travel – Page 2 – They call me Betty

The Rooster has crowed

June 20, 2013June 27, 2013 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

0600- Last night during orientation someone in our group asked Sarah if an alarm clock was needed to wake up on time this morning, to which Sarah replied with a sly southern smile; just listen for the rooster! Well 4:45 am Mr. Rooster took to crowing and let me tell you that is one cock who knows his job! Our group slowly gathered downstairs for breakfast bleary eyed and not so bushy tailed, yet spirits remain high as the thought of coming closer to our final destination loomed near. A quick breakfast of bananas, toast and Haitian coffee helped to upright our balance, preparing us for a two hour car ride then four hour boat ride over to the island of La Gonave. On a personal note, Haitian coffee is the best damn coffee on the face of the planet! Starbucks, PEETS, and all you other half cracked coffee hacks can bow down and kiss the Haitians bums because your roasted beans are no match for the superior flavor of Haitian coffee! MMMMMMmmm sipping some right now…. Oh yeah where was I? Our main interpreter Richard arrived and was introduced to the team. I don’t have a read on him yet, he appears friendly enough but to be honest he comes off as a bit curt and rigid. I am sure that comes with meeting 10 people you don’t know but will soon be living and working with for a week. I hope he adapts quickly because with our groups dynamic personalities we are not for the rigid!

The team loaded up, waved goodbye to our hosts, and headed out (once again through the UNLOCKED, UNGAURDED gate of the guest house-so promising). Moving through the streets I tried several times to strike up conversation with our driver, he was very friendly but his English was lacking, or should I say my Creole sucked. Always one for good humorous conversation it seemed as though this trip would hold no such luck, although somewhere mid trip our driver did locate a radio station playing Haitian/English Rap and let’s just say some of the music’s lyrics involved various parts of the female anatomy being used in various ways that well, just created a serious run of the giggles for those who could hear it!
Honking, braking hard, weaving in and out of traffic, it became clear that some things in Haiti would never change. The Haitian driving style is terrifying to most foreigners, it was terrifying to me the very first time I rode through the streets of Haiti. But who am I to judge, it works for them. In America we use the horn to say: Hey asshole get out of my way, or you idiot, you almost hit me! Or Hey buddy I am telling you I think you are number one! Look over here, look over here at my waving “number one” symbol!!!! In Haiti they use the horn to say; hey buddy I need to come around! Then the driver in front will honk his horn in return as a symbol he understands and you may pass. It’s an interesting system devised of horn honking with a series of hand signals combining rapid acceleration and flat to the floor speed. It’s like NASCAR with horns and vans and Tap-Taps and Mack trucks and Water trucks and oxen with carts and-oh well you get the point!

In the town of Carrefour we were to pick up our second interpreter Caz. Now Caz was an interpreter on Jacy’s first mission and through sheer luck became the interpreter on my first mission. Caz feels like family, he is warm and caring, has the tact of a politician in touchy situations with the caring hand of a pastor. He loves his country, and believes in the resilience of the Haitian people to stand up and overcome all forms of adversity. When I left him last year within minutes I was missing my new found friend. I have kept in contact with Caz over the year and my heart is pounding at the thought of reconnecting with this dear man. In the distance we see the truck holding our supplies parked on the side of the road, pulling up we also see the driver has in fact picked up Caz. We roll by slowly and everyone waves, Caz is on the phone and gives a gentle wave out the window that is until he sees my child like pie eyed face beaming back at him! He jumps forward and waves excitedly as he realizes who is waving! Little does he know there are two more of his old friends wedged in the back anxiously waiting to give him a giant hug as well!
Continuing along the western coastline from Port au Prince, signs of recovery are everywhere! Sidewalks cleared, repaired and clean with residents sweeping them as we pass by. Traffic, short of the normal craziness that is driving in Haiti is moving unimpeded. For those of us returning to this area once again it is a sight to behold. There are parts of this island that astound you with the level of destruction still remaining. There are other areas teaming with recovery efforts, and there are parts of this country that leave you feeling as though the recovery process is almost complete with gleaming buildings, painted or reworked walls and fencing along with courtyards brimming with banana plants and foliage! As we climbed into the mountains my breath was taken away by the sheer beauty surrounding this magnificent place! Plantations built into the mountain sides, lush green rolling hills and corn growing on any free space available. Rolling over our last hill before the drop into Petit-Goave, our final destination, I am wishing I had seen this place before the earthquake to know what it looked like prior. One can have a sense but unless you have lived in that time frame you will never truly know and I wanted to know. Pulling down a small narrow cobblestone street we stop next to a courtyard and are directed to get out for we’d arrived! Jumping out of the van Caz and I take one look at each other and start laughing as we give each other a great big hug! Quickly he spies Jacy and Heather making the reunion complete! He is overflowing with joy at the sight of our smiling faces as we are overjoyed at the sight of his as well! We all soon find ourselves unloading luggage from the truck, then shuttling it through a courtyard to a small slab of concrete and dirt where a small skiff is waiting to take us out to the larger boat. Once our luggage is loaded the skiff maneuvers carefully off shore where our sailboat awaits its arrival. Yep I said it, SAILBOAT! Wind driven voyager of the seas, a trusted form of transportation since the dawn of time! From the first moment some knuckle dragger looked into a hollow stump, threw the stump into the water and thought; ugh I float in that, it take me far! Wait! If me put up large palm leaf, me harness wind and go farther! Yep the trusty old (an in this case I mean really old) sail boat! Capt. Jack Sparrow himself walking the port side couldn’t have made this day any better!
While our luggage is being hauled off to the boat Jacy and I meet with Pastor Jackie. Pastor Jackie runs this region for the Methodist church and is our point man for this portion of the journey. He is in his thirties, good looking and very likeable. We know from our briefing that he holds much respect in the community of Source a Philipe and is considered the future of the church. We move into a back room of the church alongside the courtyard where our crew currently waits to load into the skiff for a ride to the boat. Once inside we start to discuss expenses, there is $600 for the boat ride to and from the mainland. There is also a $50 a night fee per person for staying on the island. Then there is the associated costs of extra interpreters and such. Some of the costs are confusing to me due to various rates and needs. But we settle up and on the way out I feel even more confused by the whole process. Little did I know that confusion would grow stronger as the week wore on? Pastor Jackie stayed to see us off, letting us know he would be at the island on Monday to check in on our progress.
After a few more short journeys in the skiff shuttling people the last person climbs aboard, our crew pulls anchor and we set sail to the north for what turned out to be one of the most beautifully serene and calm boat rides I have ever experienced. The water is a color blue that not even I could explain and do it justice. The sky has billowing Caribbean clouds floating lazily overhead and the breeze is warm and damp. I am in heaven. The boat rocks gently back and forth, up and down and every now then a little water would splash up and get my dangling legs. A few of our members needed to crawl out of the sun and a few more unfortunately were dealing with motion sickness. But I was laid back, legs hanging like bait over the sides, hat over my face half sleeping, half hoping this day would never end. My wife is in her element as well. Sun hat on, sunscreen slathered, that inviting, warm smile of hers lighting up the deck as she spoke of Haiti and how much she loved this county. She ended up in a conversation with one of our interpreters Richard. Richard told a story of his mother passing away, living with missionaries, being educated in the finest schools only to have no money to go to college. Watching painfully as his friends went off and became doctors and engineers while he stayed home and drove a Tap-Tap (multi-person taxi). It was humiliating! To make matters worse his family and friends all made fun of him for not being able to figure out how to get himself through college. He has since gone to college and he holds two Visa’s allowing him to travel in and out of the United States. He tells of others who have obtained the very same visa’s only to never return to their home country of Haiti. Richard states every time he goes he feels the need to come home, for you see no matter how educated he becomes he only sees his people, the people he cares for and wishes to help. The people of his home country, the people of Haiti. I am starting to like him.
After 4 or so hours of sailing across a magnificent sea in calm weather with nothing more than some heat stroke and nausea we slip over a reef into 4 feet of crystal clear water to arrive at the small fishing village of Source a Philipe. Once the anchors set another small skiff emerges from the shoreline to start an arduous journey of bringing us to shore then gather all of our baggage. My initial perception of this place is that of amazement! Source a Philipe should be on the cover of a vacation magazine! Yes the beach is littered with run down shacks, and the streets are not really streets anymore but run down pathways filled with cobblestone. But it doesn’t matter, it has beauty in its own strange way. There is garbage lining the sand and even more as you walk around, normal for this culture, shocking to us clean freaks and easily fixable with about a weeks’ worth of work. We are greeted by many townsfolk upon our arrival. As introductions are given we meet François. (duh da dunnnnn- villain music inserted here) François introduces himself as an associate pastor and the general contact for all things involving the community. If we need something we are to ask him for it, if payment to anyone needs made it goes through François, the self-described “Liaison” was there for our group at anywhere, anytime. François wanted nothing more than our happiness during this stay in Source a Philipe. Now don’t get me wrong, it all seemed friendly enough at the time, but Jacy and I both looked at each other and after 11 years of marriage no words needed to be exchanged. Something didn’t feel right. François walked us up the hill towards a guest house where our belongings were to be delivered by the local youth. Standing on the steps the clinic is quickly spotted a few yards away and a few of us wander over, curious about what lay behind its walls. Francois follows opening the doors where we quickly discover three empty rooms, with the exception of one reclining chair and a couple of benches this is going to take a bit of creativity. Our sleeves quickly become rolled up and as medical baggage arrives within a matter of a few hours we have transformed these three empty rooms into a room for dentistry, a room for education and a room for minor medical issues. We have added two more rocking chairs for patients, and a few more tables for supplies. It’s not perfect, but it will do! During this time we also meet up with a band of college students from the Wesley Foundation who have been living on the island for the last month! They have fixed a cistern, some water lines and built a cinder block latrine! They are young and in good spirits, they seem to be a fairly tight knit group and are very happy to see us.
After setting up the clinic and meeting our new friends we all gather again (new friends too) and decide it is time for a swim. The boats captain- (Captain Jackson) offers to take us out off shore near the reef where you can stand in four foot of water, gathering starfish and sea cucumbers (also fondly known as “Kaka nan lanme a” or poop in the sea- a joke we will further discuss later) . We all make our way down the newly built dock and into our trusty skiff, laughing and joking with our new found friends. Three hundred or so yards out he stops the boat and lets us know we can now get in the water! First person off is always the hardest as you upset the balance of a little skiff so when Doc rolled out into the water all heck broke loose as the skiff rocked hard from side to side! All of us laughed and joked like school children as one by one we plopped our tired, sweaty bodies into the ocean. It was fantastic! We swam as a group, we laughed as a group and we played as a group. The water was perfect and so was the swim. The water is like swimming pool water, so crystal clear you can see to the bottom and the temperature is perfect! Ally came up with starfish and sea urchins, Orson found plenty of Kaka nan lanme a, to which we all chuckled! How could an animal of the sea look so much like a giant poop? Oh well questions that will never be answered.
After our swim while walking back from the beach we strike up conversation with a few from the other group and one in particular “Ally” seems to have the low down on the village! (sounds like a future alliance) Everywhere she goes children can be heard screaming her name; AAAALLLLLEEEEYYYYYYY!!!!! It’s hysterical! Reminds me of another mission trip where all you could hear through the village was children screaming MMMMAAAAAAGGGGGIIIIEEEE! (Maggie) Another young woman who had her finger on the pulse of a village through the children. Alley walks us around, giving us the grand tour explaining where everything is at, who is who and what is what. You can tell her time here has been very fulfilling as she speaks with kindness, love and generosity about these people. She breaks away after a while telling us she will meet up with us later and off she heads into the groups accommodations. It is nice knowing there is another group here to lean upon.
We finished the day off with showers and another wonderful Haitian dinner. François came back around and through conversation I met our third interpreter “Ronald”. Ronald would be provided for us by the Haitian Methodist Church. We had not planned on a third interpreter but Ronald was very nice and quickly adapted to our group. Francois informed us of a 9am church service that we had already planned on attending. François thought it would be nice if one of us could speak as there was no pastor amongst us. My wife offers to speak, thank goodness because if anyone can pull it off she can! She continues to amaze me at every turn. Not because I ever think she “can’t” do something, but because over the almost 11 years we have been married she does any task better and better every time with grace and charm.

