Mizak

One of the most common thoughts I have while in Haiti: Well if I'd known we'd be gone this long I would have peed before we left.
Okay, so I came back to Port au Prince, but only for a little bit.
Part of it was I missed my city (smells, sounds, energy) all of the things I've mentioned before. But the main part was that I was feeling like I had left things unfinished at CHOAIDS. There were still things I needed to do that I hadn't had time for.
But let's first talk about Mizak.
Mizak is the town that made me want to come back to Haiti in the first place. It feels like walking into a book. My book. Brick red soil that stains your feet and makes the corn fields stand out that much more vividly. Bright crayon green. Animals dot the hillside, ground so rocky that I fall every few steps. I love walking down the paths surrounded by corn so tall that is forms a tunnel over my head and I feel like Alice in Wonderland. It's quiet there in a way that is more than sound. It's still. Much colder than PAP, cold enough to sleep under a blanket even.
I didn't stay with Lee (my cousin) because then I wouldn't always be around his "million roommates all the time." His words, not mine.
There is no electricity or plumbing there, so It was a culture shock for sure. That's what makes a great adventure though. Change, uncertainty.
On my first night we arrived after dark. Lee helped me drop my bags off and then went to settle into his own home. My new family was Filo (the grandmother), Gabrielle (The daughter), Jersey (the granddaughter), and Kerry (the grandson).
They took me to my room and lit a candle for me. I'm thinking "thanks but I have a headlamp" So sophisticated. Until I dropped it on the ground and it broke. Okay, they were right. Candles are great.
Then they gave me a bucket, explaining in broken English that I should not use the outdoor latrine at night. My mind: "It's okay, I'm not afraid of the dark." Until I went to the latrine with my spare flashlight and discovered it crawling with cockroaches and some very large, very spider looking crickets. They were right again, buckets are great too.
I felt excited for Mizak, and homesick for PAP at the same time.
I woke with the sun, watching my room slowly fill with light as it crept through the curtains. The animals were waking up too, I could hear them calling to one another across the hill. In the other room Kerry (the baby) was crying, and Filo was getting up to prepare coffee. She is famous for her coffee. Within thirty minutes we were all up and outside. In Haiti the kitchens are a separate building from the house. It's a cookhouse. They use charcoal for cooking, and I loved sitting there with Filo in the mornings, warming myself up again, wrapped tightly in a sweater. Other people from the village would begin collecting around the courtyard, sitting in homemade chairs of rope and uneven wood. Soon we would all be holding scalding cups of coffee, balancing them on delicate saucers. Mine without sugar, everyone else's thick with it. They add tons of sugar because since there is no refrigeration, and canned milk is so expensive, they have to drink it black.
After coffee, and I was finally warm, thanks to good coffee and good people (Gabrielle being the only one who could speak any English) I went for a walk. Jersey and her friends led the way, clinging to my arms and chattering away in creole. They pointed out things like cows, and trees, telling me the names in creole. Do you know how hard it is to walk up a hillside with three/four little kids yanking on your arms? It was wonderful. Children are one of the most refreshing things in the world.
I helped Lee named the new puppies his dog, Buttons, had just had. Sea, Smokey, Quin, and Sebastian. I am only now realizing that Quin was left out of the S names. Poor guy.
I have so many stories for you, so rather than making this post any longer, I am going to focus on one story each evening until I've told them all. Along with my posts about the ongoings here, but they may be less frequent now because I fear they were getting repetitive. I wouldn't want to bore my audience.
But for now, just picture the crystalline blue sky, the rusting earth, and the green, green trees and grasses. The corn, the cows, the people winding their way around the paths, baskets atop their heads, navigating the loose rocks so much better than me. Everyone greeting everyone, and me shrieking in terror because I thought a donkey was charging me. It wasn't.
I'm going to walk to the store now, and hope not to get lost again. Samuel isn't here to save me this time. He went to the beach, how dare he.
You'll hear from me again soon.
--S