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!