a deep breath

There's already so much to say and my little thumbs can't type so quickly on my phone.

We'll start with the morning. Franz- the manager of our hotel in SD had told us to catch a taxi at 8am because buses to Port Au Prince left at 9am. But Franz wasn't there in the morning and we were running a bit behind. the important thing is that despite the traffic we purchased a couple of the last tickets- just 10 minutes before 9 am. With our boxes safe in the bottom of the bus, we settled in 2 seats in the air conditioned bus.

About 5 or 6 hours into the trip we made it to the border. All the Haitian passengers were given their passports (taken when you bought tickets) but they kept the foreign passports. No one could really explain what was happening, but it seemed as though we stopped on the Dominican side, reentered the bus to go through the heavily guarded gate, and then got re stamped on the Haitian side. Of course the Haitian side is immediately different- with 10 xs the amount of people selling at the side of the road. I dozed off for a while and when I woke began to see flattened buildings and cities made of tents. We made a good canadian friend named Roger on the bus- he informed us the bus was actually going to Petionville, not Port Au Prince. We didn't really know how to tell Pat and Viv to come get us- so in broken french, we got a taxi, and were on our way to our street- delmas 33.

The driver brought along an english speaking friend. We may hire them again to take us around the city. The english speaker- jude- asked us if we thought haiti would be different after the earthquake. Dan smiled and said "well, life goes on doesn't it?" Jude said "for some, not for others. I lost my wife, my home, and now sleep in the streets."

We got gas and continued to drive by piles of rubble. We rounded one corner just absolutely filled with a mob of kids- sort of lined up, sort of yelling. There was a man in uniform who seemed to be giving some plates of food. But I can't imagine they were all fed.

We made it safely within the gates of Matthew 25- boxes and all. I ran inside and saw Patrick and gave him a big hug. Next I hugged Viv and whispered to her that I brought chocolate and she gave out a little Cape Code squeal of appreciation. Next in line was Sister Mary who said, "well look who the cat dragged in, at least we know all the dishes will get done." And I hugged her too- those good long hugs that seem most genuine after lengths of time apart. Vivian was making dinner for the hospital tent next door with Eileen- the sort of overseer of the medical efforts there and a nurse. After dinner she went out to dress more wounds.

We set up our tent before it became too dark. We are near the place where our friend Ellie made a little marker to a leg she buried there.

The upstairs where we slept before is destroyed, and Pat said it manually was brought down, piece by piece for fear the remaining structure would topple on to the tent city in the soccer field below. Viv's art gallery is filled with boxes, tents, and at the moment- some Portuguese aid workers who are working with the UN and who gave me the best mango I have ever tasted. They are interviewing this amazing young man who makes little health videos, complete with song- about hand washing and malnutrition.

After I finished the dinner dishes I went into the tent city to watch a showing of the hand washing video. Hundreds of kids were huddled around the make shift projector screen in the dark- singing along. It was an amazing sight.

I guess what I want to say most of all, is that I am not overwhelmed. It just all seems about right. I don't want that to feel crass and of course most things aren't alright here, but I mean more our place in it. It just feels like when I heard about the earthquake I had the wind knocked out of me, and I have been waiting to take a deep breath. But being here, it just feels like even if I am just smiling at the kids who are watching the video and chasing the stupid dog, I don't feel useless anymore and I can breathe. And it's beautiful to see this little community taking care of eachother. If you think of all of Haiti it seems unbearable, but when you think of this neighborhood, coming together and taking care of eachother it seems bearable that life goes on. And coming in and out of this community are french, bulgarians, Portuguese, Americans, and Canadians, bartering with each other to help the community at large. And even if is just in those 3 boxes- Santa Clara, Santa Rosa, San Diego, and Seattle has sent us love and money to make our own tiny impact. And it really does help if even to lighten the spirits of the real heros living here and doing the real work. I feel strangely at home and happy. I am so happy to just wash the dishes and listen to the kids singing outside and drink my 7up in a bottle.

Sister Mary was delighted with everything we brought. She immediately hid the dish soap and shampoo- with so many people coming in and out to help, it's hard to keep track of things. She said it felt like christmas- looking over the old bed sheets and tooth brushes we brought, and I never had quite so much joy in giving anything I don't think. But instantly you think of all the things you didn't bring. I mean- anything would help.
Our few days here won't be long enough, but believe it or not, despite the manual and emotional work we will endure- I think we will finally breathe easy and leave with a renewed faith in humanity.