You've got to start somewhere.... 🇭🇹

    Our time at HATS Haiti has been a whirlwind adventure with lots of laughs, smiles, hugs, great food, lessons in Creole, and thanks to the roads of no repair, we had some VERY bumpy drives through the countryside. The roads are incredibly bad and really need a travel advisory of their own. The so called "roads" are mostly varying degrees of horrible potholes, some gravel, and very rare patches of concrete. On more than one occasion, Karen had to move to the opposite side of the road to avoid losing the back end of the truck in a hole! I admire her driving skills, which are definitely acquired with experience, because there's no way any driver's ed class could prepare you for driving anywhere in Haiti! The only thing I could think of comparing it to is the game of "whack a mole," where the truck is the hammer, and the potholes pop up like the moles in the game! Driving ANYWHERE is always an adventure, and you never know what you'll run  into!

When you need to move a small generator, you use your motorbike and bring a friend to ride on the back, just to make sure it stays in place!

     One other thing that's kept me, Beate, and Mackenzie on our toes was learning Creole. Karen was a great teacher, and so were the children, and the kids took great delight in hearing us try to adjust our Canadian accents to make a sensible statement in Creole. Beate and I were very good students, because we did our homework and practised... and practised...and practised! Mackenzie was a quick study, too, because he spent most of his waking hours with the children. Learning a little bit more of the language each time we go just adds to the whole experience. We were able to talk a little more with the empoyees, and they seem to appreciate our efforts, and they, too, helped us out when we struggled for words--it takes a village to teach me and Beate how to speak Creole!

     When it comes to education in Haiti, these children will have learned 3 languages by the time they finish school in grade 13: Creole, English, and French! And these kids certainly have a wide variety of subjects to study-- Karen's oldest boy, J.J., showed us his report card, and it has 17 subjects on it! Yep....17! The Haitian system teaches them everything from languages to the other regular subjects, like history, math, and science, but they also take subjects that will prepare them with ways to make a living, if they don't continue their academic studies. Still, with an average ANNUAL salary of $350 USD, and most people earning less than $2 USD/ day, life is a struggle. I so admire and respect the hard work they do, just to have the basics, like food and water, and the water, for most people, comes from a community well where they go to pump it into buckets, not from turning on a tap at home ....
     Since my first trip to Haiti in 2015, people have asked what it's like after I get back home to my first family. To be honest, I have a hard time adjusting, and it sometimes takes a few weeks before I can start to get back to "normal." I carry the sights and sounds of everything I've seen, and not just the happy ones from inside the walls of the compound; there is a feeling of guilt for having so much, in comparison, and a feeling of helplessness that I can't do enough. For that reason, I am SO incredibly blessed to have an understanding husband who keeps things going when I'm gone, and supports my need to go, and gives me time to adjust when I get back. Also, I am so fortunate to be able to share this trip with Mackenzie for his second year. As a mother, this really is something special. It makes me so happy knowing that he loves Haiti and everything about HATS as much as I do, and I could see it on his face every single day, whether he was swinging the little ones around, or when he was in a huddle with the boys, who are now more like his Haiti brothers. Traveling with him, I have realized the importance of letting kids experience the difficulties and challenges other people face on a daily basis. I love that he doesn't see skin colour, not that he ever did, and in his own words, he said he has some new Haiti brothers and sisters! And to think that, last year I was afraid of him not being ready for the trip 💕

     Bottom line-- if you feel the need to do something, whether it's a gift of time or money, just do it, because something is still more than nothing, and if you want to make a difference, you've got to start somewhere! For the last time this year, Hugs from Haiti 💕 🇭🇹

Bring back the roosters!

Anyone who camps knows there is a certain amount of natural outside noise to be expected at night. At home, though, that noise is usually limited to crickets, and maybe the sound of the ocean, dependng on where you're staying. Being in Haiti at HATS is like camping, too, because we choose to sleep outside in bed tents, and there are always mosquitoes and other flies buzzing around, along with the familiar sound of crickets and the sights of some other creepy crawlies. Here, unlike any camping I've ever done at home, though, the roosters crow, incessantly it seems, morning and night, or at least they used to, up until this summer...

Flashback to 2015, my first summer, when the constant "cockadoodledoing" was a bit annoying, especially seeing as I was such a light sleeper to begin with. As the time went on, however, the sound of the crowing roosters became almost hypnotic, and there was even something peaceful about sleeping outside and hearing them; we went to sleep with the roosters and woke up with them, too. And the past couple of summers, I almost found myself missing the roosters after I went home to Canada, because I came to associate the sound with the peace and quiet of warm, starry nights, and the absence of stress when I am here.
   

This year, though, the melodic tones of the "cockadoodledo" have been overtaken by the dogs next door that Beate has named "Yippy" and "Skippy," although I think it's more like "Yippy" and "Yappy"! No matter what we call them, there is NOTHING peaceful about their constant yapping, along with the dogs in the other part of the neighborhood. I'm not sure if it's their idea of trying to show who can bark the loudest, or if they're just doing it to annoy us... 😭 Who would have thought that our biggest annoyance in this warm, tropical country would be dogs!

Now, I am an animal lover-- I have 3 cats and a beautiful dog at home--and all around HATS is like a garden of rice fields, and beautiful  mango, papaya, and coconut trees, with a giant petting zoo contained within its boundaries, and I absolutely love it. I've had closeups with goats, chickens, and horses, and I even had friendly run ins with cows and bulls, on occasion. And when we walk along the canal during the day, the little dogs over the fence come out with their tails wagging, and it almost seems like they're even smiling at us as we go by; then, at night, when I have come to count on the lullaby of the roosters, all Beate and I hear are those dogs next door fighting and barking, and answering the other dogs throughout Deschapelles! And the dogs, like it usually is with kids, never seem to act up until we turn out the lights, of course! It has gotten so bad that I have had to resort to ear buds, with over the ear headphones on top of that, sealed with a pillow! That, at least, brings the barking to a dull roar!

Beate and I and Mackenzie have made many jokes about the dogs and how they have kept us awake at night. Beate has tried "shushing" them, but we think they don't understand English! So, a heads up to anyone coming this way in the next little while--bring heavy duty ear plugs, or a heavy sleeping pill, because if you're anything like we are, you, too, will be wanting to bring back the roosters! Hugs from Haiti 🇭🇹💕

What's it like in Haiti? Same, same... different...

