Actually, now that I think of it, I did get to experience a storm in a Haitian home. A young volunteer, Paige, and I went to the feeding center a few weeks ago. We told our driver, Alfred, to pick us up at 5, like usual. When he came, it was just starting to rain and I thought we might be able to make it home. We got unlucky, however, and the freezing cold droplets increased in size until they were stinging our skin. He stopped by the side of the road and we jumped under the porch of a Haitian family. They invited us under, even stood up for us to take their seats. (In Haiti, often a family can offer you nothing but a seat, so to refuse it -- even if they are standing so you can sit -- isn't really polite). The rain came down in buckets, and the wind blew the rain under the porch roof. It hailed for a few minutes, and the family took us inside. The rooms in Haitian homes are divided by curtains, so we only saw the front room, which was full of crates of soda bottles. The family sells bottled drinks. Paige, Alfred and I sat there for an hour getting to know everyone who was there. Larougène is the matriarch, her son was there, and then a bunch of other young men in their mid-to-late 20s were sitting with us, too. I didn't ask why they were there, but they weren't family. Once they discovered that I speak Creole, the questions came at me. We talked about all kinds of things, but mostly Larougène was trying to convince me to either marry or find an American wife for her 28-year-old son. I promised Larougène that I'd visit again and that I wouldn't forget her name.
Although I've lived here for almost three months now, there are still tons of details I don't know about Haitian life. Living in the country itself does show me a ton about the culture, but honestly, I live in luxury. I always have motos and familiar drivers for transportation, cooks downstairs making my meals, Eliette mopping up the flooded porches and the mud trail that leads way from it, clean laundry, plenty of clean water, and consistent electricity. But most Haitians don't. I know things have been rough when the students walk in to class a few minutes late or right before 8 -- uniforms pristine and neatly pressed as always -- and everybody plugs their phone in to charge. This means there was a ton of rain and no electricity last night. But they're here, smiling and greeting me, and no one complains.
********
I've got countless unfinished posts sitting in the drafts section of my blog account. I write a lot more than I actually post, but now that I'm looking back at some of these unfinished posts, I'm able to appreciate my progress since then -- progress in getting to know more of Haiti, and by that I mean becoming closer to the people who have so graciously welcomed me into their lives.
Just yesterday, Jenna and I decided to walk with Solimène and her younger cousin, who was helping out in the kitchen, up the road to Eliette's house, gran's house. Eliette is our 56-year-old cleaning lady, whose personality mimics that of any classic Grandma. Though she's really not old enough to be my grandma, she's become that to me, and it was about time I surprised her at home!
Eliette lives on the same main road as us, just back a few houses. I didn't take any pictures, but the 3-room house was really charming. It had no shortage of paintings and decorations on the walls, and she was happy to tell us which were gifts from volunteers. The first room has a bed in the corner, 4 plastic chairs arranged in a circle, a wooden dining room table with chairs, a china closet and a set of shelves full of stuffed animals. The next room is her bedroom, with a makeshift closet, made of shelving and covered in material, the bed she shares with her husband, and her personal items. The last room is her kitchen, a cement floor with a metal "cooking rack," and bags upon bags of grains and beans. She has a jaden, a garden, where she grows most of her food herself. She feeds her entire family each Sunday -- her husband, her son, his wife and their child, numerous cousins, and really whoever comes by. She isn't just my gran, she's the gran. All of her close family lives in the few houses next to hers.
We sat in the dining room, chatting away about how happy we were to see her, how she fills the role of our Haitian grandma, and boys. She mentioned countless times how happy her heart was that we came and visited, and we promised that next time we would give her some notice first! She walked us out to the main road, and continued with us a little ways, too. She didn't stop smiling once.
As I keep expressing, it is absolutely crazy that my time here is almost up. I feel like I've only just gotten the hang of things! Focusing on post-Haiti life is such an interesting and unfamiliar feeling. Thinking about leaving the people I've become so close to -- like sweet Eliette -- is difficult. I've never been good with goodbyes, because they're never very real to me. I don't know if I feel the same way about it this time. I know I'll be back, but somehow the distance between Haiti and the United States is farther than anything I've ever known.
