Father's Day

I got to attend both Haitian church (entirely in Creole) and English church this morning.  What a blessing!  The music, the message, and the people were amazing and inspiring.

Today in Haitian church, the pastor asked all of the fathers to stand and be recognized.  Pastor Brandon gave each of the men a small flash light.  Of course, it was all in Creole, so I only picked up 1 in about every 30 words, but I like to think that I got the message.   I think that the point was that it a father’s job to keep his eyes on the prize – our Father in Heaven, the light of the world – and that it is also a father’s job to lead his family in the light.  I feel very fortunate to have a husband who fits the bill, and is an amazing man who loves God.  I wish I could give him a hug today and tell him how much he means to me! 

Later, at English church, Pastor Brandon gave the same message, but this time in English.  He said that when we accept Christ Jesus in our hearts, we are also accepting his call to ministry.  Our ministry might be to give testimony to the members of our immediate family; it might be to work with children and youth in our home church; it might be to transplant ourselves and our families and serve as missionaries in far reaching places; or it might be to care for the orphans of the world.  Whatever our ministry is, we are supported in all that we do.  Jesus is there in our walk, to love us, encourage us, support us and care for us.  It is our job to keep our eyes on him, and keep serving him, even when the going gets tough.

Today several of the volunteers will be taking a hike up the mountain to a waterfall.  It is about an hour up and an hour back – uphill both ways because, of course, it is Haiti and EVERYTHING is uphill both ways it seems!

I am looking forward to an afternoon of exercise and relaxation before going back to work at preschool and with the babies on Monday.  I only have two more days before the journey home on Wednesday.  It has gone so fast!

Moo...

Every morning when I wake up in Haiti, I am greeted by the sights and sounds of two friendly cows and a goat that live just outside my window, on the side of a hill that is adjacent to the orphanage.  I have become quite fond of the cows.  They swish their long tails, flicking away the flies as they munch on the foliage and carefully side step the trash and debris on the hill.  Their pen is probably only 50 feet by 100 feet, or something like that.  I am really bad with estimating distances.

One morning, about two days ago, a man came into the pen and untied the goat.  He led it away, out of the gate in the stone wall.  A few minutes later, he came in and untied one of the cows and led it out to the street.  I couldn’t see where they were going for the wall, but I assumed that they were perhaps going somewhere else for the day to “graze.” 

The same day, one of my new friends and fellow volunteers, Mel, came down with the stomach bug that has been dragging so many of the volunteers down.  She spent the day between her bed, the couch and the toilet – poor thing.  Later that afternoon, when we had all gone off to work with the babies, Mel got up from bed and staggered outside to the balcony.  She later told me that she was so bored, laying there staring at the ceiling, that she just HAD to get up and get some fresh air. 

As she stepped outside, she saw a group of people milling about just on the other side of the stone wall from where the cows had been up until recently.  The kids at Toddler House were also peering through the holes in the wall at whatever the people were doing, clearly caught up in the commotion.  Mel, ever curious, wanted to see what was going on, so she shuffled her sorry self down a few feet to where she could see over the wall.

Now Mel is a pretty tough chick, and she is heading back to school very soon to study nursing.  She has taken several biology classes, and done her fair share of dissecting things.  But nothing could prepare her for what she was about to see.  My cow – Miss Bessie, we will call her – was dead, sure enough, and they family of about 20 people were butchering her on a large piece of cardboard on the dirt.  She said after 24 hours of being sick to her stomach that it was about enough to do her in!  So she hustled back inside, away from the gruesome scene.

I was so sad to hear the fate of Miss Bessie, but I guess people have to eat!  We have seen , so many times, a person pushing a wheelbarrow full of meat, flies buzzing, down the dirt road to market.  I can’t believe that is most likely the fate of the cow outside my window!   

Fort Jacques

Today one of the volunteers was sick (yes, another one bites the dust.)  So, I took her place in the truck with two other ladies .  We went to Fort Jacques, about a 30 minute car ride on really rough roads.  As soon as we got through the gate, I noticed two guards armed with rifles sitting on chairs just inside.  Of course, I had to get my photo with the security guards!

We spend the day working in the garage / shed cleaning out boxes of supplies and taking inventory of what was there.  It is an amazingly beautiful place, about 6 miles from the orphanage.  It is high up in the mountains, and several times the clouds and mist floated just above our heads.  We were able to enjoy the day, sorting and counting boxes of work gloves, tents, tarps, latex gloves, LED lanterns and other supplies.  The view was amazing!  You could see the city of Port Au Prince below, sprawled out across the valley.  At one point, the clouds cleared just enough to get a glimpse of the ocean beyond.

