Gabrielle.

Today's story will be based on my newest friend here in Haiti: Gabrielle.
Gabrielle is the daughter of the woman I was staying with, Filo. We were in a two bedroom house, one for me, one for Filo, Gabrielle, and Jersey, and Kerry (Gabrielle's children).
Her children and her sleep all in the same bed together, and yet she kept trying to get me to sleep there too.
Her nickname is Ti Madam, "Little Miss."
She's 25 and has a four year old daughter and a five month old son. Jersey's dad left when Jersey was born, but he brings over the occasional bag of food for her: cornflakes, condensed milk, crackers.
Ti Madam was with Kerry's father for a year before she got pregnant, then for three months this was all very exciting for both of them...until he decided he wanted someone different.
So she's back with her mom now. Kerry's father comes to see his son maybe once a week.
She was the only one in the house who spoke any English, so we tried our best at communication. Here is an example of a typical conversation between us:
At the market looking at some little donut cake things.
G: You want some?
S: Sure, which one is better?
G: They're both made of batter.
S: No I mean which one do you like more?
G: You want more?
S: No...
G:...
S: Do. You. Like. Both?
G: Yes we can get both if you want.
*Sigh
Ti Madam took it upon herself to find several suitable men for me to fall madly in love with. They were very persistent. One of them came to the house every evening, always complimenting me on my shirt. Which was usually something like a dirty tank top or sweatshirt. After awhile I would grow weary of the attempted hand holding, and feign a headache, explaining that I simply must  go to bed early.
On top of that, I had been telling Ti Madam that I didn't usually eat a big breakfast or lunch, so she shouldn't worry too much about my food. Her family does not have a lot of money.
She became very concerned, thinking that I was a frail, sickly person in desperate need of nourishment.
When I insisted that I wasn't hungry she settled for making me juice with lots of sugar added instead. When dinner rolled around I was served platter size amounts. Soon I was helping her cook breakfast and dinner everyday.
I was paying them 100 dollars a week for me to stay there (they refused to let me pay more) "You're my sister!" Gabrielle would exclaim. She spent the first 100 in the market with me (which is a story of it's own) stocking up on carb rich foods.
Staples in Haiti: Rice, beans, ground corn, spaghetti, potatoes, hotdogs.
So we got a lot of that.
Ti Madam is a very good cook. She went to a culinary school a few years back. She began teaching me a new recipe each day. Sometimes two. We would wait until filo was finished with the coffee making, and then take over the cookhouse. She would explain things to me like "And NOW we make the water!" Pouring water into the pan, or "Butter, but not so much." Scooping out a spoonful.
I went to bed each night feeling as though I had just experienced thanksgiving. Seriously, they fed me like they were preparing me for surviving the apocalypse.
After I finally explained to her that I didn't actually want a boyfriend, we fell into a different evening routine. We, Filo, the kids, Ti Madam, and I, would all pile into their one bedroom, lit with candles and flashlights propped on various objects. Jersey would sit on my lap while Ti Madam rubbed Vaseline into my hair and braided it into elaborate styles. Filo held the baby, or sat watching as Kerry dozed on the bed. Then Ti Madam and I would lay haphazardly across her bed and cuddle the kids. Me playing tickle games with Jersey, and her bouncing the baby in her arms, cooing at him.
One night we were talking. She was telling me about Kerry's father, how much she had loved him. And how after he left she had cried and cried everyday, for her and for her baby. I told her that when I was sad I sang myself a little song, and it went like this:
Don't worry,
about a thing,
Cause every little thing,
Is gonna be alright.
She loved this so much that she had me recite it with her until she sang it "perfectly". Then I wrote it down, just those four lines, on a piece of paper and tore it from my notebook. I gave it to her. After that she carried it in her pocket everywhere.
The soundtrack to my life in Mizak soon became the crying of a baby and Ti Madam singing "Don worry..bout a ting...cause every little ting...is gonna be au right."
Sometimes I had to take a break from this and go to Lee's.
Anyway, now you've met one of my best friends in Haiti. I'll post some pics soon.
P.S. I've chatted with her on the phone everyday since I've been back, starting the night after I left. She called me in a panic to make sure I was alright.