cream and warm.  I had to smile thinking of what my brother Chris would do--he has a horrible aversion to warm milk after an unfortunate childhood incident at our neighbor's house (who is a dairy farmer) involving a glass of freshly milked milk.  Patrick reacted for him.  It was his morning to dry-heave.  His face twisted into a grimace after having a taste--tongue sticking in and out of his mouth like a snake as if trying to wiggle the taste off.   We are such WIMPS!!  It will take time, I suppose.  Luckily breakfast is served in the privacy of our room so no onlookers to offend. 

 

Today Patrick drove everywhere we went with Francois.  We even navigated one of the routes without her help!  This is a huge feat considering lack of street signs and a completely confused sense of direction.  I only covered my eyes once when a person carrying a rickshaw walked himself 1/2 inch from our bumper.  

 

We met our language tutor today--a teacher Patrick V. set up for us.  Obert is a former student at the school, and is preparing to go to college--eventually in the U.S.--in linguistics.  He speaks Creole, Spanish, French and English.  Smart kid.  He talked as fast as I walk, and by the time the 10 o'clock start of the lesson rolled around and the sun was directly overhead, Patrick and I fought feeling defeated only seconds into the lesson.  Although clearly new at teaching, he made up for lack of lesson plan by energy.  He sat with us well over two hours introducing vocab, explaining verbiage, and helping us with pronunciation.  Although initially a bit overwhelming, his enthusiasm for language was contagious.  We'll also get a bit of cultural orientation as well through such lessons.  Today we worked on words for things in a house.  We selected things familiar to us from our own American kitchens: stove, oven, table.  We avoided "refrigerator" and "sink" knowing that these were luxuries here.  He reminded us that very important words to learn in Creole were charcoal and fire--two daily parts of the "kitchen" all Haitians used.  We find that in interacting with these neatly dressed students who are clean-cut and wear American-styled clothes, who are easy to smile and relaxed in presentation, it is easy to forget from what kind of home they walk to school.  Easy to forget what their mothers and fathers have to do all day to keep the home running and their children fed.  Obert reminded us of that today as our preoccupation with learning the language and getting ourselves "settled" shadowed the reality of the lives surrounding us.

 

Language lessons are certainly not limited to a tutorial.  Anyone who sees us engages us in a mini Creole lesson, and we in turn help them with their English.  CONASPEH is a school that teaches its students French, English and Spanish.  Everyone has been exposed.  So in order to communicate with the students who know pieces of so many languages, we've found ourselves slipping into a new mix of languages we affectionately call "Spanglole."  Or "Crengish."  Whatever.

 

With Spanglole we had a meeting with Francois and the head of the theology department today in which Patrick was told he was to be the head overseer of the seminary.  This award comes despite Patrick not knowing anything of the syllabus, the course style, the subject matter presented, the philosophy, and--oh yes--the language.  I haven't seen my husband look so overwhelmed in a while, but he adapted quickly.  We were told that they are anxious for us to start teaching.  Pronto.  No, no translators will be needed because, "that's how you will learn the language."  (cue panic) We clarified later that we can teach ENGLISH, but would of course wait to teach anatomy an theology until we had a better (any) command over the language.  Clarification comes over the course of several hours because the problem with Spanglole is that all speakers involved know a unique set of words in each language, so it is in no way universal.  --sigh--  We keep reminding ourselves that this is only Day 2, we can already recognize a few Creole words when spoken slowly, and can utter a few choppy sentences if brave.  So we are learning quickly even if it seems not quickly enough.

 

Francois treated us to a delicious lunch of Creole cuisine... fish (head still on), rice and beans, green beans and onions in a spicy red sauce.  YUM.  Even though I did not feel hungry at all, Patrick and I wolfed down the huge lunch vigorously and loved every bite (after covering the poor fish's face with my napkin).  I also greatly enjoy juices in Haiti.  Today we had strawberry juice--sweet with sugar.  Mmmmm. Yummy.  And a whole pitcher of clean water.  Delight.  We couldn't have been happier in a 4-star restaurant.  And this restaurant looked so different than our American versions.  Stark in its floor-to-ceiling tile, cooks and wait staff took orders behind bars.  A waitress brought us our food after we ordered.  Barbed wire circled the outside of the store protecting it from the violence on the street.  But despite the austere appearance, the workers were friendly and smiled easily, the food was delicious, and the air conditioning worked like a charm.  Sweet relief.

 

After our time at the school, we took another walk to the Supermarket, successfully exchanged money even though we hadn't yet mastered, "may we exchange money here?" in Creole.  It came out in bits, and the woman at the cash register was kind enough to humor us.  Bless her.  The walk to and from the Supermarket was equally rewarding this afternoon with shared "Bonswa's" with everyone we passed.  I think a few recognized us from our walk last night.  We do stick out, you know.  It's a blessing and a curse really.  I certainly had no trouble finding Patrick in the supermarket.  Easy to spot a "blan."

 

Through all this madness and adjustment, we observe the condition of life in Port-Au-Prince.  Nothing much has changed since we were here in March.  Maybe things are a bit greener (the one upside to the massive rainfall).  We walk past mothers squatting over cooking fires; their children busy helping prepare meals.  Vendors line the street selling everything from shoes to mattresses, tires to candies.  The smell of smoke saturates the air.  And the air is hot, leaving sweat and dirt clinging to the skin like a mask.  Buses belch their fumes, UN patrol vehicles cruise the streets with soldiers ready at the gun.  Wild dogs pick through trash heaps trying to find a morsel of food to keep their ribs from protruding trough their skin.  Women and men alike carry loads atop their head ranging from bundles of clothing to blocks of ice to huge packages of materials.  Passersby return our greetings with sing-song "Bonswa's" as if they didn't have a care in the world, as if the load they carry was not of any bother.  Of course we know this is far from true.  And knowing it makes us more desperate to learn the language so we can begin to collect the stories of the people here.

 

So now we've done a couple of Creole lessons, and Patrick is exercising.  I suppose I will too before hopping in the shower to rinse the dust of the city off my skin.  Tomorrow promises to be another BIG day... moving to the guest house where we can finally unpack a bit, more language barrage, meetings with the nursing delegation, etc... We try not to look like deer caught in the headlights.  Trying to roll with it.  We are quickly recognizing each other's moments of frustration, and counterbalancing if possible.  Humor is called into action.  I believe it will be our saving grace through these awkward days of adjustment.  I can't believe its only been two days.