"Mwen Travay...?"

On day 3 (Saturday), we were up surprisingly early despite being a quieter morning after a loud, stormy night. The animals weren’t up as early since it wasn’t a school day. We joined our trip leader and our photographer for a walk towards Petit Trou under clear blue skies and a boiling hot sun. The main road was coming alive…families with donkeys in tow, headed to the Saturday market in town, while others carried countless, empty water containers to be filled at the well. Between the goats, chickens, cows, pigs, roosters, dogs, sheep and donkeys, this animal-loving-girl was thrilled, and yet their physical condition was very different from what we’re used to seeing in the States. It was a harsh reality, no doubt, but a necessary one to process and accept: people were starving and striving to stay alive; how could their animals possibly be well-fed?

As we walked down the road to Souryak, taking it all in, we ran into Drew’s buddy, Clydens and his little sister heading to their local well. The smirk on his face spoke volumes of the happiness he felt randomly seeing Drew again -and in his hometown, no less. He insisted that we stop at his house to meet his family on our walk back and see the senk kabrit yo (5 goats) he takes care of daily. It wasn’t hard to see his chest swell with pride as he showed his new blan friends his home, his family and his important responsibilities. His dad was a truck driver and we gathered that meant something similar to what it does in America: he wasn’t home for extended periods of time, leaving Clydens as man of the house.

When our long, humid and sunny walk, came to an end, we returned to St. Paul’s campus for a delicious breakfast of oatmeal, fruit and bread with spicy Mamba (peanut butter). Once plates were returned to the kitchen, and water bottles filled, we were off to our next activity with our Agriculture Educator, Kenel and his Saturday Morning Ag Club. Drew and I each worked with a different group of kids in the assembly line of projects. I was with 8^th graders who were shoveling compost into a wheelbarrow and walking to Drew’s group, who were planting Moringa seeds.

The only boy in my group spoke a bit of French, but we all quickly ran out of things to say with our limited knowledge of English/Kreyol/ French. It was an interesting experience…supervising kids that I barely knew and watching them chat without a clue as to what they were saying. Snickers, giggles and downright laughter made things awkward at first, but I continued to try and communicate with them. Cue LIGHTBULB: I finally realized that I could offer to help and I asked them, “Mwen travay?” which means “Me, work?” (notice that awesome sentence structure and grammar? Kreyol MASTER, >right here<). They all looked at me with heads tilted to the side and asked in unison, “Ou?” (You?). I quickly said “Wi” and without hesitation they dropped the shovel and the wheelbarrow and stepped back to make way for my performance. I picked up the wheelbarrow and pushed it toward Drew’s group, and tried not to laugh too much when I realized one of the girls was following me (I guess in case I needed help mid-trip…?). If I could have said it in Kreyol, I would have shared my love of gardening with them. Oh well. Maybe next time. 

When I came back to the group with the empty wheelbarrow, they started asking me more questions, and repeated…oh, maybe, 15 times, the word menaj…which I now know means serious boyfriend or girlfriend. I didn’t figure that one out until later but bless them for their persistence! Their next attempt was “Marye?” which I thankfully figured out meant “Married?” “Wi!! Marye!” as I pointed to my wedding ring. Phew. Got lucky on that one!

After being fought over (between the girls of two different Ag Club stations -literally, arms stretched, being pulled in two different directions) and picking up trash, Clydens joined us as we headed to the market in Petit Trou. Bustling and full of new smells, unusual products and unfamiliar sounds it was an overwhelming experience, to say the least, and I certainly felt like a tourist. Several requests later by market vendors to give them my (red hiking) boots, we headed to a few nearby beaches and took in the beautiful views of the bright blue Caribbean. The first area we walked to was open with boats docked, fisherman weaving nets, and a family preparing to head to a small, neighboring island for a funeral, casket and all. Talk about humbling and heart-wrenching. The sting of death is one that these beautiful people are all too familiar with.

We continued on and walked through a rather large cemetery which, strangely enough, is where Clyden’s grandma is buried. Once we reached the towering cliffs and crashing waves, I took in the thick, salty air and the views of Drew connecting with Clydens (as much as one can without speaking the language.) Seeing him with kids on this entire trip melted my heart. It helped heal a little bit of the ache in my heart for the harsh realities that are Haiti (or any third-world country).

There was a much needed post-lunch nap after a delicious meal full of fried Haitian dishes (chicken, akra, frites, potates, and hush-puppy-like-things), mango and pikliz. By FAR my favorite meal (don’t judge).

We may have been a little groggy but we managed to get over to a photography class put on by our guest traveler/photographer Marianne Martin. It was SO fun watching 18 or so adults, dressed to a T, cell phones in-hand practicing their photography skills: lighting, framing and stories. Oh, and smiles. Haitians don’t typically smile for pictures; serious is more professional, or something like that. But there were lots of smiles in this class. They were having a blast and it was contagious!

The last hours of daylight were spent sitting in a circle under a tree drinking (warm) rum punch and talking about the day’s activities, plans for Sunday, and dinner. We had another great meal of chicken, ble, beans, rice, and pistach. There were extensive talks at dinner of how to solve the incessant problem of “fatra” or trash on campus and throughout the country. Step one: Education…and perhaps the rest will follow.

Finally, after some delicious cocoa tablet (imagine peanut brittle and Cracker Jack’s had a baby), we were in and out of our cold showers and off to sleep. Day 3 complete; church in the morning! Bon Nwi!