The women’s dorm is located inside the main guest house and the men’s is located on the other side of the Wesley Foundations (college kids) house. An interpreter is housed in each and we both had hired security. We all gathered and chatted for a while but one by one the day seemed to wear on everyone and we all sort of drifted off to our respective place. Saying goodnight to my wife, she was working very hard on her presentation for church the following morning. I read what she had prepared, it was powerful, to the point and moving.
Heather, Alisa and Mellissa were bunked up in one room, Kristina, Gail and Jacy were in the other. It was girls’ summer camp at its finest! (Let your imagination go wild). Orson, Preston, Brent and I said our final goodnights and wandered off to our little corner of the world. Orson and Preston in one room, Brent and myself in another. I felt kind of special being roomed with the international man of mystery. It turned out to be one of my better decisions during the trip as evening conversations with this man were fantastic. I will always remember the time spent with our own Brent Watney.
Clinic set up, accommodations taken care of, dinner devoured, showers finished, goodnights all the way around, now for a little me time. Head phones on, sweat running off my legs, bugs swirling around my face and some Miles Davis. Just what the doctor ordered.
Tomorrow is a new day and only God knows what’s in store for this team and I trust he has given us a task that we can handle.

(Please dear readers be patient as Betty is trying her very best to tell this story, I am trying hard to paint a picture from my perspective and it is taking quite a bit of rewrite from my notes. I am terribly afraid I am missing key parts, hopefully as I continue through my emotions the story will come easier and quicker)

A journey begins

June 18, 2013June 19, 2013 theycallmebetty1 Comment

Thursday June 6th 4pm- Jacy and I arrive at church where Pastor Kathy hands us our traveling funds, afterwards we move very quickly to the dentist office where everyone is anxiously waiting to go! Excitement is high, some have nerves jittering away but all are ready to get this mission trip underway.

Our group developed laminated cards for placement on our luggage to more easily count and identify these 22 bags throughout the trip. These laminated cards are bright yellow and create a bit of visibility in a sea of American Touristers, making ours easily recoverable while rotating around the turnstile at baggage claims. Tags and zippers zip tied in place, money obtained, smiling faces and photographs taken in front of Kristina’s Tea Room/Dentist office, and it’s time to load up and depart. More hugs, a hands shake here and there, along with one heavenly prayer delivered from our pastor. Everyone chips in as bags are tossed into our vans and just like that hallelujah we were off!!

Heading out of town Kristina was rolling through her mental list of supplies, it was then she quickly realized some very important instruments had been forgotten. We quickly grabbed the first exit, turned back towards town and notified the lead van of our intentions. With the lead van continuing on, one of Kristina’s employees met us at the first off-ramp into town for a hand off of Olympic proportion! We now had tools in hand, anxiety squashed and were headed in the right direction!

The ride into the city was relatively uneventful until we approached the bay bridge, then all of that changed! Kristina received a phone call that Ruben (Alisa’s husband) was broken down on the side of the freeway in the lead van. We were given the exit name and luckily we were within a mile of their location. The van was located on the shoulder of an off ramp and pulling in behind them a tow truck was already present. It appeared as though the vans radiator had split, leaving no water for cooling. Alisa arranged a tow back to Dixon as the state funded tow company would only accept AAA. As I surveyed the damage many alternatives were being thrown about and you could sense frustration building as the thought of possibly missing our flight was more than anyone wanted to deal with. While examining our surroundings it dawned on me that I knew exactly where we were, and without hesitation my phone was abuzz as I reached out to someone who may have been able to help!

My sister lives only an exit away!

The phone rang only twice and with a hearty hello, my sister was on the other end of the line. I asked where she was and amazingly she was only ten minutes from our location! When I explained our need for assistance she quickly hung up the phone, gathered up her husband and his vehicle then headed our direction! Two vehicles to the rescue! While waiting, staring into the back of both vans, I started doing the math and quickly realized that even with both of her vehicles coming we wouldn’t have enough room or at the very least it would be very, very close! Before panic could set in a taxi pulled up offering assistance! We loaded it with three people and their luggage, sending Brent with some traveling cash for payment. (Brent is our international man of mystery) Perfect! After a quick recount of all baggage remaining the numbers work, the luggage will fit and we will all hopefully make it on time! Thank you God for showing us the way!

My sister and her husband arrived, hugs of thanksgiving were had, we loaded up and in a jiffy our caravan was together again at San Francisco International Airport with just enough time to spare as we would later find out while checking our baggage! Hallelujah! My sister and her husband wished us well, we all thanked them and our gratitude hopefully showed! Once they were gone we headed inside and just like that we were a mission group ready for departure! American Airlines as in years past was fantastic! I cannot say enough wonderful things about this Airline! They waived our extra baggage fees, they waived our overweight luggage and they treated us with respect. In today’s fast paced world that kind service filled with understanding and a good listening ear is hard to find. Once Jacy had finished taking care of baggage check in the American Airlines personnel wished a safe and fruitful journey.

After a quick bite to eat we gathered at the terminal gate, many were texting, Facebooking, or reading, but all were excited and ready to go.

Our flight was uneventful (thank goodness) and landing in Miami left us a little disoriented as the world there was abuzz with 5am travelers. Unfortunately we moped around still stuck in a 2am thought process. Coffee for some, a nap for others and then a few of us walked the concourse repeatedly, knowing another two hour flight was in store. Yeah the thought of sitting any longer was not a pleasant one for many of us. As we wander about the airport killing time, a strange thing begins to occur where ever we go. People seem to know Brent? Not by name mind you, but for some reason people wave at him or acknowledge his presence! It’s kind of odd (in a good way) and we all notice this little social experiment in the making. Now Bent is the father to one Nick Watney, a golfer on the PGA pro circuit. This of course is wonderful in itself but we have decided it is because he looks a little like an older more stoic James Bond! From this point forward it becomes a running gag! Do you know Brent Watney? Do you?

The flight into Port au Prince was uneventful as well (double thank goodness), touching down it felt good to be back. My heart filled with joy as we dipped over the coastline coming in for a landing. I felt as though I could pick out the small town of Leveque as we flew along. I know that’s not true but it sure felt nice thinking I could. Unloading off the plane the first thing I noticed was just how much the airport had changed. It looked new and clean, organized and almost regal, compared to last year. Inside it only got better, painted walls, light air conditioning and clean floors. Customs was a breeze and getting to our luggage was much easier!

Yes we were back! It felt right! Now if only we (Jacy, Heather and I) can help others to experience why we feel this way before the week is done.

Once at the baggage turnstile it became quickly apparent some things hadn’t changed. The usual players were present, red shirts, blue shirts all of them, leaning in trying to earn your business by grabbing your bags and “handling” them for you. After further inspection we realized there to be one more bag than claim tickets which meant we were going nowhere! That was until a fin, a fiver the old Abraham Lincoln made its presence, and then through a terse quip and a short wave of the hand from our newest “best” friend Cliff, the airport inspectors were gone. Cliff, hustled us quickly over to a final check out point where another airport employee asked me if we had “medical” supplies, to which I stated yes! Thinking this might lead us to a free pass, my hopes were squashed when she waved us into another room where all 22 of our bags were to be flopped onto a table, opened and inspected! (Sarcastic “YAY” entered here)Thankfully after staring blankly at about the sixth bag our inspector become frustrated and waved us through!

Cliff moved us like a pod of fish, yelling at any other red shirts vying for a piece of the action to stay away! About this time we found our old friend Jackson (the one arm man) just inside the exit door. Jackson is hired by the United Methodist Church to ensure the mission teams make it to their pick up point and driver with little hassle from the “red shirts”. Jackson swiftly moved our group outside where more red shirts clamored upon our belongings until Jackson yelled at them, at one point a man not happy with Jackson walked up and hit him! A little shocking, but the way of the world in a place where every dollar earned puts food upon your table. Cliff mentioned he could not leave the building and even though I wasn’t supposed to tip anyone but Jackson this man did helped us to no end. Yes I realized he was doing his job, but he blessed us for the work our group UMVIM had done in his country and went above and beyond getting us through the chaos that can become Haiti International Airport. I broke the rules and as I would find out soon enough, we would break that rule many times.

Once loaded into our vehicles (Haitian version of the Toyota mini Van) we headed out into the wild, scary, old west style, garbage filled, smelly, latrine water covered streets of Haiti! Ahhh to be back, filled with hope and optimism for the poor downtrodden people of Ha——– WHAT???????

