A week in review...

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Saturday night, on the roof. There is barely a breeze stirring. The leaves hang motionless from the trees. Above us the moon hangs in the sky like a solitary Christmas ornament, glowing orange through the dust in the air. Patrick read that the moon is as close to us as it will be all year. Sure enough, it looks as if I could reach out and pinch it from the heavens. After a week that felt rather bookish, its nice to waste away a little time on the rooftop watching night drape itself over the city.

The week was largely carless as the automotive shop kept finding must-fixes that took a lot of manpower and extra parts, apparently. Not that I doubted them. We were just about ready lead the Galloper to the barn and put it out of its misery. After our first go-with-the-flow tap-tap ride that almost took us to a new city, we have since mastered the art of pick-up travel. It isn’t highly time-efficient, or the best way to preserve that early morning crisp and fresh look, but it is a wonderful way to immerse yourself into the community. We have become quite assertive, pounding on the side of the truck when we see our stop coming, verifying we are indeed heading to the desired road, and conversing easily with our fellow travelers. Funny how the more comfortable you feel with something, the less gawky stares you attract. Uncertainty must radiate off us at times. I came to truly enjoy the adventure of tap-tap riding despite the edeu-de-exhaust-fumes-and-dust we wore on entering the school or the fact we ended up getting to work late morning no matter how direct we chose the path. But it gave us insight into “Haitian time.”

Days of the week were spent largely with our heads buried in books, or surfing the net. Patrick emerged to teach some English classes, and attempted to teach his Old Testament class, but was a little less effective since the translator was a no-show. But ever the student, he had outlined his notes in Creole, so at least he could write a few things down to guide the student’s studies for the week. Aside from memorizing Creole vocab, reading several books on the history and culture of Haiti, and reviewing texts on nursing and tropical medicine, I was able to make a few appointments for next week in efforts to learn more about the community of health care in Port-au-Prince.

Friday, we joined Patrick and Francois at the first meeting of the central organization of protestant churches: Haut Conseil National Protestant D'Haiti (HACNAPH). The night before, Patrick was asked to give the sermon at the meeting. I guess we’ve acclimated because the last minute bomb barely caused an eyebrow twitch from my husband.

The meeting was filled with heads of churches and church organizations in Haiti that are now coming together in a united organization in order to gain recognition from the Haitian government. The air of the meeting was jovial—not the power play we were worried might emerge given the diverse mix of people. I think the fact that the group symbolizes the first state recognition of the protestant church, and that now a place in the national budget will go to protestant church social outreach unified all there in celebration. Patrick—who continues to amaze me with his foresight—gave a beautiful sermon from Ephesians on Paul’s call for unity through patience, humility and gentleness. He kept the message simple, and it was all the more powerful for it. I have to admire my husband. He looked so pale and skinny compared to the large black men all around him. He spoke with a quiet confidence, humbled by the fact that he spoke to an audience of seasoned preachers. But essentially his very presence represented his message. He earned endless handshakes and shoulder pats. People quoted his message during their own turn at the mic. I would have loved a little translator at our side to let us know exactly what was being shared. We got a general overview from Patrick and Francois, but knew a lot of subtleties were left out since their summary was in once sentence and the meeting lasted well over 4 hours. ☺

We are to the point when our word recognition gives us little glimpses into a story told. But we have a LONG way to go before f word recognition couples with the cultural peculiarities of language. For instance, I heard something to the effect of big pastors eating little pastors. What? I can only assume the context would have defined the phrase better. Perhaps it was a commentary on the need for lifting all pastors up and not being the kind of leader that crushes the “little people” on the road to the to,p. Then again, it might have been a commentary on the voodoo belief that when you ‘hex’ someone you “eat” the soul? Ah, the danger of peep-holes from completely oblivious unknown to partial understanding.

Today was a good day. Did some reading, picked up our first care-package from my mom full of all sorts of goodies and mementos. There is something really special about a hand-written note… it brings not only the voice, but the familiar script that only a loved-one’s hand can create. A treasure. A closeness. We also entered the bank for the first time as real-live customers, made our first deposit and withdrawal without a snag. I told the cashier that it was my first time, and she laughed at me, at my pride in my small victory. But it makes a community feel more your own when you can go to the bank, go to the store, navigate along now-familiar streets, even recognize people along the way. Little by little, a bit of the foreignness is replaced by subtly familiar. And a peace enters to replace angst.

Because errands were going to have us miss the regular dinnertime at the guesthouse, we went to the restaurant Patrick discovered last weekend. Although we were the only two diners in the vast place with white tablecloths and Christmas decorations hung from every wall, we enjoyed a quiet and delicious meal of Haitian cuisine (and ever so affordable despite the fancy trappings). Tonight we met the landlord of our future rental unit. She is a lovely woman who welcomed us into her home, discussed a likely move-in date and the things she needed to do to our future home before we arrived. Driving through the neighborhood that will sooner than later be OUR neighborhood made us both happy. Especially when Patrick recognized one of his students walking in a street. Already, we had a community, and we haven’t even moved in. ☺

Now the moon has climbed a little higher in the sky. The traffic is thinning a bit, and a good Caribbean beat thumps from some hidden nightspot down the road. Time to say good-bye to the cool night air in favor of a restful sleep.