Lapli ap tombe (the rain is falling)

Mornings are quickly becoming my favorite time of day. Today I sit with a steaming cup of Haitian coffee beside me, a cool breeze blowing in the window. I look out on a panorama of palm trees blowing in the wind, watch the sun kissing pink the tips of the mountains awake, and hear the calls of vendors and shoe shiners heard from the street below.

This week has introduced the first part of the rainy season. Every evening before the sun goes down, a sky full of clouds roll in. The nights are filled with the sound of rain tumbling out of the sky, washing the tin, the cement, the dirt... knocking the dust and pollution out of the sky, sending rivelets down the rocky and eroded streets. The nights cool, and the mornings are left clear.

Of course for us, in a 3rd story apartment, it is a welcome relief. But certainly for others the rain brings new problems.

We visited the home of one of our new Haitian friends this week. She wanted to introduce us to her children. We drove to her corner through twisting, rocky streets. We eventually had to get out and walk along a walkway in between cement block houses. A stream of water was running through, and barefooted children played in the water. One woman sat outside her house braiding her daughter's hair, another was bent over a large wash tub washing the family's clothes. We walked through busy life lived out doors. But the signs of the water were clear. One man was sweeping out water from his porch... likely it had found its way inside too.

We've heard that parts of City Solei already flooded. After only 5 days of normal rain fall. I can't imagine what a mess hurricane season makes of the lives here.

Today on my drive to Carrefour, the usually dusty drive was instead a obstacle course of mud-ponds and sticky clay. The trash that had been washed from higher places in the city lay muddy and scattered all over the side-streets, blocking up the water ways. The mess didn't seem to stop life much, but the landscape had certainly changed.

Such a dicotamy. On a very selfish level I'm greatful for the change of season, the cool nights it brings, the fresh-quality of the air, new vibrant green that replaced the dusty, thirsty version to the plants. But our neighbors in Haiti are having a very different experience, battling mud, rising water, likely leaking roofs and sleepless nights. Yet another way our experience of the world is so vastly different from that of the poor.