My son promised us that he would never go back to Haiti. He said they didn't have stores and they were poor, so he wasn't interested. He's never lacked conviction, but of course, he was a bit younger than he is now when he made this particular decision. I was taken by surprise, then, when he agreed to come with me to Haiti in the Spring of 2014. In fact, I had proposed it in a bit of a bluff, a poke, in hopes of some indication of movement. "Sure, I'll go," he replied. Unbelieving, my first thought was that it was some kind of maneuver to get something from me. Parents of 10 year old boys are on watch for these kind of things. For such a brave commitment, surely he would want something good in return. Perhaps it's about the ipod, I thought. Recently, a point of contention with us, the ipod and all its counterparts are a constant source of pressure, socially and psychologically, with so many of the boys of the 4th grade class. Apparently, however, it wasn't about that. "I'll go with you." And so I reveled and became excited to take Luc to Haiti.
I had been wanting to take my Dad back with me, which was more of a certainty, so with Luc, it became time to plan for the trip of the three generation Almond guys. It should be no surprise that tent camping eventually made its way into the picture.

Pas Bliye Nou

Don’t Forget Us

A goat project recipient and her children

A farmer.  I asked him how old he is and he responded, "Bah.  My mother is dead.  My father is dead."  Old.

     We’re home now and I’ve had a few days to rapidly catch up on the kids, work, our animals and home.  It is good to be home.  Anna Ray ran to our bed screaming with joy on Sunday morning and Leo had saved ten hugs and ten kisses, Luc met us with his slow smile and sweet hugs.  We are so blessed. 

Leo with his baby chick, "Bananas," the day before we left.  He wanted to know why his picture is not on this blog.  So, here you are LEO!

     We made the long trek home on Friday and Saturday.  We rode on the back of a ‘moto’ from Port Salut to Les Cayes.  Once in Les Cayes we waited and waited and finally took a bus from Les Cayes to Port au Prince.  Then a flight from Port au Prince to Miami, Miami to Denver, and Denver to home.  All along the way we were accompanied by friends and every good bye was hard and filled with the words, “Pas bliye nou.”  Don’t forget us.  It’s hard, though, as we step back into our lives roaring at full speed.  Of course, we come back with gratitude- gratitude for the obvious; good roads, lights and cars that run, the ability to read and write, medical care, food and a home for our children.  But, also, a great gratitude for the life example that our Haitian brothers and sisters give us.  They take time there to say thank you, to sit and to talk, to wait for things that are good and coming.  And it is these acts of great kindness and courageous hope that I want not to forget.

Our chaffeur and ride to the airport in PAP

The blind woman who walked many hours, by herself, to the meeting.

The first meeting.

The gifts.

The board of directors for the mircolending project

     We leave Haiti with great hope that we will be back and that our friends and this village community that we have come to love will continue on in life and living.  We will try not to forget and will surely fail, but every trip back is a reminder of what a gift this country and her people are in our lives.

Thank you Haiti.  Thank you.  

A woman weaving in the market.

This woman has only peppers to sell in the market.  The project will help her to grow her inventory.

Sweets.

Reinyon-an (The meeting)

     We spent most of Wednesday and Thursdays in meetings with the goat cooperative and then the new coop that will begin a microfinance project.  The meetings were full of people who came dressed in their Sunday best with hats and empty purses.  They came bearing gifts for Corey- eggs, coconuts and mangoes.  One woman, a blind woman, walked several hours just to let Corey know how much the goat project had made a difference in her family’s life.  We very much hope that this coop will be independent of the interests of us- the whites, the foreigners.  So, the last meeting was conducted first with and then without us.  Corey, of course, came prepared with lots of ideas based on his research into other microlending projects and strategies.  The community of Wozye came with ideas that will work in their specific community.  Finally, we came up with rules and the budget, guidelines for the new microlending project.  To make a copy for C’s records, they then took out another piece of paper and carefully hand copied everything down again.   

For now, the microlending coop will look like something like this:

1.  Three groups of five villagers will be chosen for each lending group.

2.  Each borrower will be given approximately $125US to start or grow a small business- taxi services, items to sell in the market, solar panels for charging cellphones, etc.

3.  Each borrower will have 6 months to pay back the loan with 4% interest.  2% will be returned to the borrower at the time of loan repayment.  2% will go to the costs of the project (phone cards, gas, internet use, etc.)

4.  If a borrower defaults on his or her loan, no one in their group will be eligible for an additional loan.

So, there it is!  It’s simple, but hopefully good and helpful.

