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.
