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As expected a wide range of emotions have greeted me as I returned to my beloved Haiti: joy, sadness, surprise, frustration, and gratitude to name a few. I ran into Patrick Villier at the Miami airport as we were on the same flight back to Port-au-Prince. In typical Patrick V. fashion he explained to me how difficult things were in Haiti and then he stopped to provide comical relief. He told me a story about a professor that had died at the CONASPEH building during the earthquake. I know, it's hysterical so far. Anyways, while Patrick was attending a service for the 17 staff and students who died at CONASPEH, including the professor, he looked over to see this man sitting in one of the pews behind him. Patrick burst into laughter and then explained to me, “They gave me the wrong list of victims.” His ability to laugh amidst the everyday struggles of Haiti is why Kim and I have missed him so much. As we boarded the plane we agreed to meet up on Tuesday where I can begin using our old car again and start visiting CONASPEH churches and projects.

It has been wonderful to see familiar faces and to be reminded of the community of friends that Kim and I have made in Haiti. Everyone wanted to know how Kim and “King” Solomon were doing? Many were unaware that we added Valancia to our family, so I was happy to give them that news too. Of course, they all wanted to know when we would be moving back to Haiti? While our future is very much up in the air the thought of not being able to live and work in Haiti again has me feeling a tremendous sense of loss. I cursed our government and USCIS many times in my mind as the reality of what we might have to give up struck me last night. However, if this is my “swan song” in Haiti for a while I will give thanks for the amazing experience we have had and for the incredible people we have had the privilege of living amongst. I also had the thought that Kim and I are in many ways made to live and work in Haiti. It is certainly not the easiest country to live in, but it is a place that we love and it is home for our family. I am putting out everything I can into the universe so that we can return soon.

In many ways Haiti seems very much the same as when we left two weeks after the earthquake (almost three months ago). However, there are some things that have changed. My first impression of post-earthquake Haiti came from my window seat on the airplane. I was shocked to see the amount of tents that dotted the earth below me. There were long drawn out tent cities everywhere, sprinkled with individual tents throughout the city. While the tent cities were a phenomenon that began hours after the earthquake hit I was nonetheless surprised to see the massive volume of them that have sprung up all over Port-au-Prince and the outlining areas. There have been reports that 1.3 million people are displaced from their homes in Haiti. From what I have observed from both the air and the ground it seems likely that this number is too low. Nearly everyone I have seen and talked to are living in tents or under plastic tarps. Last night I journeyed with our good friend Veniel, who is also the manager of the guest house I am staying at, to a small facility for children with HIV/AIDS where one of the guests is volunteering. They needed help putting up a large tarp that had been blown down by the wind. This tarp was protecting the three tents where roughly 30 children are sleeping. While the organization’s building seemed intact they were not risking sleeping inside for fear of another earthquake. This fear has gripped the country and the continuous aftershocks, including a small one that hit last night, are not quelling peoples’ fears. After a little planning, and some tree climbing, we were able to get the tarp back up and tie it to a couple of mango trees before heading back to the guest house for the night. This is just one example of how insufficient the tents and tarps are for the Haitian climate. Pray for a light rainy season because I am afraid that the rains could bring a whole new level of misery for the people of Haiti.

Today was one of those days that can only happen in Haiti. First of all, I slept until 9 am, taking full advantage of not having two 18-month old babies in my room. When I awoke I saw one of my favorite people Josie who is a cook at the guesthouse. She promptly scolded me for not bringing Kim and then insisted I eat an egg even though I missed breakfast by more than two hours. After breakfast I headed out to see our old house. I was curious if it had completely come down or was still standing. I arrived to find it in the same condition as when we departed. The gate was locked, so I couldn’t enter, but a neighbor had our landlord’s phone number so I made a quick call. Of course, he told me not to enter the house, but I think I might try to retrieve a few things tomorrow with Veniel. We’ll see.

After my trip back “home” I walked over to Solomon and Valancia’s old orphanage. Along the route I saw dozens of houses and businesses still lying in rubble. From what I have seen thus far it appears that little to no rubble has been removed from the city. Veniel confirmed this observation and complained that only people with money are able to get rubble removed. Of course in Haiti this means that most of the fallen buildings are in the exact same shape that they were immediately following the earthquake. I saw one house that had been removed and cleaned up. One.

My time at the orphanage was fantastic. There is probably no place that I enjoy spending time at more than this orphanage and it felt really good to spend the day speaking Kreyol again. I was greeted at the orphanage by smiling children wanting to be held and staff who were eager for reports on Solomon and Valancia. When I told the woman who was Valanica’s primary care taker at the orphanage that Valancia had gained 9 lbs and was almost walking, she laughed out loud, threw her hands in the air and gave thanks to God. “Valancia is fat and eats like a donkey,” I explained to the workers, but they didn’t believe me. I promised to bring pictures of her tomorrow to prove to them just how far “little” Valancia has come.

I spent most of the day at the orphanage holding babies, learning patty cake games in Kreyol from little girls, and talking with staff. One highlight of the day was lunch. I was served a big plate of rice and beans by the orphanage staff. I quickly devoured it as I have missed Haitian food a great deal. The staff asked me if I wanted seconds, which I declined. One of the women then began making fun of me saying that I eat like “a little doll.” She proceeded to tease me the rest of the afternoon calling me "little doll" in Kreyol. God I have missed the Haitian’s sense of humor.

Amidst all of the laughter of the children and staff I ate lunch next to an eight year-old girl whose father died in the earthquake. Her mother decided that she could not support both her and her older brother without the help of her father so she put this young girl in the orphanage. The girl began crying after talking about the death of her father. A staff person sitting next to me then went on to point out several children who had lost a parent in the earthquake. It was a sad reminder of what 230,000 deaths really means. Amongst other things, it means children without their parents.

When we departed Port-au-Prince in late January the orphanage had 135 kids. They were able to get Humanitarian Parole Visas for 120 of these children, which left them with only 15. They currently have 65 children and have had to turn back numerous others because conditions at the orphanage don’t allow them to responsibly care for more. The children are still sleeping outside, but they now have nice tents donated from USAID. The baby tent even has a cement floor that was poured inside it. However, at 3 pm this afternoon it felt like it was 200 degrees inside that tent. All of the babies were sweating profusely and the workers were busy swatting flies and wiping sweat off themselves while trying to care for all 20 babies. I have always been amazed at how these selfless women care for so many children in such challenging conditions. The staff at the orphanage are some of the most remarkable people that I have ever met. I was thrilled to see them again and to brag about how great my children are doing. Kim and I are continuing a job with our kids that began long before we took them into our care.

So I wish you all farewell for the evening. I need to bathe in the worst way and to hit the sack early in hopes of getting up tomorrow in time for breakfast. Bon nwit.