Walking By

Outside the gate of our mission station, there was a man would lay in the dusty road. He lay there sometimes with his back propped against the wall and his oversized right leg sticking out into the street. Othertimes he sprawled out sideways, his head just inches away from the earth where goat poop, trash, and urine wash down in the rains.

Almost every day I walked passed him on my way to class, sometimes greeting him sometimes not. Usually I was in a hurry to get to class, and carrying only what I needed to teach: chalk, books, a flashlight for the walk home, so when he asked for food, I didn't have any with me to give.

Here I walk by people every day wearing tattered shirts or shoes two sizes too big. The kids, all of them, have learned 2 or 3 English phrases including "I am hungry," and "Give me one dolla(r)." And adults who see you in the street will ask you for the shoes off your feet, and those who see you in the store ask you to pay for the items in their hands. So I've learned to ignore, grown accustomed to turning my head and walking away.

But this man, lying in the street alone, was obviously not a child playing a game and testing his English or an adult looking for a laugh or some free phone cards. This man was dying in front of me every day.

Several times I thought, I should take some food to that man today, but don't remember doing that even once. I didn't give him any money or even a cup of cold water. I walked by him. So his face has haunted me. I see it sometimes when I read stories in the bible like the good Samaritan or of Jesus healing a beggar.

In April of 2010, I headed back to the States for a few months, and while I was there, this man's face never left my mind. I decided, when I get back to Haiti, I must give this man some food or something. I looked for him when I returned in August, but he was not here.

I asked about him and discovered he had passed away sometime while I was gone. I don't even know his name. Never had a real conversation with him. Yet the face of this man will forever be my companion.

Things Here that I Just Like

There are some things in Haiti that are really tough and stink, but there is a lot of stuff here that is just really good and fun. Here's a list of a few of my favorite things here.

- Each of my students greets me with a handshake when they come in, and gives me another handshake when they go out.

- If you are with someone who has something you do not, they will almost always share what they have with you. (for example snacks) :)

- Everytime someone walks into class, even if they are late and class is going on, they say "Good afternoon, Teacher."

- Conversations with people you know well almost always involve a pat on the back, or putting a hand on their shoulder or maybe even a hug.

- My students call me Teacher.

- Everyone always asks about how my family is and sends their greetings to my mother, father, and sisters even though none of them have ever met one of my family members.

- When you're in, you're in. Once people here accept you, they take such good care of you. (When I was sick, 1 man offered to take my trash out every day, 2 ladies volunteered to do laundry, another woman cooked for me one day and sent V8, and everyone prayed.)

- Good friends hold hands sometimes while talking or walking down the road.

- Also, when you're sick everyone tells you to drink delicious fresh citrus juice...to which I have no objections.

I'm not sure what I'll do when I go back to the States. I really am going to miss some of these little bits of Haitian culture, and might have to try to transport some of these things with me without being too socially awkward.