Haiti's Travelin' Blind Man

Many of you know Roger, Seguin's loudest blind man.  He's a tall, thin man who used to beg loudly on my front porch when I lived in the mountains.  We gave him a job as a human megaphone, calling out patient names for us.  Now that the clinic is closed, he is out of work and relies on charity to makes ends meet.

Roger is not only known for his loud voice, but also for his travelling ways.  Even though Seguin is a mountainous place with narrow, slippery clay trails and deep ravines, Roger uses his wooden cane to feel his way around and walk by himself over miles of terrain.  Once, Roger was crossing a very narrow bridge that spans an 80 foot ravine when he ran into someone.  He yelled at the person, saying, "What's wrong with you?  Don't you know I'm blind?  Watch where you're going!"  The person answered him, "Roger?  Is that you?"  It was Roger's cousin.... who is also blind.  The two men laughed about it afterwards.

Once I moved to Christianville, I expected to see much less of Roger.  I've only been able to visit Seguin a few times since my move.  Roger, however, was not satisfied with a visit every few years, so he decided to come see me.  And he has... several times, and always by himself.  Just recently he visited me, sporting a new T-shirt with vampires on it, some old shoes with soles that were coming un-glued, and his usual smile. He needed help with school for his children.  In order to come ask me for help, Roger had to ride no less than three motorcycle taxis, two tap-taps, and a bus.  Then he had to repeat that process to return home. He told me one of the tap-taps he was riding broke down and he had to overnight in Jacmel.  I didn't have the heart to ask him how and where he overnighted there.  Roger is a brave man.  Possibly, the most well-travelled blind man in Haiti.

My Third Culture Kid

Eleanor, my firstborn, turned 4 this past week.  We threw her a party that included American missionary friends and Haitian neighborhood friends.  There was pin-the-hat-on-the-Minnie-Mouse, a craft, and lots of running around and general noise-making.  There were no presents, though.  That was on purpose.  Being the third culture kid that she is, she doesn't know there are supposed to be presents at a birthday party, and she doesn't have any commercials on television or friends from school telling her that there should be presents.

There has been a lot written lately about third culture kids, with all the international travel that happens now.  For those of you who haven't ever heard of the term, it refers to a child who is raised in a country other than their parents' country of origin.  So, the child is exposed to one culture at home, and another outside the home, leading them to adapt by forming their own 'third culture'.  I think my kids are too young to really exhibit a lot of third culture behavior, but one thing I have noticed is that they are very adaptable.  They are accustomed to bumpy roads, rain on the tin roof, and sleeping under mosquito nets.  But they also do just fine in air conditioning, eating fish sticks and watching cable t.v.  I love how adaptable they are.  I love that living in Haiti means that Eleanor didn't ask for an American Girl doll this year, because she has no idea what that is.  What I don't love, however, is that sometimes living in Haiti means I can't give my kids what they ask for.  This year, Eleanor wanted strawberry cupcakes with flowers on top, and a helium balloon ('like the one Mimi had') for her birthday.  Two simple requests that would have been so easy to fulfill in the States.  Here in Haiti, though, it was a pretty tall order.  Even the fanciest grocery store in Port au Prince didn't carry strawberry cake mix this month, and the only place in town that advertised helium balloons could only fill an order for a large quantity, not a single balloon or two.  So, Ryan and I improvised.  I bought a white cake mix and dyed it pink.  Ryan's uncle Jerry told us that pennies in muriatic acid would create hydrogen that would float a balloon.  Ryan tried this technique, and I was upset that I wasn't home to see his attempts.  Apparently they involved oven mitts, safety goggles, and a mad dash out the door.  In the end, the balloons didn't float.  So, when all was said and done, Eleanor got a birthday party with friends that involved pink cupcakes and nine red balloons (some of which appeared to float using the magic of duct tape).  How did my third culture kid respond?  Well.......

I think she liked it just fine!

