Saint Tami

As we struggled through customs in Atlanta, Olivia texted Tami and told her we would all love her so, so much if she just happened to meet us at Pittsburgh International with pizza. She kept us hanging, but our beloved Tami came through, like the angel she is, with boxes of hot pizza and this great "Welcome Home" sign.

Photo by Olivia H.

Bondye beni America.

Radio Mac-Mac-Macaya!

Na oue pita, Ayiti.

We successfully made it through the airport in Port-au-Prince and we're en route to Atlanta, Georgia, U.S.A. I'm so sad to be leaving Haiti, but I'm really looking forward to showering for the first time in ten days.

From the beach, we returned to Pastor Paul's house to spend the night. Because the house has a large, flat roof and the weather was nice, several of us opted to sleep on the roof. What began as a wonderful evening falling asleep beneath the stars ended with me being dragged out of a dead sleep as the first pitters of rain turned into a full-fledged thunderstorm. We had just enough time to fold up our cots and sleeping bags and flee downstairs to the interior of the house. (Apparently during this fold-up process, I told Olivia that I was still asleep. I don't recall that conversation, so I probably was sleepfolding.)

I started to follow Olivia, Sandy and Kristen down to the women's guest room, but Madame Pastor pulled me aside and set me up in the kitchen, where it was a little quieter and more private. There she literally tucked me into bed with a glass of water.

Poison water.

I drank it all. What a mistake. It wasn't the verboten tap water, but it was salinated well water that kept me awake for several hours. I'll let you imagine. I told Jeff about it in the morning (trusting Madame Pas, but still wanting someone American to know what I ingested, just in case I die later) and he told me it was safe to drink, but that the salt probably upset my stomach. Still, at his advice, I dumped the rest of that water and switched to bottled lime-onade pop for the remainder of the day, just to be certain. But I felt back to normal after I got some food in my stomach, so no harm no foul. 

We had another big, Haitian breakfast, then piled in Jules' truck for a trip into town. We visited Watland's mother at her home, then went to see the house Watland is building for himself and his wife to live in after their wedding this Saturday. He's building this house single-handedly!

Photo by Haiti H2O.

From there, we travelled into the city to check out Lenord's studio at the radio station, where he records his weekly radio program. You can even listen to Radio Macaya right here! Jeff and Olivia were both interviewed about St. Paul's and about our time in Haiti. They elected to speak for us because their Kreyol is best of the team. Basically, now they're Haitian famous. Haha.

From the radio station, we returned to Pastor Paul's house for lunch and last goodbyes to all of our Haitian friends (with the exception of Jules, Lenord and Beauty, who came back to Port-au-Prince with us). It was about three hours to P-a-P and I only got carsick once. After that, I ate some ginger-coconut cookies and moved up to the front seat, which much improved the situation. 

At Jules' house we ate dinner, organized luggage, then debriefed the week over spice cake and juice.

Our last Haitian experience before the airport was going to the grocery store this morning to stock up on Haitian goodies. The store looked like a Shop-and-Save, so not very thrilling. It was air-conditioned though, something we haven't felt since the plane from Atlanta ten days ago.

Beyond the mountains, there are mountains.

It rained most of the night, but that didn't change our plans to hike early in the morning. We left at 6 a.m., just in time to catch the sunrise as we started our ascent.

The altitude is much higher here than in Pittsburgh, so I was wheezing when we first set out, but I adjusted faster than I anticipated. The hike up was almost vertical through thick vegetation. It took about half an hour to get to the summit.

What a view! Oh my goodness. Haiti might beat Croatia for the most beautiful country I've been in. We spent another half hour or so on the mountaintop taking pictures and just admiring the view. A few of the kids came with us, so we got pictures with them too. I Lion Kinged the littlest girl. She didn't appreciate the reference, but she laughed and laughed when I held her up like Rafiki with Simba.

To the top, Johnny!
Photo by Haiti H2O.

The trip down was longer and more level than the one up. We passed many locals, either on their way to their gardens in the mountains or leading animals (we even saw hummingbirds!) Round trip, the hike took about two hours and was gorgeous every step of the way. It was also punctuated by Michael's animal noises. He can sound exactly like a goat, pig, sheep, chicken, donkey, horse, cricket, dog - any animal we encounter. It was amusing to point to every animal we crossed and immediately get a vocal response from Michael. He's uncanny.

Breakfast was ready when we returned, which meant more of that phenomenal Haitian coffee and spamghetti. Then we packed and said our goodbyes to our friends in Plain Matin.

Next stop was the house at Les Cayes, where we all dropped our bags and changed into bathing suits, then drove about half an hour to the beach at Port-Salut on the west coast. Because I get seasick in the sea (even just standing there. I know, I'm pathetic.), I got in the water just long enough to try it and cool off a bit (it's much warmer here than in the mountains). Then I discovered there are hermit crabs all over the sand. I showed one to Orlean, but she was not nearly as delighted as I am.