Before we leave to come here, and after we get home, people always ask what we do when we're in Haiti. Well, it's like visiting with family, a family that happens to have 17 children and only one Mama Karen, so there's always lots to do. If you imagine the things you have to do at your own home every day, then add in the fact that you have 17 boys and girls to look after, ranging in age from 5-17, along with close to 20 employees, I'm sure you can begin to think of many of the things that need doing every day-- cleaning. entertaining kids, settling an occasional argument, organizing, teaching kids to share and follow rules, grocery shopping--  same home... same here. 

Although "where" is different, and maybe "how" things are done is different,  to borrow a line from Beate, it really is mostly the "same, same," with an occasional "different." That usually happens here when normal, everyday tasks turn into an adventure. For that reason, I always love when Karen says she has to get groceries, or go to the bank in Saint Marc, because that's just like at home-- same, same, but anyone who has read my stories before, knows that the "same" becomes "different" before we even get to the bank, because here, we pick up two of Karen's security to travel with us-- Daniel in the front, and Ronald squeezed in the back with me and Beate-- but, unlike home, Daniel almost literally rides shotgun... he hides his gun under the front floormat as soon as he gets safely in the truck! WAY different!

Me, Beate, and Ronald leaving with groceries and a VERY large wad of cash!

The idea of security is a noticeable difference all over Haiti, including where we stay on the compound. The 24 hour security guards are armed, of course, and they can monitor things both inside and outside the property from the two watchtowers. At night, I've finally gotten used to the late night footsteps and the bright beams from the  flashlights that light up the compound walls. When you sleep outside, it's comforting to know that the only thing you really have to worry about is getting into your bed tent before too many mosquitoes follow! It's a "different" that adds a little comfort to your sleep!

But back to Saint Marc....Part of the reason we needed to get groceries was to get ready for the August birthdays party-- same, same-- but when you have 17 children, there's always more than one birthday celebrated one day each month, and on this day, we had five birthdays, which meant we also needed more than one cake! Different! But, just like home, the weather didn't cooperate with our outdoor plans, so we quickly organized the kids to move things indoors -- definitely same...same! ☀️🌨⚡

It was like a little episode of master chef in the kitchen, but without all the yelling, because Mackenzie was in charge of the three little chefs, and they patiently awaited their turns for measuring, blending, and pouring, before cooking. The only thing better than the sweet smell of one cake baking in the oven is the smell of three cakes in the oven, although, when there's a "feels like" temperature of well over 40`outside, turning an oven on to bake cakes makes it possible to just about pour a chocolate bar out of its wrapper! 😓

What I've learned is that, no matter where your travels may take you, no matter how different things may seem, they're really quite the same. At home, Tim Horton's is where you find out what's happening around you. There's obviously no Tim's here, but people still enjoy their coffee and local gossip, and, as Beate pointed out, it just happens to come from a tiny shack at the start of our gravel road, and sometimes, you might have to wait in a lineup there, too! The socializing is the same, the coffee is still hot, and who cares about anything else!

Although "different" doesn't matter, sometimes the differences still affect us--some of them tug at our heartstrings and put a tear in our eyes, but some of them make us smile. Fortunately for us, during our visit, we're lucky enough to be hanging out with our second family, and that's the "same, same," and that's all that matters... Hugs from Haiti 🇭🇹 💕

Focus your lens

     The last few years, I have missed Karen's special Saturday morning walk because of rainy weather that made the walking unsafe and unstable in spots. But the other thing that makes these walks different is that only the older children can go, because we have to cross the bridge in the opposite direction of the home, and the walkways sometimes become more like a billy goat trail. This year, I had my fingers crossed that the weather would cooperate, so that I could lace up my sneakers and see what the other end of the canal had to show off. Luckily, the rains had been almost non existent, and my wish came true, and wow.... the scenery at this time of the morning is like a page out of paradise.... 🌺
   

     Walking out of the compound, we were still in some darkness, but there was a beautiful pink tint in the sky behind the mountains, and the air was already warm and heavy with humidity.
     So, this was my first Saturday morning walk, and I was excited, but at the same time, I felt a little out of my comfort zone. Everyone took a hand of someone else, but I was anxious to get across the bridge in front of all the men standing, waiting, and hoping for a day's work in the rice fields. It's an awkward feeling when you find yourself the subject of hard stares and some unkind comments. But I always tell my kids in school-- being uncomfortable is not always a bad thing, and it often leads to a little lesson in understanding of what life is like when "uncomfortable" is a DAILY reality for many other people....
     It took a few minutes for before it was safe for us to dash across the road, amid the early morning rush of motos. The men at the bridge filled every space across the span, and there was much chatter among them; you could compare that crowd of men at the bridge to that table of men you might see at Tim Horton's, talking about the important matters of the day. The difference here is that, amongst the chatter, is the hope to LEAVE that group at the bridge for a day of hot, tedious work in the rice fields...
     I said there was some discomfort, but even amidst that feeling were many more moments of friendly interaction with the people we saw and met walking the same path.... It was nothing but "Bonju" and smiles from the people Karen sees on a regular basis, because they understand that we "blancs" (whites) are there for the children.
   

     Although this is my fourth summer, there is always something new to see and learn. Poverty does not make everything ugly and terrible, because in our first world lives, we still have plenty of that. The difference is what you CHOOSE to see and focus your lens on; beauty and kindness can be seen in some of the most unexpected places.... you just need to have the right focus! Hugs from Haiti 🇭🇹💕

Home to Haiti

   I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little more nervous coming to Haiti this summer, considering the unrest a few weeks ago. Travel to Haiti is one of those trips where, at the best of times, it's always an exercise in caution, from the time you land at the airport, until the time you leave. The travel advisories this year, though, put a few more knots in my stomach. Mackenzie kept me posted, just about every day, because he was getting  notifications from the Government of Canada website! There I was, trying NOT to think about it, and there HE was, excited to finally tell me that the travel advisory was back to, what he described as, the advisory for the "normal chaos" that is Haiti. The teenage brain and the mom brain certainly aren't wired the same, but I've come to realize, at least in this case, that's a good thing!
      All the worrying was put to rest, however, as soon as we saw Karen's red hair, Luc's beautiful brown skin, and tall, blonde Beate at the airport in Montreal-- it was like a multicultural family reunion, and the butterflies were gone. 😊
    After four relatively smooth hours in the air, and another hour getting through customs and paying our $10 entry fee, we all met at the baggage carousel, which was much less of a nightmare this year-- no struggles at the baggage carousel, because all the bags were piled in a corner by the time we got downstairs, and thank goodness for small miracles-- all four of our bags arrived, and all of Karen's and Beate' s bags arrived, so we quickly joined the crowds of people to wind our way to the final police check to get out of the airport. Phew!
     This is when things usually get a little trickier--pushing away the many men who want to take your bags to "help" you get to your vehicle. This would be okay at home, but as they say, "Dorothy, we're not in Kansas anymore!" We always wait for Karen's nod of approval, before we accept help from anyone, because I've discovered over the years that, even though someone may be wearing a uniform and identification tag, it really doesn't mean they're official airport employees. So, when "the nod" comes, it's off through another maze of people and carts, in the stifling heat, to the safety of our van, our driver, and our security.
    The drive from Port Au Prince came with the normal honks of horns, traffic tie ups, and an occasional close call, but I've realized it has become part of my normal expectation now. It has taken a few years, but I am much more unfazed and relatively unaffected by the things that used to make my heart race and my knuckles white! The only reason I can come up with is that this is now truly a vacation with family, and my heart is full, because I have come home to Haiti! Hugs from Haiti  xo 💕🇭🇹

