- Biggest forehead-slapping moment:
Walking out my front gate Monday morning, ready for work as usual, seeing a carload of my coworkers giving me the palms-up, shrugging, "dude! what the hell?" expression, and realizing that I had, in fact, forgotton all about the trip. I ran inside and stuffed a backpack with clothes and ran back out to my exasperated colleagues.
- Second biggest forehead-slapping moment:
Realizing, before we had even left Port-au-Prince, that although my book, my swimming trunks, and even my iPod made it into the backpack despite my haste, my socks, underwear, and toiletries did not. The only drawers and socks I had were the ones I was wearing on my already sweaty body.
- Dorkiest joke photo:
You might have to click on it so you can read the sign.
- Most adorable Haitian schoolchildren (tied for first with all other Haitian schoolchildren):
The guy is Dafus Richard. He was one of the two trainers on the delegation. Here he's making an illustration with a couple of students, talking about an imagined conflict and how they managed to find a solution. Dafus has a James Earl Jones-style low, low bass voice. Really funny guy. My second week at RNDDH he walked up to my desk for the customary handshake. He kept his grip and said, "yon sel Feliks la, pa gen de": the one and only Felix, there is no other. He's greeted me the same way most mornings since then.
Speaking of rare Haitian names, the other trainer that came with us was Gibbs, first name Alfred, though most just call him Gibbs. Here he is:
His greeting, most days, is a wide-swinging high-five with a locking thumb grip, and "Kurt! How are you, man?!" in fairly authoritative English.
- Most telling language lesson:
Speaking of Gibbs, something really funny happened halfway through the week. He's been teaching himself English for years with the help of the blans he works with as well as English language books, including the Bible. He's a very devout guy. So as we were hanging out after a day of workshops in Cap-Haitian, the second largest city, situated on the north coast, he asked me a language question, as he often does.
"Kurt, I have a question."
"Yes?"
"In Genesis, when it says that Adam was lonely, what does that word mean? Lonely?"
"Uh, hmmm. Well, it's how you feel when you're all alone. Sort of."
"So it is like the word solitaire, in French?"
"Yeah. No, actually it's not like that. Because sometimes you can be all alone, but you don't feel lonely. And sometimes you can be in a crowd, but you still feel lonely."
"I don't understand."
"It's like the word manke in Creole. You feel like you lack a person or people. Sorry, this is difficult to explain."
"I think I understand."
But I don't think he did. I can't help but chuckle when I think back on this exchange. It was like bad sci-fi, and I was Captain Kurt, confronted by the alien or robot or whatever, pleading "tell me of this 'loneliness' of which you speak." Incidentally, I was reading a book on Haiti during the 1994 Marine occupation shortly before this conversation, and the author said something to the effect of "Haiti is a country where it's impossible to be alone." This is something I've often felt in the last six months. There's eight million people on this little part of this little island, and it's really hard to find anyplace where you can't hear or see anyone. And even with the streets and sidewalks and public transportation jam packed with people, Haitians genuinely prefer being close to each other, holding another's hand or shoulder for the duration of a conversation, sleeping several to a bed even when there are other options. I wonder what's less likely for an average Haitian: being alone, or being lonely. Of the Haitians I have come to know thus far, the only ones I can even imagine being either alone or lonely are those who have spent significant time in the U.S. or Canada. Gibbs is going to spend a month in Montreal this summer, and I wonder if this might be the first time he experiences that Adam-esque emotion.
- Best diversion
That's a full size truck trailer that almost totally plunged into a ravine when the semi driver turned too sharply around this hairpin corner. There were already hundreds of people hanging out at the scene when we arrived. By the time we left an hour later, there was at least a thousand. In the middle of nowhere, mind you. It was a fun atmosphere. Even the cops were able to keep cool and enjoy the spectacle.
- Best fake news
