On Foot

If life was a parade and the kids on the curb were waiting for car parts to be tossed into the crowd, the galloper would be the most popular "float" on the street. If I had a dime for every time a street kid ran up to us at a stop light with a piece of metal that fell off our car, or for every person in a car next to ours waving and pointing at something hanging off/dripping from/smoking out of our car, or for each loud CLUNK/RATTLE sound suddenly emitting from the belly of the beast we'd be finishing construction on a new CONASPEH hospital by now with all my loads of money.

Last night driving home, some large plate fell off from under the car. I stopped to investigate the curious grating noise it caused along the rocky road. A friendly passerby helped me find a piece of twine in a burning trash pile and used it to tie up the panel to the car so I could make it home.

Its moments like those that re-inspire deep love for the Haitian people. After hearing a grating sound against the gravel, watching people watch me, laughing at my "what the heck is that" face, and then having someone run up to the car to help diagnose the trouble, I had instant help in the early evening. Who needs Triple A when you have helpers at every corner?

Today, we hobbled the Galloper over to the mechanic for a tire change and a repair. I think I caught a cringe when the mechanic saw us pulling up, shaking his head at a lost cause driving up for help.

For the rest of the day we were reduced to "on foot," yet it allowed a new view of the city, a slower pace, and a recognition of the comminty that has risen up around us over the last few months.

Today we hoofed it from the mechanic to the bank, then past the guest house to see some of our old friends. Hugging the security guards and the cooks who helped mold the first 3 months of our time in Haiti reminded us of how much we miss the little community we had in the guest house, and how often we drive by without saying hello. Our path home took us through the neighborhood market where we grabbed fruits and vegetables for the week while answering the many inquirories into how Solomon is doing by the interested vendors in the street. Finaly, I stopped by a local super market and filled my backpack with other non-perishables we were in need of. The grocery baggers were a little taken aback that they couldn't pile my groceries in a box to be hauled to a car in the parking lot. When I told them instead to pack the groceries into my backpack, they looked at me wondering if I was using my Creole correctly. As I loaded the super-heavey load on my back, turned, smiled and said, "I go like a donkey!" they laughed and laughed at the crazy blan on foot

All-in-all it was a good day. Granted, I couldn't go to Carrefour clinic because of loss of wheels. But I had more exercise than I've had in a long time walking around the neighborhood. And during all the exercise, I saw up close the community that has been slowly evolving into our own over the last 6 months. A comunity where happy reunions were made at the guest house, where street vendors remember our situation and are interested in our child's wellbeing. While the neighoborhood doesn't yet feel like "home," it at least feels familiar. And that was a happy discovery to make today without wheels. Sometimes you have to slow down to realize how good you have it.