Find YOUR Haiti

   

I love the time I get to spend in Haiti, and after 3 visits to HATS, it has become like a second family home, but I didn't know these trips would become a regular thing for me. When I first went to Haiti in July, 2015, I figured I would spend the week, see and learn a little about the country, as well as the workings at HATS. After that, I figured I would find somewhere else to go the next summer, because I've always had a love for traveling, as well as trying to do my small part to try to help out somewhere, in some way. But I wasn't counting on the children at HATS stealing a piece of my heart so quickly. You can't help but love each and every one of their beautiful faces and bright spirits--they truly fill your heart and soul. After one short week, I was hooked, and I knew I would continue to return as long as I could.
     Besides the children, though, there were two other important pieces of the HATS experience--Karen and Beate. There are no words to describe the kind of person Karen is, other than maybe an angel! She's lived in Haiti since 1995, which was when she decided to dedicate her life to helping the children in Haiti, and that's when HATS was born. Karen not only bettered the lives of countless children, but she has also saved the lives of many who were abandoned. She has a Haitian son, Luc, who has cerebral palsy, and he is one of the smartest, funniest, most loving children I have ever met. He has adapted to using his feet so well that I am sure he can  do some things better with his feet than you or I could do with our hands! He types on a computer, plays games on his Ipad using his feet on the controls, and he does his school work with his pencil between his toes! He even has a way to feed himself with a fork at the end of a long stick. He has taught and reminded me of the importance of patience and perseverance, and I'm a bit embarrassed to think of some of the little things I have complained about in my "first world" life.
     But Luc has been able to prove the Haitian doctors wrong because  of his Mama, Karen. You never tell Karen a child won't be able to do something. She had Luc from the time he was about 7 weeks old in 2005, but because of his CP, doctors questioned why she would even take him. They told her he would never walk or talk, but they obviously didn't realize who they were talking to. He speaks Creole and English (and some Newfanese!), and he runs like a deer, especially when there is a soccer ball in play. He continues to make his Mama proud with all that he does, and there is nothing he won't try.
     At 72 years young, Karen has the energy and dedication to Luc and the other children of HATS that would put some mothers to shame, and she is another part of the reason I keep going back. So, besides the children, I carry a little piece of Karen with me too... ❤
     And then there is Beate...
     I met Beate as a stranger in the Toronto airport in 2015. She was the team leader for the two other women and I who were going to  HATS for our first visit. (This year was her 7th time at HATS!) She is a tall, short-haired, blonde lady with a welcoming smile, a friendly face, and an easygoing, fun-loving personality.
     When we first found each other in the airport, we carried on a conversation as if we were long lost friends. I immediately knew I was in good hands, and that I was going to have a great experience in Haiti, but it was an unexpected bonus that she has become one of the best long distance friends I could ever imagine. In only these 3 short times we have spent in Haiti together, she has become a bright light and a positive presence in my life.  And now, after this trip with Mackenzie, he's a member of the "Beate fan club" too! It's people like Karen and Beate who continue to inspire me...
       Haiti has been life changing for me. I realized I have the courage to take some chances to travel on my own, at times, because there are too many things I would miss out on if I waited for the right time, or for other people, or for when I could truly afford it. I'm also lucky enough to have a husband and family who support my "need" to go, and who take care of things while I'm gone.
     Haiti has forced me to become comfortable with being "uncomfortable" at times--adjusting to being the minority, adjusting to different food, adapting to a different way of life that includes some different cultural rules and expectations, and I can't forget the language. This year I challenged myself to try to learn and speak a little of the language, and I did manage to learn enough to say my goodbye in Creole, without needing Karen to translate! 
     Although Haiti is what I love, and it works for me, it isn't the place for everyone. You do need some courage, a sense of adventure, and a willingness to adapt to a life quite different from your own. What people need to realize, though, is that they can find the same fulfillment in other ways of giving and helping. You don't have to look far to find something that feeds your soul and fills your heart, because you never know where you might find YOUR Haiti!  Hugs from us to everyone we left in Haiti, and thanks for being part of our journey!

Kids will be kids

     

    Before we came to Haiti this year, I had a discussion with Mackenzie about some things he should expect during the week here, and how it might be different from home. We talked about the weather, the food, where he would sleep, and, most importantly, the children. We talked about their names, I shared some of their "stories, " and I told him he would figure out the rest when we got here. 

     None of my kids are perfect, and I have never strived for that as a mother. I have only ever wanted kind, helpful kids who realize not everyone is as fortunate as they are. And still, trying to teach those lessons is an ongoing process, and, as any childcare provider knows, there's no instruction book!

     I knew Mackenzie was ready for this trip as much as he could be, but he has far surpassed what I expected of him. From the moment he stepped out of the van on that first day, I knew he would be as happy here as I am. His smile lit up his entire face, and the kids ran to him with hugs as if he was a long lost brother!

    Mackenzie spent the first night outside with me on the second floor in his bed tent, and then decided he'd move his mattress onto the floor on the screened-in balcony--away from his mother 😟 --for the rest of the trip! He had his own little piece of paradise under the Haitian sky!

    But now, he has moved even farther away from me, probably a whole 100 feet down the driveway! He's spending his last two nights sleeping with "the boys" in their house "en bas" (down below)! I kept asking him if he was sure he wanted to do that, but then I realized I wasn't asking because I was worried about HIM...it was me! I, his mother, foolishly worried about him being away from me to stay with the boys he's spent so much time with since last week. They've worked together and hung out together, doing all the things kids do, no matter whether they're "vanilla" or "chocolate," as Karen says!