Hold the boat! Stop the car! Slap your grandma! The, the, streets are CLEAN! (Well ok CLEANER!)Nary a piece of trash, nor mobs of people, not one child is rushing the van screaming “CHICKLET, CHICKLET MISTER” or “WATER PLEASE” or my personal favorite “MISTER YOU GOT A DOLLAR”? What the holy heck! The wrecked cars are no longer lining the streets! Instead they are gathered in a local junk yard we just passed, no one is stripping them down where they lay! Oh my goodness it looks, dare I say it? So much better! In fact we have now crossed two estuaries and I haven’t seen one man living in a van down by the river!!!!

We come to our first of many traffic lights (yes operational traffic lights) and I also notice for the most part people are obeying the traffic laws! Its pure insanity I tell you! People also seem to be traveling from one place to another with purpose! Not like a cast member from The Living Dead! Its, its,-well it’s just plain beautiful. My heart swells with joy as our group travels through province after province with nothing but wonderful signs of recovery! No country should have to endure what these people have endured and no people should have to decide on a daily basis whether to feed the dog, beat the dog or eat the dog because the dog needs food just as much as they do. (That was just a reference, they are not eating dogs here)!

The guest house looms on the horizon and pulling inside the gates (no guard present anymore) felt like being home! The group formed up, we unloaded our gear and set to introductions with the staff! Sarah met us first, she was warm and welcoming. Some met Tom for the first time while three of us just took a moment to reminisce with the leader of the guest house. A meeting was called out by the pool which was perfect for our hot and tired bodies. We swam while Sarah gave us the low down on our trip, progress made in Haiti and some of the more serious issues we may face. The island of La Gonave was our final destination! A four hour boat trip lay ahead and we would be departing at 6am with breakfast at 5am. We were to drink plenty of water and layer ourselves in sunscreen.

We settled in, chatted amongst ourselves and mentally prepared for the last leg of our journey.

Dinner time was upon us quickly and it was AMAZING!! I had waited patiently all year for this style of cooking! Oh you can recreate it in the states but it isn’t the same! The fried chicken was awesome, the black beans and rice was awesome, and the plantains were OFF THE HOOK!!!! Oh yeah some very happy bellies wandered off to bed after an extremely long day of travel. (16 hours in all)

I personally was out cold by 8pm after struggling to stay awake through a meeting with the onsite doctor. I retained most of the information but my brain could handle no more!

Oh well a new day and a new adventure was waiting for us all! As one by one we all laid our heads to rest, little did we know just what an adventure it would become!

To infinity and beyond!!

August 25, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

This is a sad day in Betty’s world.

Today’s obituary: Neil Alden Armstrong (August 5, 1930 – August 25, 2012) was an American NASA astronaut, test pilot, aerospace engineer, university professor, United States Naval Aviator, and the first person to set foot upon the Moon.

Let that sink in for a moment. The first man to set foot on the moon, July 26 1969 has perished.

Although he was just one N.A.S.A. (National Aeronautics and SpaceAdministration) team member in a pool of extremely intelligent and talented individuals, Mr. Armstrong was lucky enough to be chosen to command Apollo 11 and even luckier to be first down the LEM (Lunar Excursion Module) planting his feet firmly in lunar soil then muttering the all too familiar phrase “That’s one small step for man; one giant leap for mankind” thus forever cementing his name in American history.

Little known fact: Mr. Armstrong actually stated “That’s one small step for (a) man: one giant leap for mankind” as man/mankind would have been improper use of the English language because man is synonymous with mankind. But the (a) was blocked by static so the recording and phrase we all know to this day is forever cemented in history.

So why is Betty so sad? Mr. Neil Armstrong was one of my childhood hero’s! In elementary school I would read about space missions up to and including landing on the moon. Then I would run out and play as if I were an astronaut. Circling the jungle gym like it was the moon, coming in slowly, after burners at half thrust, slowly easing my spacecraft onto the top then leaping to the ground screaming; “that was one small leap for all kids, one giant landing for all kidkind!”

Yep we all wanted to be astronauts! Space suits, space ships, stars and planets, we dreamed and we dreamed big. At night coming in from the barn the moon would call to me like a lost friend. Staring at its kindly giant face, wondering what it was like to stand on its forehead looking back at our giant blue sphere. Knowing that Neil Armstrong stood there, gazing upon his home from a perch that few would ever see! What did he think, how did he feel? Was he scared? Did he worry that he and his crew may never come home?

Yeah space the final frontier; these are the voyages of the star ship Enterprise! Her five year mission to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before! Crap! Wait wrong fantasy! I also used to pretend I was Captain James T. Kirk, but that story is for another time.

Astronauts, sheriffs, firefighters, teachers, superheroes (Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Capt. America etc..) Cowboys, sports heroes, they were all there for us to idolize and admire. To dream about becoming as we grew into adults. These images forever etched into our minds, approved of by our parents and lived in the fantasy play periods of our afternoons.

Where are today’s heroes? Who do our children have to look up too? When my kids are in their forties who will they look back upon as being their childhood heroes? Computer generated actors? Rappers? Boy bands? Disney created childhood mental cases waiting to explode as adults? I am just not seeing it! Where are the brazen leaders, moral guided heroes, larger than life humans that stand by their convictions leading the way for all youngsters to dream?

Am I wrong? Is it just me?

Rest in Peace Neil Armstrong. Thank you for the endless hours of dreaming your bravery brought to my young life.

Olympic Bound..

August 9, 2012August 9, 2012 theycallmebetty4 Comments

Watching the 2012 London Olympics over the last 12 days has left me in athletic awe! How I yearn for a challenge of that magnitude, to focus mind, body and soul on one sporting activity, rise to the challenge, overcome insurmountable obstacles to be the very best that I can become!

Yes it is true, like many young people around the world I have decided to become an Olympian! To feel the thunderous roar of an adoring crowd, performing at the peak of my physical prowess, standing atop an Olympic podium while our National Anthem plays and I (being the great Olympian I am)do my best to lip sync the words knowing that someone at home can tell I have no idea what the hell they are! Yes, YES I want to be that guy!! (Thunderous applause)

Sadly, there is one little problem with my dream, a small issue really but a problem none the less. I am 45 years old and last I checked there weren’t too many athletes at 45 breaking ANY world records! Oh sure I run most days (3-5 miles), work out constantly in the gym,and eat (somewhat)right, yet near a 4 minute mile I am not! In fact I don’t believe there to be anyone currently cresting the precipice of senior citizenship dominating the track and field ranks! Not one person of age flowing effortlessly without the aid of Ben-Gay or a walker traversing a gymnastics canvas! Not one person that can be referred to as “sir” or “ma’m” swimming at dolphin like speed or rowing sculls with the ease of a 5 horse power outboard! So what‘s a guy like me to do? All these dreams, hopes, aspirations bottled up inside ready to explode upon the scene? What to do, WHAT TO DO?????

ANSWER:

I will “do” as any red-blooded American father would; I will impose my wishes upon my children! Disguise their efforts as being “what they want”! Twist their little minds and stress their little bodies fulfilling my dreams not theirs! Propping them up high on a pedestal of half-truths with statements like; you are the best, no one can perform like you, daddy loves you even when you fail (lie), oh and remember we are doing all of this just for you! Yeah that’s the ticket!

Want to join the swim/dive team? Well then you will swim/dive morning and night everyday all year round eating tofu and drinking tiger’s milk! Up the ladder jump! Onto the starting block, jump! Swim, swim, swim and dive, dive, dive! Honing your craft, building your skill set and slowly becoming a champion! Hee, hee hee!

Gymnastics, wrestling, boxing or trampoline; No problem, hit the gym kid and don’t worry about school, you don’t need friends from the outside, you have us! Gym people are your family now, plus we’ll get you a tutor so training is all you focus on! LOOOOVVEEE YYOOUUU!

Want to be a runner/sprinter? Peeeerrrrrffffeeeecccccttttt…….

Get the hell out of the car right now! Start running! Oh don’t worry, we won’t leave you behind, but if the Australian Runners can train in the desert and those little Kenyan kids can run from village to village out of necessity thusly making the Olympics as young adults; then your sorry little butt can run out of pride! The pride you are going to bring your father when he receives his Olympic passes in 2016 whoop, whoop (tear in my eye)!! That right kid; so shut your pie hole and start running, we have little time and lots of miles and injuries to get through so WE can make it to the national trials! Oh yeah, give me a hug because daddy thinks your number one!

So there it is, my plan is in place! National exposure, our countries pride along with selfless coaching on my part will bring them to the forefront of the Olympic stage! Thereby ultimately allowing me to perform as an Olympian! Genius, pure genius I tell you!!!

They may hate me for a while but once a Gold medal is around my neck; whoops I mean around their neck (wink, wink)it will all be worth it; right? Yes sir look out NBC’s Today show here we come!!

In closing, later tonight we will stand in front of a mirror while developing our signature “thanking Jesus” ritual!

To the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat!!!

Haiti Mission Trip part 11 The last day

July 21, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Friday June 15^th 2012

This morning the group is filled with a combination of excitement and sadness. It’s that feeling you carried with you at the end of summer camp. Happy to go home yet saddened to no longer be surrounded by these people whom you have become close to in an abnormally short amount of time. Knowing when you wake up tomorrow the scenery will be completely different. Your feet, your body and soul will no longer encompass this place you called home for the last 8 days. It’s as if you were never there, then you ask yourself; if I come back to this place will it be the same? Will I carry the same feeling of accomplishment and joy currently residing within my being? Could there ever be another group as wonderful, humorous and caring as ours?

We had our last breakfast, we cleaned up our rooms and many of us left suitcases filled with clothes, shoes and other belongings behind for the church to distribute to its members. Everything was moved downstairs quietly towards the loading zone as the guest house trucks arrived to cart us away. Small talk and innocent giggles were had by all. Before any of us had time to sit and reflect any further it was time to go. Our final goodbyes, our last au revoir or in Haitian; bay-bay; goodbyes are always miserable. Some small tears were shed, many blank faces climbed aboard our chariot home. As we pulled away I looked back at our temporary home and sighed. Many days I was ready to leave, while other days I couldn’t wait for the next challenge and now here I was watching it disappear in my rear view. Mixed emotions swelled inside bringing tears of joy to my face.