We ate a delicious Creole lunch of rice, red sauce and meatballs.  Then Holli, our hostess took Karen (another volunteer) and I down to see the actual fort.  It was built around 1800, and most of it is still in tack.  A Haitian gentleman appointed himself our tour guide and walked around the perimeter of the fort with us, telling the history of the place.  (I felt terrible that we had not brought any cash with us to tip him.) The fort was rebuilt around 1984 – apparently there were significant renovations done around that time.  However, when the earthquake hit, two sections (at least there were two sections you could see from where we were) toppled and the limestone rocks are still in piles around the sides of the fort.

When we were there, there was at least one school group on a field trip, and many, many other people.  We were the only three white people there, but there were a bunch of tourists walking around and taking photos of the place.  Just outside, on the road that leads to the fort, there were vendors selling fruits and vegetables and roasted chicken.  We saw several donkeys with packs carrying goods to sell to and from the street market.  The roads were dirt and rock, and there was some standing water from a recent rain.  We saw a tap-tap (a “bus” of sorts that is open air – kind of like a beefed up truck with bench seats for people to ride in), a school bus, and lots of motorcycles. 

At one point, a group of ladies were walking the opposite direction from us, but close to us along the path.  They were staring at me, and talking really loudly and fast in Creole.  I didn’t know what they were saying, but the next thing I knew they grabbed my hair and started rubbing my hair all around.  One of them grabbed my arm and felt my skin.  I stopped in my tracks.  What in the world?  I looked for Holli who had stopped right in front of me.  As soon as it started, it stopped and the ladies walked on, smiling at me.  “They said your hair is pretty,” Holli told me.  I am flattered, I guess!

After our work day, we stopped at the Baptist Mission to get a scoop of ice cream and buy some souveniers.  There was street shopping, but that would require bartering (which my brave dad thinks is awesome, but I think it horrific!  NOT in my comfort zone!)  So, I stopped in the mission store which carries many items that are made by the mountain people.  I chose a Father’s Day gift for my dad, something for me and Rob, and something for Carmen.  They didn’t have trucks there, so Miles’ gift will have to wait! 

After shopping we piled back in the truck to head back to the Main House.  Along the way, there were tons of people shopping and talking.  I love watching the ladies carrying huge packs on their heads here – they don’t even bat an eye, and of course they never drop their load.  I could people watch here all day long…

I will be heading home in four days.  Tomorrow is cleaning day at the Toddler House, and we also have plans for the kids that should be really fun!  (More about that soon.)  Then Sunday we will have Haitian church and English church before taking a hike to the waterfall.  After that, two more short days of working with the children and then I will be heading home.  I can’t wait to see my family, but I can also see how Haiti gets under your skin.  I know I will be thinking about the people and this place long after I am home.

Hi-Yah!

The kids here are just so cute.  I can’t imagine any sweeter group of little people than the ones that I encounter each day at GLA.  (My own kids are awfully great, too, and I think they rank right up there!)  When you come in the gate from the street, they are usually in the play yard – the 3s and older – and they run right up to you screaming “Hi-Yah!”  The first day, I asked someone what that meant in Creole.  They told me that it doesn’t actually mean anything, but all of the kids use it as the universal language for “Please pick me up and hug me!”  So, they run circles around you yelling “hi-yah!” with their little arms held up in the air toward you, with huge smiles and beaming faces.  I love it…  I wish I could scoop them all up at once.

I have written about my mornings in preschool before, but I wanted to give you a taste of what it is like.  It is a little different from the preschools my own children attend.  There are a couple of posters, and  a simple mural painted on the wall.  Miss Kiki, the instructor, brings all of her materials for the day. Usually she has a few old puzzles, the pictures fading, some workbooks for letter practice, one box of pencils and her hand-crank pencil sharpener.  Today she had a few small books with her, and the kids had a blast looking at them.  Some of the kids actually turned each page, feeling the smooth, glossy pages with their tiny fingers.  A couple of the boys used them to make miniature tents on the table.  Regardless, when they could identify a color or shape (in English or Creole) for me, I gave them lots of praise.  “Bravo!  Bravo!”