     Having Mackenzie here has reminded me of an important lesson as his mother--I can only teach him so much, and the rest he can figure out on his own. The children here have the same hopes and fears in their lives as any child would, although their circumstances make things more challenging, but not impossible.

     When we teach our kids lessons in kindness, compassion, and some life skills, there's no need for us, as parents/guardians, to keep "fixing" things for them. Things won't always "go right" for them, but they don't always "go right" for any of us. Our kids WILL survive and find their way, and they will be all the better for it, because no matter where you go, kids will be kids! 🏃⛹🏀⚽💕 Hugs from us in Haiti

    

A day in the life at HATS Haiti

     People always ask what we do when we come to the children's home at HATS, and it's not an answer I could sum up in a sentence or two; I can tell you this--it's one of the busiest, and definitely the hottest, "sweatiest" times of the summer for me, and now for Mackenzie, too.
     Probably, my most favourite part of the day is morning devotions, which start at 730a.m. It's a time of singing and giving thanks for everything, and everyone, and every single person, including all Karen's employees, take time from their work to be there. The morning celebration breaks up with hugs all around, handshakes, and exchanges of "have a good day!"
    For the summer, some of the children are going to school for extra lessons in writing and math. They have been going for a few hours every morning around 7:30, so that they will be prepared for September.
     Yesterday and today have been devoted to chalk drawings in the yard, with  an occasional game of "chase" breaking out in between. The concrete yard is filled with bright pink, yellow, blue, and orange chalk outlines of the kids, along with some beautifully coloured Haitian chalk flowers. Sandra did 2 chalk "photos" of me today, and she even copied the "Ct3 Make a difference" text from my shirt to my chalk outline! I think we almost have a HATS family album of kids' photos all done in chalk! 💕
    Things get a little quieter from 1-3, most times, because the children, and some of us big people, take some time out from the incredibly hot, humid Haitian weather to "recharge" and give our sweaty clothes a chance to dry out!
     Later in the day, we all put on our sneakers and make the usual walk up the canal to the mango tree. I have lost count of the goats and cows, and occasional horses, that we see tied up along the banks. During the day, they are left to graze there, or in the water and grass of the harvested parts of the rice fields. I'm guessing the cows like it there because they get cooled off in the water, while they enjoy a good feed of grass. The walk to the mango tree is always an adventure, because it's not always easy to keep track of that many excited little people who like throwing rocks in the water and climbing trees!
      Haiti is always hot, but it is unlike any temperatures I have ever experienced. This year, I have really minded the heat, but that may also be partly due to the lack of sleep during the 6 nights of deafening noise of the nearby "fet"! Last night, it actually took some time to adjust to the quiet of just the crowing roosters and barking dogs when I got into my bed tent! ☺
    There is no shortage of things to do here, because it is just like home, but with 18 children instead of my 3! We spend time with the children playing cards, soccer, tag, basketball, or decorating the yard with chalk. The girls love to do braids, and there are always at least 4 pairs of hands working on my hair when I have "an appointment." Mackenzie's hair is also just long enough for the boys to put a few braids in his bangs--he's been very patient, but he also loves it! This is no quick process for me, however, as the girls are always very determined to comb through every little piece of my long hair. In temperatures above 40°, though, this is very sweaty work!
     Yesterday was pay day for the employees, so Karen entrusted me with that task. (Being a mom of 18 comes with an unimaginably busy schedule, so this was one thing I was happy to be able to take off her list.) There is an organized system of employees coming to the office for their envelopes, counting their money, and signing for it. Just like home on pay day, everyone was especially cheerful, and it was a real chance for me to test my ability to match everyone's faces to the name on the envelope...I passed!
    I love the peace that comes with the simplicity of life here. We have everything we need, and I love listening to the giggles of the children, or even the normal little sibling disagreements that break out on occasion. So maybe it is easy to answer that question of what we do when we come to Haiti-- we live like we are at home, taking care of all the things that matter, like this wonderful, loving family of children! Hugs from us in Haiti 💕
    
    

Sights and sounds of real life in Haiti

     You think you've seen everything until you come to Haiti and realize you haven't really seen anything at all, or at least nothing that could ever compare to "real life" here.
     I've come to realize that "different " isn't bad, especially when it comes to my expectations about standards of living. "Real life" in Haiti is difficult, and Haitians work hard to get by every day. At the bridge by the children's home, men and women line up at sunrise, or earlier, hoping they'll be chosen to get a day's work in the rice fields. If they're lucky, along with a tedious, difficult day's work in the hot sun, they'll get a meal and around $2USD for their efforts.     
     From the rice fields to the crowded, noisy streets of Verrettes or Saint Marc, it is pretty easy to see that people are trying their best to make a living, just like anyone else would, but the conditions are indescribably difficult. On market days, Wednesdays and Saturdays, Karen said some of the sellers start their long trek down the mountain as early as 2a.m., in order to get a good spot to set up their goods, as early as 7a.m. Their umbrella covered stalls fill the sidewalks in Saint Marc, with people selling everything from fruits and vegetables, to new or used items of clothing, to bicycle tires, hardware goods, and mattresses. Voices in Creole argue over prices, and sellers call out to potential buyers. Women carry pop for sale in metal bowls balanced on top of their heads, as they strategically, carefully, navigated the crowded sidewalks that eventually disappeared into the main street. MAYBE, if they were lucky, they might have ended up with a few Haitian dollars, not U.S., to take home at the end of the day....
     And then there are the motos...Unlike home, it's motos, not pedestrians, who have the right of way, and they are absolutely everywhere in the streets of Saint Marc--they litter the streets like yellow cabs in New York City, and they seem to appear from every possible open space on the street. Motos in Haiti are also used as taxis, so it's in the drivers' best interests to move as quickly as possible, not necessarily as safely as possible, through the streets. Most motos carry at least 3 people, including the driver, and it's not unusual to see 4 people breeze by, and they might even be carrying a full bag of rice, or flour, that takes up the space of another person!
    Walking and driving through the crowded streets of Saint Marc, however, is nothing compared to a trip to the Saturday morning market in Verrettes. This is the one point of the trip where I have to take a deep breath and put my trust and faith in Karen to get us through the "corn maze" like path of stalls. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, and a little afraid, going through here, because we can only walk in single file, and the footing is not always stable. Also, people are not necessarily thrilled to see us, and it's not a good idea to stop anywhere, although Karen did manage to get a quick picture of me and Mackenzie, despite some protests nearby.
     The walk is rocky, noisy, and beyond crowded. Going through the market on foot is like two cars trying to pass each other on a one way street, but, on a wing and a prayer, we headed out--Karen in front, Mackenzie sandwiched in the middle, and me, the ol' veteran, pulling up the rear!
      The smell of raw meat in metal bowls in over 40° heat was overwhelming and would make you gag. It was a "breathe through your mouth, keep your eyes open and straight ahead" kind of walk, but another great learning experience of "real life" in Haiti for Mackenzie, because, being the minority in the crowd, we were often the subject of many pointed fingers, stares, and quiet giggles. For some Haitian children, we may have been the first "blancs" (whites) that they'd seen, so we were quite a novelty for them. So, as nerve racking as that walk was, I told Mackenzie it was another life lesson--when you're part of the majority for so long, you need to feel what it's like to be "uncomfortable" sometimes.
        Saturday was quite a day for us. Mackenzie said that, as much as he's loving Haiti, he would be okay with never going through the market again, but I told him that's what happens when you get to experience the sights and sounds of "real life" in Haiti! I'm glad we're here together, with Karen to show us the way! Until the next time, hugs from us in Haiti
    

