almost home

I am sorry I haven't written sooner, the internet didn't work well in Santo Domingo.

The Portuguese dinner was an overwhelming success. We had tuna salad to start off with and champagne sangria. Then- a creamy potato soup, catfish with potatoes and hard boiled eggs, and salad (safe salad is a rarity and tastes so good). For dessert we had moist brownies with a fresh mango mouse. The tenor in the house changed. It felt like a celebration. From the time we got there, we never saw Pat and Vivian relax. They seemed exhausted and overwhelmed. Dan and I wondered with all they do, who takes care of them? Vivian knows the names of all the kids in the camp- as well as 3 orphanages. She gets so personally invested and it shows. Sister Mary on the other hand seems invigorated, ready to tackle a challenge. But tonight, finally it was different. The problems all seemed to melt away with the rain beating down outside as we feasted with the caretakers and finally heard laughter among them.

After dinner, I showed Vivian the progress of the store room and how I arranged the art work. We talked about my last day there and how I helped her receive new art pieces. One piece- a wooden drummer- is identical to one Dan bought our last day. It's sister piece is now missing the arm that was outstretched in the air- ready to beat. It makes it even more special that we saw the piece come in, so Dan bought it, and I a gift for my niece. I think it helped to sell some art, and see the potential for it to be cleaned up. I hope she sets the store back up before her and Pat leave at the end of the month. The art shop is just as much her baby as the kids in the camp and I hope she gets to see it healthy again. Maybe I will come back sometime after she's gone and help Sister Mary organize the shop.

We sat talking around the table after we gave Pat, Viv, and Sister Mary the money we brought. They were in high spirits and we were getting sentimental about leaving. Dan and I tried to ask them questions about other things- their grandkids at home, their kids, and it seemed to help for a while.

Later, Vivian told me a story from right after the earthquake. Food was scarce, so she wanted to bring the hundred kids from camp- 4 or 5 at a time, into the house for peanut butter, bread, and juice she had. The kids all lined up in a straight line outside, but then started crying. An amputation had been performed on the kitchen table days earlier. The kids were sure- if they were getting food it would mean they would lose a leg as well. Vivian laughed at first but then stopped and very seriously said- but they all stayed. Wouldn't you run away if you thought someone would cut off your leg? The kids did what they were told. And all stood and waited in single file line.

That's the Haiti I know.

In the morning we got up at 6am, having spent another night in the pouring rain. That will be the norm now- torrential rains and mud. We hugged and kissed Pat and Vivian, then climbed into the van with Sister Mary. She spent an hour driving us around the heart of the city.

Some buildings have stacked up, like a resting accordion. Others look like they've gone soft, leaning or bending over. Some look like a grenade exploded inside- with holes missing. But what surprised me the most, were the many many buildings that are now just piles of rubble. Almost dust. I can't imagine how anyone survived.

But all around the piles of dust, life does go on for the living. In the plaza outside the presidential palace- it looks like a war zone. Tents in every open place and rows of porta potties. All around the country's greatest monuments and buildings, life is in suspense. People are just standing mostly, needing to be told what to do. There is so much money going in, but seemingly little organization of people on a large scale. Just hundreds of thousands of lives in waiting.

I hugged sister Mary 3 times before leaving. This year is her 60th jubilee- 60th year since entering the convent. And oh, what she's seen. Pat and Vivian end their 3 years in Haiti at the end of the month- and Matthew 25 will go on for the volunteers within it, and few thousand living next to it.

We're back now, but leaving a piece of ourselves at Delmas 33 with 3 year old Francois who held our hands when ever he saw us, Darline- the 20 year old med student who has seen too much in her short life, Mita- a little girl who lost her leg above her knee but who never stops smiling, Souvenir- using music to help his patients, the Portuguese medical team, the sanitation volunteers at SOIL, Pat, Viv, and 78 year old Sister Mary- the toughest woman I have ever met with a heart of gold.

Every night at Matthew 25 we sing a prayer in creole before dinner. We call it the manje song. It says- "this food you give to us oh father, it is the food of life." After holding hands and singing, we would bow our heads and Sister Mary would pray- giving thanks.

Not one night while we were in Haiti this trip did Sister Mary pray after the song. I will leave you to speculate why. Maybe they gave so much thanks to be alive after the quake, that they used it up for a while. Maybe it means nothing at all. Or maybe, for those living and struggling in Haiti- they haven't quite figured out what to say to God yet.

But outside in the camp Haitians raise their voice in song every morning and every night. Their pact isn't with the devil. They're just stronger than we will ever be.