Day 6 & 7 Best & Worst

Day 6



Rosie arrived late Friday night from Nan Sab, a small ocean town near Borgne, to the west of us here in Cap. Rosie's mother was born in 1888. No joke! I didn't ask Rosie how old she is but she is as vibrant as anyone I know. Rosie lived in Aruba for many years working on a Naval base and her English is perfect. She loves to garden and knows so much about the local fauna. She has come just to meet us and help with a project in Shada. Rosie and I talked about many things. She is very wise and has a terrific sense of humor. "If you don't go looking for life, you'll never find it," she told me. In addition to crochet and gardening and basket-weaving, Rosie reads the Bible and goes to church everyday at 6am, except Sunday when church is at 8am. She takes care of her mother and brother and god-son and told me that she keeps busy so that she has no time to think. Rosie is amazing and she reminds me of someone very special back home.



Saturday we take a tap-tap to Shada. (I haven't introduced the "tap-tap", have I? Tap-taps and motos are the main form of transportation here, public transport, as very few people have cars. Tap-taps are pick-up trucks with a topper and an open back. They have a driver and a man hanging off the back who collects the fare and "tap-taps" the truck when a passenger needs to exit. It's more like bang-bang really. They usually include a huge speaker in back playing piercingly loud Haitian music. If there's one thing to say about Cap-Haitien {besides it's poverty-stricken}, it's that it's LOUD from about 5am until dark. Then the lights go out and it stays quiet until early morn. The tap-taps are all painted too and have names like "Tikka" and "God is Good").



So we pile into a tap-tap and head to Shada. It is our third visit and I am excited. I love the children there. We have two projects today. We are planting tomato seedlings grown on the SOIL roof and painting murals on the interior walls of the children's center. Madama Bwa meets us at the door and sends a few of the older boys to round up all the children. Sasha introduces Rosie and then Rosie takes over. All the little ones (and the teens, too) listen intently and wide-eyed. We pass out donated plastic hotel ice buckets and each child writes their name in their very best cursive on the outside of their bucket. Rosie helps each child fill the bucket with compost and then the planting begins. The children are so patient and listen so well. They are eating this up. The children in Shada have no toys save the ones they create themselves from garbage and found materials. They are starved for creative play and learning (not to mention... well, you know).



I took lots of pictures of the planting. Most of my photos are of children and are positive. I feel uncomfortable taking pictures of anyone without permission. As well, I neglected to photograph some of the most hideous places and situations I've seen as I don't want to make the people of Haiti feel bad about their homes and neighborhoods. I'm sure they feel bad enough without some tattooed white girl taking photos of their naked children playing in dirt and garbage. (Another thing, my tattoos are not at all interesting to people here. It's much more interesting and rare to see a "blan", as we are called).

The children are so tender with their little tomato plants and I am so proud of them. The older boys (who have an awesome rap group) take the newly planted seedlings to the balcony where they'll get morning sun.

Next, we start to paint. The older boys, one of whom is an artist (a one-armed artist at that), get to paint one wall and the others are divided into squares and each child gets a turn to paint whatever they like. I have lots of photos of their awesome work! Even the SOIL folks get a square. My says in red, Mwen renmen Ayiti! (I love Haiti). The paint brushes are old and frayed and we don't have many colors but still the children are thrilled at the work and it shows. We leave before the painting is finished to get ready for a birthday party at the SOIL house. Madame Bwa and the children at the center will all be there.

After a shower I go upstairs to the main level of the house and the first person I see is Woodlyn. He is dress in a stiff black hat with dark sunglasses and a shirt with patches on the front and sides. He looks like a cop, a really cool tough cop and I hardly recognize him at first. I scream, "Woodlyn!" and give him a hug. More and more people show and there is dancing and a rap performance by the children and teenage boys. The boys write their own lyrics, mostly desperately sad, but still inventive and touching. They rock!

The party seems to last all night and after saying goodnight to Rosie I sneak out and go to bed. Best day yet.

At about 4am, I wake with alful stomach pains, the worst I've ever experienced. I think to wake someone but do not. All night I go from the bed (I'm in a bunk, one up, and it's ridiculously squeaky) to the toilet upstairs. Their are three toilets in the house but there is no power now so the one closest to me in pitch black. I use the dry (composting) toilet on the third floor deck. I am vomiting and shitting like never before. Finally, it's so hot in bed and I am tired of the stairs and the squeaky bed, so I lay down on the balcony next to the dry toilet. I truly felt like I was dying. It felt like there was a little iny goat in my stomache running around and kicking, so much kicking. What's funny is that I did not eat any of the goat we slaughtered the previous night!

Sunday we are supposed to go to Labadie to the beach! A day of fun- and learning along the way. I make it to the street outside the house and know it isn't going to happen. I beg out and go throw up. Then I sleep all day. I am able to catch Michael in the afternoon and we chat online. I do not leave the room until everyone returns. We go out to dinner but I cannot eat. I have a Coke and three bites of rice. Though I have slept all day I have no trouble falling asleep at 9pm.