There is a dog that lives at the house where they have school.  It is about the size of a large lab, black, with a long, skinny body – ribs poking out.  I have no idea what the dog’s name is, but it mainly sits in the shade on the concrete, or walks slowly around the perimeter of the fence.  I have never seen it try to bite anyone, and it doesn’t even seem to like people.  In fact, I have never even heard it so much as bark.  Doesn’t matter – the kids are TERRIFIED of it.  Someone told me yesterday that most Haitians are scared of animals.  That makes sense when you see how panicked the kids become when the dog is around. Today the dog was walking (yup, that’s it) around the yard when the kids came through the gate for school.  It was like the world was coming to an end.  Kids started screaming, running, trying to climb my legs – it was crazy!  One little girl was trying to run, and she didn’t even know where she was trying to go.  She took two wild leaps and fell on the concrete, scraped her hands, and then jumped up again.  They were all screaming, “Chien!”  which may or may not be how you spell it, but it means ‘dog.’  I was trying to herd them past the beast, but it was like herding cats.  They were everywhere!  And they were hysterical!  Finally, Machino, a little 3 or 4 year old, took matters into his own hands.  He started yelling at the dog, and tried to chase it behind the house.  He looked so funny!  He is about 1/3 the size of the dog, and was wearing a Texas Longhorn T shirt and some ratty swim trunks.  He was very authoritative about the whole thing, and even was shaking a finger in the dog’s face.  (The poor dog looked more scared than the kids!)

Another kid, Judson, lost a shoe yesterday.  He has been wearing light blue girl’s sandals – like jelly shoes – since the first day I met him.  I think he is pretty new to GLA, and I don’t really know his story.  But today, he came to school with just one shoe.  I would love to know what is going on there, but I can’t ask him.  The language barrier is greater when you are dealing with the little ones (most of the adults at least know a few words in English.) So in he came with one blue shoe, and one tiny bare foot.  And, 90 minutes later, out he went with that one shoe and a slightly dirtier foot, headed off down the street away from school, back toward the Toddler House.  He didn’t seem to care – he had a smile on his face the whole time.  J

His hands, His feet...

Today in preschool I was greeted by the familiar calls of, “Jess – E-ka!”  The way the kids say my name with their Creole accent is just TOO cute!  It was picture day today, so the kids were in and out of preschool, heading between Toddler House and the school.  They were dressed their best, and each of them was taking a photo with his or her nanny.  They sat on the nannies laps and smiled big for the camera.  Their dark skin and bright white smiles are just too precious.

When I got into school, they all wanted to show me their outfits.  “Jess-E-Ka!  Jess-E-ka!”  They pulled at the necks of their shirts, and tugged on their shorts.  One kid even dropped his drawers to show me that he had numbers on his underwear.  (Sounds weird, but I had just taught him a few lessons on his numbers in English.  He showed me his underwear – “One!  Two!  Three!”  Ah man, he was so proud! But it was a bit awkward!)

Anyway, I assume that some of these photos will make their way to the kids’ adoptive families in the way of updates.  I have been trying to write about my babies in the binder at the Main House, so that families can know what their children are doing while they wait for them to come home.  That has to be the hardest part of adopting – knowing that your child is being cared for by others while you wait helplessly for the governments to finish legalizing your status as “mom or dad.” 

His Hands and Feet

While I have been in Haiti, I have met some pretty amazing people.  Most of them are pretty quiet about their work, and they just go about it like it is no big deal.  Those people remind me that God calls each of us to some unique plan – or some special service in His name.  We are His hands and feet, going about His business every day.  There are so many here who came as volunteers and then never left.  They felt God’s call to service in this place that is at once beautiful, and devastated.  I admire them because I don’t know that I would be able to sacrifice as much. 

I told one of the Toddler House workers that the other day.  I told her that there was simply no way I could ever do what she was doing, living and working in a place like this – calling this tragic country home.  She didn’t even skip a beat.  “Yes you could,” she said.  “If God told you to, you would.”

Simple.  True.  Not always easy.  I believe that each of us has a job to do.  Some of us are called to be his hands and feet in Haiti.  Some are called to care for the sick in our hometowns, and some of us are called to open our homes and our hearts to the precious children of this world who need the love of a family – a family that will introduce them to Jesus and help them grow in a relationship with Him.

I have been thinking and praying a lot about what God’s plan is for me.  He reveals it in little ways all the time, but deciphering the message takes prayer, concentration on Him, and faith.  I feel so blessed to know that God loves me, and has a plan for me.  He treasures me, just as He does the 80+ children at God’s Littlest Angels.  I hope that I am listening when he tells me what to do.

Little ones...

Many of the babies and toddler are sick this week.  There seems to be a flu bug of some sort perhaps.  Several of the kids today had fevers, and just didn’t feel like playing.  As I helped the preschool kids work on letter formation, my hand over theirs, their skin felt hot and their faces looked worn.  I pray that the bug doesn’t hit any of them too hard.  I know that it took it’s toll on me, and I am an otherwise healthy adult…

Some of the kids also have a fungus on their scalps.  Sometimes it appears in thick white blotches under their hair, and other times they come to school or the play balcony with salve on their little heads.  A few of them looked as if they had pus pockets on their scalps that were leaking.  In a place like this, sickness and disease just spread.  Everyone is in such close contact, the running water isn’t guaranteed to be clean, and there is no Walgreens.  It struck me today that I have no idea where you would even go to get medicine.  The shelves at GLA are stocked with Tylenol and other things that the children need, but the ones in the village I doubt are as fortunate. 

