The first fun news is that Josh and I went to see our friend Jacky Chery graduate from seminary. You may remember him as my first Creole tutor from my first week in Port-au-Prince. Josh and I were delighted to find out that he was actually the president of his class, and therefore he gave the keynote speech. And best of all, the speech totally didn't suck! It was even relevant and inspirational. Not that I would expect any less from Jacky, but if you told me I was going to a Protestant seminary graduation to hear a keynote speech in French, I would prepare myself for a bunch of flowery blah blah blah about bringing the gospel to the unenlightened masses, and very little about the day-to-day realities of most Haitians. But Jacky put me and my expectations to shame. Here's us post-ceremony:
I feel I should point out our matching undershirts. I've never been an undershirt guy. I never really understood the point. They just add a layer of insulation, making you hotter, and won't even protect against pit stains. But since I've been here, I've never once gone to work without one. Unless you have air-conditioning (less common here than in cold-to-mild Seattle) you're constantly sweating in Haiti, even if it's just a little bit. So the undershirt comes in handy. I even wear it around the studio as I'm cooking or reading or whatever. I'm that guy. Along with my occasional indulgence in a shoe-shine, it's one of those things that make me feel like I'm living in another era altogether.
When I got home from Jacky's graduation, this was sitting on my mosquito net waiting for me:
So as I was saying, it feels like a chapter is closing. As a random example, tonight here at the guesthouse, where I blog when I can, I ran into Eileen. She was one of the first people I met here back in November, though it was very brief and I hadn't seen her since. She's on her way back home to British Columbia now, and it was good to catch up.
Another person I saw here in my first weeks was an MCC volunteer named Rebecca Bartel. She lives in Columbia and works on advocacy, lobbying North American governments to stop financing one of the most murderous conflicts on Earth. She was at the end of a two-month trip to learn about Haiti and start thinking about how to do advocacy here. We had a few good discussions, at times resembling debates. Right away she impressed me as exactly the kind of person I imagined working with when I signed up with MCC. We kept in fairly close e-mail contact. So anyway, she came back to Haiti three weeks ago for a week of vacation, and then a bunch of time working with Josh and Marylynn on their vision for advocacy.
Before she arrived, we started planning out a weekend trip for anyone who was interested. In the end, it was Rebecca and Jessica and me. We planned to do a big loop from Port-au-Prince to Jacmel on the southern coast, and then up the mountain to magical Seguin, and then back down the mountain to return to the opposite side of Port from which we departed. And we planned to do it all on public transportation or our own six feet.
And off we went. After a beautiful trip through the mountains on a not-so-bad bus pumping nonstop konpa beats, we landed at the beach. Jess made friends:
I made a coconut:
And later we landed at a lovely hotel where Rebecca made a balm for her sunburn with fresh-picked aloe.
Sitting on that pristine beach, it was a little daunting to think of going up the mountain to Seguin, only to have to hike at least four hours the next day to get home. But we decided to buckle down and do it. We woke up Sunday morning and after breakfast we took tap-taps (pickup truck with benches in the back and a canopy) to a little town called Peredo. From there, we hired three moto-taxis to drive us up to Seguin. These were not dirt-bikes or the puny little scooters that serve as taxis in the flat cities. These were chromed-up road hogs. Not quite Harleys or anything, but they flew up the mountain. We ascended quickly on the mostly unpaved road, going in and out of rainshowers and feeling the temperature drop dramatically with each big gain in elevation. Jess and Rebecca's drivers were racing each other while my guy hung back a little. I thought to myself, yeah, that's right. We've got nothing to prove. I'm glad my guy's a little more prudent.