It only took a few minutes for most to settle down and you could see many reflecting as we rolled along towards the guest house. Gone were the naïve Americans white knuckling their ride through town, in their place were 10 seasoned mission participants who no longer feared NASCAR style driving, crowded streets, UN personnel, language barriers, and humidity. The further we traveled from Leveque the easier it was to accept our next destination. The guest house was looking more and more inviting. Yet inside I was already longing to see our new-found friends again. I knew there would be another mission team in two weeks, then another after that and so on. Before long the people of Leveque would forget who we were but I was positive they would never forget our contribution. We had all talked about traveling back to see the finished church, I feel as though this is my next personal mission.

After 30 minutes we arrived at a dirt road that headed back into the hills; this led up to the mass grave constructed for an estimated 316,000 who perished on January 12, 2010. We had all declined the offer to see this memorial. Not out of disrespect mind you, but from exhaustion. The further we travelled the more we all relaxed and exhaustion was evident on every person inside that bus. The bus turned anyways and up the hill we traveled. Letting out a heavy sigh of frustration my mind-set was soon replaced upon arrival to the memorial.

Where a sloping hillside once stood now lay a football field sized plateau. Of to the left, closer to the original hillside sat a marble monument. Simple in stature and design, looking upon it you suddenly felt remorse for ever thinking you could drive by this place without stopping. To get at the memorial you needed to traverse this football field sized area which meant walking over the dead. Humbling to say the least; the entire area lays in clear view of the ocean with a gentle sea breeze enveloping you where you stand. A picture perfect view for all souls at rest; with my head hung low I made my way back to the bus where I vowed to never look past another’s reflection of the past to meet my own personal needs.

Two hours, lots of sweat, a few bumpy roads and we were back inside the comforts of the guest house. A facility that when I arrived looked as though it had seen better days, but to me on this day it appeared as though it was the Grand Hilton, the Four Seasons, the Fairmont, it was filled with luxury and comfort. After unloading both vehicles I made my way upstairs to our rooms where immediately the i-phone was plugged back into the world. After 30 minutes of returning e-mails, sending pictures and catching up on work I found a clean pair of swim shorts and headed to the pool.

Our entire group was here and after jumping in I realized it was the first time I had actually been cool for 8 days. It was fantastic! Water, cool water all around my skin, no sweat, no wet clothes, we all swam until our fingers shriveled up. Many of during the course of discussion joked that when you arrive at the guest house for the first time the pool should be off-limits. Because you can only truly understand the significance of this little concrete gem after you have sweated your ass off for 8 days! Of course we were only joking, maybe….

After dinner our group was invited into another structure for a debriefing. We all shared our stories of trial and triumph with the coordinator. I am sorry to say I don’t remember her name as she was the replacement for Sara who had finished her tenure on this assignment. It was an excellent way to end our journey as we spoke very highly of the church congregation in Leveque. We also discovered there have only been a couple of instances when a going away party was thrown for the team. She had heard lots of compliments about our group over the week and was impressed we took the entire building to the ground. We all left feeling very good about our efforts, knowing we came together as one and performed to the best of our abilities, it was gratifying to say the least.

As the night wore down we all trailed off to bed. The 1950’s metal bunk with cotton batted mattress I despised the first night felt like a goose down bed from heaven. Drifting off to sleep all my brain could focus on was the pride I held inside for our group, the immense fatherly pride I held for my son, the new friendships I now cherished and the thought of hearing my wife’s voice the minute we touched down on American soil tomorrow. Sleep came quickly…

Haiti Mission Trip 2012 part 12 Coming home..

July 21, 2012July 21, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Saturday June 16^th 2012

Bleary eyed and disoriented most of us stumbled around trying to figure out whether we were coming or going. A nice cool shower, a shave, and a fresh clean pair of clothes for travel, we were one by one getting ready for the long ride home. Our final breakfast together was filled with prayer, laughter and stories of the past week, a truly fantastic way to end this journey. As we gathered our belongings, purchased our last gifts, distributed passports and documentation, the anticipation of finally being on a plane home started setting in on us all. Loading up and pulling through the iron gates for the last time I was finally ready to go, ready to be home again. I had come to this country with a simple goal, tear down a building, with that goal complete; I found myself leaving with so much more, more than I could ever have imagined obtaining from this little tropical island and its people.

The airport was controlled chaos, people moving you here and there; the same issue we had previously upon arrival in country with baggage handlers reared its ugly head as we unloaded from our bus. John C took the front, Paul was in the middle and John G and I took up the rear of our group ensuring no one was separated or bags grabbed. A few of us purchased some last-minute gifts before entering the boarding area, while others just made their way upstairs. The terrace was crowded and hot but at this point no one cared. After an hour we loaded and were finally on our way. The flight was quiet and uneventful, (except for the reemergence of the corn muffin) most of us were quietly enjoying the in-flight movie, or sleeping.

Landing in Miami the winds were blowing very hard and our arrival was hair-raising to say the least! As we deplaned heading into the terminal there was an indescribable feeling that came with walking on American soil. There is something to be said about the freedoms we Americans enjoy on a daily basis. It takes experiencing the trials and tribulations of another country to fully grasp this immense gift we have been given, it is the reason people fight and die trying to reach American shores.

We all gathered for one last dinner together before catching the last leg of our travels home. During dinner every one of us was plugged back into society. 8 days with little cell phone use and an abundance of conversation, now with little more than 5 hours left together we all were texting, Facebooking and catching up with family and friends. Cody called his mom the minute we landed in Miami, giving her a short synopsis of his adventures. I called her sometime after that and relished in hearing her voice. I couldn’t wait to land in SF and see her face.

The 5 hour flight was uneventful and in the blink of an eye we were face to face with loved ones. Our dear friend Alisa (Maggie’s mom) drove her commuter van down to pick us up. When they pulled up curbside my wife was hanging a welcome home sign out the window! We all hugged saying our last goodbyes as Paul and Mason went their separate ways with family and friends. Climbing into the van sitting next to my wife for the ride home the whole trip seemed surreal. A years’ worth of planning, fundraising, meetings the anticipation of going and it was all over, done, we were home. Sharing our stories of adventure with Alisa and my wife Jacy the trip home went very quickly. My body was exhausted; there was a numbness that took over as we made our way to the house at 1 am Sunday morning.

Hot water! Hot water flowing over my body in copious amounts! Soap and a towel smelling of bleach; the sound of little Parker snoring while Jake sleeps quietly in the bunk above him, being home is grand. Slipping into a clean shirt and shorts, I stroll downstairs, peek in on Jessica then over to check on Cody finding him completely passed out, his dog Cricket (who he missed more than family) snuggled up to him lying under his arm. I whisper Goodnight son, thank you for coming with me on this great adventure, I love you. Then slowly close his door as Cricket raises an ear at the creaky hinges.

Climbing into bed, looking at my wife lying next to me sleeping I feel as though I may be the luckiest man alive; a nice house, a soft bed, a woman who loves me, food in my refrigerator, an awesome family, wonderful friends and a great job. When I left for Haiti my feelings were that of a married man with a wonderful family, yet I didn’t have enough, I wanted more, feeling as though with budget cuts at work, an increased workload (both at work and home) and a severely dwindling income our lives were becoming extremely difficult. Over ten days I learned what difficult truly was, I also learned how to be happy even content with my life in those same ten days. I learned from emulating my Haitian friends.

A Haitian is thankful for each day

A Haitian is thankful for the food on their plate

A Haitian is thankful for friends and family, willing to do anything at anytime or anywhere for someone in need

A Haitian is thankful for God’s love

A Haitian believes every little moment is a gift from God

A Haitian believes hardship instills belief and all hardships can be overcome with a willing attitude

A Haitian doesn’t know the word can’t

A group of Haitians changed my life forever. I am filled with joy, love and appreciation for all God has blessed me with in this life. For that I can never repay them, I pray for the little group in Leveque and hope one day I can revisit this special place to sit and worship in a brand new church. A church built with love and devotion from many caring hands who know there are no obstacles that can’t be overcome with God’s help.

And to our church group; the nine of you are amazing human beings. You are all caring, loving, hard-working people who I am very proud to call my friends. We may not talk everyday, we may only see each other once in a while or only know what the other is up to through Facebook but there is one thing we will share for eternity. It will bind us till the day we leave this earth.

Haiti

I love you all, thank you for the time of my life..

OSHA out…..

Haiti Mission Trip part 10: Working on a chain gang…

July 15, 2012August 12, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Thursday June 14^th, 2012

Waking up this morning there was an incredible sense of accomplishment. Standing at the balcony brushing my teeth gazing upon the remnants of a building. Its amazing what people can do when they put their minds too it. Where a large church once stood there now remains nothing but rubble. A hazard taken to the ground so a new beginning can emerge.

While finishing up last night it still bothered me the way our combined group began to fall apart once “Bald guy” appeared then started barking orders to the Haitian workers. Not being one to let things go I cornered Caz asking him questions in regards to the incident hoping it would help me better understand what had happened. According to Caz; (my interpretation) after the earthquake Bald guy lost some of his family and his home, while others were running about not know what to do, he took it upon himself to start uncovering people trapped in the debris. He has orchestrated the removal of many earthquake damaged buildings through nothing more than sheer will, muscle and desire. The workers look up to him because of his reputation; definitely feeling like the right “call” had been made in allowing him to take down the portico, it all made complete sense to me now. Pride is a powerful thing and this man held enough for our entire crew, and with that I salute you Bald guy. You were grumpy, slightly mean and unorthodox in your methods but you were completely in the right.

Today we began moving concrete, lots and lots of concrete. The pile closest to the school needs to be replied into the confines set forth by our esteemed project engineer. All of the remaining concrete block covering the church slab needs to be shuttled onto a new site out front. Making matters worse new cinder block arrived yesterday and half our crew has started working on a new wall surrounding the church. Half the manpower twice the work and it appears today will be the hottest yet. Time to buckle down and get to it.

Now moving concrete rubble one piece at a time is very tedious work indeed. Your mind needs someplace to go as one oversized rock after another is thrown into a pile some 15-25 feet away. When there are only three shovels, three wheel barrows and 13 people, someone is getting their hands dirty. A few of us took up residence out front slowly throwing one chunk at a time, while others tackled the relocation of the rear pile. The ones with shovels and wheel barrows took to clearing the pad distributing the mass between both piles. It was long, slow hot and tedious work.