Yesterday a little boy named Christophe, that I had never seen before, came to the balcony with a new volunteer.  His hair was orange, a sign of malnutrition.  I believe that he is fairly new to GLA.  As he pushed his little wheeled cart around the play area, he teetered on unsteady legs.  The volunteer assigned to him unfolded his paper and began to read about him – milestones he should be working toward, and areas where he is developmentally behind his peers.  As she looked over his information, she suddenly looked up.  “Today is his birthday,” she said.  We all looked at him, walking behind his faded Little Tykes shopping cart, and wearing the worn out clothes he was dressed in by the nannies.  Today should have been a day with presents, smiling parents, a special song, cake, perhaps 100 pictures!  It was his second birthday, and he spent it with 4 American women he didn’t know.  No fanfare – just smiles and hugs from strangers who care.

The rooster crows at midnight...

And at 7am, and at noon, and at 3 in the morning.  One thing about Haiti – it is NEVER quiet.  And when you are sick, sometimes all you want is the noise and the spinning to stop.  I woke up late Friday night knowing something was wrong, but willed myself to go back to sleep.  Then I started throwing up Saturday morning and didn’t stop until Saturday night.  It is so hard to be sick away from home, but somehow – 8 Dramamine, 2000 mg of Cipro, and 3 liters of Gator Aid later, I am on the mend. God is good!

But back to those roosters…  When you are sick, you just want quiet.  Peace and quiet.  But in Haiti, you are surrounded by sounds.  All kinds of sounds!  There are the sounds of the goats in the neighborhood, the dogs barking, the cows across the gate, the roosters, the children laughing, playing, crying – the sound of children reciting prayers at lunchtime, and lessons in the classroom under you …  There is the sound of the generator clicking on and off, the sound of nannies calling to the kids, the sound of the Haitian neighbor’s radios (that blare as loud as possible whenever Haitian electricity comes on – doesn’t matter the time!), and the sound of your roommates and house mates moving about the place.  Car horns blare, drums roll, engines cough – all of these are the sounds of Haiti.  When I was feeling the worst, I just listened to the sounds of the children’s voices just outside my window and tried to remind myself that they were the reason I was here.  It was not about me – I would get better and in 10 days or so would go home.  But what about them?

Miss Jessica – Yellow Professor

Today at preschool we read Harold and the Purple Crayon.  It was a gift to the kids from a friend of mine, and I took the book with me and gave it to Miss Kiki today.  She asked me to read it in English to the kids.  I did, and she piped in now and then with an explanation or a translation in Creole.  It was amazing!  The kids were so attentive, and even though they didn’t understand all of the words I was reading, the hung on every word.  They would try to echo some of the things I read, and call out items in the pictures that they recognized.  They really seemed to enjoy it.  When I was done, Miss Kiki took them through the book again, and this time explained the story in Creole.  Afterwards, we worked on letters and numbers in English and went over some basic colors (red, blue, yellow.)

After class, we went out in the yard and a couple of the kids were scared of a dog that was roaming around the lot.  They ran to me and asked me to pick them up.  I said no today, since I still wasn’t feeling well.  Miss Kiki explained to them, in Creole, that I was sick.  One of the little boys came right up to me then, touched my arm gently and said, “Jessica yellow.”  I guess to them, maybe I looked a little yellow today! 

Rocking babies

On Friday night, before I got sick, I decided to go and get Davidson from the nursery.  It was after dinner, and technically I am “off duty” by that point, but I just wanted to give him a chance to be rocked to sleep.  I snuck up to the nursery, and he was in his soft, blue footy PJs.  There was a bottle in the crib, that probably would have been propped up against the bars for him to take as he fell asleep in his crib.  I asked the nannies if it was okay to take him, and they said yes.  So, we went up the flight of stairs to the balcony where we spend the days playing.  He and I were all alone up there.  I sat in one of the big wicker rockers, slowly rocking him while he took his bottle.  As we rocked, I sang him Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and we watched the sun go down beautifully over the mountain.  It was misty and calm – as calm as Haiti can be.  I had to wipe away my tears as he drifted off to sleep in my lap.  He deserves to be rocked to sleep every night.  All of these kids deserve to have someone love them, hold them, rock them, and tell them how special they are each day of their lives.  I hope and pray that they get that chance.