Now I'm sitting on the beach under a palm tree, toes in the sand, drinking Prestige (the best-selling beer in Haiti) and enjoying the sights and sounds of the Caribbean Sea while a stray dog sleeps to my left. Vendors keep coming right up to my beach chair and trying to sell me straw hats decorated with Haitian flags and/or the name "Port-Salut." There are so many rowboats lined up on shore and I kind of want to take one, but I don't know if they're public access or if that would be commandeering a vessel. I guess I'll just hang out here and wait for the lobster to finish cooking. Not a bad way to begin the end of my time in Haiti!

Me, Olivia and Kristen at Port-Salut, Sud, Haiti.
Photo by Sandy M.

Ki sa, sa ye?

I spent the afternoon in the kitchen with the women. Olivia brought me with her so she could help translate for me and it was actually very fun!

The women wouldn't let me do anything because they were afraid I would cut or burn myself, but I watched Madame Pastor F., Suzette and the other ladies marinate chunks of goat meat with various spices, like cloves, garlic and sliced peppers.

Suzette is starting to learn English and knew just enough to introduce herself and tell me she was one son and one daughter. Which worked well because the most I can say about myself in Kreyol is that my name is Amy and I have a mother, father and brother.

Most of the conversation in the kitchen was me pointing to different items and asking, "Ki sa, sa ye?" That way, I hoped to learn some Kreyol words with conversations like:

Me: What's this?

The women: It's a carrot.

Me: What's this?

The women: It's a spoon.

Despite the language barrier, it was a nice time. The women enjoyed asking me and Olivia about foods in the States, as in "Do you have butter in the United States? Do you have rice? Do you have carrots? Do you have goat?" Olivia calls Madame Pas F. "Polis la Kreyol" because she's the grammar police! She definitely helps you learn because she always corrects you when you're wrong and makes you repeat what she says until you can correctly say what you mean. She would be a great teacher!

Madame Pas F. is amazing, by the way. She's only 29, but she runs Pastor Farrell and their two kids along with that kitchen. She's about five feet tall and is a little skinny minnie (and pregnant!) but nobody messes with Madame Pas. Not like you would want to, because she's so sweet and loving.

After dinner, we thanked the cooking ladies for feeding us all week by giving them each a gift bag with a cutting board, a knife, a can opener, lotion, and a fingernail kit. They've never seen can openers before (they use knives), so Jules promised to teach them to use the openers later. Then we Americans gathered up the cooks' kids and went for a walk up the street to watch the sunset before the debriefing on our exit trip from Plain Matin tomorrow. No church tonight means we get to relax a bit (but only a little bit).

VBS

Sunday was our feast day. Chicken, rice, Haitian potato salad, and Madame Pastor's pineapple cake. Also, more fried plantains, which I didn't care for the first day, but now I've learned to love. Madame Pastor told me the secret to great plantains is to deep fry them twice! So maybe I won't be making any when I get home.

To top it off, we finished with Kremas, an alcoholic beverage made with creamed coconut, sweetened condensed milk and rum. There were spices in this, like nutmeg or cinnamon, so it reminded me of eggnog, but it was strong! When they spike a drink, they really spike it. I'm not a huge fan of rum, so I only took a little shot of it. Orlean, however, was throwing it back like a pro - and she's only nine!

Then, because it was Sunday and there is no church tomorrow night, the neighborhood went all out for worship. There was so much jumping and dancing and so much dust kicking up that I had to go outside for air several times. We literally kicked up a cloud of dust and my eyes were burning! It got hotter and sweatier than some clubs I've been in and my ears were still ringing when I fell asleep.

This morning we hosted a Vacation Bible School, open to the entire community. About 50 kids showed and it was crazy fun!

First, Olivia read the story of Joshua and the Battle of Jericho from a Kreyol children's Bible storybook because she speaks Kreyol best of our group. Then Claudette led the kids in some Kreyol songs before splitting them into three age groups. The groups rotated through these stations:

• Coloring
• Bracelet making
• Quilting

I helped the quilters. The quilt group at St. Paul's made a quilt that we brought with us with blank squares for the kids to put their hand prints. Each kid got his or her hand painted, then printed on the quilt. I helped them wash their hands after in a bucket of water, which seemed like a new concept to quite a few of the kids. Kristen ended up dunking each hand in the water and scrubbing them around, then I came in with a wet wipe to get any excess and a towel to dry. From there, I shoved kids back toward their seats for another story. My word of the day was "Chita!" the command for "Sit down!" But the kids were too precious and, despite the language barrier, it went as well as Bible school with American kids. I guess working with children is always herding cats, no matter what the cultural dynamics.

Madame Pastor Jan helping with the handprint quilt.
Photo by Sandy M.

Before sending the kids home, we got them back together for a few more songs and quick introductions by everyone on our team. Sandy recorded a video of Claudette leading the kids in a renditions of "Chak Moun" and "Father Abraham," which you can view here. That's Beauty in the red shirt, cheesing at 0:27 and my mucker, Madame Pas, at the very end. 

Now it's time for lunch - knockoff Oreos and coffee!

Picture Day

Yesterday was Picture Day.

After lunch we split into four groups with once "good" camera each. Madame Pastor and I went with Mark and Milo to take family portraits throughout the community.