The Godmother, Part 2: The Graduation

Well, Makenson Luc did it!  He graduated!  And fellow missionary Marie, Samuel, and I got to attend and experience his graduation in all its glory.  We arrived at 9:30am and the ceremony ended at 3:30pm, so it was truly an all-day cultural experience.  The ceremony included the following highlights:
-processional
-singing of the national anthem
-singing of the Pocahantas theme song
-introduction and standing ovation for Jean Claude Duvalier ("Baby Doc"), Haiti's ex-president/dictator
-singing of the Lion King theme song
-a sexy dance
-a speech in French from Baby Doc Duvalier, which included a list of all the possible professions these young students might enjoy in the future ('deposed dictator' didn't make the list)
-another sexy dance
-the mash up of a sexy song and Ave Maria
-giving out of diplomas
-a fashion show of outfits from 'around the world', including beach attire (Jamaica?), country attire (Seguin?), city attire (New York?), and a turban and metal arm bands (???).  This particular part of the program was the most popular, winning hoots and hollers from the crowd (and looks of confusion from the Americans in the audience).
-more giving out of diplomas
-reciting a poem about being a student.  The most interesting line of this poem was "the rich in Haiti eat three times a day, the poor in Haiti eat three times a year"
-more giving out of diplomas
-the passing of the 'torch' from the senior to the junior class

The ceremony did not, however, involve the godparents giving any speeches or formally presenting any gifts to the graduates, which was a huge relief to me.  I enjoyed giving my gift and words of encouragement privately.

The graduation may have been long and confusing to me, but it didn't lessen the fact that Makenson finished high school, amidst all the obstacles he faced.  I'm proud of him and I pray God guides him in the next stage of his life and education, which often can be more arduous than high school here in Haiti.  Develop your future, Makenson.  I hope it's a bright one!

The Godmother, Part One

   Being a godmother here in Haiti is a pretty common thing.  They have godparents for everything.  Children, marriages, graduations, any big life event.  Not only do the Catholic Haitians do this, but all Haitians seem to do this.  So, needless to say, I've been asked to be a godmother quite often.  It is the responsibility of the godparent to financially and emotionally support the person in certain respects (sometimes in all respects).  Often, I decline.  "No, mesi.  Not this time, sorry!"  That is my typical response.  However, I have said 'yes' on occasion.  I am the godmother to several children here.  Sonson (Margarethe's son) is one of my 'fyel' - godchildren, as well as a couple other children that I delivered.  I have varying degrees of responsibility with them all.
   A few weeks ago, Mackenson asked me to be the godmother of his graduation.  Normally, I would have given him my pat answer "No, mesi.  Not this time, sorry!"  But, his case is different.  I first met Mackenson about seven years ago, when he came to my clinic as a young teenager with an injured leg.  He had been dragged by a horse and had some muscle damage.  I told him he might need to go to the hospital.  He cried. I didn't know it then, but he wasn't crying from the pain or from fear of being hospitalized.  He was crying because he was a restavek and he was afraid that his family would not like spending money on him at the hospital.  He was correct.  Shortly after his injury, while he was recovering, his foster family told him they didn't want him anymore, because he would be more expensive now that he was 'injured' and couldn't work hard.  He had to find a different place to live.  This is when the boys' home started.  We rented him and several other boys a home in Jacmel where they could continue their schooling under the supervision of a Christian chaperone.  Mackenson did well in the home, and has come to his last year of school.  He graduates on June 22 of this year.  Through these past seven years, I've given him advice from time to time, listened to his struggles and hopes and dreams, tried to find him work, and generally filled in the role of a concerned family member for him.  He has a mother who lives very far away and is ill.  His father is deceased.  So, when Mackenson asked me to be the godmother at his graduation, I realized I would be the only 'family' representing him there, and I just had to say 'yes'.
   Here's the catch:  the graduation is a big ceremony.  There will be hundreds of people there.  The godparents have an actual speaking role at the ceremony.  There are specific things I am expected to say and do and bring.  And, ex-president Duvalier (you may know him as "Baby Doc") will be officially presiding over the affair.  So, no pressure.
   I had a big sit-down talk with Mackenson the other day, where I took notes about all that I needed to prepare for.  The big event happens in less than a month.  I'll let you know how it goes!

Samuel George Price

He arrived!  Samuel George Price was born at 2:11pm on Monday, April 1st after 12 hours of pitocin and 6 minutes of pushing.  He weighed 8 pounds 6 ounces and was about 20 inches long (the nurses had to guestimate because he was wriggling so much).  He has been hungry and growing ever since.  He likes to eat every 1.5 hours, which is good for him, but difficult for mommy, especially at night!  He really likes to take in his surroundings between 2 and 6am.  His brother and sister think he's "so cute", but otherwise ignore him.  They are busy playing with their extended family and going to preschool two days a week.

We are planning to return to Haiti as soon as his passport comes, but apparently that might take longer than we've experienced in the past.  We're still waiting on his social security card.  Please pray that paperwork comes quickly.  We love being with family, but we are needed back in Haiti in May.

Thank you all for your prayers for a smooth and healthy delivery and for a healthy baby.  God is good!  It's amazing what He can accomplish in nine months!