Around noon time a few of us were feeling the effects of the abnormally hot day. Exhaustion from the weeks work combined with knowing just how close we were to finishing began to play mentally with our minds. I drank more water during this one day than all other days combined. Showing the signs of exhaustion there would be no more “slow sipping” for this cat. No sir it was chug a lug all day long! As soon as one water bottle had emptied another was filled than devoured by my ravenous thirst. Not alone I noticed many of our crew working in 15-20 minutes segments then sitting in the shade for 15-20 minutes. The “quitter” side of me was working hard on my brain, but my conscience continued to override the thought process.

Joh G (Hammer) on the other hand was a freaking machine! This guy could not get enough of smashing things with his hammer! I secretly looked up to him for strength, if Hammer was getting up to go work some more than gosh darn it I was too! It felt like an eternity, as though no progress was being made one rock at a time, one shovel full at a time, one wheel barrow full at a time! It had become slightly disheartening.

Spirits crushed, exhaustion ruling my head I decided taking a break from the site was in order. Spending the whole week working on the building left me at a loss for interacting with the school children. Something I was looking forward too prior to the trip. Maggie, Jan, Heather, Anne,Cody and Caz all headed up towards the school for some scheduled classroom time. Every fiber in my body screamed “go back to work”as I headed up to the school compound! But I knew in my heart I needed to swallow the pride of completion, get out of the sun and go have fun with the children.

Entering the classroom it was clear everyone was having a fantastic time. All of the children were in the throes of making bracelets from string. Each one of our group was spread around helping children with their projects! One little boy sitting at the table in front of me tapped me on the shoulder showing what an impressive job he had done with his project. All of them smiled, laughed and generally appeared to be taking the bracelet project quite seriously. Cody started out quiet as usual but after having Maggie drag him around a few times he started talking with the kids. It was good for him. The boys seem to look up to him and were always confused by his quiet demeanor.

Back at the job site, feeling refreshed, and ready to tackle the mound of mess something occurred to me! It’s funny how being gone for a little while takes you out of the little visionary tunnel you have stuck yourself inside. The piles were noticeably bigger! The church slab seemed a little cleaner and it appeared maybe, just maybe with a little luck we would get it cleaned up before 3pm today! Our agreed upon goal during lunchtime quickly became; clean the floor off so as we leave the children will have a safe place to play soccer; definitely an attainable goal.

The day was long and hard, but we completed our goal! My estimate would be approximately 25-30 tons of debris moved by hand! The floor was clean for the kids and we all were excited, having accomplished our goal! It also appears there will be a party given in our honor by the community tonight. The community leaders have decided to hold it right upon the very floor we just cleared! Some teenage kids along with a few adults cleaned it off with buckets of water and brooms made from palm leaves while we all bathed. Speaking of bathing, my last bath was the best bath ever! The water was cool, the warm breeze felt fantastic and I finally took my work shorts off for the last time! These shorts became sort of a running gag, as we started on Friday, they were covered with a thick layer of dirt from the ceiling. So dirty they were that I puffed my chest out and with a smart ass tone declared them the official work shorts of Haiti! Then boldly declaring they shall be worn everyday until we finish our mission! Of course my little quip was merely to gross out our group and yet they women from cell block C would not let me forget that asinine statement. So following through with my word, the shorts were worn everyday until Thursday at 4:30 when they hit the bathing room floor for the very last time! Yes they smelled bad, they had changed color and they practically stood up on their own, but success was mine!

7:00pm

Chairs and church pews are being brought out then placed in a semi-circle on the slab. A boom box has arrived, lights have been strung up and our generator is at full throttle. People from all over the neighborhood are arriving and we have been asked to be seated. Once again Charles says some very kind words in regards to our hard work and dedication. He leads us all in a prayer and blesses the evenings upcoming activities. Soon we are entrenched in song, laughter and some of the funniest skits! Its like summer camp with musical chairs and impromptu performances! We are all having the time of our lives! The children sing for us, its beautiful, a young woman sings for us and doesn’t miss a beat when the CD stops playing. Then a well dressed young man holding a guitar stands up to sing a song to our group but instead turns and sings directly to our Anne! It was hilarious! Some of us were pretty sure afterwords an arranged Haitian marriage had just taken place and Anne was “gonna have some splaining to do” when she arrived home with the new hubby! Earlier in the evening this young man mustered up the courage to give Anne a wonderfully written love letter filled with devotion to her very existence! So we just knew through Haitian song they were now husband and wife!

Many games were played including a chug a lug game involving two 20 ounce bottled Cokes, using no hands. After watching one Haitian lose to another, reflecting upon my beer drinking days I mumbled to Caz, pretty sure I could have won that contest. Within minutes Caz relayed this apparent proposal to the powers that be and two new Cokes were acquired for a chug off! Now I can’t lie, I was pretty excited, for after watching the speed at which the winner chugged his Coke, it seemed like an easy win for me! Before pondering the ramifications of actually beating this man, Yalaylay strolled by me slowly, then stopped directly in front of me, smiling as he placed his hands around his own neck to indicate the choking sign. Wait a minute, I thought, is he smack talking me? Is Yalaylay talking Haitian trash? Oh I am going to beat this guy all right, then I am calling out Yalaylay ! But I didn’t have to wait, I never had to face the previous winner, you see Yalaylay was my challenger and yes he was indeed talking Haitian trash to me! The music stopped, Cokes were placed on the chairs, our hands were placed behind our backs while Madame Lulu counted down, 3-2-1 GO!

From what I have been told I gave it a pretty good go, even holding the lead for a bit, but Yalaylay was the village ringer! A bona-fide champion chugger he beat me by a gulp and a half. The place went nuts! People were laughing and hugging, Yalaylay came over, shook my hand then hugged me with the biggest smile! Through Caz I told Yalaylay I would be back next year to beat him! He welcomed the challenge.

At the end of the night we were all hugging, tears were being shed, last-minute photographs were being taken. Goodbyes continued for quite sometime and it was truly the hardest moment of our entire trip. Even Cody had his picture taken with some of the other teenagers. Saying goodbye to some of the most honest, down to earth, hard-working people I had ever met was very difficult indeed. They have all been handed a horrible situation and yet they survive with strength drawn from their family unit, the church and a belief that all people are good and it can only get better from here.

Taking a moment to personally thank a few people, I pulled aside Wilson and Jonas telling them what an honor it had been to work alongside them both. Jonas’ wife came over handing me her baby, then hugging me while kissing both my cheeks. She did this with many of our people, she was incredibly sweet and honest. Cornering Caz in one of the downstairs rooms to thank him for all his hard work with our group, I handed him our department coin. Explaining to him the only way one of these can be given away is to someone who is selfless, who puts all others first by exemplifying honor and integrity. He was honored by the gift, humbled by the kind words and I think a little embarrassed even though he received the coin in private. Caz truly is a remarkable man. We all pray someday he ends up becoming a translator or official government representative for his country. He loves this country and its people so much, and it shows through his continuing ability to find ways to make life better for its people. I will miss him, I am very proud to call him friend.

We slowly milled our way back upstairs. Taking an opportunity to share our last night together on the balcony, telling jokes, laughing at Annes’ new husbands expense. We all hope she keeps the love letter for one day when she finds herself in a relationship that is not working out so well she can pull the letter out, remembering there is someone out there who truly does worship the ground she walks upon. If that person is a world away then there must be plenty of suitors here in the states that will do the same. You are worth it Anne!

Slowly one by one we all trailed off to bed, knowing in the morning it was breakfast then pack up the trucks for the long ride back to the guest house! Sleep would come very easy tonight..

Haiti Mission Trip 2012 part 6: Who let the dogs out?

July 1, 2012 theycallmebettyLeave a comment

Sunday June 10th

Awoke this morning around 4 am to the sounds of dogs barking out front. It was a good thing they woke me because there was so much sweat trapped in my cot that taking a moment from my slumber to put on a life-preserver was indeed a sound decision.

Laying there pondering what on earth these animals could have to bark about for hours on end I was at a loss when suddenly like a brick it hit me. The dogs are just having a conversation. We know dogs are very social animals and enjoy the company of others, so wouldn’t it make sense that after spending the day hiding from the heat just like we do, at night its time to socialize? So with that mental image I am fairly sure the conversation goes a little something like this;

Dog 1: (bark) Hey I am a dog!

Dog 2: (bark) Hey I am a dog too!

Dog 1: (bark bark) Get out of here, really?

Dog 2: (Growl, bark bark)Yeah man! I am really a dog!

Dog 1: (Howl) Where are you at brother?

Dog 2: (bark, bark, bark) I am over here man!

Dog 3: (bark) Hey are you guys dogs?

Dog 2: (bark, bark) Yeah man I am a dog!

Dog 1: (bark) I am dog too!

And well you can see how the conversation just blossoms from this point on.

I digress..

Sunday morning; there is no work for our crews today. Instead we are going to worship with our hosts the Leveque congregation whose church we are disassembling. Paul has graciously offered to give the sermon and assist with communion. He is a little nervous, (he says he is not but it shows on his otherwise bubbly face) and rightfully so, it’s quite an honor to speak in front of another congregation and for myself personally the language barrier would have been hard to overcome even with our interpreter.

Another wonderful breakfast has been prepared by the magic chef Madame Lulu, afterwords we disappear into our rooms only to assemble moments later dressed in our very best clothes. We all brought slacks, skirts, nice shoes and the group consensus was to wear our UMVIM shirts for the service. All of us are excited to gather as one with the people in this community, it will become another moment of bonding, and hopefully forging our souls together.

Before walking downstairs people begin to arrive. Families come out of the woodwork dressed in their very best, bright yellows, pressed whites, and shiny shoes. The women have gone to great lengths with hairstyles, ribbons and jewelry. The young girls are perfect, straight from a Normal Rockwell painting, if Norman Rockwell brushed in some debris and banana trees. It is painfully obvious how important Church is to these people. The only way I can explain the social order of things here would be to compare it 1800-1950’s America. Church/God then family and work. In awe of their priorities when it comes to work, family and religious beliefs I find myself ashamed at how we as a society have let our personal desires, greed and lack of morals lead away from the family unit.

Walking down the stairs we are met with numerous greetings of “Bonjour”accompanied by brilliant smiles. The children are always happy to see our faces but Mason and Maggie’s seem to be the main focus of attention. Everyone shuffles into one of the classrooms which has temporarily been transformed into a church. Gone are the classroom desks and papers, in their place are 6 rows of pews hand placed and straight as an arrow. In front there is a small podium and table with a cloth covering what at home would be the bread and communion chalice. In Haiti because of the many illnesses one can acquire, bread remains the same but wine/grape juice is in dispensable shot glass sized cups then covered for safety.