We went door-to-door asking families if they wanted any portraits taken for a small fee to the church. Mark is actually into photographer and has a professional camera, so his photos were very high-quality. Most people changed into their best outfits for the photos and they got such a kick out of seeing themselves on camera.

Since I'm not a photographer, my job was to stand behind Mark when he photographed babies and to try to get them to look at the camera. It was all clapping, waving, cooing, clicking, and snapping my fingers. Sometimes parents stood next to me and helped, and sometimes they handed me snacks or toys to wave while cooing, "Bebe, bebe!"

Adding to the struggle of getting a baby to sit still in a chair or on a block and look at the camera, was the fact that most of them were terrified of Mark. These babies have never seen white people, so a bearded white man with a camera trying to get them to smile had them screaming in horror.

I, on the other hand, as a white female, am very popular. Between my pasty white skin and towering (by Haitian standards) figure, I guess I'm like the freak show come to town. Mothers were constantly thrusting their babies on me for a photo op and the men wanted me to pose with them (usually on an incline to accentuate the height difference) or with their motorcycles. It was an endless stream of "Blan! Blan! Blan!" with Madame Pastor chuckling and pointing at me asking, "Isit la blan?" As if they wanted Mark, the White Devil.

So popular.
Photo by Mark Z.

I got quite a shock at one of the last houses when two men about my age pulled up in a pick-up truck. They looked Haitian, so I almost fell over when one asked me in perfect English, "So where are you from?"

It turns out the pair are brothers, born in a town just south of here, now living in Boston. They're in Haiti visiting family this month. They asked me why I'm in Plain Matin and what I've been doing here, then warned me not to go back to Port-au-Prince because it's a "garbage town." Too bad that's our airport out!

After photos, I played more Frisbee while the photographers printed photos before church. We had regular worship last night and formal church this morning after another spamghetti breakfast. It was a typical (for Plain Matin) high-energy service, except longer. Also, everyone wore their good church clothes (women in dresses, men in long pants) for this, including our team.

Following the service, we got into our four photo groups from yesterday - one in each corner of the church - to distribute the photos. That was organized chaos.

Milo disappeared right at the beginning and didn't return, and Madame Pastor did more socializing than interpreting, so Mark and I were left high and dry with no one to translate for the mob encircling us and grabbing for photos. There was also confusion because Mark took multiple pictures of everyone, but we only had enough photo paper to print one per person. Therefore, people came expecting a handful of photos, but only received one. However, Jeff and Claudette managed to smooth things over and I think everyone left semi-happy.

Following that order, we all needed naps and granola bars, so that's what we did. When everyone was back to normal, we piled into the bed of Jules' pick-up for a ten-minute drive to the Riviere Glace (Ice River). We all stood for the drive, holding onto the railing around the bed.

Heading home from the river.
Photo by Sandy M.

It's cool today and drizzly, so I opted out of the swim and instead sat on the beach. Jay, Mark, Sandy, and Claudette also sat out, so I had company. On top of the weather, Olivia warned us that when she was in Plain Matin two years ago, several people got dysentery after swimming in that river. No, thank you. Better safe than sorry.

We were in such beautiful surroundings that there was plenty to see, including a little boy walking a goat on a rope leash and farmers picking crops high on the side of the mountains.

On the Ice River.
Photo by Haiti H2O.

Now we're back at the church. Next on the schedule is dinner, then worship again. I also have to practice my Bible verse in Kreyol.

For our day of rest, the plan was to keep the children out and the doors locked so we could pass a quiet afternoon without being slapped and pulled and poked, but there are still about fifteen kids in here now who managed to sneak through somewhere.

Oh well. We tried.

Romans 8:31

The women won Wheel of Kreyol this morning! Digicel cards to all our interpreters!

Now our challenge for tomorrow is to learn a Bible verse. When this was announced, Madame Pastor right away told me she had a verse in mind, but first wanted to know which verse I wanted. So I told her my favorite, Romans (or "Women" in Kreyol) 8:31. Madame Pastor laughed and claimed that's the one she was going to choose for me because it's her favorite as well. 

So it's lovely to be on the same page with Madame, but now I have to learn this:

Kisa n'a di ankò sou pwen sa a? 

Sì Bondye pou nou, kilès ki ka kont nou? - Women 8:31

Wish me luck!

Showers and Shouts

We ate the goat of course; the one I saw them kill yesterday. It tasted like roast beef. I would definitely recommend goat to a friend - especially if it's this fresh. It was delicious. We also ate beans and watermelon and some kind of sticky, spicy cashew candy that came in a little clump and was excellent.

It rained a lot last evening so we didn't get to play Wheel of Kreyol, as it was too crowded inside and too wet outside. I took advantage of a break in the rain to take a bucket shower. I wanted to just stand in a stall and shower from the rain, but of course the shower is just an empty, roofless stall, so there would have been nowhere to put my clothes that they wouldn't be soaked with rain.