Salt water and sand between our toes!

      When you've grown up surrounded by the ocean, there's nothing better than the feeling of sand between your toes and the sound of waves crashing on the beach, unless you happen to be in the turquoise, warm waters of the Caribbean Sea. 

     Coming to HATS the past two years, I was always in awe of the amazing beach view as we'd make the drive from Port Au Prince to Deschapelles, so this year, when Karen gave us the chance for a beach day, I couldn't say "yes" quick enough. But there's a story behind the beach day...

     Not long after I booked our tickets back in March, Karen messaged me with a warning--"You might want to change your tickets," she said, "because there is a "fet" (party/celebration) for the first 6 nights that you and Mackenzie will be here!"

   How bad could it be? I've chaperoned my fair share of high school dances over the years and lived to tell about it, so this "fet" couldn't be THAT bad, could it? Mackenzie and I figured it would just be another part of our adventure. But it turns out, yes, it certainly could be THAT bad! Not even noise cancelling headphones, coupled with extra strength melatonin, could come close to drowning out the so- called "music" blaring from the speakers. Imagine a high school dance, but one that was being held outside, and it's right in your backyard, on church owned property, even. Then add a guy on a microphone who screams like he's the devil personified, then throw in enough bass that makes your insides vibrate. That might give you a SMALL sense of how loud it is. Now I understand why Karen tries not to spend any time here in July. What started out as a 6 day party years ago, has turned into a full 12 day blowout that would make your hair curl if you could be here to experience it! The night at the hotel was a welcome chance for us all to sleep in peace for more than just a few hours, and see another part of Haiti while we're at it.

     And now, back to reality. We hoped and prayed the thunder, lightning, and torrential rain would last long enough so that there would be no party tonight,  but no such luck! We're back to the very loud singing, a LOT of bass, the devil on the mic, and heads at HATS buried under pillows! We're expecting a very late night of noise, because even though this is supposed to be the last weekend of the "fet," we're thinking they'll be trying to squeeze every last party minute out of the weekend that they can...

     So, with melatonin in hand and headphones in place, I'm hoping for dreams of sand between my toes and waves crashing on the beach! Hugs from us in Haiti 💕

Surviving the airport at Port au Prince!

     As a mother, the decision to take 14 year old Mackenzie on a trip to Haiti was not made lightly. TELLING my kids the adventure stories from Haiti is far different from being there and seeing it with your own eyes. There are some minor safety issues, along with the very real experience of culture shock--from the poor living conditions, to the reality of what true poverty looks like when it comes to daily life for children and adults.
     This year, though, Sandy and I figured Mackenzie knew enough to make his own decision. It didn't take him long to figure out this was something he wanted to do with me, and I was both excited and nervous--Haiti is no Disneyland, although it does certainly come with its own cast of characters--they're just not in costume!
     No amount of explaining, or warning, could have ever prepared anyone, let alone a young teenage boy, for the scene we experienced this year at the arrivals area in the overheated, unairconditioned, overcrowded airport that is Port au Prince. More than 200 people waiting for the average of at least 2 checked bags per person, makes for some chaotic, never before seen moments at the baggage carousel. One woman was pushed and jostled so much, she actually fell down in front of the carousel...
     My original "plan" was for Mackenzie to look after the cart, while I waited for our 5 pieces of luggage. Well, that changed as quickly as Cape Breton weather, and I didn't mind one single bit. Mackenzie and I switched "roles," and he quickly assumed the position as chief baggage retriever, while I hustled through the crowd of Haitians and the voices of Creole, to pay $4USD for 2 highly sought after baggage carts. With 4 planes on the ground, it meant there were more than 400 people searching for carts and bags all at once. This scene is not good for anyone with high blood pressure, or heart conditions! I barely survived myself, because it took a full hour by the time our last bag made its appearance on the belt! That son of mine made me proud, though, as I watched from a safe distance behind him. Not only did he manage to get all our bags off, he helped another woman who was struggling to retrieve her own bags. He stepped up when I really needed him, and I didn't even have to ask. 
     The airport "excitement" didn't end once we got our bags, though. We had to wind our way through the other couple of hundred people, pushing two carts and pulling our two carry ons. These carts are not meant for making quick turns, or any turns at all, for that matter. But then we had to find our way into the enormous line to pass the approval of Haitian National police, before we could make our final escape from the secured area, and begin the hunt for Daniel, our police escort, and our driver.
      Unless you had a day like we did, you can't even begin to imagine  the excitement and sense of relief at seeing the Boston Red Sox hat and friendly Haitian smile on the face that is Daniel! I hugged him and our driver, whether they were ready for it or not! But again, that was just the beginning of the last part of the anxiety that goes with getting out of the airport. Moving like we were hitting a boxing day sale at the mall, except the temperature was well over 40°, we needed to keep Daniel and our driver in our sight, which was no easy task, either. I have never in my life been so grateful to step into an air conditioned van to begin what would be a 3 hour adventure/drive to the smiling faces at our home away from home. Seeing the blue steel door slide open and pulling into the compound to those beautiful, smiling faces, made all the other chaos of the day melt away. 
     So, even though I got run into by a few stray carts, and elbowed by some somewhat aggressive, distressed Haitians at the airport, I couldn't help but have a smile on my face, and a heart full of happiness, because this home In Haiti fills me up, and that boy of mine made me one proud mama! The adventure continues tomorrow with a trip to the beach!  Hugs from us in Haiti

Haiti, here we come!