The service begins and it is glorious! Our group is given the honor of being seated in the first two rows with our interpreter sitting next to the pastor translating every word that is spoken. Caz does a wonderful job translating along with singing! Before long we are all trying to sing the songs in French-Creole. Failing miserably but trying just the same. By the way; Haitian sing! They sing while they are working, they sing while they are playing, and they sing loud to the heavens above while together in church.

An hour and a half goes by in the blink of an eye; Paul has done a wonderful job of spreading goodwill between our groups. Handshaking, smiles and laughter precede the service as we all meet in the hallway out front. Some of us break off playing catch with the children (frisbee, tennis ball, etc) , Mason and I put on a juggling act, while Paul turns on the bubble machines to the delighted screams of “bubbles” from all the children. Slowly families begin to dwindle away, leaving us to mosey upstairs, undress from our Sunday best, throw on some shorts and prepare for a Sunday excursion.

Because Sunday is a day of rest a Tap-Tap driver had been provided for us so we may go off and recreate for the afternoon. The group has been given many beaches/restaurants to choose from for our excursion and the unanimous decision is a destination known as Club Indigo. Having heard wonderful things about this place from our Hosts at the guest house, our group was excited to lay our eyes upon the crystal clear Caribbean waters while dining at an all you can eat buffet. The ten of us also decided that Sunday should be a day of rest for the fabulous Madame Lulu and our two wonderful interpreters Marcanie and Caz. The word is spread and our offers accepted. We all gather at noon, swim shorts on, sun screen applied, back packs loaded with essentials, just add one crazy, cool Tap-Tap driver and shake! The perfect recipe for a perfect day!

Our Tap-Tap drivers name was (guessing once again so its Phonetic) Yalaylay. Hired to be our on site transportation at night should an emergency occur he was acquired for our daytime transportation to the beach. Yalaylay was tall and lanky, friendly and charismatic. Carrying himself with the cool laid back style one would expect from an islander, he quickly won over the entire crew and the sound of his name could be heard echoing across the compound both morning and night. Y A L A Y L A YYYYYYY!!!!

Our group loaded into the rear of the Tap-Tap, squeezing into every available space! Cody and Maggie sat in the front seat, Caz and I were the last to load and sat (barely) at the rear overhanging the pavement. The ride was fantastic! Yalaylay cranked up the radio (Bob Marley) and took to navigating our way up the highway as best he could. Some of us noticed right away when the truck reached traveling speed it would slowly drift to the right only to be brought back to center abruptly. There were times I wondered what would happen if the steering actually failed on this ride? Then I would remind myself to relax, put my OSHA (my nickname) tendencies aside and enjoy the experience.

OSHA: The United States Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) is an agency of the United States Department of Labor. Congress established the agency under the Occupational Safety and Health Act, which President Richard M. Nixon signed into law on December 29, 1970. OSHA’s mission is to “assure safe and healthful working conditions for working men and women by setting and enforcing standards and by providing training. (Wikipedia)

My nickname was earned after the first of several discussions in regards to safety both on the job site and with our teams’ personal health throughout the week. As the appointed EMS team member and assisting John C with planning and organizing on site work during the day the name stuck. I wore it proudly for the entire week, it was earned with simple questions such as these…

Remember team, if you are not peeing, you are not hydrated. Pee checks are at breakfast, lunch and dinner. (Little did I know one member would take this a little too seriously; but I will cover that later.)

When we are working on the building keep your head on a swivel, look up when entering, look down, and look all around. We are here for a very short time and I am on vacation so no one gets injured. Understood? (This advise worked out well, only two major accidents. The team leader fell from a ladder my son was manning and apparently I couldn’t take my own advice ending up injured by Tuesday.)

The highway headed north was littered with cars, pickup trucks and semi’s trucks or bobtails, all having been involved in head on collisions. (have I mentioned they drive crazy in Haiti?) Most wrecks looked fatal, and it amazed me this metal carnage was just cast aside, left to rot. We traveled through a few towns along the coast, the weather was perfect, the sky was blue and the ocean looked amazing. After an hour we arrived at our destination, a gate guarded by grounds personnel leading back into lush vegetation along a cobble stoned roadway. Entering into the clearing Club Indigo began to emerge from under the palms. It resembled the set of Fantasy Island; White plantation style open air buildings all facing the ocean with a grand entryway. Slowly traveling by the front we headed into an open field where all vehicles were parked. The U.N. comprised the majority of vehicles in the lot this day. Both official and unofficial transports neatly parked rows, this appeared to be the main choice for U.N. soldier relaxation. This of course kicked old OSHA into overdrive. After hearing many stories about U.N. soldiers and their “above the law” attitudes I found myself lagging behind making sure our entire group stayed together as one.

$40.00 dollars apiece was our one way ticket to beach and buffet! Strolling through the main area past the bar, along the walkway by the pool one could distinctly pick out different languages being tossed about the pool deck. I picked up quite a bit of Portuguese, a little Spanish and of course French-Creole. But the main thing I noticed was no conversations were taking place in English. Our group strolled along the beach until we came upon a coconut tree with a few chairs underneath. Gathering a few more chairs to claim our territory, most of us were stripped to our swimsuits and in the water before the sand settled. It was warm, clear, salty and beautiful. We swam out to the buoys then back several times. Some floated around while others dove under looking for shells and fish; Standing in the water felt like a world away from where we were no more than 90 minutes prior. To be quite truthful it felt a little shameful. Who were we to come here and act like vacationers? We came here to work, to help the impoverished, to create a physical and spiritual difference in not only our own lives but the citizens for who we serve; The people of Leveque.

Before I had the chance to become too sanctimonious someone hollered; time to hit the buffet and all those feelings were temporarily dissipated! I needed to eat. Funny thing about a buffet, it can be the best food you have ever eaten or it can be the worst thing to cross your plate. You never hear someone say; oh the buffet was adequate. Until that moment we had no idea just how spoiled we become towards Madame Lulus food until we found ourselves faced with a buffet stock piled with the very same creations. All of us looked at each other and grinned as we piled food upon our plates. Sitting down at our table, salivary glands drooling, with one bite our palates quickly learned the difference. As we slowly picked through our half rate grub, I looked up to see Madame Lulu smiling at me. She knew, she knew it was crap, she knew her food was the gold star this half way house for Haitian chefs aspired to become. She knew it and yet she still blushed as each and every one of us pledged our allegiance to this woman’s golden spatula. We were all grateful for her presence and enjoyed being around her, and even though the food was poor (meaning she deserved to be served much better), there wasn’t one of us that weren’t glad she joined us for a much deserved day off.

We all had a fantastic afternoon, swimming and playing. Yalaylay, Marcanie, Caz and Lulu swam to their heart’s content while, singing, laughing and frolicking with us in the water. We discovered Marcanie couldn’t swim, yet he bravely waded out as far as his fear would let him go. Maggie tried her best to teach him to swim but alas Marcanie got no further than sinking like a rock. At one point Caz snuck up behind him, grabbed him, and then drug him out deep. Marcanie looked like Scooby Doo, legs and arms flailing as he walked across the water after Caz let him go! Cody never came out of the water continuing his search for shells he swam all day long! He came up with some very interesting looking crustaceans which made their way home. Maggie, Jan, Heather, Mason, John C, John G, Anne, Paul and I spent the rest of the afternoon switching between lounging and swimming.

As I sat on the beach I jotted down a thought;

Sitting on a white sandy beach straight from the scenes of a Rogers and Hammerstein musical I have found myself gazing upon 13 other people all happily frolicking in the ocean. 9 of them are so very far from home. Yet they are here together these 13 people; they don’t speak the same language, they don’t all share the same passions, but they are becoming friends. No longer are they strangers or acquaintances, no longer do they wander this earth unaware of the other. They have been brought together, united as one. For these 13 people now hold a bond that no one can change.

Haiti….

As for the 14^th member of this illustrious crew (me); He feels extremely honored to have been given the opportunity to know them all. He feels especially honored to know one of them in particular, for that person fills his heart with endless pride.

His son is showing signs of becoming a man, his sense of humor is developing, his timing and delivery are being perfected, and the ability to tie the two together at the perfect place and time is quite evident. These attributes are allowing him to meld into any situation with ease. A quality many never develop, leaving them often times misunderstood. Watching him interact with the others from our team I feel as though he is liked by all, admired by some, and loved by only one. His dad…..

In the blink of an eye it was time to depart our little slice of heaven. The thirty year old, slightly run down former Club Med resort had been a Caribbean delight for us overheated mainlanders. We all changed, gathered up our belongings, took the last few pictures that needed to be taken and headed off to our waiting Tap-Tap. We were some of the last to leave due to the U.N. soldiers suiting up, loading up and departing about an hour prior. (A little scary considering they had all been drinking most of the day.) This of course left us feeling like we received every penny of the forty dollars we shelled out to bask under the sun on this gorgeous stretch of coastline.

The ride home was fairly quiet although Heather’s hair continued to be a great source of fun. As we traveled down the road the red mane of hers would engulf all who unknowingly traveled into its path! She became fondly known as chicken head by the girls from Chowchilla or Cell block C.

Anne, Jan, Heather and Maggie while living the dream in our concrete bunkers had taken to referring to it as the Chowchilla Women’s Correctional Facility thereby naming themselves the Chowchilla four or C-4. Our nicknames were all earned on this trip and one of the reasons we bonded so well as a team. Our group’s sense of humor consistently played into making this trip what irreplaceable memories are made of. I miss that sense of camaraderie.

Arriving back at the compound we were met by the children all chanting Mason, Maggie and of course BUBBLLEESSSS! The generator was started, technology was charging, the kids were playing and each and every one of us found our own little spot to sit and reflect. We all enjoyed another fantastic day together; another moment in time to be remembered forever. Sitting on the balcony darkness slowly set in; once again we laughed, told jokes, and thought about the work that lay ahead.

Tomorrow is Monday; let the real work begin….

Haiti Mission Trip 2012 part 5: Bonswa!