I felt like a new person after the shower. It actually wasn't bad. You fill a mud bucket with cold water and get a tin coffee can. You rinse. You soap and shampoo. You rinse again. You're cleanish. (Hey, you get the important parts. What more do you want?)

I was dressed and ready just in time for church, where I danced my heart out with nine-year-old Rosaline (and got sweaty enough to negate the shower). Rosaline is the bossy one and seems to run the younger girls, but she and I danced and jumped so much that she fell sound asleep in my lap during the sermon (or she just didn't like the sermon. Who can say?)

During worship, Paige sang "Here I Am Lord" while Olivia played piano for her, then our whole group sang "Chak Moun" with Claudette leading. That's a fast song about how everyone has a way to sing, to dance and to praise God. Everyone in the congregation knew it and soon the whole church was singing along. The whole service was crazy fun (and I slept very well after)!

I woke up at 4:30 because we were supposed to hike at 5 a.m., but the rains from last night turned into thunderstorms early this morning and Jeff and Sandy called off the hike. We can't hike tomorrow because of church in the morning, so hopefully Monday looks better than today. Right now though, it's clear, sunny and cool, so I think it will shape up to be a great day.

Blan! Blan!

We just returned from the soccer field. It's about a five-minute walk down the road, next to the school. Paige and I watched the littlest kids while everyone else played soccer or Frisbee.

A few kids we haven't seen at church came out to play too. At one point, I heard a little voice calling "Blan! Blan!" (meaning a white person and/or foreigner) and turned around to see two little girls with beads in their hair pointing at me and Paige. As soon as I looked, they fell on the ground laughing, so I played peek-a-boo with them for a bit. They kept shrieking with laughter and falling all over each other, but when we tried to get them to come closer to play with us, they didn't get any closer.

Before soccer, I talked with Julien for awhile about his paintings. He's graduating from college in December and wants to go to start selling his art in the States. I bought one painting from him and tried to barter with him like Jeff instructed, but he kept agreeing to every price I suggested. I guess I would do better to try bartering at the market rather than at church.

Wheel of Kreyol

Bonjou! I slept in a little later today, but I guess that doesn't matter on Haitian time.

Immediately after dinner last night (white rice, chicken, bean sauce, watermelon, passion fruit juice), we played "Wheel of Kreyol." That's the game where every day we learn something in Kreyol to present to some of our non-English speaking neighbors. It's men versus women for the chance to win Digicel phone cards for our muckers at the end of the week.

Last night, both teams tied with 500 points, even though I thought I knocked it out of the park by saying "Mwen renmen Ayiti" ("I love Haiti") after being awarded 100 points for my mini-conversation with the judges. Madame Pastor taught me well!

Tonight our challenge is to recite a Haitian proverb for the judges. Madame Pastor is going to teach me, "Beat the dog; wait for the owner," meaning every action has a reaction and you always have to pay the consequences of your misdeeds.

After Wheel of Kreyol, I had about an hour and a half for Frisbee with the little kids. Church was scheduled to start "promptly" at 7 p.m., but of course it was closer to 8:15 when we actually got rolling. We pack away our cots every night and set up lots of benches and school desks for people to sit on, but it was still standing room only once the congregation finally arrived.

And what a church service! After getting used to Haitian services, I might fall asleep at church when I get back to the States. I've never seen a more lively group. People were dancing all out in their seats and the aisles and wherever there was room to move. Jeff said this was the first time ever that they've had a speaker system, so people were excited for the added decibels. Leading up to the service, the Haitians blasted a radio station through the speakers to draw people to worship. That got a full house just with people coming to see what was going on and to test the new instruments for themselves.

The service was mostly music - loud music! Everyone was dancing. Then there was a brief message in Kreyol before our group took the stage to introduce ourselves and give our first impressions of Haiti with the aid of an interpreter. (The services are entirely in Kreyol as very few people here speak English.)

There was a chance for members of the community to speak, then a teenage girl sang a beautiful solo. Jeff finished the service with a brief sermon, then the band really got into it and people went wild.

Finally around 10 p.m. church ended and there were hugs and handshakes all around. A few English speakers from the community introduced themselves to me. And did I mention I did the whole service with various children on my lap and babies in my arms? Every time I sat, someone wanted to sit on me and every time I stood, someone wanted held. The kids are so freaking adorable and they are everywhere! I have no idea who any of them belong to. They just appear and disappear and wander around like pint-sized adults who know exactly where they're going.

I slept great after that service and even successfully used the outhouse by myself in the middle of the night (with aid of a headlamp.)

Breakfast today was porridge with cloves, fruit, coffee, passion fruit juice, and bread with spicy peanut butter. After breakfast, we started construction on the guesthouse. We stood in a line to pass buckets of gravel from inside the house to outside. Then we went around the other side of the church to pass buckets of water from the pump to mix cement. The men mixed the cement in a divot in the ground outside the main church doors, while I went to fetch water with Claudette and a few of the other women. We crossed the street, then took a dirt path down through the jungle to a little stream where a woman was washing clothes. I was nervous about carrying water because I'm weak and can't carry a mud bucket full of water on my head like the local women. When Madame Pastor tried to send me off with them, I protested, but she ultimately won, and I was curious to see where we would go for water. Luckily, Lenord met us at the stream as we were about to leave and carried my water back to the church for me.