     Our day has finally come, and Mackenzie and I are on the last part of our journey to Haiti to try and "make a difference" together. We managed to get all 5 of our checked bags with 250lbs of donations safely through security, AND without any extra fees! ("High 5" to Air Canada for that, and let's just hope they arrive on the carousel when we land!) Although the delays made for a long day, meeting Rick Mercer at the airport in Montreal, then having pizzas and brownies delivered to the hotel from Domino's, made everything in our world right again!
     One of the best parts of making this trip is the incredible people I have come in contact with, both at home, and in Haiti. Karen and the children are of course the reason I love going back, and I feel like I learn a little more about myself each time I go. I do miss my own boys, but that's another thing I'm so thankful for--a great husband and my parents who keep things going at home!
     I told Mackenzie that our next big challenge will be the airport in Port au Prince. Retrieving your baggage from the carousel, like driving in Haiti, is not for the faint of heart! Mackenzie has agreed to be on "cart duty," while I take care of baggage retrieval. With more than 200 people on our flight alone, it makes for a whole lot of congestion and jockeying for position at the baggage belt, which makes the one at Sydney airport look big. I must say, though, since it's my third time, I feel like I'm getting a little better at it...
     We are both pretty excited, although I'm not sure if Mackenzie's feet have actually touched the ground in the last few days, but being able to make this trip comes from the help of so many people. We are carrying a little piece of all of you who have reached out with your support, whether prayerful or financial, or a donation of some other sort. I am always overwhelmed at the kindness of people who take time to wish us well, and you can't imagine how encouraged we both are by all of it. I am truly grateful that Mackenzie is along for the "ride" this year, and I know it will be unforgettable for both of us! Stay tuned, because, Haiti, here we come! 
     

Until the next time, Haiti, thanks for the memories...

I always dread the goodbyes. They're never easy, and today was just like last year when it was time to leave...hugs with kids--sometimes 2 or 3 children squeezed together all at once--followed by the dreaded ugly cry! Their sweet faces and bubbly personalities are a forever part of my memory book. At the same time, I was thankful for my dark glasses. 😎

But Karen had one last goodbye surprise. Being the good Newfie that she is, she has a stash of mummering clothes on hand. As I came into the kitchen with the last of my bags, she jumped out from behind the door sporting her wolf like rubber mask, which of course also had red hair! I was actually thankful she scared me half to death--made me forget about leaving for a minute...

To lighten the load on the brain and the heart, there's always "the drive."The drive back to the airport was much less eventful than when I arrived, but eye opening nonetheless. Streets were again crowded with people and cars. People were walking to the rice fields, hoes in hand, and others were setting up their roadside canteens, restaurants, boutiques, and gambling kiosks. Passing through one town, horns were honking like rush hour in the big cities. We were bumper to bumper, literally, as our driver 'nudged' the back end of the truck in front of us. People were staring, horns were still honking, and I was afraid that if we didn't move in a hurry, I would witness an episode of road rage, Haitian style. Luckily, our driver quickly swerved out into the street around the truck causing the tie up, and we were on our way again.

The drive was fairly smooth, or at least as smooth as it can be for Haitian highways. Close to the airport we passed a convoy of 7 United Nations trucks, fully 'stocked' with police officers in Brazilian uniforms, and then we finally passed the busy police checkpoint on the last main stretch of road before the airport. It's handy driving with a Haitian police officer--Daniel got out and flashed his badge to get us in the fast lane.

Saying goodbye leaves a lasting impact, because as much as I want to go back, there are no guarantees every year. And it's not just to see the children, either. Beate and Karen have become great friends to me, and I think there are times during the week that Karen feels like Beate and I are two more kids to supervise! Those are the lighter moments of the week where we broke into offices-- literally--ate mango slushies like kids in a candy store, and drove to Luckner's store in the back of the truck.

The other moments, the ones that are hard to see, are the ones you can't dwell on. Every day we saw a woman sleeping on a blanket on the rocks by the bridge at the orphanage. She wore the same camel coloured skirt every day, but she had it pulled up to her chest so it served as a dress that just barely covered her tiny body. We saw her bathing in the brown water of the canal, her dress lying on the bank beside her. This is one of the realities and frustrations of Haitian culture. Karen is unable to simply give her food or clothing, for fear that it would be stolen from her anyway, or people would hurt her if they knew it came from a 'blanc,' (a white person), because to them, blancs are rich, and Haitians would then expect this woman to be able to get more things from Karen. Knowing Karen, though, she'll find a way...

Haiti is truly a beautiful country, with beautiful people, and bright spirits. Beate and I talked about how easy it was to get lost in the simplicity of life there. Other than my own family, there was nothing I missed. Sleeping outside on the second floor was very peaceful, and I never tired waking up to the backyard view that was the mango trees and the mountains. It didn't take long to just "roll" with the daily life that moved at a much slower speed.  But I know this is not a trip for everyone. The important thing is to find your own "Haiti," or "HATS," although you'll be hard pressed to find people like Karen and Beate! There are always people who need help, and you often don't have to go far to find them. You also don't need to spend money to lend a helping hand; kind words, thoughtful deeds, or the gift of your time, can be priceless for some people. Sometimes in the toughest of times, you just need to remember to carry kindness in your heart.❤️😉

So, until the next time, Haiti, thanks for the memories....hugs from Haiti 💕

These boots are made for walking...in the rain

An incredibly hot Sunday morning at church--38 degrees-- turned Intro an afternoon of two spectacular thunder and lightning storms with about 3 hours worth of hard, steady rain--I don't know what that really amounts to, but that's sometimes how we measure things in Canada--in how long it lasts! 

These heavy rains have been a regular occurrence throughout the week--we are in rainy season, after all. Usually, though, we keep doing what we're doing until it passes, and it's no big deal. So when Karen decided it was a good day to go through the donations to get shoes for school and church, along with backpacks, we called the kids together under one small roof to give out the goods, because at that point, the sun was beaming. ☀️😎

It's challenging enough trying to get my own 3 kids ready for September, but multiply that by 5, add in a few excited 4-8 year olds, along with the older kids, and there's gonna be some chaos, despite Beate's top notch organizational skills. Then throw in the sudden change from sunshine to  a repeat of yesterday's high winds, rain, thunder, and lightning with kids running for cover, trying to avoid the sporadic leaks in the roof they were sitting under. Beate and I were frantically trying to gather the suitcases with the shoes in them to get them out of the rain and back to the storage depot. I was trying to go as quickly as I could without killing myself on my rubber sandals, which my feet were sliding out of because of the rain. When we stopped, we could do nothing but laugh, because the kids didn't care, and there we all were-- squished together trying to wait out the rain. ⛈

The best moment came, however, when little 5 year old Markenson, who came to Karen with his brother from the mountains last September, put on his first EVER pair of rubber boots! He didn't know what they were, and when he put them on, they pretty much went up to his knees, but it didn't slow him down one bit! He ran to the boys' house, faster than I have seen him run this week, much to the cheers and delight of his brothers and sisters still waiting under the roof. This was another one of those moments where, if you don't smile and laugh along with the children, you would have tears in your eyes knowing his story...