The meeting

First micro-lending coop in Wozye

Wozye

We spent our second day in the village today.  It is so good to be back.  Immediately, we were greeted and kissed and hugged and referred to as my sister, my brother.  Everyone wanted to know how the kids are There has been some progress in the village.  The road is paved which definitely makes it safer and helps with commerce, etc.  There are also several hotels that have popped up on the roadsides.  I haven't seen any tourists yet, but am hopeful that this beautiful beautiful country can begin to attract them.  There is also still a lot of hunger and disease and poverty that is truly unimaginable.  I forgot how bad it is here.  I remember watching foreigners come through the first village we lived in Haiti, crying.  I remember thinking how rude that was.  I am ten years older now, than when we first came to Haiti, and found myself tearing up several times in the past two days.  It is a hard hard life here.

In addition to lots of visiting and the market and some trips down the coast, we had a goat project meeting today.  Around 75 people came to the meeting, to get an update, see Corey and learn about what new is happening.  One woman (pictured below) is blind and travelled several miles on foot, alone, to thank Corey for the gifts that her 3 goats have brought her children and her family.  After the meeting started, people started getting up carrying plastic bags with gifts- lots of gifts.  They brought eggs, coconuts, and mangoes to thank us for the work of the Goat Project and their new microlending project.  I took a photo, below, as these gifts really belong to the many many people who have donated to this village in the past.  The people in Wozye are so grateful and so so glad that they have not been forgotten.

It was a beautiful day.   I feel so blessed to witness the generosity, joy, and kindness of these people.

My chauffeur and friend, Philippe Berger

Corey in the bus station, Les Cayes

Philippe Berger and Pierre Chery

Unloading the luggage from our bus

Hope in Haiti

Our friend, Winddcheley, met us at the airport in PAP and rode the bus with us to Les Cayes.

Bus station, Les Cayes Haiti

Unloading our luggage at the bus station

Our friend Philippe, and my chauffeur from Les Cayes to Wozye.

A vendor in the market.

Lunch at a restaurant in Coteau.

Today was our travel day.  We got up early in Miami and made our way to the airport.  The planes going to Haiti are always filled to the brim- overstuffed bags, group arguments over whether or not a bag is too big to fit in the overhead bin, women wearing often multiple hats still wrapped in the plastic on their heads.  Once in Port au Prince, we quickly bought a Haitian cellphone and made our way outside to the chaos of the day.  There are people everywhere wanting to carry your bags, give you a taxi ride, sell you water or crackers, help in anyway they can.  Our good friend Winddcheley was standing outside waiting for us.  He led us to a Volvo that appeared to be strung together with duct tape and rope and we made our way to the bus station.  There we paid our 400 goudes and were on our way- 4 hours in an air conditioned (!) bus to Les Cayes.  The ride was clamer than any I’ve been on in Haiti.  Perhaps sitting in the back of the bus and unable to see the traffic and people and animals and oncoming cars that we were going to hit, helped.  Instead, I got to look out the window and see the cracked and crashed homes from the earthquake, the endless market, the schoolchildren running home from school, the animals grazing, the motorcycles filled with families and bags and chickens.  As I watched all of this life stream past my window, the music played on the inside of the bus and the people sang right along with it.  Children walking by the bus waved and smiled at the “white”, the “foreigner”- and of course I waved right back.  The hope in Haiti is palpable.  Despite the hunger, the poverty, the repeat destruction- there is undoubtedly hope.  

La Fyev

     Corey, Luc, Anna Ray and I left Haiti in January 2009.  A year later, in December, we had our youngest, Leo.  Two weeks after he was born, I was sitting in my living room visiting with a friend of ours who had come to see our sweet boy and deliver a diaper cake.  While we were talking, my phone began to ring and ring, the ringing continued.  Finally, after several calls I turned the ringer off… hoping not to offend our guest.  When she left, I fed the baby, cared for Luc and Anna Ray, made dinner and finally took a minute to check my messages.  The messages, of which there were many, told me of the earthquake in Haiti, the earthquake, the earthquake.  Over the next few days we watched the news horrified at the images that we saw, helpless and overwhelmed.

Corey and I with our foster baby, Eronne, in Fond des Blancs.  This is our first trip to Haiti!

Eronne, 2 months, when she first came to live with us.  She had active TB and was malnourished.

Corey and Eronne- 6 months

     A lot has changed since we left Haiti.  The earthquake, more hurricaines, the tent camps, a cholera outbreak, fevers…  The fever, of course, was there long before we left- a term used by the Haitians to explain any and all illnesses. When you ask a Haitian what he died from, or what type of illness she has, inevitably the answer is “la fyev.”  After we left, our housekeeper and my best friend in Haiti, Manita, got pregnant with her fourth child about the same time that I got pregnant with Leo.  During my pregnancy with Leo I had prenatal care- lots of it.  I had appointments, and ultrasounds, lab draws, blood pressure checks, urine dips, discussions about which vitamins to take, which support hose to buy, endless monitoring of me, the baby and even my placenta.  If I had gotten the fever, we can be certain, that my doctor would have known right away.  Late in my pregnancy with Leo, we were having dinner at Senor Manuel’s, and got a call from our good friend Zoe.  A call to let us know that our dear Manita had gotten “la fyev” and died.  We don’t really know what happened during Manita’s pregnancy.  We do know that she didn’t have access to prenatal care, clean water, vitamins, or even enough food to eat.  From what we can gather, Manita’s pregancy involved lots of work and walking, a stomach that was never filled and very little if any prenatal care.  As her due date got closer, Manita and her husband moved to the city of Jacmel- there was a hospital there.  The  first time that Manita got prenatal care, she was bleeding out of her nose, her eyes, and her mouth.  She had, the fever.  After the bleeding began, she began to seize.  We lost Manita that day and her baby.