Lenord, bucket on shoulder, saving the day.
Photo by Haiti H2O.

After that, I tried to watch the kitchen ladies slaughter a goat for dinner. They tied it upside down from a tree branch and slit its throat into a bucket. Its tail wagged the whole time I watched. Michael made dying goat noises that freaked me out until I realized it was one mischievous boy making the sounds and not one half-dead goat. Still, that was too much for me, so I went back to the church to play soccer with some of the kids.

Eventually we had a team meeting to debrief on the trip so far and to talk about the agenda for the rest of our time in Plain Matin. Tomorrow will be our early morning hike up the mountain. Right now, we have some free time just before lunch. Heavy fog rolled over the trees this morning, but that has since moved on and it's clear now.

I've suddenly found myself surrounded by children tugging on me and trying to steal one of my last remaining pens (they keep disappearing into tiny little hands and pockets), so I guess I'm back in the soccer game.

Kreyol Cheatsheet

Now that I'm getting comfortable with very, very, very basic Kreyol, I thought it would be a good time to give you a quick lesson. Here are the most important words and phrases of my trip so far:

Bonjou! / Good morning!
Bonswa! / Good afternoon!
Bonn nui! Goodnight!
Mèsi. / Thanks.
Padekwa. / You're welcome.
Ki jan ou relè? / What is your name?
Mwen relè Amy. / My name is Amy.
Mwen soti Etazini. / I'm from the United States.
Mwe gen un fre. Le relè Mike. / I have one brother. His name is Mike.
Mwen kontan wè ou. / I'm happy to see you.
Mwe kontan fe konesans ou. / I am happy to meet you.
Mwe vle fe zami ak ou. / I want to be friends with you.
Mwen renmen Ayiti. / I love Haiti.
Kouman ou ye? / How are you?
Sak passè? / What's up?
Mwe mem tou. / Me too.
Ki sa, sa ye? / What is this?
Ki jan ou di ___ nan Kreyol? / How do you say ___ in Creole?
Eske ou konprann? / Do you understand?
Non, mwe pa konprann. / No, I don't understand.
Souple pale dousman. / Please speak slowly.
Vini! / Come here!
Chita! / Sit down!
Souri! / Smile!
Mwen pa pran ankò foto. / I am not taking anymore photos.
Tanpri pa pran linèt m'yo. / Please do not take my eyeglasses.
Na oue pita. / See you later.
Bat chen an, tann met li. / Beat the dog, wait for the owner. (Haitian proverb.)

Class dismissed.

Bad Hair Day

We haven't started construction yet.

Rosalie and some of the other little girls braided my hair into what feels like cornrows leading into a rat's nest of a ponytail. Obviously, I don't have a mirror, and when I asked Kristen how I looked, she just gave me a queasy smile. There is no getting a brush through this mess. If I can't wash it out at some point, I'll just try not to think about it until we get back to Port-au-Prince. My hairdresser back in Pittsburgh may have her work cut out for her when I return to the States.

And on that note, I see dinner coming out. Na oue pita!

Me holding Jayla while Rosalie (also tie-dyed)
and her friends destroy my hair.
Photo by Haiti H2O.

My Mucker

I haven't showered at all since Monday night. I'm officially starting to feel really gross. Haha.

For breakfast, we had spaghetti with spam in it (aka: "spamghetti"), avocados, fruit, coffee, and bread with spicy peanut butter or Laughing Cow cheese spread. After breakfast, we packed our sleeping bags and suitcases away to have room for the day's activities. Our first order of business was getting assigned our "muckers" or partners for the week. There's one Haitian translator to every American. We have to be responsible for our muckers while in Plain Matin, also knowing where they are and how they're doing. For us Americans, our mucker is our go-to for all questions and concerns relating to life in Haiti. For the Haitians, I feel like we're more along the lines of an English partner / pet project to keep alive for the week.

Pastor Paul's wife, Jan, is my mucker. She already speaks very good English and, more importantly, is extremely patient with my Kreyol. I'm struggling to learn the language verbally, since we don't have it written down. I can't exactly go to my Kreyol textbook or dictionary and see the words I need, like I could when studying Spanish and Italian.

To complicate this situation, I have to learn how to answer, "What is your name? Where are you from? How are you?" in Kreyol for tonight. We're doing a men versus women challenge this week to master basic Kreyol, which means I'll be on the spot. I have to learn this!

But of course instead of studying, I spent the morning playing with a baby girl named Jayla and three of her cousins (or sisters? All the kids travel in a pack and it's a bit of a challenge to understand who's related and how.) Jayla was too precious!