June 27, 2012June 27, 2012 theycallmebetty1 Comment

Saturday 9th 2012

Another sleepless night! Currently three nights in a row and I am not sure how much longer my body can take this lack of sleep. The problem for me remains the same, Haiti never rests! Being a little Haiti naïve, I was under the assumption that being away from the main city life would be a little slower, a smidge quieter, yet nothing could be further from the truth! Behind our compound are houses hidden in the mango/banana trees that appear to be the collection point for those who never sleep! Music like that of a Caribbean polka pumping from the residence all to the hoots and hollers of its inhabitants! Lying in my bunk sopping in sweat, cursing the heavens above because there is no escape from this dreadful noise! My ear plugs have eluded me in the dark, and I am afraid to wake the lucky ones while searching my bags with a flashlight. As for all the music I uploaded into my iPhone for just such an occasion; I made the mistake of storing everything using the “cloud”, and since all my data functions are disabled to keep from being charged an arm and a leg at AT&T it can’t be retrieved. So all I have are eight songs placed directly onto my phones memory. Eight songs for eight days, yeah I’m screwed! Somewhere around 1 am exhaustion gets the better of me and I pass out, only to be rousted from bed at 3 am by the sounds of two dogs barking at each other! This continues for around an hour and is immediately replaced by the wonderful crows of chickens singing to the rising sun! Now if all of that weren’t bad enough for yours truly; Marcanie started snoring around midnight and never quit. Snoring in itself is not so bad, living in a firehouse with 4-6 other guys for 1/3 of my life, snoring is something you get used too. But this man (Marcanie) is the king daddy of snoring, the Gandhi of bear growls, Lord of the buzz saw, the champion tree chopper, I am pretty sure some of those sounds could not legally be registered on a decibel meter! Long story short, another rough night and the hot Haitian coffee could not be poured soon enough.

Upside; Cody and Mason didn’t hear a thing (ahh to be young and able to pass out at the drop of a hat) they slept right through it all. At least some of us received a welcomed night’s sleep. Everyone else was awakened at one time or another, dog barking seemed to be the complaint of choice.

Breakfast was at 7am on the nose and it smelled heavenly. We were treated to spaghetti? I know it sounds strange right? Spaghetti for breakfast! But it was the best spaghetti ever! Nothing like what you would envision spaghetti to be, it was spicy, with vegetables and no sauce over the top! There was fruit and cereal, coffee and tea. The food was perfect.

We gathered our tools, marching downstairs to meet with the incoming workers at 0800. Today is Saturday which means it will be another half day of work for everyone. Our goal this morning is to expose the steel trusses by removing the tin sheeting from the roof. A few of us have high hopes that we may actually have a truss or two on the ground before noon, but that may be nothing more than wishful thinking. Caz, Marcanie, Pastor Charles and the ten of us meet inside the church. A quick safety briefing is given along with mentioning what our goals are for the day. We collectively decide that Opening up the concrete windows to create air flow and removing all the tin sheeting on the roof is our goal. Everyone is pumped. Excited and ready to go! Once the concrete windows are knocked out with sledge hammers we can begin on the roof. The Haitian crew decides going onto the roof and removing tin from the outside is the best plan. Mean while a different plan is taking shape which places ladders inside the exposed trusses as makeshift scaffolding, allowing us to work in the shade and not risk someone falling from the roof. Yes the tins are bolted to the trusses but they are bolted on using J-hooks. J-Hooks are just what they sound like; they are bolts in the shape of a “J”. With the nut outside on top of the roof, the “J” passes through the tin with the “j” portion grabbing a steel truss securing a piece of tin sheeting tightly. This is where the four bolt cutters we brought with us come into play. Instead of unbolting the hooks from above, we are having two crews safely move up and down the length of the building cutting “J” hooks from the inside using ladders as scaffolding. Safe, easy and fast it worked as planned! The tins came down one at a time, everyone (who wished to go up in the scaffolding) took turns cutting the “J” hooks as bolt cutting a couple of hundred of these things can become a little tiresome. It went fairly quickly and we finished before noon which allowed us ample time to formulate our plan for the beginning of the week. The beams and trusses were next to come down starting Monday and we definitely were going to need some sockets or crescent wrenches for this project. Realizing the deficiency in our tool cache Paul suggested that we head into Cabaret (the next town over)with an interpreter to retrieve these items from a local shop. John G, Mason and a few of the Haitian workers wished to tag along as well. It sounded like great fun and an adventure to boot.

Cabaret (Creole: Kabarè) is a municipality in the Arcahaie Arrondissement, in the Ouest Department of Haiti. It has 63,450 inhabitants. During his dictatorship François Duvalier renamed it Duvalierville in 1961 and a megalomaniacal construction project was begun. The project failed, but the name was kept until Duvalier’s successor, his son Jean-Claude Duvalier, fled the country in 1986.

Marcanie took us across the street from the compound where we stood waiting for a Tap-Tap to drive by. A few loaded Tap-Taps passed us by but finally after about ten minutes one happened to stop. It appeared to be loaded with too many people for our group to fit inside, but not thinking like a Haitian I was wrong. So with a long gaze and a long deep breath we all stepped forward to receive our first lesson from the University of Tap-Tap. Pushing and shoving, jostling and contorting, we all squeezed on, in and even hung a little off to the side. It was unsafe, crazy and something that had my Spidey senses abuzz but it was exhilarating! We all loved the ride into town and couldn’t wait for another Tap-Tap ride back to the compound!

We arrived in the town of Cabaret to witness complete controlled chaos! In the center of town the markets were open, people were everywhere! Hustling, moving, buying and selling Cabaret was alive! Our guides took us from tool shack to tool shack looking for a simple crescent wrench or some socket wrenches. There wasn’t a free place to move or stand without running into, bumping or moving out-of-the-way of another person, vehicle or motorcycle. We traveled through side streets, down alley ways into areas where people were fixing cars and bikes, Marcanie took us everywhere and we talked with quite a few friendly and helpful individuals. At one point we ended up in a two-story building that resembled a shabby apartment complex filled with building supplies. There were two men sitting in the front entry staring at us as we went upstairs and it was the only time I ever felt a little uncomfortable, on edge. It seemed as though they really didn’t want us inside. Just my opinion though, I could have read the situation wrong, but it sure felt that way. In the end we arrived back at the first store we visited. (Isn’t it always that way?) Even though the store only had two crescent wrenches available it would be enough for the task at hand on Monday. While Paul haggled with the owner over the obvious inflated prices on our behalf, John G and I were drooling over the brand new Korean and Chinese manufactured motorcycles that were for sale in front of the store. At one point the owner informed Marcanie we could purchase them for $1000.00 u.s. dollars. I wanted so badly to purchase one on the spot, then cruise the streets of Haiti! Nothing would have been more exciting than traveling home knowing I survived Haiti’s traffic chaos on a motorcycle! But most importantly it would have been nice to go off on an afternoon cruise and discover a little Haitian culture on my own. Before concluding our business with the local shop owner, the price had dropped to $950.00. I am pretty sure with a little haggling $800.00 would have left me the proud owner of a Haojin 125cc motorcycle.

The afternoon trip turned out to be quite an adventure! We had walked through Cabaret, met a handful of locals and strolled into a little store for a soda. I felt uncomfortable, out of my element and excited all at the same time. Slowly working our way through the crowds back uptown towards Tap-Tap central, our construction friends grabbed the first empty Tap-Tap we came upon. Ushering us inside and after back filling the Toyota truck bed with as many people as humanly possible we slowly made our way back to our temporary home in Leveque.

The entire group gathered upon our return for prayer and lunch. Afterwards, Paul had made arrangements through a few of his new friends for our group with the assistance of an interpreter to go on a walk about. We heard of a village in the hills behind us and it seemed like a wonderful opportunity to stretch our legs while introducing ourselves to some of the local residents. Our walk took us alongside the highway past many shanties and half destroyed homes. Residents sat or worked in their front yards under shade trees hiding from the heat of the day. Most waved hello, some smiled sheepishly while others looked confused at our presence.

Turning left onto a washed out dirt road leading up a hillside, the road took us through groves of bananas and plantains. The country side was a strange mixture of tropical beauty combined with modern-day refuse scattered about without care. After witnessing the crowded, dirty streets of Port-au-Prince and the jammed hustle of local Cabaret this little excursion was a peaceful respite for our crew. After walking with and passing many locals we came upon a concrete irrigation/drainage ditch where many children were playing in the water. There was one small pathway leading over it and we waited patiently as donkeys and motorcycles all carrying passengers made their way across.

Once we crossed groups of small children seemed to arrive from nowhere. Running alongside us shouting, taking our hands, some would beg for food, some would beg for water, and others were just content to receive the attention we provided. Around a mile in we encountered our first housing encampment. Built by a group called Samaritans Purse.

Samaritan’s Purse is a non-denominational evangelical Christian humanitarian organization that works worldwide to assist people in physical need alongside their Christian missionary work. The organization’s president is Franklin Graham, son of Christian evangelist Billy Graham. The name of the organization is based on the New Testament Parable of the Good Samaritan, in which Jesus uses a parable to teach people the second great commandment – how to “love thy neighbor as thyself”.

Samaritan’s Purse works in more than 100 countries around the world. International headquarters are in Boone, North Carolina, with additional U.S. facilities in Charlotte and North Wilkesboro, N.C. Affiliate offices are in Australia, Canada, Germany, Ireland, Hong Kong, Netherlands, and the United Kingdom. Field offices are located in some 20 countries across five continents.

The buildings were of many different sizes, some seemed to be small in the 14×16 foot range while others looked a little larger. There were central outhouses along with meeting halls. At one end of the project sat rows of larger 20×60 building that for some reason reminded me of a Japanese internment camp from the 1940’s. But they were all clean, neat and orderly. Most were weather wrapped and it seemed every one that we saw had occupants. Smiling and waving, we were always greeted with a smile and wave in return.

Moving farther up the hill while holding a small child’s hand I began to feel somewhat guilty. We were walking into these peoples’ lives, staring at them, taking pictures as though they were some kind of circus attraction put there for our amusement. Personally there were a few occasions where making eye contact was hard because of the guilt I felt inside. My mind was racing, what were they thinking, how did they feel about themselves, about our intrusion, or the hand they had been dealt since the earthquake? Were they grateful for the housing and assistance provided, or angry because many of the projects seemed unfinished? Had these Haitians truly been helped or hindered by the short-term assistance that eventually became less and less?

At or around mile two we came upon another community erected by Mission of Hope.

Mission of Hope: as an organization following Jesus Christ, we exist to bring life transformation to every man, woman, and child in Haiti. Mission of Hope was founded in 1998, and continues to serve Haiti daily by meeting the physical and spiritual needs of the Haitian population.

