Family Ti Mache

After a weekend of sick days, and school that was slow to restart after the elections leaving a clinic that was virtually empty, I have been feeling a little stir crazy with lack of tactile things to do. I was threatening Patrick that I was ready to bust out on my first solo run in Haiti, and Patrick suggested we instead go for a little family walk around the neighborhood.

There is a small side-street market not far from our house, and we so happened to be out of vegetables. Veggies are so much more fresh and beautiful in the street markets than the cold and "modern" supermarkets full of imported goods where you can buy everything from Idaho potatoes to Washington apples that look a lot worse for the trip. The produce in the "mache" or street markets is affordable, seasonal and shopping in the neighborhood "mache" allows us to support Haitian agriculture while taking in a great cultural experience. So we put on our "snuggly" baby harness/carrier and ventured out with Solomon for a neighborhood walk.

Shortly after turning onto the market street, we started perusing the various machan's wares. Women squatted over mats full of colorful vegetables, others over big sacks of rice and dried beans. The woman selling pwason had a tub of small white fish staring up blindly from a big basket. Several baskets were full of less perishable supplies such as canned milk, spaghetti and spreadable cheese. A skinned and raw cow thigh hung bloodily from the stall of the beef vendor, attracting a healthy swarm of flies. Chicken was both available newly skinned and raw sitting in a tub or live complete with feet, feathers, beak and bawk. With mango season upon us, almost everyone was selling a few, and the smell of over-ripe mango wafted up through the air mixing with the sent of meat, composting vegetables in the trash pile, dirt and the ever-present smoke on the breeze. The market was a buzz of activity but our presence took the buzz up to an all-out roar.

You would have thought we were hollywood celebrities. Move over Brangelina. Suri Cruz, you are so out of the spotlight. The Bentrotts are in the market.

We found ourselves quickly surrounded by masses of people very curious in our threesome, asking lots of questions and following us through the tiny neighborhood market. As we tried to innocently shop for colorful tomatoes, onions, green peppers and potatoes, we quickly found out that interest lay more in our story than in a possible sale. One merchant after another would ask about Solomon (where did you find him?) with eyebrows raised carrying a little challenge behind the gaze. I would then tell his story as curious onlookers would squeeze in to hear, and could immediately hear 5 people recounting the story to their neighbor behind them, "she said his mother put him in an orphanage and now they are taking care of him." Discussion then commenced amongst the crowd about their understanding of our role in Solomon's life. The comment that jarred me a bit was: "They'll feed him and send him to school, then give him back when he is done with school."

I suppose that is true in some ways. We raise our children until they are 18, and then set them free. Solomon will certainly be free to return to the country of his birth. And if we've done a good job instilling a sense of pride and ownership of the Haitian culture in him, such exploration might be a real possibility for him.

We are becoming accustomed to such lines of questioning and discussion when out with Solomon; we are usually greeted by an initial air of suspicion which is quickly dissipated when we tell his story. I don't mind at all the conversations that are sparked having Solomon with us, but today brought a new twist of bizarre. In reaction to our story, it seemed the people of the market today thought we were shopping for onions, peppers, potatoes and BABIES. After hearing about the Americans who are taking care of an orphan, they were sure that certainly one wasn't enough for us. One family brought their developmentally disabled child to us saying, "here, take him." The 8 year-old-boy stared up at us smiling, seemingly unfazed that his mother just tried to pawn him off on a strangely pale couple. A pregnant woman offered to give us her baby after it was born. Everyone had a baby or a friend with a baby that they could give us. Instantly overwhelmed, I then swung into my newly mastered speech, "babies should stay with their mothers if they can, because they love you and you love them. If Haitian children can grow up with Haitian families, it is a blessing for them and for the country." I don't yet have the vocab to go into long discussions about child trafficking or the ethical and legal implications of starting our own Haitian Brady Bunch working outside of systems in place to protect children.

Uh.

We ditched the peppers. It was too much. I could barely find Patrick's face over the sea of onlookcer's surrounding me and Solomon (who was happily kicking in the harness, taking in the crowds with a stoic gaze). I hope that the novelty of two blans with a bebe nwa will wear off if we keep a consistent presence in the hood. Its funny... when we walk the side streets, we still engage in the same conversations, but they are less overwhelming. And they usually don't involve getting offers to expand the family. The market was out of control.

Of course all such interest, such "offerings" and displays are a consequence of the harsh realities of life and the difficulties people here have in supporting their families. They also reflect the historical "blan" presence in Haiti in which some precedents have been set. Haitians have long seen white foreigners swooping in, taking up projects on everything from health care to building churches to child rearing. In some ways Patrick and I are playing into part of such a problem that exists when foreigners try to solve Haitian problems in their foreign ways instead of empowering the Haitians to solve their own problems in their own ways. When it came to Solomon, we acted on an individual to individual basis. It was a matter of love at first sight, a matter of a couple wanting a child and a child needing a home. But pulling back and seeing ourselves as part of a bigger picture of the "blan" (or foreign) presence in Haiti causes humble reflection of the message we are giving people here who encounter us for the first time. The market reminded me of that again today.

Sometimes I wonder if we are doing good by Solomon. No, not really. I KNOW we are doing good by him because I've seen where he would have grown up had we not intervened. But I do often struggle with the perceptions and attitudes HE will have to struggle with as a result of us "meddling" with his life. I pray that we handle it gracefully.

In the mean tim,e Patrick and I continue to examine our presence here, what it means for our work, for our new family and how to be responsible and empowering to the people of this country who we've quickly come to admire.

That's a big bag of worms.