Markenson and his brother, Dickieson, 2, were brought to Karen by their father. They have 3 older siblings who still live in the mountains with their father, but their mother died not long after Dickieson was born, and their father was unable to care for them all. It is truly a selfless, yet unimaginable choice to have to make, when, as a parent, you have to put your children in someone else's care.

These two brothers are lovIng, funny, and very busy, and boy can they dance! They were the stars of the dance party last week, and when Markenson wasn't dancing, he spent a lot of time sitting in my lap, making faces and telling stories. He is very free with his hugs, and his smile is one that is painted on my heart. He is so good to look out for his little brother, and I'm glad Karen has given them the gift of a good life with more brothers and sisters, as well as an education...and we can't forget the rubber boots! 

So, it took almost 3 hours to get everyone their shoes, because one storm came just after the first one.  The kids finally left with smiles on their faces, and although we were soaked to our bones, we were happy to have another chore done. This was an afternoon of back to school shopping I will never forget, and a little boy and his boots that will forever be a part of my lifetime highlight reel! Hugs from Haiti! 💕🌦

"It is all about the children..."

Karen has the words in black letters right on her wall as you come in her front door, and they are painted on the walls outside the orphanage--it is all about the children. As a mother of 18 children here, all under the age of 18, and two daughters in Canada, it most certainly is all about the children for her and anyone who is involved, or visits, here. It is one of the main reasons that I the mother, and I the teacher, am drawn back to this beautiful home here in Deschapelles, surrounded by the mountains in what is the Artibonite Valley.

   It has been a hot, busy week. The daily sunshine and hot temperatures, along with the incredibly high humidity, has sucked the life out of me on some days, but hearing the giggles and chatter of those boys and girls, was often the key to a second wind for me.

   Keeping kids busy in the classroom or at home is no different than here, except that the age range is quite broad, and not completely understanding the language makes it just about impossible to know who you're supposed to side with in the struggle over who gets the red crayon, or who gets to sit on your lap next. And it doesn't take long for these little tricksters to realize that, for them, it's a good thing that I might not know all the rules, like, "No, you're actually not allowed to use chalk to draw on that wooden table!" 

    The consequences of being lost in translation happened to me a few times when I was with the children. Luckily, though, it was never 'arms and legs' type situations, as my grandmother would say. I lost a few battles, along with a couple of games of "trouble," but I did manage to develop some pretty sick multitasking skills--in the moments you're awaiting your turn on the "trouble" board, you can manage to put a piece or two in a puzzle, and even manage a turn with a crayon, all before it was my turn to "pop" the plastic "trouble" bubble!

    Don't get me wrong, though...I am not afraid to admit that after close to an hour, my head was spinning, my brain was frazzled, and so was my hair, as some of the girls perched themselves on the table to comb, brush, and braid my hair, while snuggly 3 year old Magdala, crawled up into my lap at the same time. 

    This scene was replayed last night as both Beate and I spent most of our evening after supper in the HATS hair salon on the steps of the children's home. At peak times, we had as many as three stylists each, who were frantically brushing, combing, and styling our hair. Sitting in my lap the whole time was little Markenson, who kept looking at my head in shock and awe at times, but he kept me occupied with songs and little conversations in my best attempt at broken Creole.

   Close to an hour later, Beate and I were led by the hands from the salon to the main house to show Mama Karen our hairstyles. The boys and girls were quite proud of their accomplishments, and I was eventually sent from the salon sporting an off centre ponytail and combed out bangs, and a few less strands of hair on my head! 

   Before heading off to bed ourselves, Beate and I made the rounds in the girls' house, getting and giving hugs, and singing a few good night songs. I know I went off to bed with a happy heart and a felling of contentment that comes from those smiling faces and bubbly personalities.

   Like driving in Haiti, sometimes being the supervisor of the children is not for the faint of heart, but you just have be able to "roll with it," and you won't be sorry you did because it IS all about the children, and they warm your heart! Hugs from Haiti💕

It's Thursday, and there's a party goin' on

I think I would rather the roosters and the rest of Old MacDonald's animals from this morning rather than the blaring, booming bass, and the somewhat distorted music of the nearby disco! Do they not realize I was awake at 430 this morning, so my time for disco music passed about two hours ago! Here on the compound we had our own dance party at the much more reasonable hour of 7pm, and the children most definitely put Beate and I to shame. Our moves were so 'white' compared to theirs! Even tiny 3 year old Markenson has the smooth moves of a Latin dancer, complete with hip action, followed by the splits to top it all off! That's not an easy feet for a little boy at the best of times, but it's even more amazing when his little body drops to the splits on concrete...

   It was so cute to see the children, from little to big, all strutting their stuff to the sounds of rap and dance music coming from J.J.'s little white speakers. Dresses were twirling, little bums were shaking, and there were smiles all around. Beate and I are thinking maybe the kids can give us some lessons before we leave, because the moves we THOUGHT we had brought nothing but giggles and finger pointing from the children. Talk about a blow to the ego!

     It was good to get out after the hour long downpour of a much needed rain, complete with thunder and lightning. There's something hypnotic and rhythmic, though, when you watch palm trees blow  in a storm, and it's like the long leaves on the branches are doing their own tropical dance. We gladly weIcomed the rain and the clear air, because I think it's finally cold enough for t-shirts tonight.

     From the sounds of the thunder, to the dance party in our own yard, to the DJ sounds from the disco, it's been another fulfilling day. I guess, for now, though, I'll have to put my pretend dance moves away and hope that I can pick up some skills from the children, so that I'll be better prepared for the next time a dance party breaks out in my presence. If only I could be a fly on the wall,or the bar stool, at the disco on the other side of the bridge, maybe I could learn a thing or two, because it's Thursday, and there's a party goin' on! Hugs from Haiti 💕

Buckle up, we're going on a road trip!

You know when you're a kid and your parents tell you they're taking you for ice cream, and you're so excited thinking about what flavour you want, and whether or not you want sprinkles....Well, I got just as excited when Karen said she was taking us on a little road trip to St. Marc.

