Komeek

We spent another day at the church. It was Flag Day, so as we arrived all the older children were assembling to go to the beach for the day to celebrate. It was sad to see them all go off. But there was a few younger ones around, so I started to assemble some more juggling sacks with them. They called me "Komeek." At first I didn't get it, but then realized it must be Creole for clown, ala "comique!"

The day passed quickly, the walls growing in the church block by block.

Sarah spent much of the day working in the kitchen, which means sitting around under this beautiful tree cutting, grinding, cleaning and stirring.

After the feeding program was over, I saw a young boy in the early stages of making a kite. I grabbed the camera and was recording this beautiful creation in front of my eyes.

He paid such attention to the details, constantly laying it on the ground then making minute adjustments to the bamboo structure. I gave him a plastic Staples bag that was in my backpack. He adeptly attached it too the frame. It was growing to completion.

I was stunned when he handed it to me and said cadeau, a gift. Tears welled in my eyes. He had no idea how much this meant to me, how much the kite has symbolized so much of the healing spirit of Haiti. Other children came to add a tail and some string. I went and got a large balls of string that I had been giving out to the children earlier to play string games. The kite was soaring away overhead, so beautiful. It was time to go, so I reeled it in. I snapped the string off near the kite and gifted the boy the rest of the spool of blue string.

When we returned to the hotel Sarah and I took a short rest.We had decided to fend for ourselves for dinner and not return to the church with the others. We heard a marching band coming up the street and went out to see what was happening. It was Flag Day in Haiti, and this was part of the celebration. It felt like carnival, tons of people, young students in brightly colored costumes dancing in the street with lots of people looking on. Certainly the biggest crowd of people I have seen so far. We continued on, coming across another band of revelers dancing into the distance. We passed by the market, now closing up for the day. It's amazing the amount of material that gets moved around everyday, either carried, wheeled or put on the back of a motorbike.

We went down to the sea and had a beer from the same place we had before. I love flirting with the waitress. She started it!! While we were there, a couple of white people came in and sat next to us. They were speaking English, so we struck up a conversation. She was a photojournalist traveling with her 19 year old son. She was fascinated with my reason for being in Haiti and wondered if she could come tomorrow and photograph a performance. I take her card. What a chance meeting.

Rain had started to fall as we headed back toward the hotel. It was dark by now and we heard another group dancing toward us. Horns hooted away as they danced into the dark.

We found a very small restaurant for dinner. We were the only people there, occupying one of the three tables. The rain pelted down outside. We ate goat and chicken, both delicious, and listened to the rain and the waitress who stood outside and sang softly to herself. She came in, moved one of the tables and placed a bucket on the floor. Soon the water started dripping from the tarp that formed the ceiling. She had known exactly where to put it!!

We scampered the short distance back to the hotel in the rain that continued to fall. Soon after we got back, we heard another group approaching. From our vantage point on the hotel balcony, it was clearer to see what they were playing. The horns made of tin, some brightly painted, were of several different sizes, ranging from a couple of feet up to almost six. They each would play a different note. They played a very complex melody, ala a bell choir, each instrument playing their note in the right place and rhythm to create a hauntingly beautiful sound. The rain continued to fall as they danced and played away. A young Haitian man called Caleb was on the balcony with us. He said that these people were not celebrating, but protesting. They were from the large tent city that suffers so much when it rains, the water stands a foot deep in some places. So every time it rains, they take to the streets. They were on their way to the mayor's house. I have seen their camp after it rains, they have every right and reason to protest.

Caleb runs a leadership and feeding program with a young American also called Caleb for about 60 kids twice a week. He asks if I could come tomorrow and perform. I accept.