Lunch was leftovers from breakfast. After that, we split up with our muckers and visited homes around the community. I didn't understand much of anything, but the walk through the mountains was breathtaking and it was interesting to see how people in this community live. It was also interesting to hear from Madame Pas that the beautiful hanging yellow flowers I see everywhere are drugs. That's what she told me when I asked what kind of flowers they are. "Oh, they're drugs." I meant, what are they called, but that works even better. Madame told me she once knew a man who made a tea from those flowers and got so high he spent five days recovering in the hospital from hallucinations. "So do not drink them." Wasn't going to after that story. Thanks. :)

Madame Pastor and I spent a long time with one family of three women with several children. After Madame talked with them, she explained to me that the oldest woman is a medicine woman and the family practices voodoo. She said she told the women about Jesus and about the church here. She said she invited them to come experience church and attend at least one service, but the women were skeptical.

While at their house, it started pouring, so we waited inside with the family until the rain slowed enough to walk back to church. It was fascinating to see all the homes. Some are cinder block or concrete with a tin roof (like the church) and some are thatched roof huts. Madame said the house she and Paul are building will hopefully have two stories - one for her and Paul to stay when in Plain Matin and one for visitors like us, so future groups won't have to crowd in the church. However, it will cost about $100, 000 U.S. to build a house like they envision and materials in Haiti are difficult to come by, so Madame said she doesn't know how long it will take to complete the house.

Now the band is warming up for church tonight and dinner smells like it will be ready soon. I tried to write earlier today, but the little girls kept taking my pen and notebook! They liked signing their names and writing songs.

Speaking of songs, Madame Pastor told me during our walk that I have a beautiful singing voice. I was very surprised that a) she had heard me sing and b) she actually liked it. But apparently she heard me singing to Jayla this morning as I carried her around.

Oops. Change of plans. Jeff just said it's dry enough now that we may try to do some construction before dinner. I guess I should go get the details.

Our Comedians

Good morning!

I made it through my first night in Plain Matin. I slept great. It was cool and comfortable and the sounds of Kreyol conversation, crickets, passing trucks, barking dogs, and other miscellany actually lulled me to sleep. I couldn't hear the snorers over that racket!

This morning I was first of our group to wake up, so I headed out to brush my teeth and "wash" my face with a baby wipe. Lenord was sitting outside on the porch steps making baskets and I stopped to talk to him a little, even though his English is not much better than my Kreyol.

Which reminds me, I haven't introduced our crew yet. If you continue reading this blog, it might be helpful for you to know who's Haitian and who's American.

For the Haitians, we have:

• Lenord (He's technically a translator, but I already told you how that's going. We call him Msie. Populaire because his cellphone never stops ringing.)
• Jules (Translator and host in P-a-P.)
• Madame Pastor Jan (My "mucker," aka: partner for the week's activities and my go-to if I need help here.)
• Pastor Paul (Jan's husband. Also, the pastor of several churches throughout Haiti.)
• Budendy "Beauty" (One of our translators.)
• Milo (Another translator. Also, Lenord's son.)
• Watland (Translator.)
• Julien (Translator.)
• Claudette (Translator.)
• Luckner (Translator.)
• Gracendy (Translator.)
• Pastor Farrell and his wife, of Plain Matin
• Michael (Pastor F's son)
• Suzette (One of our cooking ladies; second-in-command to Madame Pas F.)
• Orlean (One of the kids.)
• Rosalie (Another one of the kids.)

And for the Americans, we have:

• Jeff (Trip and project coordinator for Haiti H2O.)
• Sandy and Kristen
• Dave "Dav" and Paige "Paj"
• Olivia
• Dick
• Mark
• Jay

And that's the crew. Bookmark this post now for future reference. :)

Plain Matin

It was a long road, but we made it to Plain Matin. It's beautiful! And noticeably cooler than P-a-P, as promised.

My bed at Jules' house was crazy comfortable and between the fans and the open windows, there was a reasonable breeze. I did wake up around 3 a.m. when the first rooster crowed, but fell back asleep quickly.

We had coffee first thing this morning. Haitian coffee is amazing! Sweet and robust. Then we exchanged money and had breakfast (avocados, tomatoes, spicy ground meat, pineapple, and corn (the consistency of applesauce) - so good! I want that breakfast every day when I get home.

We hung out at the house until Lenord arrived around 10 a.m. to drive to Plain Matin with us.

Jeff said the drive would take about four hours, but that was in Haitian time. We drove for close to two house, stopped at a gas station for a bathroom break, then drove another hour Lenord's parents' house/general store. There we got Coke and 7Up and stretched our legs. As we were leaving the store, Jeff bought us candy from a roadside vendor. It looked kind of like saltwater taffy in Neapolitan colors, but it was very melt-in-your-mouth sugary.

The next stop was at Pastor Paul's house in Les Cayes for supplies and to get our interpreters, Pastor Paul, Madame Pastor Jan and Milo. Pastor Paul was still in town when we got there, so we held brand new baby goats and tried to talk to the little boy and girl hanging around the house. Once Pastor arrived, we debriefed before our final drive into the mountains. On our way out of Pastor's neighborhood, Jeff stopped again to buy us more street food - meat patties (like fried pierogies) and some kind of fried things, like hush puppies with vegetables in them. Both snacks were spicy and delicious.