    St. Marc is a bustling town where Karen does her banking and occasionally picks up groceries. But as the saying goes, it's not just the destination...sometimes it's the journey; however, on this road trip, it's definitely both! 

     I don't know if you take a different kind of road test to get your license in Newfoundland, but Karen certainly navigates the highway type roads and busy town streets as if she's been driving them since she first got her license in Springdale! There is nothing I can compare to driving here. Successful driving here is a mix of confidence, skill, courage, faith, a little bit of luck, and even a sense of humour! You also need great concentration to weave around the gazillion potholes all over the road. I told Beate that it looks like someone drove through the streets dropping grenades at random places. At times, I think a small child could disappear in some of them! Maybe it's a little like Cape Breton roads after a hard winter!

    But going to the bank in St. Marc doesn't happen without Karen picking up one of her off duty security men--she doesn't go to St. Marc for $20 withdrawals, if you know what I mean! So, we pick up Ronald (Ro-nel) at his home not far from the orphanage. It is hard to imagine his 'security' persona, because he has one of the widest smiles and pleasant faces I have seen, yet, obviously, he gets things done when he needs to.

     When we finally get to St. Marc, I understand why Karen brought him along. It's Wednesday--market day--and there is barely an empty space on the streets and sidewalks. Karen said some people begin the trek down the mountain at 2am carrying their goods on their backs, so that they get set up in the market on time. Say what you will about the poor living conditions, but it's another example of how some people are determined not to be defined by their situations. The market was alive with conversation, sometimes heated ones, and the smells of chicken and meat cooking in pots on sidewalk canteens. Just like home, you could pretty much figure out which ones were crowd favourites--there were lineups that would rival the morning coffee rush at Tim Horton's!

     I think there was divine intervention for Karen to have found us a parking spot just outside the grocery store. The mid 40 degree heat here was heightened by the exhausts of so many cars, so we made a quick exit to the air conditioned Haitian Sobeys. It's much like home, except for the security guard at the exit with his mirrored Terminator type sunglasses, earpiece, and 'no fooling around' look on his face. I didn't want to know what else he had in the pocketed military style navy pants.

    After packing up our boxes of cornflakes, diapers, and some other goodies--coke and a chocolate bar for Ronald, who kept watch of the truck--we were on our way to the all important stop at the bank.   

     Karen, Ronald, Beate, and I traveled in a single line--me in the middle of the pack--balancing our steps between the narrow edge of the sidewalk and the busy street, constantly watching out for "motos" (motorbikes) and anything else on wheels.

   Standing outside the big white concrete building that is the "Banque Nationale," I see the first security guard, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark bottoms, with a no nonsense look on his face. He is also holding a metal detector wand that he uses on people going into the bank carrying any type of bag. Certainly gives me the impression that going to the bank here is serious stuff.

     When we come to the darkened glass doors, however, he does greet us with a quiet hello and waves us through. Besides the sign reminding people that guns and cell phone usage are prohibited, Karen said we also need to be very quiet when we talk--too much noise, I think, indicates potential commotion, and we certainly don't want the other guard and his shotgun to think there's any commotion! 

    So, as Karen once told me last year, sometimes you need to take pictures with your eyes, so that's what I did as best I could. Employees and clients were quietly cordial, sometimes exchanging handshakes and smiles of familiarity. The lady who helps Karen there was friendly enough, and quickly acknowledged her with a smile, then began the formal process of making the withdrawal, which includes much paperwork and the 4 of us quietly waiting in the waiting area by the main desk.

   About a half an hour later, Karen gets "the nod" indicating her withdrawal is ready. She followed the bank lady to a separate room, and shortly thereafter, a smile and goodbye--we were on our way, with Ronald carrying the goods! 

    It was a quick, uneventful exit back into the crowded streets, as we made our way in single file again, back to Karen's white truck. Phew...a little excitement coupled with some nerves, but that's all part of the adventure.

    I had a little feeling of pride and sense of accomplishment on the way home, after realizing that what is a simple outing to the bank and grocery store at home, is not without its challenges and risks, or maybe adventure, here. But no matter where Karen offers to take me, I'm willing to buckle up--we're going on a road trip! Hugs from Haiti 😉💕

Oatmeal, pancakes, and lessons in Creole!

There are some things that don't taste as good unless they come out of Germaine's kitchen, and oatmeal and pancakes are just two of my favourites. There is something special and distinct about the taste of the large, thin pancakes that come hot off the griddle. No need for butter, though...just a splash of syrup, some hot coffee off the stove, and a seat at the table to enjoy the taste of a Haitian breakfast that I could never come close to duplicating at home. The only thing that could possibly rival the taste of pancakes is a bottomless bowl of Haitian oatmeal. After only one year here, my nose recognizes the sweet, warm smell of oatmeal on the stove. This oatmeal is like a great bowl of plain vanilla ice cream--no need to add anything. It's one of those things that tastes good all by itself.

    But it's not just about the food. Beate and I have become students of the oldest boy, J.J. (Gee-Gee). After filling our bellies this morning, Beate and I took turns having him test us on the first page of Beate's book, "Creole made Easy"! I am proud to say we passed page one with flying colours...high fives all around! "Nou vle aprann Creole"--We want to learn Creole. But we didn't want to strain our brains too much with 'Creole school,' because I know mine is already a little soggy from these mid 40 degree temperatures, so we're saving page 2 for "demen"--tomorrow!  

    More importantly and exciting, we had a special visitor this morning--Ti-Fi! Beate and I walked her from the girls' house ('kay' in Creole) to the main house. In just a day, we have noticed a difference in her spirit. This morning, she was sitting up holding her hand out to me as soon as I went into the house for Beate and I to take her out. She was a little steadier on her feet, and a few times, I caught a glimpse of her old familiar smile that lights up her face. 

   When she came to the main house, she sat close, and she nodded her head most times when we asked questions. She loves the contact of holding our hands, and today she was full of hugs! There was nothing sweeter than feeling her hand come around the back of my shoulder to give me a gentle 'tap, tap' on the back, then two arms to give me a hug... It was so encouraging to see some change in her in such a short time, and I hope this is the beginning of the road back to normal for her...

    In the meantime, I am enjoying the few minutes of down time before Karen takes us on a little road trip to the bank. As the drive from the airport was an adventure, so, too, is any little road trip off the compound. Eyes open and always aware, I go back to giving thanks for some of my most favourite, yet simple things while I'm here--oatmeal, pancakes, lessons in Creole, and special visits! Hugs from Haiti 👍😉