At Mission of Hope, we desire to serve the nation of Haiti, and see lives changed. Our passion is to see the hopeless find hope through Jesus Christ, and empower future generations through education to bring their country out of poverty. Mission of Hope website http://www.mohhaiti.org

The housing at the Mission of Hope complex was refreshing to say the least. Houses were all neatly in a row with independent yards, fences and gates. The inhabitants looked happy sitting on their porches and all welcomed us with large smiles and a hearty Bonswa! We arrived at a church and were warmly welcomed inside where we gazed at the simplicity of their building. A place of worship built on rock in the middle of nowhere and it was perfect. We all enjoyed spending a few moments inside. As we traveled onward through the project children swarmed us, grabbing our hands. Laughing at our faces and all of them wanted to play. Taking a few moments at an assembly building we took pictures while playing with children. It was nice, even Cody got into the action. Everyone of us had a child taking very special interest in our arrival. It was the first time during the walk I wasn’t feeling ashamed for my presence.

As we made the corner heading for home one of our guides pointed up the hill to a similar housing complex also built by Mission of Hope. This one was strictly for the deaf community. How wonderful to have an entire community of like-minded individuals living as one. In America they would be considered handicapped and maybe in Haiti they still are but in this village no such phrase exists for they live, farm and work together as one. Inspiring.

While walking towards home I asked one of our interpreters Marcanie; Why if we say nothing to an individual in passing do I feel contempt coming from the person we passed? But if I smile and say Bonjour/ Bonswa (good morning/afternoon) as we pass every person lights up with a gigantic smile then waves? Marcanie proceeded to tell me that by saying good morning or afternoon in passing you are showing a sign of respect towards that individual. Out in the country is it expected to show respect not only for your elders but for all individuals as human beings or children of God. If you choose not to say good morning or afternoon after making eye contact you are showing, superiority or you feel as though you are better than they are; which in turn is extremely disrespectful. Here in a country where hard times and strife seem to be an everyday occurrence, the simple principles that our country once lived by still exist. Say good morning or good evening to a complete strangers in our country and you are looked at as though you are crazy. It is sad.

We arrived back to the Leveque Hilton to another wonderful meal prepared for us by Miss LuLu. We prayed, we sat for devotional and then we once again partook in something that is sadly missing from our everyday lives. Together like a family we sat on the porch and talked. Every single one of us, for three-four hours! We laughed, and joked, telling stories about our day, sharing our experiences, our personal feelings, the highs and the lows. It was pure bliss!

I want to build a patio and shade cover in our back yard so that after dinner, no one is allowed to go their separate ways, but instead all will meet for devotional time, laughing and talking about their day. Just like we used too, as families before technology, dual working parents, after school sports and just plain old life got in the way..

Haiti Mission Trip 2012 part 3 Lets Ride..

June 23, 2012 theycallmebetty1 Comment

June 8, 2012

Lets Ride….

Awoke at 0600, oh who am I kidding, I never really slept. Between the dogs fighting on the compound, what seemed to be one hell of a party going on in the alleyway or house next door, anticipation of the days to come and the sticky, wet heat that encompassed our room, sleep never came. Pretty disappointed, because after what I felt was a long day yesterday, sleep would have been beneficial. Came downstairs to the smells of breakfast wafting gently from the kitchen. Shuffled my way over to some coffee and was pleasantly surprised by how fantastic it tasted. Smooth, mellow, robust, nothing like any coffee that had previously crossed my palate!

Sitting down at a table outside, the smell of burning garbage rose over the compound and once again I began questioning my purpose for this journey. After a while John C. and John G. joined my table, soon we were discussing upcoming events for the day and how things may play out. Paul came down then Cody and slowly the rest of the team emerged, shuffling slowly, looking for hot coffee. After several cups, we all began telling tales of a rough night had by all, apparently I was not alone in my suffering. Joking about the chickens, anger for the dogs and laughter at our own silliness. We had bonded fairly quick as a group, which usually is a sign of impending personality clashes. (watch survivor, you think everything is fine and then BAM your torch is being snuffed out)) But every time we all sat together I could feel the glue forming between us, an alliance of you will, this would ultimately prove to be the foundation for great new friendships and help us during our survival over the next eight days.

Breakfast was started with a prayer. Three teams formed into a giant circle holding hands praying. It was a powerful moment, starting the morning off on a wonderful note. After breakfast we chatted it up with several other members, slowly making our way upstairs to gather our things as departure time closed in on us all. Funny thing about embarking on an unknown journey, nervousness does take hold of you whether you realize it or not. The unknown is a tricky thing, it can paralyze to the point of inaction or spur you on to some of the greatest triumphs you may ever know. In eight days we would all have an accounting for our performance.

After our luggage was gathered, we were introduced to our interpreters. Caz and Marcinae (Im guessing on the spelling.) Walking directly up to Caz extending my hand he warmly accepted my handshake as I introduced myself. I was very glad to meet this man for I already felt as though I knew him. John C. and John G. along with my wife had regaled us with wonderful stories of his caring attitude and generosity towards their group a mission trip last year. He was an intern then, but handled himself like an old veteran. We reminisced for a few minutes and after showing him pictures of my wife in Mellier, he instantly remembered who she was stating; she was fantastic with the school children and a very caring person. He then raised an eyebrow, leaned in towards me asking how I felt about a woman traveling to such far away, unknown places before myself? My retort; If you have met and befriended my wife then you learn very quickly once her mind is set there is no stopping her. He chuckled and said yes this may be true. Five minutes with this man, my guard was completely down. My first sense of safety crept in and I instantly knew we were in fantastic hands.

It was time to go, time to leave the Port-au-Prince Hilton. The KIA truck was loaded with all our luggage and supplies for eight days, the Toyota was loaded with 13 willing and able bodies ready for an adventure. The gate opened to the compound leading us out to an alley we had not seen previously, our eyes were once again opened to a strange new world of adventure and uncertainty.

The alley way was congested with people cooking food, grinding metal, fabricating gates and repairing stereo equipment that here in the United States we would have discarded like yesterdays newspaper. The alley was no wider than a single car leaving us to squeeze ever so carefully through its bowels. As we made our way into the street (slowly) it was extremely congested, more so than the day before. The previous day had been a holiday so many shops and businesses were closed. The shocking moment for myself and some of the crew was the streets had been very congested the day before which left us in awe at the amount of people moving to and from their destinations today. In hindsight yesterday was merely a fraction of the population that now lay before our eyes. Travel was slow, hot and bumpy. Once again there were times the smells became a little overwhelming. These people moved about their day with a huge sense of purpose. Constructions sites were a buzz, markets were humming and everywhere you turned the city felt alive! My head hung to the glass like a voyeur trying his hardest to experience every moment without being noticed. Traffic in Haiti still bewildered my sense of safety. Horns honking, cars moving where they pleased, it was a very gentle ballet of automotive synchronicity. In America many of the movements or automotive “bullying” that we participated in would have resulted with someone being on the end of a broken nose. Yet here people just waved you by, (and not with a middle finger in the air) waved thank you or stared blankly with no emotion at all. All by the honk, beep or blast of a horn.

Our team had one stop to make before our final destination. We were hoping to acquire a few more sledge hammers for the work that lay before us. Our van pulled into a large concrete fenced yard and to our surprise the place was not a run down dilapidated structure as we all had envisioned. In fact the structure resembled that of a Home Depot! A home depot with parking attendants and an U.N. military vehicle with soldiers parked within its walls. John, John, Caz and Paul went inside for a short excursion inside the man store. Myself, Cody and the rest of the crew remained outside with our vehicle. Personally in my humble opinion, once you have seen one Home Depot you have seen them all. I was more interested in the heavy traffic of dump trucks (by the way we found out Haiti is where all retired Mack trucks wander off to die) tractors, excavators, and everyday vehicles whizzing by on the street outside. A few more jokes were cracked, a couple of comments about the heat and before long we were off with our newly acquired toys.

The drive was long and hot. (have I mentioned it is relatively hot here?) A combination of paved roads, dirt roads and just plain old pot holes left us feeling as though our kidneys were now no longer usable for transplant. (mental note, change donor card upon arrival home) Once out of the city en route on highway one we passed by several areas still heavily impacted from the quake. We also passed by the largest tent city on the island. Interesting really; tents, shacks scattered everywhere across the open plains, then an

occasional house under construction with a few completed homes scattered about. Homes and shanties in desert/shrub like conditions where one would never think to build or create a homestead. When John asked Caz about the housing situation, Caz stated the

government had given away the land to residents looking for a new start and willing to build upon the site. The site was hilly and dry but the upside was it overlooked the ocean. Either these people were completely crazy or evil geniuses. Genius in the fact that 20 years from now they will own beautiful homes overlooking some of the bluest ocean any human could ever lay their eyes upon. Once again being resilient is definitely not a Haitian weakness.

We arrived in Leveque almost two hours after departing the guest house. Hot, tired and sweaty we all clamored to get out of the Toyota van. We had parked in what appeared to be an alley. A home on the right, a long white tin roofed 1950’s era building on the left with an enormous two-story, brand new concrete structure directly behind them both looming over the site. We quickly learned the 1950’s era building on the left was in fact the very building we had come to demolish. This was exciting!

We quickly gathered up, unloaded all of our equipment, hauling the majority upstairs to the second story of the new building. This building was a new school built by a British team for the church. The upper floor had not yet been put into operation, leaving it as our new primary residence complete with kitchen for the next eight days. Our team had originally been scheduled to live at a new church built down the road in the town of Thomas. This would have left us commuting every morning to our job site in Leveque. When the pastor discovered this plan he vehemently argued for our location change hoping a new team and project could meld into his community creating everlasting friendships while sharing the word of God. He was wise beyond words.

Having moved into our three rooms. One for the kitchen, one as sleeping quarters for the men, one for the women. We all gathered back downstairs, meeting the pastor while introducing ourselves to 5 construction workers, our new future Haitian friends. We traveled thousands of miles and there seemed to be no time like the present to get started. Energy was high, we surveyed the building, 40x 100, cinder block with stucco/concrete overlay, tin roof, two small rooms leading into one big assembly area. The building had several mid line cracks and a portico that had damage to three of its four columns. We devised our strategy and came up with a plan of attack, a few of us could hear the sound of tools calling our names. Hats pulled down tight, work belts on, hammers and pry bars in hand. Ten Americans in one foreign country with a single goal in mind.

Time for one 63-year-old earthquake damaged church to come down!

To be continued……

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