So, I'm finally in Haiti! I feel like this experience is long overdue but I am happy to be here. All of the issues I was trying to get here, are worth it...even almost getting arrested over a self defense keychain because the TSA guy was being a jerk (insert rolling of the eyes). It seems like the odds weren't in my favor, either way I'm here, and Haiti is beautiful! Though faced with the harshness of a long lived reality, Haiti vibrantly beams. Everything is very different here. The airport seemed more chaotic than the ones I've been in in the states and Europe. It was very lively and crowded. It was also hard to figure out what was going on and what needed to be done. I have never been this thankful to travel with people who are knowledgeable when it comes to functioning in this country.

 

 

Skipping to my more favorite parts, the food was ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! I loved dinner the most. I don't know what the dishes were called but everything tasted great. The rich flavors and bold colors stir memories of the cultural bits and pieces my grandmother let me experience. It's crazy to think that my grandmother immigrated from Haiti to the the United States all by herself at just 17 years old. Growing up, I never took all that she went through into perspective, partially because I was not aware. Through our Global Communities class I learned that my grandmother was raised during the Duvalier regime. I also got to experience Haiti and walk within my grandmother's shoes. 

 

I knew I would be tired and sore. We did a lot of lifting at the work site yesterday and I'm assuming we'll be doing the same today. I know that I'll be returning to the U.S. with a little more muscle and a lot more knowledge of those without priveledge. Haiti is a place of understandable anger and frustration as well well as a place of hope and unwavering faith. I see and feel this each day that I am here. We're not as chatty on the second day morning bus ride. We know what to expect. We now know how to pace ourselves. We know that this is extremely hard work. It's hard on the mind and body. You wish you could give the job your all during the whole shift, but after 2 hours you're body begins to tell you that you can't and sooner or later your mind gives in. How do these people do what they do on a daily basis? It's simple, they have to. They have to work this hard to survive and rebuild what has been destroyed, hurt, or lost. Being here, makes you not want to complain but you still find yourself doing it because the work is not what you're used to. The sun's heat is not what you're used to and being called selfish is not what you're used to.

 

 

Today, I connected with a good number of the kids aged from about 3-12. It was a fun, easygoing, lively, and semi chaotic experience. I loved every minute of it. I wish that I could spend a day focusing on and playing with the kids. I loved listening to them even when I couldn't understand. Towards the end of the work day the older kids were teaching me Kreyol and I was helping them with their English. The children here are so confident and sure of themselves even though they are not given the basic opportunities to be sure about.

 

I'm discovering that as the days go on, the urge to journal is decreasing rapidly. I'm at the point where I really don't care for writing about my experiences. I just want to share my experiences and build upon them. Yeah, I could tell you all about the things that I have  done over the past two days but me writing about it does not give the experiences I've had, the justice they deserve. You can't just learn about these realities from books. Experience is most necessary. It puts everything you've learned into a literal perspective. You see what they see, smell what they smell, hear what they hear, and take a brief walk in their country with an old but sturdy pair of expensive shoes. Their reality only becomes yours briefly. Their reality is not fully yours. You still eat well, shower daily, and live comfortably. So even when we're experiencing their reality, we are extremely privileged. It seems like thankfulness and gratitude are only shown when the normalcy of our own lives is rocked.