Then about a kilometer from the Seguin market, my driver managed to run right over the top of a rock. The only big loose rock in the middle of a flat, wide road, it was about as big as a canteloupe with a sharp point on top. The impact jolted me sideways and immediately blew out the back tire, and it could have been all over right there. But somehow the driver regained control and I hung on and we rolled to a stop. He honked his horn and I whistled constantly as we watched the other two bikes roar on up the hill and out of sight. As we started walking the bike up the hill, my driver removed his shades to reveal a left eye that was completely clouded over and surely blind. I asked him if he had blown out tires like this before, and he said yes, three other times. I didn't ask if the whole half-blind thing was a cause of all these wrecks, or perhaps a result of one of them. I just made small talk until the girls turned around and came back down to meet us.
We hiked the rest of the way to the lodge where I have stayed two other times. About halfway there, the rain started dumping on us and a woman graciously welcomed us onto the covered porch of her very, very humble house. I think we probably sat there for about twenty minutes. At least twenty minutes. Almost totally in silence. I've said it before, but there's just something about Seguin that inspires reverence and tranquility. Eventually the rain eased up enough for us to go and I thanked the kind woman with some treats made of sesame seeds and cane syrup.
Just past the house, we walked through a maze of giant rain-sculpted rocks:
The explanation I've heard is that these rocks used to be covered by soil, but had become exposed after years of erosion. An ugly reality behind a beautiful thing. It's a little sophmoric, but I feel as if almost everything I observe in Haiti can become a metaphor for Haiti itself. I'll just leave it at that.
Once we arrived at the lodge we changed into dry clothes and drank some tea made of fresh-picked mint leaves - the unofficial arrival ceremony in Seguin. Rebecca sipped.
Jess bundled.
I connected.
We headed out to watch the sunset. On the way, we ran into Eliphete, the cook for the lodge. He's also the guy that loaned me his boots last time I was in Seguin, after mine were stolen from the side of a stream where I went swimming. Good guy.
Here's some dusk pictures.
And us taking it all in.
I could go on and on about that half hour or so looking out from our little spot on top of a hill. In Creole, there's a phrase to describe when something "hits you": "Sa frape m". It comes from the same word "frappé" that appears as the highest setting on most blenders. What hit me that night is that I can't share my experiences. I can try, as I'm doing here. But all I wanted up there was to put my arm around my brother, my sister, my pastor, my high school English teacher and every other person that has ever shared a connection with me, just to hold them and look out and drink it all in. And part of me wonders, as I've been here for half a year now, even if I could have all of you wonderful people here with me, would you see it the same way I do? I'm sure we could all appreciate Seguin together. But I get frape'd sometimes looking out over downtown Port-au-Prince, or the mountainside slums, or the endless street scene on the way to work. I remember when I first got here, trying so hard to appreciate it; trying not to think that it was all so ugly, or sad, or whatever. Now, it's just home, and it's full of beauty. Whew, maybe I should check back in on this in six months.
So anyway, the next day we took the long way out of Seguin, stopping to see some caves on the way:
Winnie, who runs the lodge at Seguin, recently went into the caves with some American geology professors. He said they went about four kilometers in(!), walking at times through enormous caverns, and sometimes just barely sqeezing by.
Then we hiked for a few hours, which flew by. At the end of the road, just at the point where we usually start the hike going into Seguin, I got this shot of almost the entire road:
Just over that last saddle where you see it zig up the mountain is where the road meets up with the pine forest.
Here's another view from the road:
Every little cluster of trees conceals a house or group of houses. And absolutely everything else is worked as farmland. Here's how:
So that was the trip. The day after we got back, Jess found out she would be leaving Haiti two months ahead of schedule because of an illness in the family. Here's her second-to-last day:
Left to right is Stephanie (a Belgian volunteer), Esaie (Isaiah--funniest guy ever) and Viles (pronounced Vee-less). My desk is just on the other side of that indoor window.
Here's Jess and Rosie at the going away party:
The next day, Jess and Rebecca flew out of Port-au-Prince on the same flight. And just like that, I'm now the only native English speaker in the office. This would have been a little scary even three months ago, but I feel like I'm taking it in the stride. Beth is out of town this week, so I'm riding a motorcycle to work instead of the usual grey Toyota pickup. Pictures of that whole scene next time!