What a gorgeous drive through the mountains! When we got to Plain Matin, we unpacked, set up our cots and took a tour of our immediate area (with dozens of children tagging along). We're sleeping in the church. It's a cinderblock and cement building with a tin roof. The windows are holes in the walls with bars over them. Next to the church is a new house being built for Pastor and Madame Pastor that will also serve as a guesthouse for future mission teams. We're scheduled to help some on construction this week.

That house has a toilet! It doesn't have a tank, so it doesn't flush normally, but it is a real toilet. You flush it by dumping in a bucket of water from a rain barrel next to the toilet, then physics does the rest.

In addition to the church and house, there's the cook house or kitchen (a little shelter with a fire pit) an outhouse and two "showers" (three-walled stalls with a hole in the floor for the water to drain).

During our tour, two little girls grabbed one of my hands each and dragged me around, jabbering away the whole time. I couldn't understand a word they were saying, but they kept laughing so I laughed too. However, that encouraged them to start asking questions I, of course, couldn't understand let alone answer. A woman who looked about my age saved me by explaining that the girls wanted me to walk them to their house. So I started walking, hoping they didn't live too far from the church. Fortunately, their uncle met us on the street within shouting distance of the church.

Next came prayer and introductions by our interpreters. Then dinner - rice, chicken and watermelon. Delicious.

Shit. The lights just went out completely. When they say lights out in ten minutes, they really mean it! I guess it's time to call it a night. Bònn nui!

Byenveni nan Ayiti

We made it to Port-au-Prince!

The team just finished our get-ready-for-the-week meeting after a wonderful dinner prepared by our hosts. We're spending the night at Jules' house. He'll be our guide during our time in Haiti and one of our interpreters in Plain Matin.

His house is quite nice. It's about 45 minutes from the Toussaint Louverture International Airport, where we flew into P-a-P. The house is walled off from the street by a block and barbed wire fence. We enter by way of a big, red iron gate. There's a living room with a TV, a big open porch overlooking the neighbor's house, a dining area (no appliances), three guest bedrooms, and a real bathroom with a shower, sink and flush toilet. Although, we can't let the tap water fool us because it's not safe for our delicate American stomachs...

There's no air conditioning, but with the open balcony, glassless windows and a number of fans, we're getting enough of a breeze. Which is good because it was 97 degrees when we got off the plane.

The airport was madness. Jeff (our Haiti H2O) leader said it was more controlled than usual, which says something. The airport staff grabbed all of the luggage as it came down the conveyer and tossed it in a massive pile on the floor. Fortunately, we had several of our people right up there with them grabbing our luggage before it could be tossed aside and buried. Otherwise, I saw porters charging travelers to retrieve their bags from the sea of suitcases.

Jeff warned us beforehand that this would happen and that we were to stick together and not let anyone outside St. Paul's and Jules and his men to touch our bags under any circumstances. This both improved and complicated circumstances, as we weren't always sure who was with us and who wasn't. Most talk between Americans and Haitians went like this:

American: No mèsi! Go away!

Haitian: I'm with Mr. Jeff.

American: Oh, okay. Sorry. Thank you.

But we all survived the experience with no real trauma and - more importantly - with all of our luggage intact and accounted for.

However, after the airport came the driving. Let's just make one thing clear: There are no traffic laws in Haiti. You drive wherever you have room, at whatever speed you like, passing whomever you want, whenever you want. And you don't wear a seatbelt. It started out harrowing, but I quickly grew to love it as I realized a) Jeff is a pro at navigating Haiti, and b) Haitian drivers are far, far nicer and more cooperative than American drivers. Also, there's basically just one main road connecting all of Haiti.

Carsickness, on the other hand, seems eminent with all these rapid twists and turns. Good thing I brought Dramamine...

Haiti looks like nowhere I've ever been before. There are people everywhere in the road trying to Frogger across or to sell bottled water, food or trinkets through the car windows. One man caught us as we were temporarily gridlocked and washed our windshield despite Jeff's constant, "No, no, no!"

People lined the road everywhere, hawking whatever they had. There is no national sanitation system, so trash is in the streets - some of it burning - making for a pretty horrendous smell accompanied by endless dust and smoke. Naturally, in the midst of this, our air conditioning conked out, so we were forced to drive with the windows down and experience what Jeff referred to as "the real Haiti."

But I digress... Our first order of business after arriving at Jules' and unpacking the trucks (followed by a scramble to claim beds), was to go for a walk around the neighborhood with Beauty. Everything here seems to be just cinderblock dwellings. There are dogs and goats and chickens in the street. I saw a car with a pile of dead roosters on the roof. We met Jerry, the dog who lives on the roof of Jules' house. Haiti's Parliamentary Election is planned for Sunday and we saw many campaign posters, although there's doubt the election will take place because no one knows where or how to vote.

We returned from the walk hungry - and just in time for an amazing dinner. We ate spicy chicken wings, fried plaintains, rice and beans, avocados, potatoes, and passionfruit juice. (Also clean, bottled water for our American stomachs.) I remembered to take my malaria meds at dinner and I only suffered a mildly upset stomach.

