I walk to my morning cafe spot, the young girl is still there. I figure the concession has been handed on to her. Her mother? has moved on. Without her new size 8 shoes.
We are off at 8 am sharp to return to Morne Oge. Today will be the second and closing part of Robin and Camilla's art workshop.
Again, it is so nice to be greeted by name as we arrive. Already the young boys are busy painting one of the new houses. I go and see it and joke with them that it will be my house. Gabby replies "kai." I am puzzled. That is my son's name. i soon learn that in Kreyol it means "my house." Sweet.
I see a woman doing laundry and I give her my shirt to wash. She accepts it without missing a beat. I later see it hanging on the line amidst her wash. I like the idea of me being in the middle of it all. After lunch she walks up to me and hands me a beautifully folded clean shirt. She asks for nothing and walks back to her "kai," I follow her and give her 25 gourdes, less than a dollar, for her services, she gives me a huge hug. Win, win, win.
Shaun is busy repairing some of the table that have broken. It's a challenge, but we find tools here and there, find some extra lumber, and with the help of some of the young boys, he makes the tables sturdy enough to sit on. Before they had collapsed when asked to bear that kind of weight. it was great to see the young boys assisting him, they must have learned how to make it stronger.
Kelsey is constantly holding a child. At one point a boy of 6 snores away on her shoulder.
I go for a bit of a walk down a path I hadn't been on berfore, it is beautiful walking down the dusty path. Soon I hear my name being called. I look across a small valley and I see Souvenis, one of the cooks and several children. Next they are running toward me repeating Roget, Roget, Roget. They take me by both hands and lead me to their home, a tent set on top of the small hill. Her husband sits on a moto holding a baby boy, not yet one. I meet her family of 6 and she shows me the state of their tent. It has rips on every side, patched with tarp, but certainly no longer waterproof. After 7 months in the sun, it hs become so brittle, that it rips very easily. And with 6 children, the oldest maybe 14, I can only imagine the activity. Her daughter cooks some rice over a small coalpot. She sends me off back to the church with one of her daughters, we walk hand in hand the whole way. So touching and poignant.
Today it is very hot, with not a cloud in the sky, the temperature bakes the earth and anything on it. We all are exhausted from the heat. But like magic, just when the time is right, those little sachets of water appear, the perfect amount of good tasting rehydration. And ice cold!! How can that happen in this blazing heat? Later in the day I had one that still had ice inside, so they might buy them frozen? However it happens, it is always so refreshing and revitalizing.
At one point, there were several children sitting in the back of the taptap. I climbed in with them and had so much fun. We all pretended that we were moving in the truck. First i would call our allez, allez, allez. Then we would bounce up and down going over the bumpy road, then a corner to the left, more bouncing, then a right, more bouncing, then a HUGE bump, more bouncing, then a stop. And then repeat, again and again and again. We did it so many times, the children chortling with glee, that finally Fedony yelled at them to be quiet. He hadn't seen that I was the instigator of all the noise. So then we pretended to sleep, wake up, wash our skin, eat some food, and sleep again. This went on for some time until it was time for our lunch.
After lunch, we helped carry the plates of rice and beans out to the younger children. I danced with the plates, they laughed. I then helped dry their hands as they stood in line to wash before eating. I made it fun, they lined up to have me dry their hands, I shook their arms as I dried, making it fun.
We left at 3 to visit some tent cities. We first went to Pinchinat, where I had been back in March. It is much smaller now. They have moved many people out. There are drainage ditches to help deal with the rain. The latrines are brightly painted, one for men and one for women in a different part of the camp. We stop under a tree and I hop out of the truck and start to set up for a show. There is a lot of distraction with all of us, so it is a slow beginning, but as I continue the crowd grows, not as large as in March, but understandably, there are fewer people here now. Nevertheless, the children are delighted and the adults join in as well. I had hardly finished and Zelmo, our driver was in the truck beeping his horn for us to get in. A man came and asked me to do another show in another part of the camp but we were whisked away before it could happen. That did not sit well with me.
We then drove to another camp, this one newly set up, possibly with people from the one we had just visited. It was very orderly, with streets, drainage ditches, lighting and new tents. Very impressive. It seemed that we were going to just drive by, but I could not let the opportunity go, so I asked to stop. It was a very sweet show. An elderly man was totally into it and kept commenting back to the rest of the group. A woman watched from inside her tent from across the street. I knew because I kept hearing her laugh. I was so glad that I had asked to stop. Again, I had barely finished and Zelmo is blowing his horn again. I was not happy with his impatience.
We asked to be dropped at the beach for our daily end of the day routine. It is a great way to end the day, it is so beautiful there, there is so much to watch, and it always offers an opportunity.
We decide to walk back to the hotel, picking our way along the dark streets, stepping around heaps of rubble, avoiding the oncoming motos and trucks, and going with the flow of the people on the street..
Dinner was great, we had asked for some real Haitian hot sauce and one of the cooks had mixed up a special batch for us. It was heavenly, definitely making for the best meal we have had yet. We ordered a couple of bottles to bring home.
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