Methods of Patience

Jan 27, 2008

My Creole professor told us, “Haiti is the best place in the world to learn patience.” I think he is right. No Buddhist temple could teach you better. It is a place that challenges your capacity for patience every day, especially for the westerner coming from an instant-gratification and production-per-hour society. And just when I think I can’t possibly become more patient, that I’ve hit the nirvana of patience, we’re thrown a new challenge only to remind us we have a long way to go. The foot starts tapping, the heart starts racing, the familiar taste of frustration rises somewhere from deep inside our gut. These days I’m able to recognize it, and give-in a little faster. But I still have a long way to go.

Last night the Galloper’s muffler fell off—not entirely, which would have been easier, but only partially making driving impossible without knotting the metal into a bowtie under the car. The muffler itself is fine, the pipe attaching the muffler to the car “rotted off” as our mechanic eloquently put it. Not a big deal in the scheme of things. Definitely repairable. A blip in time. But it came in the middle of “plans” (how dare we make plans!!), in the middle of scheduled meetings to attend, clinics to run, apartments to move into. The galloper, with its infinite sage wisdom told us to, “Slow down.” “Get creative.” “Find a way.” So we do, and we did.

It is with such times when I find my toes-a-tapping, when I hear my groans of “not again” frustration, I am reminded to take a step back and remember what is a big deal, and what is something to laugh at. This is what Haiti teaches us.

If a father can wait patiently, praying that if he sells one more basket he’ll be able to buy the medicine he needs to treat his daughter’s diarrhea, I can wait. If a husband can wait, patiently hoping that today is the day his wife will feel better, will stop bleeding after the delivery of his child and be able to help him care for their children, I can wait. If a school child can wait patiently all day for meal that will come in the evening, I can wait. I can adjust. I can lean patience for the inconveniencies in life and those that feel more dire. I learn from Haiti.

Today, I got into Patrick V. and Francois’s car since they were kind enough to give me a ride home after class. They were nearly out of gas. Francois looked a little worried. There is currently a big gas crisis in the country. Most gas stations don’t have any gas. The ones that do also have a line 2 blocks long day and night with people waiting for the precious liquid to fuel their ride. Our Creole teacher came in flustered last night after waiting a fruitless 3 hours for gas only to have to leave on empty. What was Patrick V’s response to Francois’s question today? A song. A song made up impromptu about “there’s no gas, in this country.” And we all doubled over laughing. This is one example of a Haitian’s reaction to events out of their immediate control and that are ultimately not that important. No fuming, no head banging, no fist against the window. Singing and laughing because that is really the only thing that makes sense. And it made us all feel better.

Patrick and I are humbled, because the patience of the people here always trumps our own feeble attempts. We learn not to be completely thrown by little bumps in the road. Because really, that’s all they are--bumps. Life goes on, largely undisturbed. It is our expectations we must adjust, our timeline, our toe-tapping impatience. We must learn to sing instead. And always, let laughter bring us back in perspective.