 

Bearing Fruit

Well, we're in the United States for awhile.  We came here to wait for baby Price number three to be born.  He's due in early April, and I convinced my OB to induce me on April 1st.  So, it's T minus 4 days till blast-off.  I am definitely ready!

While I've been sitting around, waiting for the baby to come, I've taken up reading.  Lots and lots of books.  Some fiction, just to fall asleep to.  Some non-fiction and self-help books.  One of the books that I've read that would fall into the latter category is "Loving the Little Years" by Rachel Jankovic.  In her book, she mentioned something that really helped me put some of my ministry activities into perspective.  It's the idea that God calls us to bear fruit, and after that, the rest is His job.  For instance, an apple tree that bears apples every year is a great tree, whether people come to pick those apples and eat them, or whether the apples fall to the ground and rot.  Doesn't matter, the tree did its job.  It bore apples.  In the same way, God calls us to bear fruit, regardless of the outcome.  I needed this reminder, because sometimes Haiti can be a bit of a black hole.  Many efforts, little results.

Here's an example:  Since I have had to cut back my hours at the clinic to only afternoons (because of my sweet little ones), I have taken up teaching Creole to various missionaries who were interested in learning the language to better minister to the Haitian people.  In the past year or two, I've taught Creole to 22 students.  Of those 22 missionaries, only 9 of them are still in Haiti and able to daily use anything they learned in our classes.  I was beginning to feel discouraged and wonder if I should keep up the lessons, but God reminded me that it doesn't matter what happens to the fruit... I just need to bear it.

So, as I tell my patients for the eightieth time to eat less sugar, or exercise more, or take their meds correctly;  as I teach more missionaries Creole;  as I make lessons for Children's Church and put them in the hands of the Haitian volunteer teachers.... I try to remember God's encouragement to us all as we work for Him, found in Galatians 6 verse 9:
"And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart."

Hair, Babies, and Missionary Activities

Sometimes, being a missionary means doing some odd things.  I guess that doesn't come as a surprise to people who know me... I've been doing odd things for a long time.  Lately, you will find me showing up to work in crazily braided hair on occasion.  It's my way of connecting with a young mother in my neighborhood.  Marjorie comes to my house every so often to braid my hair, and while she does, we talk, get to know each other, and I offer counsel when I can.

Marjorie and I had an interesting conversation the other day.  She noticed my hugely pregnant belly and asked me when the baby was due.  Then she asked me where I was going to have the baby.  When I told her I was planning to go back to the States to give birth, she asked me "Why?"  I suppose that sounds like a fair enough question, until you consider Marjorie's labor and delivery history.  Marjorie's first baby, Ledson, was born just outside my front gate, on the grass of the parking lot.  It was January 13, 2010.  That's the day after the big quake.  The earthquake sent her into labor, and the morning afterwards she came to find someone to help deliver her baby, but we were all in the church building, wading through hoards of injured and dying patients.  So, she just squatted by our front gate and began to push.  Thankfully, there were a few missionary ladies on the compound that were non-medical, so they weren't at the church with the rest of us.  They saw Marjorie in her distress, called for some supplies, and helped deliver Ledson.  He's three years old now, and doing great.  Marjorie's second baby, Samuel, was born at the local hospital.  It's a Doctors Without Borders hospital that was set up after the earthquake.  Most of the "buildings" consist of large tents. The birthing center is a large tent with ten or so beds in a row, separated by nothing but air and screams.  The women who are currently pushing are placed on the beds, while the women who are in active labor but not yet ready to push squat on the floor or walk around the tent in agony.  When Marjorie and her mother arrived at the hospital to give birth, all of the beds were full.  Marjorie joined the laboring, groaning, milling-about crowd until she just couldn't take it any longer.  She told her mother she just had to push, at which point her mother directed her out of the maternity tent and into the medical-surgical tent next store.  They found an empty bed there, and, assisted by no one but her mother, Marjorie gave birth to Samuel.  After he was born, his cries alerted the staff and they came over to scold her profusely for daring to give birth in the medical-surgical tent.  So, when Marjorie asked me why I was going back to the States to have my baby, I thought in my head, "Ledson and Samuel!  That right there is why I'm going Stateside!"  But I tried to answer her more diplomatically.  I explained that there is better neonatal care in the U.S., and since my first baby had some problems breathing after birth, I feel more comfortable giving birth at a hospital that is set up for good emergency care of neonates.  I didn't mention to her that I am also a big fan of epidurals and pain medicine and privacy curtains!  I would appreciate all your prayers that this little guy waits until we are Stateside (we leave March 2nd) to make his appearance.