Chill in the Air

Its beginning to feel a lot like Christmas...

This Haitian winter, we've had nearly 4 weeks of no precipitation. The end of the hurricane season left the skies clear and the days hot and dry. Humidity returned 2 days ago, but last night the rain finally started to fall. Fall and fall. And the wind blew. At about 3 am, Patrick and I actually crawled UNDER the comforter because... get this... we were cold! What has long been decorative finally had function as we pulled the blanket under our chin and snuggled down for a few more zzz's. I woke this morning partly wanting to stay in bed all day, but too giddy to have a cup of coffee and need its WARMTH as much as I needed its dark aroma and flavor (caffeine). So out from under the covers I crawled to savor a steamy cup of Joe, curling up in a sweatshirt I dug out of deep storage and gazing out the rain-spotted window. Palm trees danced and waved in the wind, silvery puddles crawled over rooftops shimmering in the morning light, raindrops pitter-patted on tin and concrete, in puddles, on palm leaf as the world wriggled awake under the wet overcast morning.

Joy.

The sensation of "cold" here is about as luxurious to this Midwesterner as Ben and Jerry's icecream or hot showers.

Solomon slept soundly and late this morning, cuddled under two blankets. Patrick, though, was soon up to join me, just as giddy about the chill in the air as I. We were like two kids on a snow day. Too excited to sleep in perfect sleeping weather. ;)

And the rain kept falling for hours, chilling the air and blocking the sun with wet grey clouds. Rain storms here are usually fast, hot and furious flooding streets and raging to the sea. Today was an unusual "ground soaker" as Papa Steve would call it, slow and steady, spanning a full night and most of the following day. Life in the streets yielded to the steady shower.

With windshield wipers wiping, I drove to work this morning traversing a bizarro Haiti. Cold and rain to Haitians is like snow and ice to Americans. People stay in unless they absolutely HAVE to go out. So my commute had no traffic jams, no police stops, no herds of humanity crossing through traffic, no kids with rags polishing the windshield at the stoplights. Sidewalks were empty their usual masses of vendors. Faces peered out of windows and doorways. Even the tap-tap traffic seemed light. Instead I slowed only for giant puddles to splash though with Monty.

During my commute, a radio program read Christmas letters to Tonton Noel (Uncle or Old Man Christmas) from children all over Haiti. Jean wanted a toy car; Katiyana dreamed of a doll. Several children asked that Tonton Noel remember the kids in the street this Christmas, and one little child asked for a home and a mom. That one had my eyes as misty as the weather outside.

No one braved the wet roads to show up to clinic this morning in Carrefour, so I kicked back with the nurse and the lab technician and visited in our rare empty clinic, sharing about our plans for Christmas as the rain tumbled over the roof. We watched the neighbor catch roof-run-off in a buckets and bottles, seemingly storing up for a long dry spell. Since most Haitians have to walk to the public pump every morning for water, a heavy rain can offer a rare surplus of water to store leaving a few mornings to follow with a lighter work load. I left after an hour, all too happy to make the 35-minute miraculous no-traffic drive home, officially kicking off my Christmas vacation. WAAAHOOOOO and Ho Ho Ho.

I picked up my boys and we went up the mountain to run errands. I don't remember the last time Patrick and I were in such a good mood in the car. On the way home, we decided to try out a Chinese restaurant some friends had recommended. Rainy cold day? Chinese take-out sounded all-too perfect.

While Solomon and I waited in the car for Patrick to get our orders-to-go, a gaggle of street kids surrounded our car. Despite being absolutely soaked to the bone and shivering, they were in remarkably high spirits. In my best motherly tone, I scolded them for standing out in the open and not ducking a single raindrop. Laughing through chattering teeth, they told me that even the trees were dripping on them. Instead of running for cover under the closest overhang, they demonstrated some scenes from a Jet Li movie for me complete with "hieeee-yah" sound effects, drew pictures in the mist on the car window, quizzed me about Solomon--inviting him to join their little gang of boys--, and asked for my phone number. I had to give the kids credit for their sunny disposition while sporting cold wet hands shriveling in the constant moisture. Despite my joy in an overcast, rainy day, I am glad that such days are rare here in a place that lacks enough sturdy roofs to keep many-a-head warm and dry.

In our luxurious lives this afternoon, Solomon drifted to sleep to the lullaby of raindrops on pavement. Patrick and I enjoyed delicious hot Chinese food and steaming tea that tasted AMAZING (any variation from Creole food or our bland home menu is quite exciting). With bellies warm and full we snuggled together to watch a movie in disbelief at the still-falling rain. This afternoon we made cookies and Skyped my Mom and Dad who are socked in at home in Kansas with an ice storm. Apparently weather is reeking havoc in many parts of the world today. Dad wasn't as happy about limbs crashing into his lawn under the weight of layers of ice as I was in our rainy-day in.

Santa couldn't have packed anything better in his sack of toys for Kim in Haiti than a chill in the air. A cold day in Haiti... a cool, wet, rainy, overcast GORGEOUS day appreciated by this Midwesterner who misses the changing of seasons... or any simple variation from relentless summer.

Its beginning to feel a lot like Christmas...