Just Another Day In Haiti

Just another Day in Haiti

Sorry for the late entry everyone…it just seems that there is always too many thoughts and then when I just can’t settle on what to write about next….I procrastinate because ..you know…it has to be perfect…blah blah blah ( same old story).

     So it seemed that today just might be a good day for me to accomplish some writing and Rick needed to go to the bank in Limbe. I would be alone...ahhhhh. Alas  my friend Madame Grimmard calls to tell me her husband is in the Limbe hospital; so suddenly I’m going too. First of all the road to Limbe has gotten extremely bad over the past few months. Not sure why… but man…its awful…holes so big that you could easily take out your axels, bust your leaf (spell?) springs and whatever else is down there.

     First stop was the bank. Several people sit outside on chairs hoping to change money for anyone that has US funds. Once you navigate past them you go into the bank where loud Haitian kompa music plays. A large security guard sits on a stool beside the door with a shotgun in one hand and a bible in the other ( Only in Haiti). He reads while watching over the tellers. I tried to make a joke and said to him “ Mesye…ou gen bibla nan yon men y ou gen zam nan lot men. Sa bon ou mete yo ansanm ( Sir, you have a bible in one hand and a shotgun in the other..its good that you have them together)” …not knowing if I said this right or not. He smiles and says “ Wi madam”.  

     While we are banking, we hear band music approaching. It’s a slow march and I whisper to Sarah and Priscilla that it is a funeral procession. They want to sit outside to see it pass. I watch from the door. Haitian funeral processions are amazing. The school children complete with colorful uniforms march past, then another group of uniforms march past..all in unison with the slow funeral style marching band. The band is impeccably dressed and walks in precise fashion. Right left right left…then a little double time swagger…right left right left.  Then comes the coffin in a white Chevy van that has funeral wreaths with silk flowers attached to the windshield; the rear doors are ajar because the coffin doesn’t quite fit. Finally the family of the deceased marches last. Mourning and wailing mix with the slow mournful march played by the band.  It is a time of deep respect by every member of the community. Businesses stop, traffic stops, school stops as the procession passes.

     We leave the bank and drive to the Catholic hospital to visit Madam Grimmard and her husband. I can hear loud wailing and think to myself “Someone must of died”. People seem to be flocking to the hospital. I find a very thankful Madam Grimmard who bids me to her husband’s room; a relatively small dim hospital room with 6 people crowded together…and then all mayhem commences. A deafening roar of wailing ..like a wave of misery rolls through the hospital. Madam Grimmard whispers to me “A young woman died just an hour ago. She had her baby and the placenta ‘pas tombe’ ( didn’t fall). This was her third baby.” We can hardly talk to each other; the wailing is so loud. Priscilla and Sarah stand beside me…very quiet and serious. I wonder what they think. I start to explain to Sarah how terrible this death will be for a poor family. She cuts me off and says “ Mom…can we talk about this later?” Madam Grimmard seems accustomed to this display of grief and continues to talk and tell me about her husband’s condition. Then she notices the young man in one of the beds motions for her to come. He tells her he speaks English and wants to talk to us. She calls us over to his bed. He is malnourished and looks at me with jaundiced eyes. He is happy we have come to his bed and tries desperately to speak in broken English. I take his hand and I have to put my ear close to his mouth to hear him… “My name is Fredi. I am a student from San Michelle. I was almost finished my studies and I became sick..now I am here…but God is with me…only God…he is all I need ”.  I ask him if we can pray for him…he looks surprised “ Now?”. I said “yes…now”. He smiles and gratefully answers “yes please do”.  We pray close to him…Rick in a loud voice so he can hear us over the wailing. He thanks us and weakly squeezes our hands. I turn around and Sarah and Priscilla are gone. I assume they are with Madam Grimmard. Sure enough they are outside the room amongst the mourners watching the grief stricken family and friends. There must be at least 200 people...and more arriving every minute yelling, screaming, wailing, pounding walls, stomping the ground…swaying together in grief. Rick calls to Priscilla and Sarah to come back to the room. They gladly leave…Madam Grimmard had asked them to go out there to watch. Rick says quietly to me  “I don’t think its right that we should be standing there as foreigners watching”. I am not so sure.  It’s hard for us as Canadians to understand culture…we are a people who do not like for people to see us grieve. We pray and say our good-byes to Madam Grimmard and her husband.

     We drive away and there is not much conversation in the truck. There is no joking and laughter coming from the back seat. Rick tries to make light conversation and I tap his leg motioning him to stop.

     We had promised Rosalourdes and her family we would visit her earlier and so we were committed. A no show would be extremely disappointing. As we leave Sarah mumbles something about being tired and has had too much to see already today but comes along willingly. They are waiting when we arrive. Again we go through the same thing. Little bodies scream with joy and run to meet us. Small hands compete for a chance to grab our arms, hands, or legs and drag us quickly to the pile of rocks.  We stay for an hour, we laugh as they dance and sing to us. This absolute wanton expression of joy sweeps away the dark cloud of grief from earlier in the afternoon and we return in the dark to our house.

   As I write this I hear Sarah says to her father “I’m so tired”…and she heads to bed. Rick says to her “Wow… you’re tired so early?’ She smiles and answers “Yeah..I know”.  I smile knowingly to myself. I know the feeling. I remember how this huge explosion of sights and sounds sapped my energy just 3 months ago. Now I feel accustomed to just another day in Haiti….