Patrick's Musings

Patrick’s Musings

1) There are so many visible differences between Haiti and the United States that one need not think very hard about how the two nations vary from one another. However, there are other, more complex differences that can only be discovered when one obtains a working knowledge of Kreyol. For example, the other day at CONASPEH I was talking with a student when I noticed a professor and a large group of students laughing loudly. They seemed to be making fun of a girl who had recently cut her hair very short. I assumed they were teasing her about her haircut, which turned out to be somewhat accurate. When I showed an interest in the conversation I was informed by the laughing professor, “Li pa gen plim.” Plim is a word that means pen or feather, so the sentence would translate as, “He doesn’t have a pen or a feather.” That didn’t seem so funny to me. As I was thinking about why a student not having a pen or a feather would be funny the professor noticed my confusion and offered a visual explanation. He touched under his armpits and around his midsection and explained to me that plim was also a word used for body hair. They were teasing the girl because she cut her hair so short she must have also cut off all other body hair. This was the big joke. I immediately felt uncomfortable until I noticed that the girl who was being teased was laughing as loudly as anyone and was clearly not bothered by the teasing. I informed the professor that if he worked in an American school he would be looking for a new job. He found this equally amusing and said, “Wi, men se konsa an Ayiti.” “Yes, but that’s how it is in Haiti.” Indeed it is. There seems to be no topic that is considered embarrassing, inappropriate, or taboo. My best educated guess is that when you live on top of each other and in such an open and communal environment like most Haitians do, then things such as sex and nudity become significantly less private and guarded. My theory seemed to be confirmed the other day at the beach. After swimming in the ocean I entered the communal outdoor showers located in a not so private area. As I was rinsing myself off the woman in the shower next to me pulled her swimsuit top off and continued about her business. Amazed at my good fortune, I thanked God on the spot for those cultural differences that make each country unique.

2) While I am in favor of communal showering I do have my limits. One of the students at CONASPEH tested these limits recently. The young man, roughly 16 years-old, entered my office and showed me a small handheld DVD player that a family member living in the States had bought him. He was very proud of it and asked me if he could plug it into one of the outlets to recharge since the CONASPEH generator was running and the school currently had power. I agreed and told the student to have a seat while he waited for the DVD player to charge. Then I continued grading my New Testament exams while the student sat in a chair and began watching a movie that was already in the player. After a few moments I noticed that there seemed to be odd sounds originating from the movie. I asked the student what movie he was watching. “Porno,” he replied. “Porno?” I asked. “Porno,” he replied. Thinking that it was unlikely that the student would enter a pastor’s office and openly watch an adult feature, I went around to the other side of my desk to check it out. Sure enough, the student was watching porn. I explained to the student in my broken and insufficient Kreyol that it was inappropriate for him to be watching this type of movie, especially at school, and even more so in my office. Fortunately, he seemed to understand my reservations about this. He packed up his stuff, gave me a big smile, and headed on to his next class. On a related note, I am working on my “Birds and the Bees” speech in Kreyol as we speak.

3) On a more serious note, teaching in a Haitian seminary has been very difficult at times. The conservative and other-worldly theologies of many of my students have often come in direct conflict with my own personal theology, as well as the theology that CONASPEH has encouraged me to emphasize in my teaching. This is has created some uncomfortable and challenging moments for me. For example, after giving a lecture on the liberation theology of Elsa Tamez, and specifically her understanding of sin as something that happens not merely on a personal level, but also within the political and social structures of a society, I found that most of my students seemed unimpressed with this idea. I asked them to give me feedback on Elsa Tamez and many of them went on and on about the heaven that awaits believers in the next life and of course, atonement theology (the belief that Jesus died for the sins of humanity and that one can only be reconciled to God through belief in Jesus’ atoning death). While I think that Christianity has historically failed to understand the original Jewish imagery and symbolism that was used in the expression of Jesus as the sacrificial lamb of God, I understand where this belief comes from and have long ago comes to terms with the meaning it does and does not have for myself. However, when I pushed my students further and asked them if we could somehow determine with complete certainty that there was no afterlife would Christianity still be relevant to the world we live in? Every single one of them said no. This was devastating to me as my belief in Jesus as a radical social critic and revolutionary who advocated on behalf of the least of these was a big part in my own calling to serve in a place like Haiti. Yet a large part of both liberation theology and the co-mission model that Kim and I strive to operate within insists that impoverished and oppressed populations have a privileged position in terms of interpreting the Gospel. This means that overly privileged people like myself must listen to and take seriously the theology and beliefs of others. Some days this is easier said than done, especially when I believe that the “pie in the sky” theology of American evangelical and Pentecostal Protestantism that was brought to Haiti, has functioned as yet another form of First World colonization. Yet it’s easy for a highly privileged outsider like myself to encourage the Haitian people to work for social change because my risk is not their risk, and my cushy life is not their life. These are some of the challenges of doing and living theology in the Haitian context.

4) The other night I dropped by Solomon’s old orphanage so that his biological mother could visit with him. Afterwards I gave a ride home to one of the workers at the orphanage that Kim and I have befriended. This woman lives in one of the numerous Port-au-Prince neighborhoods that are tucked away off the main roads of the city. After turning onto a narrow road from a bigger, much busier street, we drove for about a mile passing small cinder block homes where children stood in the doorways, men played dominos, and women did each other’s hair. There were goats, dogs, and the occasional pig picking their way through piles of garbage that had not yet been set on fire for the day. When we reached our destination I parked the car, grabbed Solomon and followed our friend through a maze of alleys that contained tiny concrete houses, vendors selling their goods in any open space they could find, and children playing everywhere. The amount of people in this little neighborhood was staggering. There were people in every doorway, on every roof, and dozens of others seemingly standing around. After a couple of minutes of walking we climbed half a dozen steps to our friend’s small two room house. She proudly introduced me to her new granddaughter who was only three months old and to two of her adult sons, who along with their girlfriends, and another granddaughter, were living with our friend. For those of you counting, that’s five adults, and two children ages 4 and three months living in a two bedroom house with two twin beds. As I looked out onto the neighborhood I felt overwhelmed at the opportunity to experience such a place as this Port-au-Prince neighborhood, and to catch a glimpse of the lives of the people who lived there. How did a guy from a small town in Iowa end up gazing upon the rooftops and alleys of this section of Port-au-Prince? This is one of the many amazing experiences that Kim and I get to experience because we live in Haiti and it made me feel good about the life that we have chosen even with its continuous struggles and frustrations. It also reminded me of a quote from my favorite novelist Tom Robbins who once wrote, “When life demands more from people than they demand of it - which is often the case – what results is a deep seated resentment of life.” Today I have no such resentment.

5) Today’s other quote of the day comes from a book I am reading by David Frawley entitled, “Vedantic Meditation: Lighting the Flame of Awareness.” I think it speaks to the ultimate teacher, which is another name I have given Haiti. Frawley writes, “To find truth we must be motiveless. This is to be one with the universal motive, which is to bring a higher consciousness into the world.” Here is to the seeking of such consciousness and to Haiti’s unique place in bringing it about.