Madame Manita and Lucas prepare lunch.

Corey, Anna Ray, Lucas, and Mme Manita with the cake that she made for his birthday.

     After Manita died, Leo was born healthy and strong.  He is surrounded by lots of family and four godparents.   Friends, Jennifer and Art, and my sister Mia and her husband Nico agreed to guide and protect our boy when Corey and I coud not.  As Leo grew, his godparents showered him in love and gifts- books and cards, picture frames and paintings.  We have several godchildren of our own- Mary Clare, Bess, and a little, fat Haitian baby named Wiselyn.  Wiselyn was born on a night when there was rain- a lot of it- in Haiti.  Wiselyn’s little brother came to our house the morning after his birth, to tell us the good news, to call us to come and visit.  We found Wiselyn in a simple bed with his Mama.  Despite the 100 degree heat, he was wrapped in a blanket, had a hat on his head, and mittens on his hands.  I still don’t understand this dressing of a baby for the middle of winter in the heat of the summer, but  the parents we know in Haiti they are terrified of the fever.  We loved on that baby the day of his birth- so little and perfect.  We were asked to be his godparents and accepted, thrilled and pleased to welcome this little one into the world. 

Leo with two of his godparents, Mia and Nico

Our godson, Wiselynn

     As Leo grew and got books and stuffed toys and cards in the mail from his godparents, we got a call shortly after we got home.  Wiselyn had the fever- could we send money for a doctor’s visit.  And, soon after that, a call that Wiselyn had died- died from la fyev.

Corey and Wiselynn

Elisabeth and Wiselynn

     So, here we are heading back to a land that is very different than the one we left.  It has been too long.  Corey and I are excited to check in on our goat project families and to help the cooperative in Wozye start a micro-finance project.  I am excited to see the mountains beyond mountains, the ocean, the smells, the music, and hopefully fill my belly with some fried plantains, piles of beans and rice, and sos pwa (blak bean sauce).  I will do my best to update this blog with pictures and stories as the week progresses.  Much love to all of you!  Elisabeth and Corey

Goodbye, My Sister

     Friday morning, Corey and I were able to take a long hike inside the village of Wozye- up and down mountain after mountain.  As we got farther inside, we came across a woman from the goat project smiling and waving at us.  We stopped to say hello and realized she was pointing up to the hills where her three goats were grazing and then back to herself again- saying "Those are my goats, my goats."

     Luc, Anna Ray and I, we're on our way home now.  Corey will stay another two weeks.  As I prepare to re-enter the USA, I feel as if I've spent the last three months in the wardrobe- in Narnia.  This land, this place and culture is so different than anything we know at home.

     Last night as the sun began to set everyone came to say goodbye.  Once again, they brought gifts- coconuts, papaya, eggs- and prayers for our safe journey home and our rapid return to Haiti.  Luc sat on the stairs as they all left with only the help of a full moon to get home and I watched as all the children touched his face, his hair, and his arms saying goodbye.

      I am excited to be home in a place that feels safer to me- a place where death is not seen and referred to daily.  People here do not assume or take for granted that they will see the sun rise every morning.  When you talk about tomorrow, it is literally translated as "tomorrow, if God wills that."  So, off we go to our safe country where I assume that the right food, exercise, and consistent medical care will allow my children to see thousands of sun rises, and sunsets, and all the time in between.

     Luc and Anna Ray are excited to go home to see their grandparents, aunts and uncles.  But, I know that there are many things they will miss here too- the sand, the children everywhere always ready for a little chaos, sugarcane, chasing chickens, sos pwa (bean sauce), and the time that Haiti has allowed us to be together, to sit, to talk.

     I worry about who will feed Woodlene- our neighbor child whose stomach is swollen and hair is yellowing.  I wonder what wound will turn into a deadly infection.  What will happen to Haiti and her people with the next election, next hurricaine, disaster?  As we leave I mostly hope that I will always remember the men and women who greet me everyday with "Bonjou, ma soeur!  Good morning, my sister!"  For it is that greeting that everyday awakens me to the truth that is so easily forgotten.

     Goodbye, my brothers.  Goodbye, my sisters.  Goodbye.