School's In

The weather has radically changed this past two days – it's a “cool front” of sorts, with high winds and temperatures in the 80's, a drastic difference from our regular blanket of high heat and humidity. Very refreshing, the air and the breeze!

The kids survived their first week of school. I admire them for their diligence and attention to class in a very challenging situation. They, of course, are used to the noise and distractions and the outdoor classrooms. When the FWAL program was started, this is how they attended school – tents were set up all over the property and they sat on benches together, looking collectively at a large white pad of paper or at a chalkboard propped up by sandbags. The school on the property is almost finished, and as classrooms are completed, the students will move into them, starting with the oldest classes. But for now, it is the old system. About 600 children from outside the residence also come and attend school here, so it is a big crowd. And the adorable kindergartners, as young as three years old, sit in different groups around the courtyard within the St. Louis home itself. Everything is taught in French, and they are learning counting songs, greeting songs, drawing, a different version of the Hokey-Pokey – and they are just precious! I have walked around and snapped pictures, trying to be discreet. But there is just no way a tall “blan” with a camera is ever discreet with these kids. They stare, laugh, run up to me and just touch my arm or hand, then run away squealing. So my pictures are a mixture of smiles and blank, awed stares. It is easy to forget that most of these these kids don't know me as being here for the past two months! They are not used to me. The teachers, or professors, are amazing. The order they keep with 200 little ones is astounding. We get occasional little stragglers who wander into the clinic, needing a better look at me, or who simply don't want to sit any longer, and we have to coax them back to class. But otherwise, the environment is pretty calm and organized!

The afternoon is playtime for the younger kids at St. Louis, study time for the older kids. It's a strange thing not to see them so much in the morning, as school starts for them at 7 am. I miss the morning greetings – I had gotten used to bear hugs and handshakes every morning, and the “Bonjou Brigitte!” said in little voices as I entered the clinic. I miss it! But these mornings will become a great work time for us  – there are vaccination days and inservices to plan, ideas to exchange, chances to really sit and talk with my Haitian colleagues and gain an understanding of what is important to them, and many things for me to learn from them! I want them to feel included in all of the planning and improvements we are making, and I believe that is the only way to induce true change – people must feel validated, important, and that there is a mutual commitment to long-term relationship before any sort of change is suggested. In countless failed attempts, the approach of NGO's and mission groups has been, change first, then responsibility, then relationship, then trust. How is this productive? The approach must be trust, relationship, then responsibility, then change. How will anyone trust someone who comes in, tells them that what they are doing is wrong, and insists that sweeping changes occur before anything else can be done? (And then leaves?)

An absolute highlight of my week this week was working with the nurses. One nurse with no computer experience before I came, now insists on helping me with everything computer-related. (So wonderful!!) I was near tears when she sat with the other nurse with no previous experience, and taught her how to enter information on the Excel spreadsheet we had created. (She taught her correctly!) They were both excited, and told me how easy it was! (I don't even like Excel that much!) Another conversation was had about the color of my hair. I would call it a dark blond – they don't have a word for “blond” in Creole – so they asked me, “what color is your hair?” I asked them, “what color do you think it is?” They pointed to a cardboard box! I exclaimed, “You think I have box-colored hair?” They laughed hysterically, then responded, “No, no! Just that color!” So, naturally, I asked, “What color is the box, then?” They were gracious and called it, cafe-au-lait. (Coffee with milk.) I commented on how this was a drastic improvement over “box-hair,” and begged them to please not tell the kids, otherwise that would be my nickname for the year! They still greet me in the morning now with, “Bonjou cheveux boite!” (Good morning, box-hair!) But they promise not to say it in front of the kids. Don't know how long that promise will be kept...

The nurses and kids have been asking for pictures of my family and friends. Because of the generous gift of a dear friend, I brought many pictures with me. (My old computer died a few weeks before I came to Haiti, and took all of my pictures and media files with it). At first, most of my audience did not recognize me in the pictures. Then, when I pointed myself out, they stated, “Is that really you? You are beautiful!” This was a little disconcerting, as I accepted the compliment but also wondered, what the heck do I look like every day here? I know – sweaty, red-faced, without any make-up, with all of my flaws visible and crazy frizzy hair. It is certainly humbling to get dirty so quickly, offer myself as an unmasked and exposed servant, and accept that physically I will look different doing this work. The kids are always fascinated by my many freckles and love to trace my veins. I explained that when I am in the sun, I get more and more freckles, and this amazed them. They question the hair on my arms, and before they saw my pictures, they asked if my family was the same color as me. (Never to worry, family and friends! They were completely complimentary!) One of the kids asked me my age, and he guessed that I was 19 years old! I don't think I will get that guess in the States, folks. It is a strange thing to think about age here. Where so many births and deaths are not recorded, many children do not know their exact birthday or even how old they are. So true age is very rarely known among the poor.

I am happy to report that all of the kids at Ste. Anne (and the staff) are finally getting parasite medication. This may not seem terribly exciting to you, but after a seven-week adventure, it is a thrill to me! We are planning an inservice for the staff and one aimed at teaching the kids too. Parasites are endemic here, so the medication is only a temporary fix. Hand-washing, food preparation basics, teaching and massive reinforcement regarding cleanliness will be recurring themes for the year. Ti Erline is smiling and laughing more – we had a precious morning last weekend, as we talked and sang and played, and yesterday morning we sat together and laughed a little bit more. She is improving on the Pediasure plan, and she was also positive for parasitic infection. So with medication, continued calories and a lot of love, I am very hopeful for her. She has a gentle touch and moves deliberately and thoughtfully – and she has a wonderful belly laugh! I want to hear many more!

I love my little entourage of boys at St. Louis. The walk to the clinic passes two houses of boys, ages 5 through 8 or 9 years old. They stop in their tracks when I approach, even in the midst of a soccer game, and run to me with hugs, high-fives and greetings. Just a quick hand squeeze is enough for some, others want to hold onto me for a while longer. The smiles are radiant, warm and welcoming. A few of them request a photo every time they see me – one of them now wants a picture of me to put by his bed! Several times throughout the day, and now delayed a bit due to school, they run to the door of the clinic and just say my name just to see me look up, and smile. They ask for a glass of “d'lo glase,” or cold water, from the fridge, because they know I will give it to them. Cold water is a pretty special thing here – even one of the nurses believes that medication given with cold water has no effect! It is a rare thing to have a glass of nice, refreshing cold water. Cold storage of anything here is unheard of in the slums and the poor neighborhoods. Ice? Forget it! Think about that one as you turn on the kitchen sink, grab your Brita filter out of your refrigerators, or as you enjoy your morning glass of milk or your afternoon Diet Coke, and be grateful.