Day 28: Ce Fini

Last day. I pretend it’s not even though everyone asks if it is. I still pretend it’s not. The team leader of the school build had asked one of the guys who recently joined the team if he’d find another job for the day so that I could spend my last day on the school. It was very kind of both of them. It was also the perfect way to spend my last day working. The school build is an all day site – meaning you head out in the morning, eat lunch on site (cooked by one of the neighborhood women) and don’t come back until the end of the work day. It was nice to spend the whole last day working off base.

I had worked the first morning at the school build, before heading off to Jacmel. It had now been exactly one week and the volunteers had come so far. All the beams for the walls were up and we were working on tinning the roof. This meant I spent the majority of the day climbing along the structure like a monkey and taking in the breathtaking countryside from the peak of the roof- my kind of day. Unlike almost every other site, this school is down a dirt road that cuts through corn fields and sugar cane on both sides. There are a few broken down houses and several tents around the school but it’s mostly farm land with a mountain-painted backdrop. It’s beautiful.

In the afternoon we watched a threatening storm blow in and right past. Seeing it from above was a like a sneak peak at an upcoming feature. We ended the day feeling very accomplished and ¾ of the roof finished. I reveled in the fact that I got to spend my last hours adding to Haiti, helping to build it up. Then we headed to the taptap with a gaggle of children following. A few of the children had helped tar the nails. While we were loading up I saw that one had some tar on his hand still, something poisonous particularly for children who constantly put their hands in their mouth. I took out my hand sanitizer and barely squeezed any in his hand before I was surrounded with reaching hands. “Keep your hands low and say ‘please’ or ‘s’il vous plait’ and I will give you some,” I instructed in Creole. 20 voices rang out in unison “please!” 20 hands received squirts of hand sanitizer. We had a mini lesson on remembering to wash our hands with soap especially after playing or using the bathroom and then did another round of squirts. They loved the smell of it. They giggled at the way it felt between their fingers. One little boy rubbed his hands on the top of his – apparently that needed cleaning too. I boarded the truck empty of hand cleaner and full of the smell of clean children.

…

At the end of every meeting, whoever is leaving before the next meeting can stand and say something before all the volunteers and staff. Six people, including myself were leaving; I was the last to speak. There was so much to say, yet so much had been said before. “Give each other a break and assume the best of each other. It’s important to remember to lock the tool shed (a constant cause of frustration at the meetings) but it’s more important to remember why we’re here. Spend time with the community. Love the children. Learn the language. And go to the orphanage.” Those were my main thoughts.

On my way to pack one of the directors on base stopped to give me a hug. This entire month I was quite certain she did not like me. I was positive she was one of the people who viewed me in the wrong light, misperceiving my intentions and passion . I was taken aback when she wrapped her arms around me. She complimented all of my work with the orphanage. Then she pulled out a packet of paper that was issued by the department of education (or someone like that) that explained the 3 main areas of which all schools would focus on and begin to rebuild themselves around. She said she had been looking through these papers and realized that I had already focused on all of those in the orphanage. She was impressed and proud. I was speechless. She also complimented my passion and my ability to maximize resources and times. “I don’t know how many times I saw you get other volunteers to help you cut out shapes for lessons at 8pm at night. It was truly impressive,” she said. And you think things you do go unnoticed. I’ve learned that nothing, good or bad, goes unnoticed.

We talked a little longer about education and then she told me her long-term goal (now that HODR would be staying in Leogane until at least the end of 2011) was to build a community center where children could come each day to learn something different. Perhaps chess one day, painting another. “And they could have a library,” I said. The lack of books is constantly on my brain, and I’ve been formulating for weeks now how to remedy that – what type of NGO I could build that would allow for children to have books in their own language (something we take for granted – how could we not?) I couldn’t contain my excitement as she spoke. She said it was a long shot and of all the ideas that are discussed very few ever come into fruition. Running a community center in Haiti would be a dream come true for me. I assured her with as much fervor as was physically possible that if this idea goes into work I will indeed be back. I would most likely be back either way (I won’t be able to stay away from Haiti for long – if it wasn’t for debt I would have never left in the first place.) She put the idea in my head, an idea that had been brewing but had not come into its own yet. Maybe she would use HODR to get the ball rolling. Or maybe I would…

...

A woman who I have become very close with and who I admire deeply is adopting one of the babies from the orphanage. Just the thought brings tears to my eyes. She is everything I hope to be in 15 years. Strong, intelligent, brave, and full of so much life with an incredibly beautiful spirit. She has two grown boys and a finalized divorce, and soon a little Haitian daughter. She saved this girl’s life in every way a life can be saved. This child will never go hungry, or get scabies, or know what it means to go without. She will not get tossed on the streets when she is too old for the orphanage or find herself pregnant at 14. She will be educated, and well traveled, and loved beyond words. The thought of all that is too much for one heart to comprehend. She told me that she knew she was coming for something big. She knew there was something larger than herself at work in this trip. The minute she saw this baby it was love at first sight for both of them and she knew right then what was her purpose. It was beautiful.

Part of me was a little sad; I had the same thoughts for the trip. I knew something big was going to happen. I knew my life was going to change. I knew there was a plan bigger than myself at work. But as of now, nothing had been revealed. I laughed gently to myself - God has a funny way of waiting until the last possible minute. I haven't been forgotten. I'm just getting a lesson in faith. I put the negative thoughts aside, knowing my answer was coming. It’s hard not to think about what I will do for work, or how I will pay my 900 dollar rent in two weeks when I have 12 dollars in my bank account. It’s easy to fall into anxiety, but I keep reminding myself to be patient and to have faith. Two things I constantly need to remind myself of – patience and faith. There is so much at work that I don’t see. There is something coming. I don’t know when it will come. I don’t know how it will come. I just know it will. And that is what I put all of my hope in. And that is what keeps me smiling and moving forward. A lesson learned from the people of Haiti.