Right now it's still so hot, everyone is debating whether it would even be worth it to shower, as this is our last chance before we return to this house late next week. The general consensus is, No showers. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, right by a fan that's not helping very much. The neighbors seem to be having a party and the music is jammin.' I just noticed Jules has three decorative plates on his kitchen wall depicting Italian place settings with plenty of vino. These plates are really speaking to my heart.

Anyhow, I'm getting tired, so it's probably time to call it a night. Our plan for tomorrow morning is to be back in the van by "9ish" to begin our four-hour drive to Plain Matin (where we've been promised it's cooler).

Mid-Air Update

The pilots are taking a bathroom break. I can only assume no one is flying the plane.

The Tove Lo steward is playing hangman with some little kids.

Somewhere Over Florida

There's a dog on the airplane.

It's only a little one. We just noticed him now - about 45 minutes into our flight - so he is either very well-behaved or very well-drugged.

Our merry group of ten met at 4 a.m. at St. Paul's United Methodist Church. From there, Tami and Faith drove us (on the St. Paul's short bus) to Pittsburgh International Airport to see us off.

So far, we've made it from Pittsburgh to Atlanta with no hiccups (knock on wood)! We should land in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, around 2:30.

One of the stewards is singing "Talking Body" as he distributes the in-flight snacks and drinks. Both stewards are very animated. When I boarded the plane, Tove Lo over here asked why I was going to Haiti.

"To play with kids and bring instruments to a church," was basically my answer. "We're a mission team."

He kind of rolled his eyes at that one. "Okay." He probably deals with a lot of "mission teams."

I had a bad summer cold all last week, which is why I didn't post a going-away blog before leaving Pittsburgh. I was really worried about being sick on the trip, but my doctor okayed me to fly and today I feel great. This canned airplane air is really clearing my sinuses.

Recommended Reading

Here's a shocker for you: I'm always reading a book. If my nose isn't physically in it at the moment, then it's in my purse or on my nightstand or waiting for me in my most recent reading nook.

With that in mind, it shouldn't surprise you that I'm reading as much as I can about Haiti and mission work before I leave. I know just reading about the place won't make me an expert of any kind - or make me even marginally equipped for what I'm about to experience - but boning up at the library has never hurt anyone, so I'm doing it.

Fortunately for me, Haiti H2O has my back in the book rack, so I've had plenty of material to focus on since committing to this adventure. For your convenience, I've broken our recommended reading into several (hopefully) helpful categories, just in case you feel so inclined to read a bit about Haiti beyond this blog. Within each category, I've ranked the books from my favorite (top) to least favorite (bottom). Maybe you'll find a few that interest you!

Haitian History

• The Big Truck That Went By: How the World Came to Save Haiti and Left Behind a Disaster by Jonathan M. Katz
• The Uses of Haiti by Paul Farmer
• The Black Jacobins by C.L.R. James
• Toussaint Louverture: A Biography by Madison Smartt Bell 

Mission Work

• Following Jesus Through the Eye of the Needle: Living Fully, Loving Dangerously by Kent Annan
• Song of Haiti: The Lives of Dr. Larimer and Gwen Mellon at Albert Schweitzer Hospital of Deschapelles by Barry Paris
• Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, a Man Who Would Cure the World by Tracy Kidder
• When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting the Poor...and Yourself by Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert

Haitian Culture

• Krik? Krak? by Edwidge Danticat
• The Comedians by Graham Greene 

Krik?

Happy Independence Day, America!

I'm leaving you. But only for a little while.

As you can see, it's been more than two years since my last post. During that time, I hoped I would have a chance to bring this blog back for another international trip - and I finally got my wish.

Today officially marks one month until the departure date for my next adventure, but I have a feeling this one will be very different from my last. Instead of returning to Europe, I'm heading south to Haiti.

Plain Matin, Haiti, to be exact.

That's a small, rural community in the southwestern part of the country, located in a plateau at the end of a mountain road. I'll be traveling with eight others through Haiti H2O, a non-profit mission organization based out of Pittsburgh. Our goal is to help with basic construction projects in the community and with a new music program for local youth. My personal project between now and then is to create a one-day mini Vacation Bible School experience for the kids there (ideas are welcome!).

That's the quick description for right now. As we get closer to flight time, I'll provide more details about this trip. One thing I will say now (because I know you are probably wondering) is that I won't be blogging from Pain Matin. There is limited electricity in the area (and one toilet!), but internet access is basically out of the question, so I'll keep a handwritten (gasp!) journal during my stay and update this blog accordingly when I return to the States. But as long as I have internet access, you'll have real-time updates from me.

Also, by now you may be wondering about the title of this particular blog post. The official language in Haiti is French (which I don't speak), but less than 20 percent of the population speaks that. Most people speak Haitian Creole (which I also don't speak, but I'm trying to learn what I can). Less than half of Haiti's population is literate, making verbal storytelling traditions especially important. When a storyteller is ready to begin, he or she asks "Krik?" to get the audience's permission to tell the story or riddle. The audience answers "Krak!" if they are ready to listen.

And that's your lesson in Creole for today. So...

Krik?